Working Toward Conscious Awareness

      Walking into class at 11:29 flustered, armed with a pile of papers, a laptop, and a clunky camera bag, I hope I didn’t forget anything. A classmate of mine, Corrie approached me holding out a section of the New York Times, “There’s an article about economics and women I thought you might want.” Touched by my classmate's considerate action and intrigued by the article, at lunch after class, I was excited to finally begin reading the article, “Wielding Data, Women Force Scrutiny of Bias in Economics.” Authors Jim Tankersley and Noam Scheiber detailed the discrimination faced by economists who identify as women in the workplace with support from many women who attended the American Economic Association panel, “Paper after paper presented at the American Economic Association panel showed a pattern of gender discrimination, beginning with barriers women face in choosing to study economics and extending through the life cycle of their careers…” As a young, elementary school girl fascinated by the financial markets, as an economics major whose classes are dominated by testosterone, and as a soon to be college graduate maneuvering my way through an overwhelmingly male career path, this article hit close to home. Power dynamics alter each stage of existence, whether I notice them or not, but sometimes they are impossible to push to the side. For example, it’s difficult to ignore when I walk into a classroom of twenty pants as the only skirt. As a result, I’m used to having to advocate for myself, my situation, and my opinion.
      Through the bare tree branches on an empty Guilford College quad laid gray clouds peppered with rays of sunshine. “What a horrible time to tour campus,” I thought to myself as I raced past a tour group toward the bus stop on the outskirts of campus. With a group of my classmates, I boarded a Greensboro city bus for the first time in my life. I was born only a couple miles from here, yet had never considered riding a city bus. From behind the steering wheel, the driver peered at us with confused eyes as we loudly conversed while struggling to insert our money into the machine. With my legs in the aisle on the empty bus, I continued to read an article about the necessity of advocating for myself in the financial world while talking with my peers about class, about which stop we would get off at, and about our upcoming trip to Costa Rica.
      As we approached our first stop at the Friend’s Home, a local retirement community, I pulled a tangerine out of pocket and began to peel it. While I began to eat my tangerine, a woman, who appeared to be an employee of the Friend’s Home, stepped onto the bus. As she paid her fare and began to walk down the aisle, a sign appeared above the exit I had not noticed before. Through symbols it appeared to state, “No smoking. No eating or drinking. No speaker usage.” After the woman silently walked past our boisterous group, up a couple of stairs, and took a seat a few rows behind us, I realized my legs had been in the aisle when she walked past. Finally, while sitting with an article in my lap about how I am discriminated against in my academic discipline, I began to recognize the power dynamics of the situation at hand. I was born in Greensboro and had spent my entire life in Greensboro, yet I had the choice to never use public transportation until today. Then, while in a vehicle that was not my own, I broke one of three prominently displayed rules, I had my legs in the aisle making the woman’s walk more difficult, I talked loudly when the regular patrons were clearly quiet, I took up too much space.
      As a result, after reaching the bus depot in downtown Greensboro, I made a vow to be more consciously aware of the power dynamics of each interaction of our excursion. It was uncomfortable to know how much space I was taking up. It was more uncomfortable to know I do this daily without question. Each shop we entered, each fascinating individual I had a chance to speak to made me feel worse because I had no intent to purchase anything, my only intent was to take up their space, and their time. Looking back, one interaction stood out to me.
      After entering a store, whose name I forgot to record, I noticed an older woman sitting at the bar. She was struggling to put together streamers, “I wanted to put up some Valentine’s Day decorations, but I can’t figure out these banners,” she started, speaking 60% to herself, “You’re welcome to give it a go,” she offered, clearly speaking 100% to me at this point.
      “Okay. Yeah, I’ll give it a try,” I responded. As I began to fiddle with the pink fan-type streamers, I conversed with the gentle, slightly flustered woman about where we went to school, and our assignment at hand. I hated mentioning the assignment, not just to this woman, but to the other shop owners I spoke to throughout the day. I was genuinely interested in them and their stores and wanted them to know, but I felt as though this intent was undermined by mentioning I was there on assignment. However, the graying woman struggling to put together Valentine’s Day banners contradicted my preconceived notions; she was fascinated by our assignment.
      “What a great assignment! We love to see students down here!”
      Finally, I figured out how to hang the banner.
      “Aha! That’s how it works! I just had it all upside down!” the woman exclaimed.
      I moseyed my way through the locally handmade items that filled each shelf of the store. Many had direct references to various places in Greensboro and greater North Carolina, ranging from Natty Greene’s bottle cap art to a painting of the Hatteras Island Lighthouse.
      Eventually, I made my way back to the front of the store where my partner Annika was talking with the older woman and the other store employee, a dark-haired woman who appeared to be her daughter. Annika informed me that the younger woman had previously studied in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica.
      “If you can, you have to go to Manuel Antonio! The mangrove swamps were incredible!” the dark-haired woman exclaimed from behind the bar/counter.
      I didn’t purchase anything from the locally sourced boutique, something I still feel guilty about. By gaining as much as I did from the experience without giving, I feel as though I abused the customer-seller relationship. However, I also feel as though the connection, the momentary relationship I had with both of those strong women was worthwhile. I learned that I will take up more space than I should. I learned that I will feel that way in Costa Rica. I learned that being consciously aware of the space I am taking up in a given situation is an invaluable lesson that I must take to Costa Rica in order to be a responsible student traveler.