I Use My Voice to Say

Peace Corps girls are not like other girls.
We fight for our smiles.
When we say 'salam aalakum'
there is no conference of Peace or good tidings,
rather it is returned with malice and shame.

The forgiveness in our heart dies,
and I see the anger in your eyes
that used to sparkle
refuse to cry.
Because if we cried over every hurt
that performing goal one, goal two, goal three
produced with community mapping, camps, clubs, and classes
we wouldn't stop.
And my tears wouldn't reach your tears or her tears or anybody's tears
because this is a self-selected sadness that shrouds us in loneliness.

And our homes have become our prisons,
and our dreams a mockery
and I sit in my house wondering how long can I survive off this one egg?
How long can I survive off this broken promise of change?
How long is too long? How much is too much?


Peace Corps girls are not like other girls.
We fight to not become broken.

I see you struggling.
I see how hard you've become.
I see how you don't trust me anymore.
I place my hand on your heart and the ice chills me.
I feel your fingers pull my hair and I know you don't mean it.
(You could never mean it and moosoomaha)

I see you walking with your head down because heaven forbid you assert yourself.
I see you waiting for your husband to be ready because heaven forbid you show yourself as unwed.

That you've selected Medevac because you're *this close*
to shattering.

But you still hope to put on an amazing program for your dar chebab

with no clue how. with no money. with no counterpart. with nothing but the desire
to make a difference,
to make the sacrifice worth it,
for a split second of joy

even if it's for someone else.




Peace Corps girls are not like other girls.
We fight for love.

Everyday.

Because our world tells us that we are less than,
that we are 'technically' a third gender, and
not quite Moroccan enough to be female
and God only knows what.

Or maybe He doesn't.

Because sometimes I don't know who I am.
I don't know why I make the choices that I make.
I don't know why I do the things I do.

I just wait for twenty-seven months to expire to feel:
Happiness
Esteem
Faith
Romance
Pride
Love and
once more before it's too late.


Peace Corps girls are not like other girls.

So don't treat us like we are.
We are fighting for our basic dignity.
We are fighting to give other women a voice.
We are fighting because we care.
We are fighting because so many aren't.

We are on the front lines
trying to make the wrongs of the world right.
We don't have shields or weapons,
just each other.

So stand beside us, not against us.

Because we are Worthy.

We are driven.
We are strong.
We are thoughtful.
We are decent.
We are funny.
We are talented.
We are passionate.
We are good.
We are beautiful.
We are intelligent.
We are committed.
We are fearless.

We are everything that we could be, want to be, need to be, and should be.

You are my sisters, and I cherish you, xtee.

Waalakum Salam.


I wrote this poem about the trials of being a female PCV in Morocco. I have heard and seen so many stories about us crippling under the pressure and I wanted to take a moment to honor our bravery and commitment to serving the peoples of Morocco under such incredible and terrible duress. I don't know if it means much, but I'm sorry that our biggest problem isn't troublemaker children and that we are discriminated and mistreated daily. I am sorry that our male counterparts don't get it sometimes. I am sorry if you feel like Peace Corps has failed you in coping with the stress and woefulness of our lives. Your happiness and success means the world to me. You are worth more than gold. I love you.