I’m an American woman, a Gen Y-er, a reflective feminist and an Independent. I am in a new country on a different continent. Why are the deeply rooted issues of my own culture intensified now that I am in a new one? Racism, gender roles, the pitfalls of capitalism and my own self-absorbed way of life have been amplified to max capacity. The gravel of change has kicked up dust I couldn’t acknowledge when I was walking the same paths I always did.

All 28 of us took seats in Salon Quetzal where we spend 87% of our time at the office, sitting.

An American man outfitted in Columbia gear began to share his experience of the Mayan people. He’s lived in Guatemala for 28 years, he owns property here, he is married to a Guatemalan. He speaks Mayan languages. This is his home.

This same week, our group watched a Ted Talk called “The Danger of A Single Story” The speaker is a Nigerian woman named Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie who shared her experience as a child growing up only reading stories about white girls. From this influence, she only wrote stories about white girls, too. She believed that Nigerian girls couldn’t appear in literature because for her, they never had.

This incredible talk explained that when a group is introduced in a story with “….Secondly,” they are ‘other.’ They are the outsiders, the foreigners, the minorities or those who simply don’t belong. Think of it: Columbus sailed America and then the Native Americans appeared. Consider that the Native Americans aren’t mentioned first: what about “The Native Americans lived in America. One day, Christopher Columbus appeared and pushed them out and away from their homes.” Why do we mention them second?

History is often told through the perspective of the privileged white man. There’s no denying it. Usually the history about black people in America is a story of oppression only, forgoing stories of a rich heritage in addition to slavery and the fight for Civil Rights.

The Ted Talk was excellent. It made me think. It reminded me of my privilege. It reminded me how unaware I am of my own privilege. Again, it made me think.

So when this American came in to share his story of the Mayans, naturally some in our group were upset. But, as you can understand, the people who were the most upset were those in minority groups from the States. Many from the group addressed the situation with our superior, and the superior apologized for their error and asked for our feedback.

Personally, I did not catch all of the subliminally superior things the man was saying. He was very disjointed in his presentation, but he was a charming character. I liked that he spoke the Mayan languages and encouraged us to learn them.

But my friend who spoke out was exactly right: Why are we receiving a lesson called Guatemalan History from an American ex-pat? Sure, we might want to hear his stories and his experience, but it should not be framed as Guatemalan History when a Guatemalan isn’t telling the story. Again, the situation was addressed and responded to. I’m glad that it was.

I felt like a shithead after the guy’s presentation. At first, I felt defensive for the guy but on the bus ride when my friend unfurled her feelings, I couldn’t disagree with anything she said. The single story of the Mayans was being told from the perspective of the privileged class, and we could have believed it.

Oops, ouch.

Someone from our group recommended that we use “Oops and Ouch” going forward. When anyone’s feelings have been hurt, they say “Oops” to the person who did the hurtful thing and that person responds with “Ouch.” This recognition encourages them to have a conversation afterwards and to come to an understanding.

How does this apply to me now? Well, of course I’m glad it was resolved but I’m also extremely grateful for how I was forced to evaluate my decision to come to Guatemala. I consider myself a person who doesn’t want to be a “Professional in America” first, then a volunteer. I don’t strongly identify with volunteering because it wasn’t my main motivation in coming. I want to do a good job, but it’s not what originally compelled me here.

Even still, if I come here thinking I can “help these people” simply because I am other, because I have “more professional experience than them” (whatever the hell that means), or by virtue of the fact that I am White and American, then I have some serious reevaluating to do.

What’s more, I am worried that my friends back home are going to believe The Single Story they’ve been told about Central America just like I did. I swear, if I go home from Peace Corps and people ask me “So are you helping poor people?” or “Do you see drug dealers or cartels?” or “Are you at risk of getting zika?” or “You are such a good person,” I think I might explode.

I am going to spend two years in this country and be ensconced in one of the most gracious, hard-working and beautiful cultures I’ve seen in my life so far. This place isn’t perfect but I am CERTAIN that THE U.S. ISN’T EITHER.

And I know I am not. I know I am going to think of myself as superior to these people sometimes, just in the same way I subconsciously think of people in the ghetto in the U.S. as beneath me too. It’s shitty to admit but it is real. Or people without teeth. I am not painting a pretty picture of myself, am I?

But what I am tempted to do is to believe a single story of myself, that I will continue to think this way.

But I don’t have to. If I am a narrow-minded, superior, self- absorbed person at times, that doesn’t have to be my single story. I can change, too. I can believe more than that story about myself, and I can change it. If I don’t let myself out from that label, I will believe the story: that I am a shitty, white, privileged noodlebrain. Oops, ouch. Realize it, untangle it, work through it: and write more than one story.