As a GHC fellow, I’m used to giving the one minute spiel about the program and responding to questions such as,“What’s GHC?” “What are you doing here?” “What are your plans after this?” These are questions I’ve come to automatically respond to with equal parts heart and wit. My responses are always genuine answers as I respect GHC’s model and am enthused by the opportunity to be a member of such a great organization. What gets me is the frequent assumption that follows, “oh, so you’re here to build the capacity of your co-fellow?”
Why would this bother me? Is it wrong to assume that this would be part of my role here?
Well, those who pose that question are not wrong. In fact, they’re just only half right. They tend to forget the flip side of that coin. We’re collaborators – equal capacity builders. We’re exchanging capacity. My co-fellow is here to build my knowledge, leadership, and skills as well. I didn’t just move to Rwanda to build the capacity of others. I also came seeking opportunity to build my own capacity – something with which my co-fellow has played an important role. I’ve never lived in a foreign context without that expectation of learning and growing. More often than not, I have left feeling like I gained far more knowledge than what I left behind.
Just as I came into this fellowship with a solid foundation in research knowledge, my master’s degree in public health, and technical skills, so too has my co-fellow brought a solid foundation in monitoring and evaluation, fluency in five languages, and much more field experience than me. The co-fellow model has been one of the best parts of the GHC fellowship experience for me –we manage to fill in each other’s gaps, to build each other’s knowledge, and to equally grow in our understanding.
Inevitably in this work, the term capacity building always makes its way into development conversations. I like the term. It’s even on my resume. But conversations like this always leave me wondering, is the term capacity building becoming code for assumed inequality? Is it losing its true meaning, value and depth, turning into a cliché mumbled by all who are even slightly familiar with global health and development work? Is it at the level of the over abused,easily misunderstood and oh-too-often misused sustainability?
I hesitate to make such a claim, yet the guise of capacity building seems to constantly sugarcoat the deep rooted assumption of inequality. Often global health and development work is made up of well intentioned, hard working people from all over the world who come to developing contexts to dedicate themselves to improving people’s lives. There’s a sort of subculture we often participate in, sometimes even if we aren’t aware. In my experience, we often gaff at stars who visit to build their reputations or at people who mistakenly refer to Africa as a country, but contradict our own convictions when reminding each other “TIA” (This Is Africa) when frustrated, lumping the whole continent together in our complaints. We may roll our eyes at the expected photo op with children visibly in need of assistance, even as our own cameras fill with similar perspectives. I’ll admit I’m often part of it myself. Its not always a bad thing, often it gives us a sense of camaraderie and understanding with others facing similar work and life challenges. Yet we frequently neglect to reflect inward, to stop and think through what influence this subculture has on us, and how it may at times distract us from noticing our own contradictions and common attitudes about our work. If we don’t truly believe that a whole populations of capable, intelligent, creative and beautiful people can bring equal (albeit different) skills to the table, then why are we doing this work? Are we so blind to our own subconscious assumptions that we continue to work with a savior complex?
The scariest part for me is that people have grown wise to the politically correct, development-sector lingo. Most people know not to openly express any thoughts which may sound prejudice. Such behavior leaves assumptions hiding below the surface, unaddressed and unchallenged, still an infectious trend. When we do hear observations of inequality openly stated, even if in a matter of fact, unprejudiced way, they often sound offensive, regardless of whether they come from national or international colleagues. The other day I asked a colleague, “how can I contribute to this in a meaningful way without the language skills or extensive technical and cultural understanding you have?” His response startled me. Though he started with the basic list of skills I do have and assured me of all the qualities that would help in this task, he concluded with “and also, because you are muzungu, you can get things done. People will respect your opinion more.” I adamantly denied this, saying I felt that wasn’t true, and that we’re beyond such ways of working. He responded, “you may not like it, or want it to be that way, but that doesn’t make it less true.” I had to admit he probably had experiences that shaped this opinion, and in some contexts he was probably right. But why is this injustice still the case? How is it that the color of our skin or our foreignness makes our opinions inherently respected? What are we doing wrong for this to be true?
I’m not at all denying that inequality exists in the world, or that access to education and opportunity are directly related to where we are born. Nor am I saying that development work shouldn’t be a globalized effort, or that all individuals in every context don’t have unique needs that have a right to be met. We wouldn’t be fighting for global health equity if all of these concerns weren’t real.
What I am questioning is whether our work and attitudes really reflect the belief that we are equal. Do we, as expatriates and nationals, believe we have an equal amount to gain from one another as we expect to give? And if we don’t, shouldn’t we be talking about it, working through it, challenging it openly? Sure, we challenge publicly in opinion pieces and we hear about it and discuss in structured meetings and conferences whose topics consider inequalities in the world. These are the safe places to have these generalized discussions. But how often do we have these conversations in our workplace, in our day to day activities with the people we see all the time? How scary would it be to call someone out for operating under the assumption of inequality? And how can we start to change this trend and halt the perpetuation of inequality if we don’t start at home? If we aren’t really convinced we can equally contribute, we’re likely missing great opportunities for growth. Imagine the potential we would have if we opened ourselves up to gaining all that we could from others, and had the confidence to share more of our own knowledge.
Maybe we can start by looking look within ourselves honestly, recognizing our own assumptions and challenging them. Only then will we be able to begin practicing true solidarity and social justice through exchanging, not just building, capacity with those we are working alongside.
—
All views expressed here are personal opinions and in no way represent the views of the organizations for which I work.