My Service Experience

From the corner of my eye, I notice a baby rattle and a pile of small rubber toy animals that invoke in me a sense of helplessness; I don’t quite know how I’m supposed to feel. What do you do when you are in a room with homeless young girls that are current and expectant mothers as a result of abuse? Girls that are younger than you, that deserve so much more and should be able to act like the eleven-to-sixteen-year-olds that they are.

With such heavy thoughts in the back of my mind, I welcome the girls and prepare to give my regular speech, thoughtfully written words that I had just hours before said to distant communities in rural Bolivia. I feel it gnawing at me and find that those same words don’t fit. I set my cue cards down and look the girls in the eyes. Looking back at me is a sea of eager eyes, some with a hint of hesitation but willingness to hear what I have to say. I explain how I came to Bolivia to teach girls how to make washable menstrual pads to stay in school. Throughout the workshop, the girls exhibit a selfless desire to continue my work in their local community for other homeless girls.

The Center for Homeless Teen Mothers was an unexpected but welcome surprise; however, I will never forget the heartbreaking sight and how I felt— numb. Numb not in the sense of not caring, but of feeling so much to the point of needing to desensitize myself in order to composedly interact with the girls. I couldn’t quite process it all in the moment, but looking back I chose to ignore the obvious. I chose to let them feel “normal” despite all that they had gone through, struggles I couldn’t possibly relate to.

I recall a previous workshop at a school where a father came with his family. The boys didn’t care, staying true to societal taboos placed upon menstruation, until I showed them a video about a girl in India with a similar situation. I could sense a change in their attitude and epiphany that menstruation is normal. I asked the once-reluctant father if he wanted to learn how to sew. He simply replied, “Sí.” His soft response remains powerful as it was a step towards breaking a societal norm. The same father diligently completed a washable pad for his only daughter. While I was teaching, there was a girl that casually began to braid my long hair; her actions exemplify the unified community and sisterhood that I am fostering.

I have become an advocate for girl’s education and seek to help girls around the world through servant leadership and volunteer service. In 2014, I made dresses and washable pads for young girls in Africa. This year, for my Gold Award project, I am personally teaching how to make washable pads because it gives girls a more sustainable means of finishing their education and addresses the worldwide problem of girls dropping out of school altogether because of a lack of menstrual resources. Determined to have a greater global impact, I contacted UNICEF who connected me with Save the Children in rural Bolivia. I have created advocates of change, young girls and boys that are – after attending my workshops – themselves going to farther provinces of Bolivia to teach others how to sew washable sanitary pads.

As a result of all my experiences, I have learned not to underestimate the impact of one individual. I have adopted the concept that when helping others – in a small or grand scale – you have to open yourself up and face a certain level of vulnerability; there is a mutual bond that forms as you allow yourself to potentially face an emotional breach – one of joy, sadness or a botched mixture of the two.