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barang (noun): a French person; used to refer to any foreign (generally white) person regardless of nationality.
Cambodia was a French colony until 1953. Therefore, the concept of most foreigners being of French nationality has survived through modern day, especially in rural areas that do not see many non-Khmer people.
“Hello barang!!” I hear the children scream through my well-fitted earbuds as I cycle quickly past. Though my music is turned up loudly, I still cringe. Every time.
During my first month of training in Cambodia, I thought it was cute – young children jumping out of their parents’ arms to run towards the road as a wall of sweaty Americans came biking past. They would, without fail, scream ‘hello!’ or ‘barang, barang!’ as they nearly tripped over their little legs with excitement.
Fast forward seven months. Now, being referred to as barang is a constant source of irritation. At the health center, I hear patients (who don’t realize that I can understand Khmer) asking their friends ‘what’s that barang doing here?’. At the market, the sellers giggle with each other as I walk past, referring to me as that barang coming their way. Teenage boys dare each other to come up and talk to me, yelling ‘how are you barang?’ in broken English, and then collapsing with laughter if I so much as acknowledge their presence with a smile in their direction. Khmer men joke and laugh with each other as I overhear the words ‘wife’ and ‘barang’ in the same sentence.
thank god these kiddos know better
It has taken a while for me to truly pin down out why the word barang causes such a knee-jerk negative reaction for me. The answer has only come to light as I was chatting with my counterpart and midwife Phalla and her husband, Sarin, who live not far from me - on a road where white cyclists bike past every so often. Therefore, they regularly hear the shouts of ‘hello barang’ from the neighboring children. As we were sitting in their home that day, enjoying some experimental homemade stovetop banana bread, we heard a chorus of children from the road shouting that ever-present phrase. Laughing, Sarin turned to me and asked me if I also hear that too when I’m biking.
‘Well, of course’, I answered. I began to tell him about how it’s so irritating, but he stopped me short. ‘Why does it annoy you?’ he asked, giving me a puzzled look, having previously seen the cyclists smiling and laughing when the children call out to them.
Well - it’s not that I have anything against the French, I explained to him. People in Cambodia use barang to single out anyone that does not look Khmer – generally, all white people, who are assumed to be French. In this one word, they are categorizing you as fundamentally different from them. And this - this one sentiment - scratches at all a core Peace Corps Volunteer insecurity.
Am I doing enough?
idk, probably not
As a PCV, we try for years to ‘integrate’ into our community. In formal training, we are taught about the culture, from the broad information and history to nuanced details, and we spend a long, long time trying to assimilate ourselves at site. Integration into your community and becoming ‘one of them’ is the only way to even hope of getting anything done – or, as we young, optimistic souls say – to ‘make a difference’. You must learn to think and behave like a member of your community so that people will want to work with you and and progress can be made. This process can be difficult, uncomfortable, and at times, painful. There is always more you can do – more hours you can spend in your community, more activities to say ‘yes’ to, more people to talk to. There is no clear finish line telling you ‘yes, good job, you’re integrated now!’ It’s an ongoing process, full of joys and surprises but also many mistakes and frustrations.
And yet, all of that challenging work is erased in one simple word - barang. I get lumped in with the rest of the foreigners who come visit Cambodia to see Angkor Wat, or voluntourists who spend two weeks volunteering at an orphanage, hugging impoverished children and taking feel-good photos. They are a source of income and amusing distractions from everyday life for many Khmer people. But that's not what I'm doing here.
“I am NOT a barang!” I so often want to yell at the aunties at the health center, the sellers at the market, the children as I bike by. There’s nothing that aggravates me more than being treated as an attraction to be stared at and talked about when they think I don’t understand (and not to mention the countless photos taken of me without my permission).
But, suppressing the urge to scream, I just smile and gently correct them - “actually, I’m American” – and treat myself to the stunned look on their faces as they realize that I can speak Khmer.
if I hide my face, they won't know I'm a barang, right?
This unwanted attention is a daily nuisance, but it is one that’s here to stay. My skin color and physical features will always mark me as different, no matter how long I have lived here or how much I have ‘integrated’. Some days, it does not bother me. Other days, it takes all of my concentration to stay calm and save face.
Becoming a minority in a culture that is used to a singular ethnicity has made me aware and extremely grateful for the diversity back home in the US, where I would interact with people of several ethnicities and nationalities in a typical day. It’s also made me become more aware of just a small part of what minorities in the US go through on a daily basis – the attention, the stereotyping, etc. - but that’s for another blog post.
a quick addendum
While there are many negatives to being labeled a barang, there are also some benefits that are important to acknowledge:
Khmer people think I’m pretty – they like white skin and narrow noses. And because of this, it nudges people to like me more and to be more receptive to my presence.
I have an automatic assumed position of authority and respect in some areas because barangs have a reputation of being intelligent and hardworking.
I am not always held to the same strict societal standards as Khmer women (ie. she is a barang, it’s okay if she has a tattoo) and thus have a little more leeway in terms of physical presentation.
I do not have to defend my citizenship, because the stereotype of an American is white skin. Many volunteers of color have difficulty convincing their community members that they are indeed from America and not countries in Africa, Asia, etc.
Stay positive, stay grateful, stay transparent. Cheers from Cambodia!
Michele
at food security training - lots of playing in the dirt and learning about organic gardening!