...Strangerstiago?

Everywhere I go, whether it be the bus, the store, or street, I am greeted by blank stares and sometimes bashful smiles. From adults, small children, stray dogs...oh man, so many stray dogs (but that's a story for another time).

The more I get to know Santiago, the more I notice how homogenous the people are. It is very strange to me because Chileans don't appear to have a "look." They look like Americans....well white Americans. I'm not sure what I expected, maybe some consistent striking, or even subtle, feature. But, for a lack of a better word, they all look so regular. I, on the other had, stick out like three sore thumbs.

In my cohort there are seven of us, 5 black students (one who is  Puertorican, and thus afrolatina) and 2 "non-black" latinas (one from Mexico, the other from Ecuador). On our second day at work, we met the director. She scanned the group a few times and found  Mayra (la mexicana) and said with excitement "You look Chilean." She did another go around, and had a look of conviction on her face before she stopped at Jessica (la ecuatoriana) and said "...yeah, you too." She didn't seem to want to admit it, but said it more out of obligation. No comments for the rest of us. We didn't really expect to be included in the number, as we had been able to count on one hand the number of afro-descendents we had even seen in passing in the week prior.

Race in Chile is very centered around being either "Chilean" or "Mapuche," which is a very loosely used term to refer to the indigenous populations who include the Mapuche people but also several other indigenous groups that I guess people are either too lazy or too ignorant to acknowledge individually. The only black people in Chile immigrated from Colombia, Brazil, or the Dominican Republic (or so we have been told). Needless to say, when I am walking down the street it is as if the people here are experiencing 3-D TV. They stare as if they didn't know black people existed in real life.

Most people look at me, dumbfounded, so I have taken a liking to staring back and smiling until they realize how uncomfortable they have made me....or until I make them feel more uncomfortable than I am. In my mind I understand that it must be fascinating to see that people really do have brown skin and it wasn't just some crazy special effects for the movies.

Those who are brave enough to say anything to me, usually women in their late twenties or early thirties I'm guessing, usually comment on my hair, and usually have a look of guilt on their face and whisper as if it would be a crime to be caught communicating with me.  "Que lindo tu pelo" they always say...almost as if in school it's on the list of proper ways to greet people in public:
1. Older woman - Buenos días Señora _____.
2. Older man - Buenas tardes Señor______.
3. Random black stranger - Que lindo tu pelo.

This is a new experience for me, especially in a place that more or less looks like the States except for everyone is speaking in Spanish. I grew up in a town that didn't have a whole lot of black people, but had plenty of other colors too. Coming from the University of Michigan where there is current discourse on the #BBUM and Black Lives Matter movements, I am feeling grateful for even the smidgen of diversity that is present in Ann Arbor and on campus, even if it isn't representative of the state or nation. It sure beats the homogeneity I see here.