Race

Racism

Panama, like nearly the entire world, is no stranger to racism. It holds a diverse population of Latinos, Indigenous, Asians, Blacks, and a few non-hispanic whites. While the power is held predominantly by Latinos, race still exists under the white supremacist system established since the colonial era.

While some Latinos have a superior position than other owing to lighter complexion, all at the very least share a privileged position above the indigenous people.

Below are my observations from my brief time in Panama. By no means is it a complete picture of the racial dynamics in Panama.

Stereotypes About the Indigenous

The indigenous are thought of as lazy savages, undeserving of the government aid afforded them. There also seems to be a sense that the poverty experienced by much of the indigenous community is a result of personal action (or inaction) as opposed to say, present and historical discrimination.

The "Chinos"

Not all Asian-Panamanians are of Chinese descent. Nevertheless, the Spanish language tends to refer to all Asians as "Chinos". A disproportionate amount of small-business stores are owned and staffed by Asians. So much so that "Chino" is synonymous with Mini-Supermarket. This has caused resentment among various quarters of Panamanian society, including among the indigenous.

Blacks

Panama has a large population of people of African descent. As with the rest of the Americas, blacks were brought over as slaves to provide labor. More recently in Panama's history, they arrived largely from the Caribbean to provide labor for the construction of the Panama Canal, as well as to work in the banana plantations. As such, they play the role of "immigrants stealing our jobs / driving down our wages."

Stereotypes against blacks are very similar to those in the United States. Dehumanizing language, particularly with reference to them being monkeys is commonplace, even in indigenous communities. When I pointed out to one of the youth in my assigned community how Latinos used similar language to describe the indigenous, he merely shrugged it off along the lines of "It's not true about us, but it is about [blacks]."

White flight also applies in Panama.

Personal Experience

My experience with direct racism in Panama was about equal to zero. I belonged to the primary culture and as a result I easily blended-in in urban areas.

Once I was established in an indigenous site, things were different. Outside of my assigned communities, I was met with distrust and minor hostility. They didn't use the word sulia to refer to Latinos in this region, but rather Chuy. I remember when walking down the street of Curva del Río, a woman looked back to see me and immediately called out to her daughter who had run ahead: "Ven acá! Viene chuy." A woman in Ladera initially refused to speak with me until weeks later when her sister vouched for me.

These weren't acts of racism, as racism is a system that targets marginalized groups. These acts were the result of fear. Over time, I managed to allay concerns. Not only because I was a common face in the region, but I also carried around a kra and an indigenous name. I spoke some of the language. I had proof that I was a friend.

My real brush with racism came from having the Hispanic identifier. One of the first things I was told, was that I didn't look pure American. While I overlooked the comment at the time, further commentary started to grate at me. People began asking questions about why Peace Corps placed volunteers where they did. They asked me why I was placed in their respective communities, and most tellingly, if there were ever cases where volunteers swapped communities. What they were getting at was, why did everyone get a (non-hispanic) white volunteer except us?

White people are viewed as more capable and intelligent, if not also kinder and amiable. The communities I was assigned were dedicated and organized enough to pull out all the stops in welcoming the Peace Corps staff during the site selection process. That the Peace Corps chose to send a Latino to their community was viewed as something of a snub.

Even as late as after in-service training (IST, yet discussed), when I would show them pictures of my (Latino) host family there, I was told "Se parecen a tu familia. El Cuerpo de Paz debería haberte envoyado allí."

I did what I could to ignore these comments and try to prove my worth. I studied Ngäbere using all materials available to me, I stayed active with project work, and I got out and about in the community as often as possible. The commentary persisted to my dismay, but it helped to remember that a great many people did truly appreciated my presence.