During the last dissertation seminar I attended before leaving for La Paz in 2011, Dr. Vine implored us all “never lie.” I, being precocious, raised my hand and asked if its ok to lie and say you are married or in a relationship in order to ward off unwanted advances. Even before I had finished the question, he was nodding in agreement. “That’s the one time I would say its ok to lie.”
But I’ve found myself in a bit of a pickle. On my first day of training, I was explicitly instructed “don’t tell your Bolivian friends you’re training.” Your identity should be a secret. And this has been reinforced over and over. Even when Jason, from Chicago, came to visit on his South American backpacking journey, I was told he couldn’t stay in the arena while we marked moves before the match. “It takes away from the show,” Mercedes told me.
But my problem is that my Bolivian friends in La Paz, bleed into my gringo friends. And they bleed into my academic friends. So I’ve had a strict privacy policy. Jason knows, obviously. But almost immediately upon meeting him at the airport, I asked him not to mention my involvement in lucha libre to anyone. And Ramiro knows. But he’s also been good at keeping his mouth shut. I once drunkenly slipped the secret to Gonz. But I also said it was sort of a secret, and I have a feeling he either didn’t care or didn’t believe me, anyway.
But I’ve found myself in a bit of a pickle. On my first day of training, I was explicitly instructed “don’t tell your Bolivian friends you’re training.” Your identity should be a secret. And this has been reinforced over and over. Even when Jason, from Chicago, came to visit on his South American backpacking journey, I was told he couldn’t stay in the arena while we marked moves before the match. “It takes away from the show,” Mercedes told me.
But my problem is that my Bolivian friends in La Paz, bleed into my gringo friends. And they bleed into my academic friends. So I’ve had a strict privacy policy. Jason knows, obviously. But almost immediately upon meeting him at the airport, I asked him not to mention my involvement in lucha libre to anyone. And Ramiro knows. But he’s also been good at keeping his mouth shut. I once drunkenly slipped the secret to Gonz. But I also said it was sort of a secret, and I have a feeling he either didn’t care or didn’t believe me, anyway.
So, in essence, this has led to a rather superhero-like secret identity. Some of the people closest to me here have no idea that I wrestle. Which pains me at times (more than the sore thighs and bruised elbows). I make up stories about the “community group” I’m working with in El Alto. And in my head I tell myself that SuperCatch is a group of people from the Community of La Paz who train in a ring in El Alto. But who am I trying to convince? Last Friday, after my match, a friend asked me how I got the floor burns on my elbows. He raised his eyebrows a few times to suggest it might be something scandalous. Fortunately he was interrupted by another friend with a question about something totally unrelated. Because I had no idea how to answer.
But the worst is the academic questions. As I’ve written before, La Paz is a small town, and my social circles are small and interconnected. Anthropologist friends and NGO friends know Boliviano friends, and random gringo friends know the Reuters journalists who show up to interview Lady Blade. So my secrecy has extended even to the few social scientists I know around here. So I’m always suggesting that the exact topic of my dissertation is constantly in flux. It is something about: empowerment, globalization, gender ideology, sport, development, the feminization of poverty, and performativity of race and gender in Bolivia. And all those things are true of course. But don’t quite give the whole story. And I wonder if I come off as a total flake because I can’t give a concise 1 sentence explanation of my project. But I can’t really risk it. At least, if one abides by the idea that my loyalty lies with the people I work with, and not the academic community. Which I do.
But the worst is the academic questions. As I’ve written before, La Paz is a small town, and my social circles are small and interconnected. Anthropologist friends and NGO friends know Boliviano friends, and random gringo friends know the Reuters journalists who show up to interview Lady Blade. So my secrecy has extended even to the few social scientists I know around here. So I’m always suggesting that the exact topic of my dissertation is constantly in flux. It is something about: empowerment, globalization, gender ideology, sport, development, the feminization of poverty, and performativity of race and gender in Bolivia. And all those things are true of course. But don’t quite give the whole story. And I wonder if I come off as a total flake because I can’t give a concise 1 sentence explanation of my project. But I can’t really risk it. At least, if one abides by the idea that my loyalty lies with the people I work with, and not the academic community. Which I do.
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