Remar Orphanage, taken by GIRLS IN THE HALL
The streets are lined with stray dogs, litter and vendors selling everything ranging from fresh popcorn to sunglasses. The background is dappled with lush green mountains, and the sky alternates almost to the minute with fierce sun and cloudy mists of mystery. Welcome to Quito, the capital of Ecuador. This was my home for two weeks at the end of February.
An imposing metal door clicks open as I ring the bell, the security guard is a girl no more than thirteen years old with spiral curls and a New York Yankees sweatshirt. Chaos of little hands grab at my clothes as young children spring up around me, I am the unfamiliar face piquing curiosity amongst everyone inside the walls of this place, the biggest orphanage in Quito. I have a smattering of presents for the little ones, but they are not why I have come here. I look around and see all of the reasons why I have traveled to another continent....
There is a girl in the corner, sweeping up the dirt that has crept into the dining hall. Two girls lift the trash of the day's breakfast into the dumpster. Three girls sit on the concrete wall and take turns holding each other's babies. More girls help out with the toddlers, who respond to them as if they are being raised by not one mom, but a pack--which is true. The girls, who range in ages 11-22, are the foundation of this orphanage. They are the mothers to the motherless, even though most of them do not know who their mothers are or, if they do remember, most of them wish they didn't.
As I am introduced to these teens, all of the girls are distant and polite, tolerating me because they know it is important to be nice to the volunteers coming from around the world. When I try to take their pictures, they look away, cross their arms, or glare--the photos from the afternoon turn out to be a manifestation of just how uncomfortable one can look when posing for a picture when uncomfortable inside the trap of low self esteem.
The head of the orphanage, a passionate and incredibly resourceful woman, speaks to me kindly, but it is all business. She doesn't have time to give to the volunteer from the United States. It is clear that I must find my own way, somehow, with these girls. I then think of what the next day has in store and smile to myself.
When I raised the money to go on this journey, my core friends and supporters of Girls in the Hall sat with me for hours coming up with ideas of just what to do once I had raised the money to go to Ecuador. A good friend, Michael Aaron Capps, who is also a personal stylist to the stars and elite of New York alike, said to me, "Let's cut their hair. That is what I want my donation to go for." Michael's mantra is CHANGE YOUR LOCKS, CHANGE YOUR LIFE. It was to be the first real interaction I had with the girls of the orphanage.
The next day, I had arranged with my host mom for two respected stylists in Ecuador to travel to the orphanage to do thirty haircuts, complete with highlights. We walk into the orphanage, and the girls are nervous. All in Spanish, many of them say, "No one is touching my hair, it is all I have." Then, we unpack the bags of scissors, dye and hope. Slowly, the girls circle around us, asking we are doing this for them. They are suspicious. I say the lines that I have learned in their language, "We are doing this as a gift to you from the world because you are a gift to the world. You are beautiful, and we want you to look in the mirror and see it."
With trepidation, one girl volunteers to go first. Then a second, then a third, then a fourth until they are enraptured of the process. The stylists consult on which cuts are best and what color of highlights the girls want (there's an array of reds, blues, blonds and whites). Slowly, the images I have captured on my camera go from smileless faces, like this:
To after photos when the girls have finished their haircuts:
I talk to the girls about their new haircuts, and the universality of the need for self worth within all of us girls becomes abundantly apparent. A simple thing that many of us take for granted such as a good haircut, one example of how we each show our identity to the world, can transform and make one feel great from the outside on in.
The next day, Diana, one of the girls who had her haircut the day before, yells out, "Hola!" to me as she opens the door to let me into the world of the orphanage. Instead of looks merely tolerating me, I am welcomed with hugs and questions asking what we are doing for the day. We all sit down in the cafeteria and I pull out stacks of composition books brought from the US and a bag containing a zillion creative possibilities. I ask them how many have a safe place to record their ambitions, worries and thoughts--a place that is truly their own for what is going on inside their brains. They all say no. So, we create them by covering the composition books into a diary of dreams for each girl. Andrea's has a glitter heart with wings and Anita's name is emblazoned across hers in blue letters. They proudly hold up their works of art that will soon have the insides lined with pencil filled reflections:
The next days are filled with sharing, laughing and communicating. We even record videos on the flip cam that a generous friend loaned me. Suddenly, these quiet girls have let me in and I go from being an outsider to becoming a friend, which is one of the greatest presents I have ever received.
These girls changed my life. They showed me that at our core, we all share the same heart, soul and needs. I watched in awe at their perserverance and positivity to get through the days and enjoy life. We all need to learn about the world around us. We all need to do things to make us feel good about ourselves. We all need to do things to bring out our creative spirits. Despite where we came from, where we live, what we do---around the world, we are all girls in the hall.
For more photos of the Girls in the Hall trip to Ecuador, including before and after photos with the haircuts and journal craft day, check out our Facebook page. Leave us a comment about what you think!
Posts
