Three
In the last ten years, I’ve done research and participated in development projects across different countries. I’ve visited many places that locals might not go to—places that wouldn’t make the top five travel lists. Most of the places where I’ve worked are rural, and often remote communities, where daily life looks very different from that in cities. In many of these places, government or state services are absent. The infrastructure is precarious, and social systems and support are built—mostly—by the communities themselves. In some of these regions, the line between licit and illicit is blurred. They are places where nature stands as a witness to historical conflicts and trauma, and sometimes, the ecosystem becomes another victim of violence and neglect.
These places are home to magnificent people I’ve had the honor of meeting—women and men who work every day toward their dreams and who build stronger communities, municipalities, countries, and sometimes even contribute to a fairer and more sustainable world.
Yet, every time I visit these communities, or conduct any kind of research, I ask myself the same questions: Who am I in this context? Where do I position myself in all of this? And why should these communities talk to me, work with me, or collaborate with me?
At the end of the day, I often feel like an outsider.
This feeling goes deep. I reflect on how much I truly understand the realities of these communities. Do I have the right tools, education, and skills to be there? Is there someone more prepared than me? Probably. It sounds like a lot, I know. It reminds me of a paper by Robert Chambers that Professor Marianne Schmink introduced to me back in a class in the fall of 2016. The paper emphasized the importance of listening to local people—because they are the experts of their own reality.
To calm that inner voice and anxiety, I take a breath and remind myself: I’m not there to be a superhero. I probably won’t be able to "solve" the community’s problems. But I can use my knowledge and experience to help facilitate conversations and, from a participatory lens, help spark new questions, uncover possible pathways, or maybe even support solutions that the community itself wants or needs.
From this perspective, I position myself as a learner. I don’t try to blend in—I observe, ask questions, and try to understand. I try to listen—some days better than others—but I’ve come to recognize that being an outsider also has its benefits. Sometimes, looking in from a different angle can help reveal alternative patterns or possibilities.
This feeling of being an outsider is, I think, something many people in development and social science research experience. But not many talk about it. Often, it’s hidden—whether by presenting oneself as an “expert” that communities should trust, but everyone faces the world—including their work life—in different ways. For me, beyond the inner chatter and anxiety, being honest and vulnerable about my role as an outsider has helped build long-term, trustful relationships. Not always—but most of the time.
And I hope more people feel open to talking about this.
Side Note 1: In The Witness (El Testigo) exhibition, Colombian photojournalist Jesús Abad Colorado explores the country’s conflict through powerful images. One section of the exhibition is dedicated to nature—as a silent but deeply affected victim of war. There’s also a documentary version of the exhibition available on Netflix. Totally worth watching.
Side Note 2: One of the greatest professors I’ve ever had, John Dain, once shared this beautiful video about the importance of listening. It’s not only relevant to research or development work, but to life in general.
