Social class in Colombia by comparison and why soccer is manifest in MY Peace Corps experience

I write this as I hydrate for a big soccer game this afternoon, which marks the first in the round of playoffs: win or be eliminated. After making it through a full season, I’ve gotten to know my teammates both on and off the pitch. Still, nobody on my team has my phone number to inform me of game times, though it never fails that my they pass me in the street sometime before Sunday to let me know. After repeating the phrase “If I’m in Talaigua, trust me, I will be at the game” enough times, my teammates are finally starting to believe me. 

Our head coach is a “bicycle-taxi” driver, many players work at the local hardware store (our team sponsor), some operate local mom-and-pop shops scattered around the municipality, and others are day laborers. On my soccer team I am the only gringo, “professor”, or visa holder. In these senses, among others social indicators, I am an outlier.

Class-consciousness is apparent and felt in many facets of Colombian life, perhaps, more so than in the U.S.A. where it can be ignored, mischaracterized, and/or denied by individuals. Required by law, and justified by efficiency and simplicity in collecting otherwise voluminous and unreliable income data, the Colombian government classifies all neighborhoods by socioeconomic strata ranging from 1 to 6. According to the National Statistics Department (DANE), classifications are based on the physical and observable characteristic of dwellings. They regularly monitor and share this data between governments. This helps all levels to plan public works and administer other public benefits such as health care, utility subsidies, educational programs and direct payments to combat poverty.

One’s stratum is well known because it is quite literally public knowledge, visible on bills and receipts from public services. There’s no mistaking the fact I live in a strata 2 dwelling, as it is printed on our utility bill. Class-consciousness is near unavoidable, yet little shame comes from being of a lower stratum. According to the Federal Research Division of the Library of Congress’s “Colombia: a country study”, 89% of the Colombian population occupies the lowest the lower strata (1,2 and 3), which are the only strata that receive direct public subsidies/benefits, while strata 5 and 6 pay additional fees (4 is neutral). My village consists of entirely 1’s & 2’s. It’s common for one to openly identify as either ‘poor’ or ‘rich’. Such brazen consciousness and clarity opens the door to direct questions that I receive such as “What do they pay you in the Peace Corps” and “How much do your soccer shoes cost”, where such questions would be considered taboo or otherwise distasteful in the U.S. The questions here are considered neither rude nor invasive, rather, a sincere difference in customs tied to class identity. Still, at times, I can’t shed my Americanism and feel apprehensive and awkward when fielding these questions.

Such transparency of socioeconomic class in Colombia is in contrast to the U.S., where we grapple with how to identify ourselves. In 2014, 85% of Americans described themselves as ‘middle-class’ (within it ranging between upper and lower middle class), according to a poll conducted by Pew Research and USA Today. American class-consciousness and identity is open to loose interpretation based on profession, family, and hosts of other factors. If defining class by solely on the basis of household income, according to another Pew Research study in 2015, Americans would be surprised to learn about only 61% of households actually fall in the middle-income tiers, significantly less than how many ‘identify’ as such. Therein lies a curious juxtaposition that undoubtedly influences our social interactions, public policy, and a perception of one another and one’s self. Borrowing the words of Richard V. Reeves, Director at the Brookings Center on Children and Families, “Class is a slippery concept, especially in a society that likes to think of itself as classless—or, more precisely, one in which everyone likes to think of themselves as middle class”.

I wonder how a simplification and publication of American ‘strata’, like that of the Colombian socioeconomic strata system, would affect American social sphere. In other words, how would knowing and acknowledging where we stand in comparison to others effect our attitudes and behavior? Income inequality has long been a long-standing issue in Colombia, while in the U.S., its heightened attention is more a recent phenomenon since the share of middle-incomes began shrinking since the 70’s and 80’s.

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On Sundays, on the field, job titles, nationalities, and other forms of social status are forgotten in pursuit of the universal tell-all of yelling “Goal” at the top of our lungs. For me soccer has been my favorite pastime and best great coping mechanism since arriving to Colombia. I am most acclimated into my community during those 90 minutes. When the match is over, soccer is common ground for my host country counterparts and I. Recapping what happened at last Sunday’s match often leads to other opportunities for relationship building. Truly, more than leading community entrepreneurship classes or establishing community savings groups, my most effective way to promote peace and friendship and learn about my community is through soccer.