Helping, but not helping

And the one simple thing that I wish I have done

"A bra is worth 3 bags of rice. That's why we don't buy them..." - Her weary voice blended with the humidity of a hot summer day.

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On a volunteer trip with my high school, we visited La Carpio, one of the poorest communities in Costa Rica. It was like people had forgotten about this place, as it was hidden behind the country's most polluted river and a giant garbage dump. The hot weather made the signs of poverty all more evident: houses made of tins merged themselves in the greyness of trees, all covered in a light blanket of dust.

That day, we hung out with the children of the community. While we drew pictures and sang songs, we also had chances to talk to their mothers.

• They told us about the flimsy, breakable-at-any-point bridge they must cross every day to get to the city to work.

• About how difficult it is to get jobs, as they are undocumented immigrants.

• About how long it had been before they had new clothes, household items, and books for the children.

They paused for a long time… then gave a tiring sigh: they could not even afford lingerie. A new bra would cost as much as 3 bags of rice. How could they put themselves over the benefit of the whole family? As a result, some had worn the same worn-out bras for nearly 10 years, affecting their comfort and self-esteem.

I have taken so many simple things in life for granted, and these women here are making so many sacrifices. It stuck with me.

The street in La Carpio, San Jose Province

Our high school allocated funds for students to carry out projects helping the community, and I was thinking long and hard. I wanted to give these women new bras.

Then, I came up with the most (seemingly) genius idea.

Since I would come home for the summer, and the prices of bras were comparatively lower in Vietnam than in Costa Rica, I could use the funds to purchase some pairs in Vietnam. Then, I can bring them to Costa Rica, and sell them to the women, at a price that is 1/10 the regular price. The profit will be used to keep getting more bras from Vietnam.

Looking back, I understood why I was not fit to be a Business student, since the plan was nowhere near sustainable. But it got me so excited. I pitched it to the school and got the funding I needed. I was so in my head to carry out this project, that I did not do this one essential action, which led to the project's failure, even before it started.

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That summer in Vietnam, my mom and I went to different bra shops to scout for the most affordable and best quality.

"So what size do they wear?" my mom asked while carefully examining those brought out by the store owner.

I froze. I never asked. How could I have never asked this question to the women?

"Uhmm….. Let's get a few in every size," I answered hesitantly. My mom and the store owner looked at me weirdly.

"Even though there might be some sizes that don't fit, they will love these new bras" I thought to myself encouragingly while carrying a full bag of new bras home.

Another sign that this project would fail.

Bras brought to the women

Returning to Costa Rica, I scheduled the earliest date to bring the new bras over. Contrary to my eagerness, the women's reactions were far from excited.

The bras I chose were made of thick materials and, unsurprisingly, unbearable to wear in the humid, hot weather. In addition, some bras had supporting wires underneath, making it uncomfortable to move around when one did labor work, which most women do for a living. To rub salt into the wound, most women wear similar sizes, so we ended up not having enough for everyone, while having a surplus of unused bras.

Feeling embarrassed was an understatement. Even though the women were appreciative, my project did not do them any good.

The project failed because I did not ask them what they needed. I was doing what I thought was right, not what they actually needed.

Looking back, I did not spend one moment asking what kinds of bras they wanted to wear, the sizes, the styles, and the materials. I went straight into doing what I thought was right. The project served my want to help, not actually help the women. I was putting the focus on myself rather than on the person who needed the support. I was missing the whole point of the word "helping."

Often when offering support to others, we automatically think that our actions are beneficial because we are helping, right? But we never stop to ask: "What do they really need?" In volunteering, those in disadvantaged positions are usually (intentionally or purposefully) excluded from the conversation about how to help. We forgot that their needs are just as important as our wants to help.

If you are curious about the project, no, it did not work, and I joined in another one to keep supporting the community. In the end, it was the women who helped me more than I helped them. I gave them a physical gift, and they gave me a lesson for life, about what intentional helping is. Ever since then, I always took my time to really understand what the needs are, before plunging into doing what I thought was right.

Because an intentional question is more helpful than many mindless actions.