What Ten Years in Guatemala Changed About the Way I Think
When I first moved to Guatemala, I thought many of the biggest challenges facing Indigenous communities had relatively straightforward solutions. Create economic opportunity. Preserve traditional knowledge. Pay people fairly. Build respectful partnerships.
After more than ten years living and working alongside Indigenous artisans, I’ve become much less certain of simple answers. Economic development can support cultural preservation, but it can also change it. Good intentions don’t automatically build trust. Even privilege, when used carelessly, can reinforce the very power dynamics it hopes to challenge.
I don’t pretend to have figured any of this out. If anything, Guatemala has taught me to become more comfortable with complexity, to listen longer before forming an opinion, and to recognize that communities have every right to disagree with the people trying to support them.
Over the years, I’ve found myself returning to three ideas.
There is a fine line between cultural preservation and economic development.
People often speak about preserving culture as though it happens separately from economic reality. In my experience, the two are inseparable.
Families need stable incomes, younger generations want opportunities, and markets, tourism, and communities all continue to evolve. The difficult question isn’t whether change will happen, but how much of that change should be guided, accepted, resisted, or embraced.
Working alongside Indigenous artisans has shown me that there is a constant negotiation between preserving traditions and creating opportunities for the next generation. That negotiation rarely produces perfect outcomes. It requires patience, compromise, and a willingness to accept that people within the same community may not always want the same future.
Being an ally is something communities recognize, not something we claim.
Being an ally isn’t something we get to call ourselves. It’s something communities recognize through our actions, relationships, and consistency over time.
Trust isn’t built through language or good intentions. It’s built over years of showing up, following through, listening more than speaking, and accepting that relationships move at the pace communities choose, not the pace we hope for.
Whether someone sees you as an ally is ultimately not your decision to make. It’s something demonstrated through actions and, more importantly, recognized by the people whose trust you hope to earn.
Privilege should create opportunities, not authority.
I’ve also come to believe that transferring the benefits of your privilege doesn’t give you the right to make decisions for someone else. Whether that privilege comes from education, financial resources, language, nationality, or access, every meaningful step should begin with a conversation.
Those advantages can open doors, create opportunities, expand markets, and connect people. They shouldn’t replace local decision-making.
Every meaningful project I’ve been part of has been built through conversation. Sometimes those conversations led to agreement. Other times they challenged assumptions I didn’t realize I was carrying.
A conversation doesn’t always end in consensus, nor should it. Sometimes its greatest value is simply changing the way you think.
Continuing the Conversation
These ideas aren’t exclusive to Guatemala. They continue to shape how I approach travel, ethical fashion, tourism, and cross-cultural partnerships wherever I work.
If your work is bringing you to Guatemala, whether as a traveler, designer, researcher, or brand, AYA can help connect you with Indigenous artisan workshops, local partners, and experiences built on long-term relationships rather than quick introductions.
For access to AYA’s Market-Ready Artisan Index send an email or submit your project.
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