My love for Costa Rica, traveling, desire to study abroad, and interest in international social work led me to the Comparative Criminal and Juvenile Justice ten day study abroad program– something I had been interested in since I started the MSW program at Mizzou. This was a comparative class, so I assumed Costa Rica’s systems should be starkly different from those in the U.S. – the ones that we see often failing, discriminative and unjust. A five-minute Google search could have disproved my hopes, but after four days of lecture and site visits, I learned that across borders and cultures, injustice, unfortunately, isn’t unique.

My naivety wasn’t so great that I actually believed there would be zero injustice in Costa Rica, but I had hoped to see more structural and cultural differences to help rectify the injustices Ticos faced. Instead, I found myself standing in Costa Rica, looking into a mirror and seeing the U.S. in the reflection. For both nations, mental health services are, for many, inaccessible; LGBTQIA+ individuals face significant discrimination, especially in accessing mental and physical care, despite Costa Rica’s universal healthcare; many individuals, especially those who are homeless, struggle with substance use; women are at a disadvantage when accessing drug rehabilitation programs due to the complexities of motherhood and a culture that expects women to be in the home; poverty is rampant and immigrants are more likely to be impoverished, treated as outcasts and not accepted into Tico communities.

Despite the flaws that were apparent in the Costa Rican systems, our class was given the opportunity to do site visits as a way to learn about the different programs and organizations in place. Three of those site visits, in particular, revealed positive systemic differences from respective U.S. systems.

Costa Rica, like many Latin American countries, has a more communal approach to life than the U.S. Many Nicaraguan immigrants flee to Costa Rica. When these individuals began migrating to Costa Rica, they faced discrimination. In order to survive, they began squatting on government land, next to a landfill outside of San Jose. Here, they received no pushback from the government, after all, who else would want that land? Their home, settled between a sewage plant and a landfill is La Carpio, and it is the poorest area in San Jose. The government gives minimal assistance to those who live there. But, despite numerous barriers, there is a sense of community and solidarity in La Carpio. Neighbors help neighbors – they share food when needed; if someone’s house catches fire, they share their limited water supply to stifle the flames; if a child excels in a sport and has the opportunity to travel for competition, they raise money to make it possible. In La Carpio, there is a community center called SIFAIS. There they provide childcare, workshops and materials to create artwork for profit –all free to the people of La Carpio. It was clear that there is power in supporting your community, in looking past differences and reaching out a hand, no matter who is going to grab hold. I saw that there is assurance in an environment where people look out for each other.

In our class reflections, we often circled back to the idea of humanity. The day that we visited a prison, we discussed the ways that we saw a recognition of the humanity of the prisoners. There were a few small details that stood out. One of them being that none of the prisoners were in uniforms, even in maximum security. This privilege, that people have outside of prison, to express themselves through the clothes they wear, is taken for granted. No, the prisoners can’t go shopping for new clothes every weekend, but by wearing the clothes they want, they are not minimized to a number on a jumpsuit. They still maintain some sense of autonomy and individuality. We were challenged to ask ourselves, what harm comes from allowing a prisoner to wear a pair of athletic shorts, a tank top, and Nike shoes? The Costa Rican prisons are proof that it isn’t more dangerous to allow the incarcerated to wear their own clothes, it’s just a simple act of respecting their dignity because, despite their actions, the incarcerated are still human.

The site visit that most stood out to me was the foster home we visited. It presented the most difference in comparison to U.S. systems. Instead of monetizing the life of a child, and profiting off the often harmful circumstances a child was born into, adoption in Costa Rica is free. Foster homes are not underpaid families in the community, but rather homes, in which multiple foster children are raised together with love, given consistent therapy and equal access to education and healthcare. To me, this site visit was the most rewarding. I saw love in that home, respect for the children and their pasts, and an ongoing attempt to mitigate the effects of adverse experiences. The children were elated to see us, not because they were starved of care or attention, but because we were fun, new people to hang out with. I was most struck by my interactions with one child, who gave me kisses on my cheek the first time I bent down to talk with him. He told me, other students in my class and the women who worked in the home, that he loved us. It was heartwarming. I was impressed by the success of their system– that all foster children are given the opportunity of a healthy upbringing, instead of being subject to the inconsistencies of unstable and ill-equipped foster homes in the U.S. (that is not to say that all families in the U.S. are unsuccessful, but the overarching failure of our foster care system in the U.S. is an epidemic that can leave some children neglected of affection and sometimes basic needs, unable to cope with their experiences). It is time that our system changed and witnessing the success of a different approach elicited hope in me.

Dr. Canada made a comment in our final reflection that struck me, “Sometimes our fears are justified,” she said, “but sometimes our fears are just because we haven’t tried it.” What if we tried, collectively, as a world and nation, to see others as humans, with worth, dignity and potential. What if we took notes on the successes that can arise from a communal lifestyle and put them into action? What if we look beyond the surface, and really started to face our fears, to do something new? We won’t know if something will work better until we try it. Visiting Costa Rica again showed me that there is so much more to the world. We have a lot to learn and even noticing similarities encourages reflection and encourages us to challenge what we know. As a future social worker, this trip helped me develop a greater understanding of the world and the ways that we are all similar and different. Developing a comprehensive worldview is essential for a social worker. I look forward to more opportunities like this one to help me continue to enrich my personal and professional development. I encourage everyone, whether or not you’re a student or a social worker, to take the time to immerse yourself in a new part of the world.

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Learn more about this blogger’s study abroad program: Comparative Criminal and Juvenile Justice