dream out loud

I know that right now it’s still the middle of the summer for most of you. But believe it or not, I am heading back at this very moment. Yes, I am on a 4 hour layover. Granted, I have over a week of orientation, meetings, and set-up time, but we start school on August 11. So I realized it is yet that time again, time for me to decide my New (school) Year’s Resolutions for the school year of 2010-11.

First I’m going to have a quick refresher of what I decided to do last year

1. Be less negative.
I think that I have been…

2. Get to the gym.
I didn’t go very much at the beginning of the school year, then did a huge burst of it in the late middle of the year. But then when my membership expired (around May?) I decided not to renew because I was leaving Suzhou soon. I told myself I’d run outside in lieu of that but could never wake up early enough.

3. Save money / spend less.
I think I did. Finances are happy now.

4. Cook more / eat more healthily.
I tried and I believe I did pretty well. It’s easy to want to order in on a bad day. Overall, I think I cut down on restaurant food considerably.

5. Learn more Chinese (character recognition)
Unfortunately, I didn’t do a lot of studying and didn’t take lessons but I think I have improved a lot. Just noticing when I travel and need to read signs, and also the fact that I can read and reply to texts in Chinese. I will try to learn more – and now I also need to practice my Cantonese pronunciation. It’s in my head, just doesn’t come out of my mouth right!

6. Keep in better touch with friends and family back home.
I think this one was… FAIL! As a poor excuse, the firewalling of Facebook has caused me to drop off a lot of correspondence. It sometimes is just too busy to write email! I tried on the phone but people aren’t often free in the morning (best time given my time difference) My friends forget to check my Flickr and Blog, which is where most of the updates about me are.

So for this year….

1. Exercise – I have found that there are dance studios in GZ. Finally!
2. Consume less. This is both for the environment and to save money.
3. Continue to cook more / eat more healthily
4. Continue to learn more Chinese
5. Keep in better touch with friends and family back home
6. Write more and read more. I used to carry around a little notebook and jot things down. Similarly I always had a book to read during any kind of time spent commuting or waiting in line. I have forgotten to that in recent years in the interest of traveling light.

I’ve written here and talked to friends at length (ad nauseum?) about my lack of identity, both in China and the US. In both countries, I’m often told that “You’re not really American” or “You’re not really Chinese.” Emphasis on ‘really.’

I’ve hoped to find others in my specific situation that could relate. It’s easy for people to say they understand… but really, they *can’t.* Earlier this month, I visited my cousin (also American) in Beijing, where she has lived on and off for the past few years. It felt strangely comforting to know that she also gets questioned at the gates of apartment complexes that are perceived as expat or expensive.

I learned last year that a childhood friend of mine had written and published a novel called A Thread of Sky about the Chinese American experience in China. It was just released this month and she is busy promoting it all over the US. I’m so eager to get my hands on it to see what she draws from her experiences living in China, and how they are similar to mine.

It probably won’t be until summer, when I get to North America, that I can buy the book. But I got a sneak peek into Deanna’s China experience in a recent essay she wrote for The Millions. She has always been a beautiful writer, but odd as it may sound, it was emotional to me. Reading about the questions we are asked by locals and expats alike, feelings of isolation, and seeking a sense of belonging felt so familiar.

In the beginning, it was humorous that people didn’t “get” me. It’s annoying now, even frustrating and insulting. Instead, I’m more often given a label by whomever is too lazy to try to understand. Or worse yet, challenged about what my true identity and culture is.

Deanna, I’m so proud of you. Can’t wait to read your book

A while back, I wrote here about my supposed identity crisis as an American-born Chinese living in China. I’m feeling the effects of this “condition” of mine again lately. As with any classic problem, there are likely three reasons.

One of these reasons recurs every two years. I’m not sure if people who are second, third or even fourth generation feel this, but with each Olympics, I’m never sure where my allegiances lie. So here we are again, with the Vancouver games. I am always happy about the medals that both the US and China take home. But if it came down to a clear cut US vs. China game in something, I’m not sure who I’d cheer for. Some might find it strange that I’d feel conflicted about who to cheer for since I’ve never lived in China before now. I’ll tell you this though, my parents have always been on Team China’s side. They also read Chinese language newspapers and watch CCTV news. So perhaps that’s been ingrained in me.

Another reason has come up the more I travel around Asia. So far, in each Asian country I have traveled to, someone or a few people attempt to speak the local language to me. These are countries where my similarity in appearance to the locals range from “maybe” to “nothing close.” These are Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia. I’ll let you be the judge and I won’t be offended. I wonder if Caucasians run into the same issue when traveling around Europe? The skin color and language thing are just funny at this point, I’m not too worried about it. But the most complicated conversations come about when I apologize that I don’t speak the language. The question which of course follows is, “Where are you from?” I explain that I’m Chinese but was born in the US, but am now living in China. This is usually VERY confusing for people.

My last cause for renewed identity crisis, which is the most important, are the current ongoing Chinese holidays. Back at Thanksgiving, I said that it wasn’t the same while away from home. I did realize that where ever I go, I’ll find the equally solid friendships and “adopted” family. For me, that is enough for Thanksgiving. So why is that spending Chinese New Year in China, Singapore and Malaysia still felt different for me? Despite duilian going up on every doorway around me, lanterns, fireworks and firecrackers, it didn’t feel like Chinese New Year to me.

I think that maybe, to me, Chinese New Year is deeply connected to family and traditions. Without it, I feel a little bit lost. I miss leaving my grandparents’ house smelling of incense and food and arms full of containers of leftovers. I miss the dim sum the next morning and 12-course banquets. I miss the weird dishes named after superstitious sayings. I miss nian gao stuck to the roof of my mouth. And oddly enough, I miss New York Chinatown. At the end of Chinese New Year is Yuan Xiao Jie, a lantern festival. Like any other Chinese holiday, there is a food attached – tong yuan – a sticky white rice flour ball stuffed with anything from peanuts to red bean paste. It’s served like a mochi or boiled in one kind or another of dessert soup. Yep, you know it, I miss that too. Also, the day after Yuan Xiao Jie is my mom’s birthday on the Lunar calendar. That’s the birthday we celebrate with her each year. That said, if Chinese holidays are so deeply connected to family and traditions for me, then does that make me less Chinese at heart? Or more?

Lately I’ve been doing a considerable amount of contemplating about my current and particular life situation. I’m a societally defined Chinese-American, living and working in China. My parents, mind you, have never lived in Mainland China, (except for the first 2 years of my mom’s life) but in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the United States.

Before arriving here, I suspected it would be interesting, but never imagined it would be as confusing and fascinating as it is in reality.

I’ll begin with a relevant anecdote. When I arrived at the airport, the school arranged for a driver to pick me up and drop me off at my apartment. During the ride, we conversed. A little bit about me, a bit about him. I had traveled in China extensively and the questions I was asked were old hat to me, so I gave him the usual answers. Basically, the Chinese natives are fascinated by the idea of ethnically Chinese children being raised and educated abroad. I filled in his curiosity as best I could.

While at a traffic light, a Caucasian woman crossed the street in front of us. The driver pointed out the “wai guo ren” and informed me there would be many in my new neighborhood. “Wai guo ren,” while something new to my expat friends, is a term that I have known all my life. Literally translated, it is a person from “another country.” Colloquially used, it is a foreigner. The driver then paused, thought, and said to me, actually, you are a “wai guo ren.” I was slightly taken by this. Even though my parents raised me to be sure to use this term carefully and not in an offensive way, I never once considered using this term with someone ethnically Chinese, speaking Mandarin, to refer to myself.

This can lead to great debates on how to use this term. Which one of us is the true foreigner? And is it cultural? Ethnic? Racial? Or geographic?

The issue of my questionable identity continued on the very same day. After being dropped off at my apartment, I was greeted by an agent from the real estate agency that managed my apartment. All expat teachers are designated an agent who acts as an intermediary between tenant and landlord. In this situation, they also help expats with settling in. We weren’t even out of the elevator before she asked where I was from. Again, she was fascinated and asked the usual questions. Later, she told me that all the agents were busy helping other teachers from my school. She wasn’t my agent, and she was only sent because I could speak Chinese (she didn’t speak English.) Interesting, since I never told anyone in the office that I speak Chinese.

In my first few weeks here, one of my Canadian friends asked me about this particular issue. Ric wanted to know, in a sincere and genuine way, what it was like to be a Chinese-American in China. How did the locals perceive me, and how was I doing? All of that. I explained that they didn’t really consider me one of them, which was really funny because back in the US, there are times and places where I’m not considered American. He found this a bit upsetting.

Although I’ve lived in the US for nearly 30 years longer than I’ve lived in China, I’ve now been here almost eight months and can comment on this question a bit more in depth. In short, it’s confusing. For everyone involved.

Locals are not sure how to treat me. If we go by appearances, then I blend in, in terms of skin color, hair color, eye color. In terms of body physique (Westerners call me “small,” but you haven’t seen “small” until you’ve been to Asia…) and the way I dress, I don’t really fit in, and they notice. Language? I speak enough, yet sometimes need them to slow down a bit and bring vocabulary down to my level. Sometimes they act a bit frustrated and confused about why I ask them to repeat things, and why I can’t read fluently.

Normally, I am surrounded by lots of “wai guo ren,” so for this, I get a lot of puzzled, quizzical looks by people. I think they try to “figure me out” and wonder why I am speaking them in English so quickly. When parents of little children see my “wai guo ren” friends, I overhear them encouraging their children to speak with the foreigner, to practice English. I’ve never once heard a parent ask their child to practice English with me. It reminds me of my local encounter with the English school here.

A pattern we have only begun to notice more recently is that expats, or foreigners, if you will, are treated differently than Chinese. None of it is really quantifiable, just more minor impressions that I’ve gotten, and occasionally ones that my non-Chinese expat friends have noticed also. The only somewhat concrete example I can refer to is related to one of our teachers’ apartment complexes. Most guards around here are quite lax, but theirs in particular is a bit strict about visitors. Or so I thought. Each time I’ve gone alone, the guards tell me that they have to call my friend. They have told me that their Korean friends have to announce themselves each time as well. Now, would you be surprised if I told you that Caucasian visitors don’t get stopped? And the few times I walked through the gates with a Caucasian visitor I received nary a glance? On this issue, I feel a mixture of resentment, amusement and even a little bit of anger.

I’m suddenly brought back to an article I read several years ago, in a major publication where the writer talked about his experiences of racism as a Chinese-American. He live in a fancy building in Manhattan and referenced a time he was coming home from picking up take-away dinner and the doorman, although polite, reminded him not to slip menus underneath people’s doors.

As for expats, they are not as confused, per se. When we are socializing, I’m a foreigner. There are however, funny incidents when I’m asked about Chinese cultural conventions that are perplexing to them. On this topic, I’m sometimes able to help, and sometimes not. Next, there is the issue of playing translator. This is a slippery, slippery, slope. It’s easy to help, and it’s easy for people to ask for help.

Early on in our China-time, I went to dinner with two friends and we walked into a small restaurant where two other families we knew were eating. Before we knew it, people were asking me for help with tailoring orders, ordering a Coke, or asking for a spoon. Later, the friends I originally came in with got a bit annoyed, citing that I was there for dinner as well and none of the things they asked me to translate were requests they couldn’t have gotten across. I got a little annoyed by proxy, and thanked them. Odd reaction, I know. I don’t mind helping, but dependencies develop and lines blur. Far be it for me to judge what situations people need me the most and for whom I’d go out of my way to help.

I have certainly gone through stages of this, and I know it will continue to change the longer I live here. There is so much that I think about, and so much more I need to talk about. This is just the beginning, so far. There is often a fine line between being an outsider looking in and being an insider looking out. Right now, I’ll comfortably say that I’m just tip-toeing along that line.