dream out loud

My mom posed a really interesting thought to me today (in the context of our conversation): Why are Chinese so much more AMAZED by foreigners who can speak Mandarin over Chinese people who can speak perfect English?

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?

Recently, a new restaurant in our neighborhood invited teachers from our school to an opening night dinner. The name of this new restaurant? Chairman Mao. When an email went out about the dinner, the name lent itself to several an inappropriate joke. Out of morbid curiosity and following the crowd, many of us decided to go.

As soon as I stepped into this place, I felt uncomfortable. The decor just felt too authentic, for lack of a better word. The wait staff was dressed in Communist Revolution era military uniforms. Walls were covered in murals of Communist propaganda. Strange does not begin to describe the ambiance. It felt like we had gone through a time machine. Turns out the food and service at this place are quite good, but I can’t bring myself to go back here again. Lots of people found the kitschy decor cool, but I can’t rationalize using such a person and period of history as entertainment value.

Shortly thereafter, a very similar restaurant opened up. It also has wait staff dressed in Communist military uniforms. The entire restaurant is glass and visible from the outside, so I know there are plenty of portraits of men all over. Presumably, they are different influential people in the Chinese Communist Party. These two restaurants are only an addition to what already exists in what I’ll coin another CCP – Communist Consumer Products. What about the T-shirts, messenger bags, watches, dishes, posters, etc, etc, that have Mao’s likeness on them? Non-Chinese people purchase them for kitsch value, while some Chinese people purchase them for actual idolization of Mao. Really? This is a man who some historians believe has killed more people than Hitler or Stalin. I certainly will not easily forget that he is the direct cause of why my mom’s family had to abandon their homes and jobs for safety.

Last I checked, it is the year 2009. In 2009, many important milestones have been reached in the battle supporting or protesting Communism. This past June marked the 20th anniversary of the events at Tiananmen Square. This still remains a topic which is not spoken about. And now, today (or maybe tomorrow depending on the time zone) marks the 20th anniversary of when the Berlin Wall fell.

October marked the 60th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party. It should also be noted that 60 is a special anniversary, birthday, etc in Chinese culture. On October 1st, there was a parade and day-long celebrations to commemorate this. It basically shut down all of Beijing, another city that never sleeps. Seeing those celebrations in comparison to the memory of events from 1989, makes it feel like: one step forward, two steps back…

I sometimes say that at times I forget China is still a communist country. Certainly, it’s easy to forget in my day-to-day living. But occurrences like the opening of these restaurants, the firewalling of harmless web sites, speeches at a parade that commemorate Mao, and the fact that local children aren’t allowed to attend the international school where I teach – are a clear and present reminder.

My friend Natasha’s father, a wonderful writer named Serge Schmemann, has a beautiful article in yesterday’s International Herald Tribune, “A Fateful Day, and the East Tasted Freedom.” He recounts his experience as one of the first journalists on the scene and what it was like to witness the exhilaration of new-found freedom. With all my heart, I hope China can find it. And I hope it doesn’t take another 20 years.