Demonstrations of Racism in China

The other day I brought a bunch of magazines to class (yes, a "bunch," the classic American counting-word, as my British friend jokes). My parents had sent me a package with magazines and different movies. I told them I desperately needed American entertainment and that I also wanted to show my students magazines, books and movies from back home. The must-have magazines are, of course, In Touch and Elle and a few other girl-ish magazines. Bright pictures of Britney Spears showing off her newer, fuller figure, children and more children surrounding Brad and Angelina, what magazine could be a better way to teach Chinese students about American culture? And I had an idea of just how to do it - they would read the magazines together, in groups, and then their groups would come to the front of the classroom and present an article, advertisement or picture that interested them. Simple enough, yes?

Unfortunately, I only had a limited amount of In Touch magazines (5 I believe), then Homes and Gardens, National Geographic (they kept calling it National Geography), Readers Digest, Conservation Today and then The New Yorker.

Sorry...brief pause. I just got a call from my boss's assistant, Tony, who asked me to come over to talk with him and Rod at the hospital. Rod is "sick," and sice Tony cannot understand his English, I had to go translate into Chinese and Chinglish so that Tony could comprehend the mysterious ailment. (Rod is always ailing. He is plagued and no one can understand him.) This experience at the local hospital is worth noting, not for my sake, but for Rod's. I experienced his culture-shock vicariously. I did not feel the shock of being in a Chinese Western Hostpital, nay, Rod did, for I have spent time in Chinese hospitals in Shanghai, where I was amazed at the smokers in the waiting rooms. Anyway, Rod insisted something is wrong with him and that it might be diabetes. He continued to question why the doctor wasn't diagnosing him with something and the questioning why the doctor did not either check his blood pressure or check his urine. It's because no one understood him! He was shocked, and out of the street, to me, he said, "And that's a Western hospital, right? I mean that's not where they practice traditional medicine, and yet they give me this paper drinking cup to piss in?" So it goes at Chinese hospitals.

Back to my story about racism and magazines.

So I dished out the magazines. One magazine, one group. And then they got to work. I went around to each group to discuss some of the different pictures and advertisements. Some of the magazines were harder than others (National Geographic and The New Yorker), and so I spent extra time with the students reading from those magazines, and also reading from newspapers (both USA Today and the local Bristol Herad Courier). For the easy magazines, I simply told the students, "Ok, for your presentation, you can simply do a skit of buying or selling some of these products, or maybe you want to take a survey of who likes which model more or which movie is the best." The New Yorker did not have much for struggling learners, but they managed with the few pictures and comics the magazine does have (though I seriously doubt they understand joke-pictures such as a man walking in front of a camera saying, "That's my mockumentarist." Ha.Ha.Ha.) Anyway, there did happen to be an article about China in this issue (February issue with John Updike's stories and life after his death), and in this article race and the treatment of blacks is stressed. Really, the article is through the eyes of a Nigerian businessman who has come to Guangzhou for import-export business, but in this giant city (the largest in the south), an African inevitably has to deal with racism. As the article notes, the taxi drivers call an area of blacks, "Chocolate City." The article talks a lot of about violence to Africans over the years, such as in Chinese Universities in the 1980s, and the article also goes in depth about racism present today in China, in Guangzhou, where blacks don't trust Chinese, and Chinese don't trust blacks. I imagine a lot of this distrust is rooted in money. They're trying to rip us off. Those shrink-eyed Chinks. Those filthy niggers.

Ok. Now, here, me, pondering this article after I read it. I am in shock to a point I almost can't breathe. I want to cry out because of all the ignorance and misunderstandings in the world. My throat closes up and my eyes start to water, just for people who fail to recognize something beyond themselves. But what good does trying and trying to understand do? Racism is ingrained in their minds. They have been taught about racial hierarchies throughout their brainwashed lives. I know they are brainwashed because I witnessed it. I witnessed my college students (COLLEGE STUDENTS) preaching about the greatness of their country and the greatness of the government and its policies. Sure, they spoke about the expedited action when the earthquate struck this very province, but they still never question. They truly believe in an omniscient, omnipresent service. The People's Republic and its actions. Can you imagine not questioning things? I am constantly told by Chinese people what is right, what is healthy and what is wrong. Yet when I ask, "Says who?" or "Who told you that?" They get this confused look on their face, like that isn't a question to be asked. I have been taught that, and therefore what I am telling you must be true. The Tiananmen Square Massacre, by God, it's the fault of the students.

Anyway, a slight tangent, but racial typologies exist and will continue to exist - in poetry, in old literature, in culture, in society. It is all there. When they were young, they read the timeless words 4th century B.C. Zuozhuan, who talked about those of a different color having a different mind and those with fair skin having more intelligence. They read poetry about the Shijing princess who had fingers "like blades of the young white grass." Sure, when Mao came along, these racial typologies were challenged, but they still remain today. This is what comes of a closed country, and one day China will suffer from it!

So, I just wanted to let my students know just how racist they are. Sure, you're nice and sweet to me, but, deep down, you are a die-hard racist, and if a nigger walked into this classroom right now, you would call him poor and be distrusting of him. You would think I am rich, as I am a white American, and if this nigger were from America, you would question it. I wanted to let my students know that they're racist Chinks.

And so, as some of my students browsed boredly through The New Yorker (a fabulous piece of literary journalism), I opened to this very passage and dictated. You see, Sally, this article talks about how Chinese people are racist. Do you know what that means? Do you see this picture? These are Nigerians working in Guangzhou. Yes, they are working alongside Chinesemen. What? You don't think they're businessmen? Well, dammit, they are. Just because they're from Africa does not mean they aren't businessmen. Anyway, the article goes on to talk about how racist China is and how it is engrained in your system since...well...since forever. But it also goes on to say that racism is getting better. You, in fact, are starting to like black people more.

And I am just as racist. I make too many points to defend black people here. I have all but convinced my classes that Rihanna is my favorite singer, both her and Beyonce. One of my students didn't like Rihanna because she "doesn't like that type." What do you know - she likes the milky-white complexion type. This is coming from a girl covered in pimples who wears acid-washed, dirty jeans.

I read this article

Suining, China - no man's land

I will further write about my experience in Suining, Sichuan, a medium sized city of 300,000 tucked nicely between Chongqing and Chengdu. 我会在这里当一年的老师, 我学校教四川职业技术学院. I will teach English the remainder of this semester, break all summer, and then teach next semester. I'm here alone.

---

Suining is really an interesting place, touched only by Western thought through commercial goods. There is little Western-living they can imitate, as there are no Westerners living here. (Western is such a bad term, but I use it when speaking of, oh I don't want to say it, I guess the developed part of the world. Japan included.) As I have said, I am one of 3...now 4...foreigners in this city. There is Rod Stevenson, an Englishman who spent the past 5 years teaching English in Thailand. Then there's Dahai, a Canadian whose real name is Gilles, but since he is married to a Chinese woman and seems keen on staying-forever in China, we all call him Dahai. Btw, his Chinese is horrendous. And now, there's a black guy named James. I no little about him, only that either his mother or father is from America and the other is from Cameroon. I am not sure what his native language is, but I am pretty sure it is not English. He kept leaving out important verbs in sentences, such as "to be." Then again, that could have been the alcohol.

Okay, now, it is clear I am not a journalist. I have nothing newsworthy to write about. I can only compare 2 cultures - mine and this backward, timewarped China. And my reflections are noteworthy, mind you. Mind you, you haughty Westerner who has flown to Shanghai, to Beijing and to Hongkong. You haughty Westerner who has stayed in 5 Star hotels and experienced only the best delacacies of China with your English-speaking host. (I am joking. But you may be better groomed than I.) I can only afford to live here, and yet my experiences are immense. What I have gained just by seeing China life as it really is can be a lifetime of cultural knowledge for your average person. I do not know what I am trying to say. But the difference of living between here, Suining, and Shanghai is different.

But there are always just your poor, Chinese men. They exist everywhere, and their lives consist of maintaining a living for themselves and their family. (My previous post comments on living-wages in China and the importance of the family when it comes to living.) Today I realized that I haven't recognized him enough...this simpleton...this average fellow. I have not recognized the tri-cycle man with his worn tennis shoes.

Or maybe he has new tennis shoes, shoes that are white and clean and do not seem to match the rest of his tattered outfit and tattered look. His shoes are new and white, and his pants are gray, rolled up, revealing dirty, tanned legs. His fingers are dirty, as he lifts and cigarette to his mouth and scans the crowd. He is looking for a customer. He is looking for a man, woman or child to board his tri-cycle for a 5-10 minute ride. His pay will be 2 yuan.

I have not thought of this man enough. Aye, I am that haughty Westerner. I walk around with my headphones in my ears. I keep a fast pace. And I wear nice clothes...nice clothes that match and could be expensive...I mean they look expensive. That is because I do not go out of my way to be showy or flashy. Chinese people simply do not realize the paradox of the clothes they wear. In wearing expensive looking jewels and lots of colors, they actually look poorer. The need to understand the age old lesson of "less is more." But, as I was saying, this does not matter. This materialism I obsess over does not matter. I need to consider the poor Chinese man more.

and if the man needs to be considered more, the woman certainly does

China pics

Been keeping to myself

I have been keeping to myself a lot lately. I don't have any desire to go out and socialize. The only reason I would ever want to hang out with Chinese people is to improve my Chinese, and, I guess that is a good reason. I do, after all, want to become fluent in the language. Such a predicament. Anyhow, I can't very well remain cooped up in my apartment. I am forced to go out every day and talk to Chinese people, although my conversations are not as long and extensive as they would be were a feeling more social.

Actually, I have been watching movies and writing and reading and listening to music a lot. Right now I am listening to Bach F Minor Concerto - mainly because that was what was playing in Hannah and Her Sisters (a movie I have now watched twice since it's arrival from my parents' package). It really is so beautiful.

Another thing I have been doing is going to the gym a lot. I must say I am in fantastic shape and can run for miles. Last week I ran for an hour straight on the treadmill - almost 12 kilometers. The next day I was quite sore, but I have decided I will make this a routine...an hour on the treadmill a week. I work out about 5-6 times a week, every time running 5 kilometers. And I can do 5 pull-ups and lift quite a bit of weight. I guess I have nothing else to do, and it really makes me feel so much better to run...running really pulls me out of my depression. I feel I have a great stride, and I don't feel tired, and really, I just feel exhilirated. Anyway. At least I have that.

I am increasingly annoyed by being here. I have been asking myself lately, "What the FUCK am I doing here? Why am I in China? Why..."

You know...I don't know what to do to pull myself out of this depression. I have tried calling friends, but I have severed several relationships just since my arriving. I guess I would not say "severed," but they just are not the same anymore. I just don't know who to talk to about my feelings, and I have so many things to do. I have so many things that need to be said quickly, and also, some not-nice things to say. This is why I cannot talk about my feelings with a Chinese person. I am too worried about offending them.

Today I am annoyed at my boss. He told me...yes told me...that we would be meeting at 3 for lunch, and now, he has sent me a message saying, "Oh I can't meet at 3. We will have to meet at 5, see you then!" As if I don't have any other plans. This outrages me. Maybe Chinese people here in small-town Suining don't do anything, but I do!!!! I know I just said I didn't, but I guess it is the principle of the thing. You should ask if a person is free. You shouldn't demand time with that person. That's what we do in America.

I have cried many times today. I cried upon reading and EE Cummings poem about love, I cried during a Woody Allen movie about love, and I cried just thinking about...love and things. I miss America. I love America, and no one understands me. I mope around, hoping people will look at me and notice the sad American girl. Gosh she must be homesick. She probably misses her friends and family. She probably cannot tolerate Chinese life any more. She's tired of the mess, the pollution, the grotesqueness of the city, the distress and the eager, annoying people. I am tired.

I did this to myself. Of course I did. This is no body's fault but mine. I wish to God I would have gone to Shanghai, Beijing, or even Chengdu. But, no, my over-idealistic notions told me that the best way to learn Chinese would be to go to a small-time city in the middle of nowhere. I rationalized that I would have an incredible, eye-opening experience. I did not reason my own feelings. God...the head and the heart are in such opposition. "In my case they aren't even friendly."

What do I do now? I have overspent my money...but I always have more money to spend. I could buy a new, second camera. I have been wanting a smaller one, but then I would get upset and depressed to tears again because of the outrageous price and horrible quality. It's true - Rod, the Englishman, bought a small Canon camera for 1600. Extortionate! In America, the same camera would run for about 130 US dollars or 800-somethign RMB. And who is to know if the Chinks are ripping us off?

I have been telling myself that maybe I should find a boyfriend. But I just can't find any at all whatsoever anywher in this whole, godforsaken city that interest me. I need a strong, tall, professional man who does not smoke cigarettes and who does not think that black is the inferior color. It disgusts me that I chose a country where they have been taught about superior races. Racism is engrained, and it disgusted me when I student commented how "ugly" Rihanna is because she, "doesn't like that type." She liked the pale "types."

Cast a pall.

I saw a tipped over truck today.

Hello. By the by, I'm in Suining, Sichuan and have been since February and will be for another year.

Just finished eating lunch, a delicious, salty soup made out of dried mushrooms, noodles, seaweed covered in MSG and other vegetables. I made it myself, and perhaps I made it too salty...but yesterday and the day before I ended up making my food too sweet. All these added sweet and salt is in defiance of the Spice, which, every day, is being forced onto me by this city, Provence and its people. Enough with the salty and sweet though, I need to give the bare facts of today:

Woke up at 7 AM and rinsed my hair (so as to not look like a crazy person with my bed-hair sticking out every which way, but then again, that would just make me fit in).

Then got dressed, and then ate breakfast at my usual morning restaurant, and I ate my usual morning breakfast - porriage with fruit and vegetales and one lump of steamed bread. Quite tasty and quite the perfect breakfast if I do say so myself.

And then I got on the school bus to go to school. I could tell today was going to be a nice day because I could actually see part of the blue in the sky. Blue! It was actually there, not gray fog dust, but a tint of blue. It's 1 pm, and unfortunately that blue is gone now.

Yeah - so now today sucks. I just received some depressing news...not death, illness or major disaster depressing, but my-life-feelings-friends-fucked-up depressing. That's some context, but this is life and these are the things we get upset about. We get most upset about deceit and lies and things like that. Today, while riding the bus home, I saw a truck tipped over on the side of the road. I looked, just like everyone else, but then we passed the scene, and I resumed my text messages. I did not care...why should I? But now something seemingly minor has happened, and I am upset. Such is life. And I should probably just forget it.

On hungover days, I always tell myself, "Wow, just think about how lucky you are when you are in good health. If only your stomach felt like that." Well today I feel good, and I should be grateful. I am not hungover, with the flu. Nor do I have strange lesions my body. I should be grateful. But to whom? No one, just enjoy things.

Right now I should go print off about 60 more maps of America. That will cost me like 15 Yuan. Thank God for my new printer. It's just not hooked up yet.

I'm terribly bad at yoga.

So what did I do today?

I woke up late. Around 8. And caught a cab to the new campus for my "meeting" (for what, I had no idea) with my boss "Jack." Turned out that he wanted to teach me some Chinese, which was much appreciated on my end, as I had only been trying to teach myself out of dictionaries and phrasebooks. I desperately needed the guidance of a fluent speaker. Anyway, I've been studying a great deal - any time I am doing something without using Chinese, I feel a bit bad for it. The question pops into my mind, "Where would a be a year from now or 2 years from now if every free minute I had was spent on studying Chinese?" The answer is - I would be pretty damn far along. And so, when this thought comes to mind, I instantly put down or turn off whatever English-using device I am using (iPod, AIM Chats, books even) in preference for Chinese language tapes or rummaging thought a dictionary.

So after my meeting with Jack, I went to wait for the bus to take me from the New Campus (where his office is and where all my teaching classes are) to the Old Campus (where I live). But while waiting, I ran into "Lemon," an incredibly sweet Chinese girl (aren't they all?) who desperately clings to me and talks to me in her decent English. I have started to speak Chinese more to these people who only want to speak English. I know half the people who come up to me as "good friends" just want to improve theirh English, but I'm tired of catering to people and thinking I should help them by only speaking English. Outside of class, I will do what I originally set out to do - Learn Chinese. And so I will only speak Chinese when outside of class. Too bad for all my new, dear close friends, such as Lemon. how vindictive of me. anyway, i met her and then her friend...whats her face...and they all commented on how good my chinese is (yeah, thanks, no no, thanks), how pretty i am (no no, thanks, no no), how white my skin is, whether I had eaten, and so on. Finally, I figured I had missed the bus, and they invited me to the dining hall with them. They clung to me arm-in-arm, and we three walked to the student dining hall.
Lemon said, "Oh, I think everyone wants to talk to you! You get so many stares because you are foreign and so beautiful!"
Their dining hall is nothign compared to what I am used to at VCU. Their campus is very dull and boring, lacking color or grass or anything vibrant. i feel bad when chinese people ask me what i think of their college. they ask me in a proud way, i can tell, because the campus is new and they want to show off. i always lie and say how beautiful and vast it is - in the city but right beside lovely, rolling hills. This is somewhat true, there are nice hills in the background, but, still the campus is boring, gray and ugly, and their Dining Hall has got to be one of the worst parts. I mean the food is lined up in these ugly gray bins, and piles of food are lined up - vegetables of all sorts, some meat selections, eggs, tofu, etc. The selection is not so bad, the presentation is majorly lacking. As with everything in China. I get my money's worth, but God Damn, it's ugly and ROUGH. The food was served in a small styrofoam, box. We also got rice, and ate in the dingy cafeteria, enduring stares and smirks.

After that, i came home to find my cleaning lady here. I took a nap while she cleaned, and when I woke up, she was still here cleaning. I do not know why she stayed for so long. perhaps she did not want to wake and disturb me. Anyway, when i woke up, i told her...my oh my you've been here a long time. go home! Do you want me to pay you today? She told me "Suibian, you decide how much to pay." Which pissed me off because she had been making Rod pay here 30 yuan each time. I wanted the same deal, especially because my place is smaller than his. Anyway, I offered her a 100 (see, I'm a pushover, always wanting to please other people before myself), and thankfully she turned this down and insisted 80 was all she'd take. Should have been 60, but who am I to turn down such a poor person compared to myself.

Then I went to the gym and tried to get skinny. In the shower room (where you have free reign to look at all the naked Chinese women you want), I noticed I had the best body there. but when i have clothes on, I always feel like i look so fat compared to these little Chinese people. But still, my body is strong and doesn't have fat rolls the way many of these women do. Their asses may be smaller, but they're saggy, same with their stomachs. Small frames but saggy fat rolls. Well, that isn't the case with all of them. I really wish I could be skinny to fit into Chinese dresses.

Anyway, i have so much to say, but i just don't feel like writing or typing. i am find it terribly annoying right now.

So much to do this weekend:

Tomorrow - Go to Tony's Office and WORK ON SCHOOL PLANS
5 - go to Anna's
7 - call Jack to meet me

Saturday -
Meet with students at 1:00
Hang out with Steph and Rod...whatever

Sunday -
11:00 meet with Richie.

And in my free time, I will plan classes and STUDY CHINESE.

Last night, at the gym, I went to yoga class after my mandatory 30-minute run. And I made a stink of myself. I am the least flexible person I know. The poses, the stretching, the breathing and sitting up-right were all just terribly hard on me, and I wanted to give up. But at the same time, I thought of myself as a skinny, flexible ballerina. Agile and suave and sweet and angelic. I want to be like that. I want to be able to bend and twist and sit down and meditate and be comfortable doing this. Instead, I am a strong runner who can do 5 pull-ups and 100 crunches. I can walk on my hands and run really fast. But I cannot touch my hands to my toes, which is really annoying.

Me. Right now.

Greetings.
I have not posted in a very long time (not that you have been desperately waiting, day and night, by your computer for the next Amy-Derr-Update). I am not so arrogant as to think that.

In fact, now that I've chosen to give regular updates to my G-Blog （Yes, Amy, Dammit, You Will Post), I have happened upon a most unfortunate predicament. My computer - or rather the computer that has been loaned to me - SUCKS and WORKS HORRIBLY.

For example. No "For Example." Simply. It is Chinese. And on top of being puzzled at the character-commands on all sides of the screen, half the time the computer automatically starts typing Chinese characters. And I don't want it to! Their computers' English is just as poor as the people's.
The People's Republic of China is where I am ATM. And for the next year. Ｉarrived...let's see...February 14th, or almost one month ago. Wow! So much has happened. If I were a meticulous writer, keen on every detail, It would take a year to dictate just this past month.

Ｗhat the people look like. So many of them! How they dress. How they act. How I am different. How we became different. How we are raised. So many people. How things look. Why are things so dirty? So many people! Endless shops. Taxis, bicycles, rickshaws. Honestly - I do not think I could come close to truly conveying this...feeling...of just being here walking around.

Anyway, and then there would be my thoughts and reflections. I'd have to write about everything I had thought about from the time getting off the plane until now. At first, there were restless nights when I cursed my decision of coming here. American life was so perfect. These people would do anything to live the life I did. 　<----this a="" am="" and="" back="" became="" better.="" br="" coming="" course="" for="" friendships="" home.="" i="" it="" later="" m="" month="" my="" now.="" now="" of="" rationalization="" right="" s="" the="" then="" there="" things="" tired="" typing="" was="" way="" were="">
Anyway - but I am not a writer and not meticulous, and so I will not give in-depth descriptions of everything I have seen, every thing I have thought, or every passing feeling.

Today is Tuesday, and I have a few hours before my next class begings. My job is teaching English, and I truly feel lucky for having found this job with its benefits. Luck - that is what it is. It isn't the grace of God or being smart or planning anything well. My good fortunes are based on Luck. Beyond that, I am Lucky

Because I believe I am lucky. Anyway, this is my mindframe.

I am a superstar here! I am going to blatantly say it. I am! This is the way my life is here. Here below I will try to communicate my ascension to "stardom."

- I am the only white girl in this city, and I am American.
There! The end! Wow, that was easy to express!

This simple fact carries so much weight. I feel the weight every day in many different ways. Sometimes I feel guilty, I feel bad, I feel annoyed, overwhelmed, happy and mostly Lucky.

Once more, I am not a writer, and so I am not going to go into the different occasions that lead me to feel these different ways. Maybe eventually you will get an example or two out of me. I feel guilty getting on the school bus - the bus that takes us teachers to our college 四川职业技术学院 - and I do not have to pay the bus fee. Merely because I am a foreign teacher.

I feel guilty knowing I am paid 5 times the other teachers' salaries. Merely because I am a foreign teacher.

I feel sad when I go eat my dumplings - every day at the same hole-in-the-wall - and I see the little girl who works there and her scarred and blistered hands. Ｗhy isn't she in school! And constantly, the whole time I eat my dumplings, I am thinking the lines, "我可以教你英文." But if I told her and her family that I can teach her English, I，again, would feel guilty and like an intruding white person.

The accumulation of these feelings does not make me sad though. In fact, I am all-around happy. This poem by Emerson could convey this situation better than I every could:

Why should I keep holiday
When other men have none?
Why but because, when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone?

And why, when mirth unseals all tongues,
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.

well, I am going shopping! Hot tops!