Sense of Belonging: 归属感
What better way to celebrate America’s Independence Day aka the original Exit than by talking to a bunch of recyclers in your community, sitting in a coffee shop and figuring out your Chinese manifest destiny trip, and talking to said coffee shop’s boss about the intricacies of relationships and Orange is the New Black…
So happy I have found friends that will be nonsensical with me
I had previously posted about this and had thought about this nonstop since being in China, but a lot of issues of identity had arisen over the past year. Am I Chinese? Am I American? What is a Chinese-American and that’s probably what I am right?
While I was speaking/interviewing said recyclers in my community, at one point during the conversation, some of the recyclers stopped and started insisting, “You’re Chinese. You’re definitely Chinese. Look you just said your dad was born in Nanjing”. (This was completely unrelated to the topic at hand but always related to my personhood in China)
This flow happens often in China. I say my family history but highlight that I have a passport and was born and raised exclusively in America (I’ve been to China in total 2 months and to Taiwan in total 2 weeks over the course of the 24 years before my Fulbright), and people argue over what kind of identity that must mean I have.
The words from the recyclers this particular day (Independence Day), of “You are Chinese” incited an unprecedented reaction. I started tearing, thinking of the time I’ve felt ostracized growing up in the States. All the times that my parents were seen as foreigners because of their appearance, because of their accents. The time that I tried to argue with 11th grade classmates that the life of an American soldier was NOT worth more than that of the Afghanistan civilians lives that were written up as “civilian casualties” and instead of a reason was met with the words “Christine, you commie”. This year has also seen the dangers of white privilege on a global level, between the rise of Donald Trump and the passing of Brexit, it makes sense that 2016, the year of Terrible White Men is also the year of the Monkey
That’s not to be said that I haven’t found my community of Asian-Americans and other children of immigrants in the States, whom I miss dearly and understand my experience thoroughly. However, here I found a sliver of that type of acceptance, no not acceptance, an insistence that I belonged to a group of people by a ring of chanting recyclers.
Comic relief is coming up….
At one point a lady in her 70s or some pops into our conversation and starts with “You’re not Chinese” in an extremely heavy Hangzhou accent. DA BO (the recycler I was in the middle of speaking to) and I both could barely understand her.
“You’re not Chinese… your feet are too big. You don’t dress like a girl and don’t carry yourself like a girl”. I can’t argue with that, I do have rather large feet and I’m ok with that. This lady had no mal intent and absolutely no clue she just wrecked my “finding my community” moment. But it's ok, she was really cute (note to self, stop infantalizing the elderly)
This lady is a real Hangzhou person, she never left, not even during the Liberation. She was around when Hangzhou was just a farm. I couldn’t even begin to imagine living through the past 70 years of change that brought China from a feudal state to the “socialist” capital society of today.
I could barely understand her, so I was guessing at everything she was saying… but apparently so was DA BO… He being from Henan and her being from Hangzhou, the two of them had relatively accented Standard Mandarin. She started trying to say how she was having issues “interacting” with someone, jiaoliu in standard mandarin but kept saying jiaowo (which I assume the Hangzhou word for jiaoliu)… it took DA BO a good few tries to figure out what she was saying.
So if two people with nary the same language can both be Chinese, I’m hoping that my large feet and I can also toe that line
G20 Grass Statue, unrelated but hilarious









