The Gender Divide

Before coming to China, I never really considered myself a feminist. Sure, I believe that women are equal to men and (for the most part), whatever a man can do, a woman can do just as well. But this hardly qualifies me to declare myself an adamant feminist, at least in my opinion. Instead, I'd say my perspective on is quite the norm for many people living in the 21st century. 

Coming to China, though, has made me re-think how "normal" my perspectives on gender really is. Now before you get the wrong idea, I'm not saying that Chinese people or the people I've met here in Beijing are sexist and don't believe women should be in the workplace because that's not what I'm saying. It's just that here in China, and with many of the people I've met here, there's still a concept of inherently male & female things and activities.

Take smoking, for instance. In the United States, if you're a female smoker, for the most part, you're not treated or viewed differently from a male smoker. Smoking is an equal opportunity activity (to kill yourself). But here in China, where smoking exponentially more common, the majority of smokers are male. I'd say, from my personal observations at BNU, male smokers probably out-number the female smokers 10 to 1, perhaps even more. In addition, while a male smoker elicits no response from passerbys, a female smoker elicits looks of shock, disapproval or disgust (not that I know form personal experience since I do not smoke). As one of my Chinese friends explained to me, males smoking here in China is considered the norm, but a female smoking is considered trashy.

Example #2: At the beginning of my time here in Beijing, I was speaking to one of my (male) classmates, Robin, about what I like to do with my free time and the topic of shopping came up. Robin was shocked to learn that I wasn't particularly fond of shopping and in response said something along the lines of, "Don't all girls love shopping?" Jokingly, I retorted back at him saying, "I bet you like shopping more than I do. You look like the kind of guy that likes to shop." He, in return, was quick to say that he didn't like shopping either and that shopping was a woman's activity.

Example #3: The a week or two ago at lunch, the concept of a housewife came up in conversation. Prior to our lunch, we had our conversation class in which we learned vocabulary concerning our parents' professions and one of the words we learned was the Mandarin term for a housewife (which I've since forgotten). That day at lunch, I said that I didn't want just to be someone's housewife later in life, at which point several of my classmates looked quite surprised. Their shocked looks in return shocked me. Considering it's 2010 and several of my classmates at this particular lunch were (college-educated) females as well, I hardly thought my declaration was in any way surprising. But apparently, it was.

(Disclaimer: It must be noted in the above scenario, something might've been lost in translation or perhaps a housewife is a very respected position in their home countries. I don't know and I don't mean to portray my classmates in a negative light, I'm just telling you about what happened from my personal perspective.)

Now before I get ahead of myself, I am not saying that we've completely erased gender differences in the United States; that's hardly the case. But distinguishing boundary between what belongs in the so-called female sphere versus the male sphere is much more blurry. Sure many girls like shopping in the United States, but so do many guys. Nor is a female smoker considered any different from a male one.

Likewise, chivalry, at least in my experience, is largely a thought of yesteryear in the United States. Perhaps it's just the people I keep company with but from my experience with my male friends, they rarely, if ever, hold the door open for me or offer to help me with my books*. In fact, a while back I commented to one of my friends in the United States that, "You know chivalry is dead when you feel oddly uncomfortable when a guy opens a door for you." However, here in China the idea of chivalry still prevails. It's pretty common to see males carrying their female friend's or girlfriend's books and/or purses for them.

Not that I'm really one to complain about a lack of "chivalry," since I've always been the type of independent person that much rather take care of herself, include matters concerning opening doors and the such. But the fact that I don't expect (nor really feel comfortable with) such gestures is pretty indicative just blurred or perhaps almost completely nonexistent traditional gender roles are in the United States.

Of course, I don't mean to say that the American concept of gender roles (or lack thereof) is any more correct or better than the more traditional concepts of gender here in China. Personally, I'm more accustomed and prefer the American perspective on gender and gender equality, but since I was raised in the United States, that's hardly surprising. However, I also realize that there are many people who prefer maintaining the more traditional roles intact. Neither of us are wrong for the most part, it's just different and learning to accept the differences in culture is half the battle when you're living abroad.

So on that note, I'm going to end this very long, slightly rambling blog. Enjoy the photo below.

*To my male friends back at home: don't take that statement as poor reflection on yourselves. I like our friendships the way they are. 

Retirees relaxing and flying kites at Ritan Park. Notice none of the retirees are female.

Don't they look so happy?

You're American?!?!

One of the very first thing we learn at BNU is how to say which country we come from and how to ask other students where he/she comes from. This makes sense on several levels since it's a good way to introduce yourself, and to get to know the other students; not to mention that it's generally a relatively easy statement (unless, apparently, you're from Kyrgyzstan, which is very difficult to say in Mandarin).

But when people find out that I came from the United States, their face often looks a lot like this:

Classmates, storekeepers, and cab drivers all tend to get this surprised, and somewhat shocked and confused look on their faces. It's not that they don't expect Americans to come to China; it's just when they hear "American," they expect to see someone who's Caucasian, not a clearly Chinese-looking girl stumbling to compose a coherent sentence in Mandarin.

It seems strange to me that my nationality is so perplexing to everyone. This is partially because I was raised in the United States, where they teach you from a very, very young age that "Americans" can all look very different from each other but it doesn't make them any less "American" than the other person. In the US there's also the idea of a duel identity. That is to say, you can identify yourself not only by the passport you hold but also by your ethnicity, e.g. Chinese-American, Italian-American, Palestinian-American, etc, which is a concept that doesn't really exist in many other places aside from the United States.

In addition, all my life my mom has told me,"If there's a small opportunity to make money, then there are Chinese people living there," which basically means, no matter where you go, there will be Chinese people living there. Through people I've met and my parents' acquaintances alone, I know of people of Chinese descent that reside in Spain, Brazil, New Zealand, South Africa and Brazil. To me, it's not that unusual to be of Chinese descent yet not have spent most or perhaps, any part of your life in China (or Taiwan, Hong Kong or Macau, for that matter).

However, for some reason, this concept seems very foreign to Beijingers and even to many of the international students I've met here at BNU. People never guess I'm American on the first try; normally they guess Thai first (probably because I'm still tan from the California sunshine) and occasionally Japanese. As a result, I've perfected a short explanation of how I was born in Hong Kong, but grew up in the States. I'm never sure though if the person I'm speaking to understands what I'm getting at although more often than not they do seem less confused after my short speech.

Either way, it's just another part of life here in Beijing for me. Onwards to tomorrow, during which I'll probably serve to confuse even more people.

晚安! (Wǎnān or good night!)

Running of the Cabs

When we arrived at Beijing Capital Airport, my parents and I decided that taking a cab would be the best way to get into the city, so we get in line at the taxi stand. Surprisingly, the line actually resembled a line. However, this orderliness would not last long.

Let me (try to) explain how their taxi queue system worked. First of all, there are two lines of people at the taxi queue. The cabs came in from a special entrance just for cabs and stop in pre-designated spots in the middle of the road. Then, after there a sufficient number of cabs (as determined by the officer manning the taxi queue) parked, the officer waves his hand at one of the two lines and lets a certain number of people walk up to grab a cab. Sounds simple enough, right?

Wrong.

As soon as that officer waves his hand, it's like mass pandemonium breaks out. If you're just a bit slower, because maybe your bags are heavier, they'll just run past you, even if they were 10 people behind you. It's basically like musical chairs, but with cabs and luggage. Not to mention there is NO actual shortage of cabs, unlike in musical chairs.
 
 Next time, if I need to take a cab from Beijing, I'm stretching before hand. And consider this a warning if you ever want to come to Beijing and plan on taking a cab from the airport.

See how the cab on the right is parked in the middle of the road?

Picture courtesy of www.tour-beijing.com

First Week of Classes

Last week was the first week of classes at Beijing Normal University. The Saturday before classes began, I received my class assignment and purchased my books.

Upon receiving the class assignment, I found out I was put in the level two class, even though I told the school at least 10 separate times I really need to start from the beginning level. But of course, they didn't listen. I think they were jaded by the fact that I could speak a little bit, understand most of what people are saying to me and read a very tiny handful of words, since some of Mandarin is similar to Cantonese and I still remember some things form Chinese school. But I figure, well, its their Chinese program so they probably know best; maybe the first level would be too easy for me.

I show up on the first day of class, and that class was way beyond me. There were a lot of words I had never learned. Not to mention that they study simplified Chinese in mainland China and I had previously studied traditional Chinese characters, so half the words I do know are unrecognizable to me now. (Traditional characters are still used in Taiwan, Hong Kong and maybe Macau.)

So after some explaining to the teachers and a visit to the College of Chinese Language and Culture, I was able to switch into a beginning, level 1 class. Truthfully, I might have been okay in the level two class had I worked really, really hard but I knew had I stayed in the class I would become increasingly frustrated and unwilling to learn. Plus, my basics of Chinese language are very faulty as is and you can't build a house on a faulty foundation and expect it to last.

Now, I'm in the level 1 class and it's much better. Currently, it's a bit easy for me when it comes to reading & writing and listening, but I'm sure in a few weeks it'll get harder for me. There's a few things I'm kind of "reverse-learning" as I call it, especially when it comes to pinyin. Pinyin is a phonetic system that uses the English alphabet to spell out the sounds of various words. When I studied previous, my school didn't use pinyin to teach us, so now I'm formally learning it. Sometimes, the teacher uses words that I already know the character and pronunciation of, to teach the pinyin so occasionally, I feel like I'm learning things backwards. Nonetheless, pinyin is very useful since all the street names here in Beijing are both in characters and pinyin.

However, I'm horrible at speaking Mandarin, so it's nice to be in a class with others who are struggling as well. I think my main problem with speaking what many would call performance anxiety. Often times, when I'm alone, I can think of the correct words to say and in the correct (or almost correct) tones, but when it actually comes to speaking, my mind goes blank and my tongue moves on its own. Hopefully though, I'll get over this soon...

Okay, gotta check if my clothes are dry, again.

Please form a queue here---or not..

 On the last day of our tour, the tour guide brought up a point about line etiquette (or the lack there of) in China that had never crossed my mind. In short, she made the point that, culturally, part of the reason people often cut lines in China is due to the country's history of famine and poverty. Although she doesn't believe that excuses their behavior, it does bring up an interesting point that lines are a product of prosperity.

As the tour guide pointed out, not so long ago, people in mainland China needed to fight just to have food on the table. Food and supplies were scarce and people had to fight with everyone who also needed food and supplies when it was available. It was first come, first served. If the supplies ran out, then too bad for you. In those times, people couldn't afford to be polite and wait in line because if they were, it's likely they'd receive either very little or even nothing at all. When you're that poor and in need of basic supplies, survival overwhelmingly beats out politeness.

Nowadays, for most people getting food and basic supplies isn't a problem anymore. Yet, that mentality about lines still seems to permeate.

Here in China, lines seem to merely a formality for the most part. "Lines" often instead take the form of a massive crowd or an uneven blob of people gathered around a specific desk, machine, person, etc. And even if a line (or a queue, as the British would say) exists, line cutting is very prevalent and considered completely normal. In fact, in order to be helped in a timely matter, you often have to push yourself to the front of the line.

On the flip side, Americans, if nothing else, are very good at forming lines, even when there isn't a sign or personnel to tell you to form a line. For instance, when waiting for the subway in New York, people often form lines just to board the train, and wait patiently for people to get off the train first before boarding in a orderly fashion.*  In this instance, there's no fear that you won't able to board the train so people can afford to be patient and wait in a line to board.

For the most part, in the United States, we can afford to wait in lines. Aside from tickets to a big concert or perhaps some big Black Friday sale items, things are not going to run out and we can always find somewhere to obtain the necessities. The United States and Americans are prosperous enough to not have to worry about running out of food and basic necessities.

Of course, China's history of famine doesn't completely excuse there lack of line etiquette, particularly with the younger generation who mostly, if not completely, grew up as China has become increasingly prosperous. But it does help me understand a little bit about where a lot of people here are coming from.

Lastly, it must be noted that this post is just a generalization of lines in the US and China. There are plenty of places in the US where people have problems forming lines and plenty of instances in China in which I have seen people wait in an orderly line.

That's all for now. Time to check to see if my clothes actually dried in the dryer this time.

*Note: New York subways during rush hour are a totally different game, especially on the 4/5/6 trains. 

Living in Cultural Limbo

In case you're pondering the name of this blog, "Living in Cultural Limbo," let me explain it to you.

Cultural limbo, at least for the sake of this blog, is the term I came up with to describe my current situation. I'm a Chinese girl who was born in Hong Kong, raised in the United States and now, temporarily, resides in mainland China.

On one hand, I'm very American: I call California home; I speak English; I carry an US passport and I celebrate American holidays and traditions such as Thanksgiving and Halloween (yes, yes, I know it's not originally American...).

Yet, I am ethnically Chinese; I speak Cantonese and I celebrate and honor Chinese traditions as well. So what does that make me? A Chinese-American expat who moved back to China?

And on top of all of that, I was born in Hong Kong and half my family still calls Hong Kong home. To many here in mainland China, they view Hong Kong Chinese people as separate from mainland China, although not necessarily in a bad way. Due to over a hundred years of British colonialism, for all intensive purposes, Hong Kong is very different from the rest of China, and as a result Hong Kong-nese people are different from those in the mainland.

So what am I exactly? American? Not totally. Chinese? Not completely. Hong Kong-nese? Nope, not that either.  In the end, I'm just stuck in a cultural limbo, not that it's necessarily a bad thing. It's just something for me to ponder during my time here in Beijing.

Good night & sweet dreams from your favorite Hong Kong-born, California-grown, Beijing-living friend.