I guess this is called racism
I have taken a longer hiatus from writing than I intended to, but a trip to Iceland requires a lot from one. I have learned that. I have also learned I will take 1 week in Iceland to 1 month in China every day every day. They ended up costing round-about the same, but then I did a lot in Iceland and I did next to nothing in China.
Except this one time we went to that Red Leaves Valley.
Coincidentally, this week, photos have appeared on my Facebook feed taken from Red Leaves Valley. It appears Jane visited the park again at a more photogenic time. You see, we visited it right at the end of its season, when the leaves were more brown, the trees more dying.
When I saw the Red Leaves Valley photos in my Facebook feed, I thought, “Why would anyone want to make another 2-hour trip to that mess of a park?” Then I remembered that this is China, and in China you start to think parks like this are the shit. They probably wanted a fresh air or something. Wanted to “see it in season.”
Okay, I have to stop myself here. I’m sounding really cynical and mean. Let me take a moment to reflect on what’s happening… yes, yes. I just went to Iceland. Iceland was 95% wonderful. China was 10% wonderful. They were about the same price, except China cost 3 more weeks of my life and a script of Klonopin. I am feeling self-loathing about my past errors in decision-making, and so I’m lashing out at others. They have happy lives. I can have a happy life too, if I let go of my pain.
Ommmmmm.
Back to doing that then.
I promised you last time:
Next time I’ll tell you about the celebrity phenomenon. In China, you don’t just get stared at. Sometimes you get asked for pictures. Or, they’ll just take a picture of you on the sly.
One time Jesse and I were going to a park in the middle of Jinan. We were waiting for a stoplight at a busy intersection when a man stepped out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, held up his phone, took a picture of me, then slid back into the flow again, gone. I reacted to that, like you do, by trying not to react to it. Still my mind was a’flutter. I asked myself, “Am I about to be shot?” But no, no one knew me here. I told myself, “At least he didn’t ask you for a picture with him.” I told myself, “At least it was over quickly.”
But even still I was thinking, the fuck? Across the street, at the entrance of the park, a group of schoolgirls got Jesse to take a photo with them while I declined and waited at the side. (He caaan’t saayyy noooo.) Several pictures were taken in several group combinations. I sat on one of those thick, short cement poles that keep cars from driving into entrances of parks, watching, thinking, What were they even doing with those photos? What was the appeal? Was it just an extension of the fact that they stare at you? So they could stare at you longer and while at home?
I didn’t think about that too long, because I was anxious to drink my pre-bottled Jack and Coke I had bought at a convenience store. Liquor, in a normal store. With Coke.
The strangest photo session of all happened in Red Leaves Valley though. Let me just show the pictures first.
Here, the woman in red had been brave enough to ask Jane for a photo. Jane consented. The friends have just learned of this consent and are now running over to be in the photos too. Their faces.
Contrast that with Disney World, park opening, everyone rushing first-thing to the very popular Toy Story ride.
Credit: easywdw.com, guy is a great Disney blogger, just sayin’. Also Disney blogs, just sayin’.
I think I did end up taking photos using their phone though, and this one because Jane said she wanted one. The woman in black with yellow tennis shoes had more appreciation for dignity. She was in a few pictures though. So was I…
After the women had left us behind, laughing amongst themselves, I wondered aloud what they did with these photos, and Jane told me what she was pretty sure was happening here.
They take these photos and put them on the Chinese equivalent of Facebook: Weibo. Like we put up photos of children, pets and pumpkin patches. Hey, I met a white person!
In an attempt to transcend culture and the norms that have been instilled in me from my upbringing, I try to imagine something that’s foreign to me now… something that we hurry to take a picture of… then a culture that is saturated in that thing… and how they would smirk at our crazy behavior…
… And nope, I can’t imagine anything like that.
Really. Let me know if you can.
I can imagine the concept of it, at least, but I think we Americans have a little more pride, which is quite possibly a terrible thing to have a little more of. I don’t think we’d behave like this anyway.
It’s just weird to make grown women happy by being white. You just expect to need to work to earn smiles like that. And maybe some people find that charming about China, but I find it really, really weird. I was thinking of a title for my post, after I had written this paragraph, and now I’ve come back to say what you’ve already seen: I guess this is called racism, and that’s why it feels weird.
And since I’ve made the point so strongly as to include it in my title, I now need to add that of course this kind of racism is just an annoyance and I don’t count myself among groups in my country, and other countries, that experience troubling, violent, even deadly racism.
Going forward
Because I’ve taken a hiatus, I feel I should update you on where we are. Should indicate I have a plan. I have a grasp. We reached the halfway point, at some point, back there. There are some small things I want to mention, and a few more substantial stories. But for now, I’m ending this one. It feels short, but then the others felt like they went way longer than I ever thought this would be. But that’s thanks to you. Thank you for being interested. These are fun to write.
