My life in China, Part 12- Walking hand in hand

Picture this. My new wife and I are happily walking down the street in Baoding, holding hands as lovers do (especially newlyweds). Maybe we will go to the underground market to do some grocery shopping, buy some DVDs, or perhaps have a nice bite to eat. It’s getting crisp as winter approaches, so some steamy hot pot sounds good.

We run into an older man. His eyes squint, and mouth puckers like he ate something bitter. He looks at me and then to my wife, down to our hands, and then back to us. He’s a stranger but feels it necessary to let his disdain known. Perplexed, we walk past him and continue on our way. I glance over my shoulder, and he’s stopped and still watching us with that same disgusted face. We keep walking. The next person does the same, and then the next. Each person looks at us, then our hands, and then back to us, either confused, disgusted, or downright angry. Some even mumble some derogatory words, mostly aimed at my wife. Unnerved, we stop holding hands until we make it through the crowd, but it’s too late. Whispers have spread, and we are now very much on display—two freaks of the natural order are in the midst. Call the authorities! 

Ok, the authorities part was a bit dramatic. That didn’t happen, but unfortunately it isn’t rare for foreigners to have run-ins with the cops in China (especially now) just because they look different and therefore must be causing trouble. But the rest of it was what life was like for my wife and me in Baoding for two whole years. When no one was around, we could be just like any other newlywed couple, but as soon as we saw someone, we would have to unclasp our hands and hide our love. Sure, we could have resisted and damned the natural order, but why? What would that have done for us other than making things more complicated? Two people against 1.3 billion? We would have lost that battle. Sure, we fought back for a time and even got into our share of arguments with total strangers, but we received no benefit from that, and it may have even been dangerous.  

Our best course of action was to understand these reactions, come to terms with them, and live our life. There were reasons for this behavior, and we needed to discover why. It is not always easy for Americans to understand a country like China. Our worlds are so very different. In the states, we live in a diverse, multi-cultural diaspora with representatives of almost every nation. In the very general sense, we accept others’ differences and welcome them into our fold (I hope this is still mostly the case, but perhaps not). Is the US perfect? No, certainly not, but a good portion of us try, and at the very least, we are not utterly shocked if we see someone that looks different from us walking down the street. We are all Americans.

But this is not the experience in China. It has always been a relatively closed society weary of the other. Throughout its long history, potential enemies have surrounded the country. They called them the four barbarians- eastern, western, northern, and southern (so everyone else), and at times, China has found itself ruled by these groups (such as the Qing dynasty, China’s last, which was ruled by the Manchu people). The Chinese call their country Zhòngguǎ, which translates to the Middle Kingdom or, in other words, the center of the world. The idea of the Chinese being the center and everyone else being on the outside is built right into their country’s name.      

Although the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) recognizes 56 ethnic minorities, 90% of the population is “Han” Chinese- the world’s largest single ethnic group. Many Chinese will go their entire lives without seeing a foreigner in the flesh, and if they do, it is certainly not an everyday occurrence. Sure, they see them in advertisements and on TV, but that does nothing but add further mystique. The Chinese are a closed group. What do I mean by that? Well, I could live and work there, own a business, speak the language, marry into the culture, have children, and even (in extremely rare circumstances) have Chinese citizenship, but I would never really be Chinese. You may be thinking, well, of course, Chinese is not just a nationality but an ethnic group. Ok, well, if you happen to know an American-born Chinese who has visited China, ask them if they felt accepted. I think you will be surprised by the answer. Unfortunately, they will likely be all too familiar with the term xiāngjiāorén. Xiāngjiāo means banana, and rén means person. Why would they call them a banana person? As the Chinese see it, they are yellow on the outside and white on the inside. It is a terrible term, but one the Chinese use without restraint. If I was to have a child with my wife, what about them? They would be called hùnxuè’ér, literally translated as a mixed-blood child, likely straight to their face (and people wonder why we don’t have children). 

If you were not born in China or one of your parents was not born in the country, you will always be an outsider. The Chinese terms most commonly used for those who are not Chinese include lǎowài, wàiguórén, and yángrén. You can glean a lot from these terms. Lǎo means old, but can be a quasi-respectful term, and wài means outside, so the first term directly translates as ‘old outsider’. Guó means country and rén means person, so the second term directly translates to ‘outside country person’. Yáng means foreign, so the third term translates as a ‘foreign person’ (or foreigner and is why I often use it to refer to western people that are living in or visiting China in my posts). My wife and her family call me xiăoyángrén (little foreigner) and xiăobáiyáng (little white foreigner). With the addition of small, these are terms of endearment (even though I am a head taller than all of them), but they also denote my outsider-ness. The locality has little to do with it. Even when Chinese nationals visit the United States (or any other country), they use these terms to describe everyone around them even though technically, they are the outsiders. 

Chinese culture is also generally considered to be conformist and collectivistic, which is heavily emphasized by the CCP (as it makes governing a whole lot easier). Going down non-traditional routes is not generally accepted in China. Thus, a Chinese girl marrying a foreigner is virtually unheard of in the overwhelming majority of Chinese lives. For us, this meant that in the little city of Baoding, a foreigner is extremely rare, but there was just one example of a foreigner married to a Chinese girl in a city of 2 million people. So could we get angry at our treatment? Sure. But could we blame them? Not really.  

It did help that we were married. Before, we had to hide everything. At least after, people knew we were serious and committed and not just ‘having a good time’ and this helped a bit. In time, we lost that shock value. In the places we most frequented, we became that strange married couple, and thus relatively accepted. But in new interactions we always had to justify our union in just about every conversation. Most of the time, the people of Baoding were not malicious. They were just shocked and curious, but it did feel like we were always trying to defend ourselves and justify why we were together. We would walk into a store, and the owner would have a little smile and sideways look and ask, “who is this?” to my wife. “He’s my husband,” she would say. “Oh, ok… then it is acceptable for you to be together.” It was rarely that obvious, although sometimes it was (Chinese can be very honest/ blunt), but it was always just under the surface.    

These difficulties weren’t just with strangers. We ran into issues even at the University- mainly dealing with my wife moving in with me. It was a battle and it shouldn’t have been. 10 pm would come around, and we would get that knock on the door that I mentioned in a prior post. It was time for my wife to leave and go back to her apartment. Seriously? It was bad enough before we were married. We were two adults. But to get that treatment when we had a marriage certificate, with the official red communist seal of approval and all? It was outrageous. These draconian measures were still happening a month after we were married, almost like a grace period to see if it was legitimate. Ultimately, we had to make a big deal. We had a sit down with Mr. Zhang, the big boss, showed him our marriage certificates, and threaten to quit or even worse in his world, move off-campus (as mentioned before, they liked to keep an eye on us). I even pointed out that in my contract, it stated that family was allowed to live with me and that other husbands and wives were living with each other in the building. They finally relented.  

Then there was family. I will say that both our families have always been incredibly accepting of our union. But my wife’s parents were wary at first, and perhaps rightfully so. Who was this foreigner that swept their only daughter off her feet only to return to America that first summer? My father-in-law was certain that I had another wife in the states. However, when I returned as promised and proposed, I think they were relieved. I proved that I wasn’t that stereotypical American they envisioned. Our first meeting was an adventure and a bit of a culture shock. It was during the Spring Festival about four months after we were married. I can’t say that it all went entirely smoothly, but both sides adapted. They welcomed me into their home, and I experienced the holiday as part of the family. Now, I love them as if they were my own parents, and I think they feel the same. Since that first meeting, we have spent much time with each other. My wife and I visit them often in China, and they have come here three times, each time living in our home for three months. We have traveled extensively and had many great experiences! This is all good news because if you marry a Chinese, you don’t just marry that person, you marry their entire extended family.

I’d be lying to say that it has all been rosy, but would I trade it for a more comfortable marriage? Definitely not. These experiences made me a thicker-skinned person. They taught me great lessons, gave me exciting stories, and made our love stronger. Even with the difficulties, I still count the years in Baoding as some of the best in my life. Once we accepted that the faces were the result of ignorance, naive curiosity, or just down-right shock in seeing something they had never seen before, the less it affected us. Sure, we had some bad experiences in China, but even in the states, we have run into some of the same issues from time to time.

I will say that when we did ultimately move to the US, we were able to hold hands again without anyone taking notice, and it was a breath of fresh air. To this day, more than 15 years later, whenever we go out for a walk, our hands are clasped tight. We don’t take it for granted, and I think that is a pretty awesome lesson that our experience in China taught us.

Cheers!