Ethnic Studies 1A

Story time!

I was sitting on the Spanish Steps in Rome on a sunny March afternoon people watching. I was writing in my journal when an older Italian man sat down next to me. I looked up and gave him a polite "buon giorno." He nodded then proceeded to stare at me. Then, the following conversation ensued:

Old man: Excuse me, where are you from?

Me: [smiling politely] America.

Old man: Huh? Where are you from?

Me: A-mer-i-ca.

Old man: No, no, no. WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

Me: China?

Old man: Ahhh. Your English is very good!

Me: [slightly confused] Thank you.

(And yes, I had to take a picture with this guy. His name was Giuseppe. We tried talking for an hour. He also wanted to take me out to dinner and promised me a place to stay somewhere along the Almalfi coast. I didn't take either offers.)

So, you're probably wondering now why I'm telling you this story. Here goes... I have had the chance to travel around the world. And where ever I went and get asked where I'm from, I would say about 95% of the time would look at me in disbelief after they hear my response.

While working in Japan, I received a complaint from a student saying that I wasn't a native English speaker because I didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes. So, if my black hair and small dark brown eyes don't make me an American, then what am I?

A few weeks ago, my latest adventure took me back to the motherland, a.k.a. mainland China. I honestly didn't know what to expect. I thought it would be somewhat familiar having grown up in what I thought was a traditional Chinese family within a Chinese community.

I would have to say that of all the places I've traveled to, this was the first time I ever really experienced 'culture shock.' I felt confusion, sadness, helplessness, with a sprinkling of negative stereotyping. I know, weird concept, huh? A Chinese girl shocked by the Chinese culture?! Granted, my first port of entry into the middle kingdom was Shanghai, not exactly known as the friendliest city in the world. A majority of them were rude, unwelcoming, and looked at me in disgust after they found out I couldn't speak Mandarin. Within a few days into the journey, I had already made a joke to a friend saying that after meeting the Shanghainese, I no longer wanted to be Chinese.

As I made my way around the country, the shock slowly eased, but that feeling of not belonging was always still there.

The friend I was traveling with made a comment while we were waiting for a boat to arrive. We noticed about 5-6 guys squatting (as if they were on a squatty-potty) and talking to each other. He laughed in disbelief that they were sitting like so and said they looked like monkeys. At that time, I laughed with him in agreement, mainly because I was frustrated with my cultural identity crisis. But later on, the more I thought about it, that joke he made was really an insult to the men (and to me). It's just how they sit and it's normal! I know he didn't mean it as such and I didn't tell him that I was offended (but wish I did). It just put more questions into my head as to who I really am.

And now, here I am, confused as ever. My travels around the world has opened up my eyes to all the different kinds of people that are out there, and yet, the one culture I thought I could identify the most turned out to be the most complicated of all.

So, to answer the question, who am I? I am who I am. I have black hair, brown eyes, a bit squishy in between. I am Chinese on the outside, American with some Chinese in the inside. But at the end, I'm still the same as everyone else, a human being.