by Annie Wang
Mother Bee became Juju's enemy. By studying Mao back in China, Juju had learned that an effective strategy for defeating the enemy was to set one against the other. She turned Mother Bee's son, twelve-year-old Tommy, into a defiant rebel.
Tommy washed his father's car windows twice a week to earn some extra money. But then Juju educated Tommy about Karl Marx and the capitalists versus the proletarians. She tells Tommy, "Your parents are the capitalists who have exploited you as a child laborer. It's their parental duty to buy you whatever you want. In China, my parents have never said no to me."
Naïve Tommy was successfully brainwashed and waged a war against his parents, exactly fulfilling Juju's expectations.
"This little Chinese empress Juju sounds like a troublemaker!" I say to Mother Bee.
"As the three-month exchange period was coming to an end, I thought, Thank God, it's almost time for her to return home. Since she dislikes the States so much, she will be happier back there. But…"
"What?"
"One day she disappeared. I called her parents, her school, and her friends. Nobody knew where she was. I reported it to the police. Three days later, they found her in Boston. I learned that she had decided to stay in the United States after the exchange was over. But because of her J-1 immigration status, she was supposed to go back. Then she came up with the idea of seeking political asylum here. She made friends with some Falun Gong people in Boston via the Internet. Guess what? I saw her on TV the other night. She was part of a Falun Gong demonstration in front of the Chinese consulate in Boston. Welcome to America!"
49 Scamming Sam?
My U.S. vacation continues. One day, I have breakfast at the IHOP. One thing I missed about the States were the great breakfasts, especially pancakes. While I am enjoying my buttermilk pancakes with bacon and coffee, an old truck driver, a typical midwesterner, approaches me shyly. "Lady, excuse me, but do you speak Chinese?"
"Yes."
"Can you do me a favor?" The man is polite, yet eager. He tells me that his name is Sam. Through a matchmaking company, he has corresponded with a Chinese woman named Ying from Jiangxi Province for three months. Although they have exchanged only five letters, Ying claims that she has fallen in love with her "Uncle Sam," who is thirty years her senior. When I hear of the age difference, I think of O'Keeffe and Stieglitz, although this romance doesn't seem to have the same chance of success.
"I never expected Asian women to be so direct and open!" Sam says to me. "Aren't we Americans ignorant about other peoples?"
"Thank you for telling me your story, but what can I do for you?" I ask.
"I've thought of calling her. Can you help me interpret on the phone?"
"Yes."
Five minutes later, we dial China from a pay phone near the restaurant.
"Hello, this is Sam. May I speak to Ying?" Sam speaks in English and I repeat it in Chinese.
"Darling, it's Ying speaking!"
"Thank you for the nice letters. I have one concern. What do you think of my age?" Sam gets to the point right away, showing his American impetuosity.
"Although you are thirty years older, you look young from your pictures. Your voice sounds young, too." Ying sounds sweet.
"Oh, I'm flattered." Sam smiles from ear to ear.
"When my heroes Anna Chan and Wendy Deng married General Claire Chennault and Rupert Murdoch, respectively, both of whom are older than the brides' fathers, age was the least of their concerns."
"But I was told that the Chinese believe in filial piety. What if your parents didn't approve of you being with an old foreigner?"
"There are prejudices and feudal thoughts in China, but I'm a woman warrior. I'll fight back!" Ying sounds determined.
"I admire you for saying this." Sam puts one hand over his heart religiously.
"Darling, I've been missing you so much that I dream of you every night. What do you think of me visiting you in America?" Ying's voice becomes more affectionate.
"Sounds like a super idea!" Sam answers cheerfully.
"Of course, you will have to pay for my trip."
"No problem. How much?" says Sam eagerly.
Ying speaks directly to me, "Hey, sister, you're also a Chinese, right?"
"Yes." I say warily.
"Then you have to help your compatriot. If this old guy is rich, I will ask more. If he isn't, I will ask less."
"Why don't you make up your own mind?" I say, thinking, she's already got her hand in his pocket. Now she is asking me how much money to take out?
"Ten grand," Ying says.
"Renminbi or U.S. dollars?" Sam asks in reply.
"Of course it's the green money I'm talking about," Ying says.
"I'd consider it, but I would like to know how you want to spend the money."
"I want to go to the United States via Hong Kong, the shopping paradise. I want to spend a week there to fully experience capitalism. Then, I would like to select a diamond ring, at least one carat. You know, the Chinese really care about face."
Sam shows hesitancy as he hears about the ring. "Darling, I'd love to buy you gifts, but I haven't even proposed yet. We're still in the process of getting to know each other. Perhaps it's too early to talk about rings, don't you think?"
Ying says, "In China, men spend money on women they are pursuing in order to show their respect to the women's parents. If I go to the United States to see you, we consider it an insult to my parents if you don't give me anything expensive."
As I repeat this part in English, I feel ashamed, but manage to translate Ying's words verbatim.
Toward the end of the conversation, Sam agrees to buy Ying something special (but not a diamond ring), and to wire her the money right away. Ying will go to apply for a passport immediately. They air-kiss good-bye to each other.
After the phone call, I feel obligated to warn Sam. So I ask him, "What do you think of Ying?"
"She sounds full of shit! She thinks that we Americans are made of gold. I can't believe she's so provincial." His voice is no longer sweet.
I am taken aback by Sam's answer, "But you wanted to send her money!"
"Are you kidding? I'm sixty years old. No way I'd be so stupid that I'd send some stranger that much money. I've never even given my mother a thousand dollars!" Sam says, shaking his fist emphatically.
"But you said yes to her…" I am confused.
Sam laughs, explaining, "Did I lose anything by saying yes? If I hadn't said yes, would I have found out her real thoughts?"
"I thought you were a fool for love!" I say.
"I pretended to be," says the wily Sam with an impish grin.
"You also had me fooled. You remind me of the Chinese saying, Jiang haishi laode la. 'Old ginger is always spicier.' "
I decide to call Ying and tell her to forget about scamming Sam. I redial the number from the same phone.
It's a man's voice on the other line with a local accent. "How can I help you?"
I try to mimic the man's accent. "I'm looking for Ying."
"My wife has just left to apply for a passport."
POPULAR PHRASE
JIANG HAISHI LAODE LA: "Old ginger is always spicier."
50 Mental Viagra
I didn't anticipate that I would meet Yu during my trip to the United States.
Yu is the Shanghai girl that I met in Beijing a few years ago, whose biggest dream was to speak English every day. I had never met a person like Yu – she was so infatuated with English but had no language talent at all. I knew Yu's boyfriend, a kindhearted young Chinese man. Yu had dumped her boyfriend because his English was clumsy. She was determined to find a boyfriend who could speak perfect English. One time, she was caught with a Canadian man in his hotel room around midnight. Although she insisted that she was speaking English with him, her school expelled her. After the incident, the rumors of Yu prostituting herself spread around the campus and among her circle of friends. Nobody ever heard from Yu again. She disappeared. Many thought she might have
ended up in a mental institution because of her obsession with speaking perfect English.
This time, I run into Yu in my friend's church, a church predominantly serving the Chinese community. Even though I am not Christian, I enjoy visiting churches and appreciate the beautiful architecture and songs. This is a luxury that people can rarely enjoy in China, where religion is watched closely by the government. Yu recognizes me first. For the first hour of our conversations, she talks passionately about her discovery of religion. "God is the Almighty. Other religions from Buddhism to Hinduism believe in deities. There can be many deities, but only one true God. Before, I was so unhappy in China. The reason was simple: I didn't find God."
"I thought you were unhappy because you weren't able to converse in English with native speakers every day," I tease her.
"Perhaps because English is the language that God loves," Yu replies in a serious tone.
"So how did you end up here? Fill me in!" I ask.
"It's a really long story." And Yu recounts…
After Yu was expelled by her school, she desperately wanted to leave China. Within three months, she found herself a middle-aged Chinese-American husband, Eric, who had been looking for a young wife in China.
After coming to the United States, she learned that Eric had lied to her about his job and his salary. He wasn't a computer engineer, but a warehouse janitor for a computer company. He made seven dollars instead of seventy dollars per hour. Although disappointed, Yu cheered herself up by thinking, "After all, now I'm able to speak English with a native English speaker every day."
But soon after the marriage, Eric quit his job and stayed at home. Yu had to work two shifts as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant to support them. Even worse, Eric never showed any interest in sleeping with her. Because Yu came to the States on a marriage visa, she swallowed all her pain. In order to get a green card, she had to stay in the marriage for two years.
During the interviews at the Immigration and Naturalization Service, the immigration officer asked the couple questions about their daily life. When he asked if she remembered any mark on her husband's body, she couldn't answer. Her application was rejected, and her hopes were smashed.
Desperate, Yu sought help from the church people, who showed tremendous support. One church member, a lawyer named Mark, thought it was strange that Eric didn't want to sleep with Yu. Mark had a plan for Yu. After implementing the plan, Yu discovered that Eric was impotent. Because of this, she was successful at getting a divorce and received her green card at the same time.
After telling the story, she says to me, "I realized how stupid I was, judging people only by how good their English is. We should be careful what we wish for."
"It seems God redeemed you! Do you ever think of going back to China and returning to your old boyfriend?" I ask, secretly hoping that Yu would end up back with him.
"No. My former husband is impotent. What he needs is Viagra. At least, he could buy it if he had the money. But what my former boyfriend needs is mental Viagra, which you can't buy over the counter."
"But I don't understand why you are so harsh on your boyfriend. He loves you and cares about you," I say.
"You see, not speaking perfect English is another kind of impotency."
51 Dating a Republican
On the second week of my vacation in Missouri, I meet a twenty-something boynamed Tom at a party. Tom works as a guard in a federal prison, but he is very smart and talented. He writes crime stories in his spare time. He also believes in Buddhism. The best part about Tom is that he respects women. Every so often, he will cook for me; preparing his own recipes for corn bread and smoked tuna. I love spending time with Tom. We ride horses, play golf, go shooting and fishing together. The dating life is idyllic.
Tom and I often joke that if we had depended on a computer dating service, we'd never have been matched because we are completely different species. Check out our dating bios.
Tom's thumbnail sketch would read: Country boy, Southern Baptist, 6'5", 225 pounds, conservative, Republican, and an ex-army ranger. Voted for George W. Bush; very much in favor of the Iraq war; hates the United Nations and the French; loves the quiet country life, professional wrestling, boxing, and car racing; disapproves of homosexuality and abortion.
And mine: Megacity girl, Asian, 5'2", 110 pounds, liberal, Democrat, and a cosmopolitan journalist. Plans to vote for Hillary Clinton once she runs for president; very much against American invasion in Iraq: believes that the UN Security Council should be used to balance the hawks; enjoys the busy city life of Beijing, Shanghai, New York, and Hong Kong; watches Ally McBeal and Oprah; has gay friends and girlfriends who have had abortions; does not understand professional wrestling in any way, shape, or form.
From political views to occupations, Tom and I share nothing in common. I have never dreamed that I would date a jailer who watches stupid professional wrestling. Normally, on my chart, rednecks barely beat out Neanderthals, and this is the last type of person I like to associate with. But somehow, Tom has been the best date I have ever had. He's a teddy bear – sensitive, attentive, loyal, and protective. He always teaches me things that I don't know, from how to putt to how to bait a hook. Another big plus, he is great in bed. It has been over a year since I have been intimate with anyone, and it's reassuring to find out that there is nothing wrong with me. After being with Tom I can't believe there was actually a time when I had no appetite for sex! I think perhaps I should write to Match-makers.com and tell them that opposites attract. But my girlfriends back in China are all astounded that I am dating a prison guard.
Both Beibei and Lulu call me.
"It's a big loss of face if you come back with a man who works in the prison," Beibei says.
It still saddens me that in China – the "People's Republic" – there is still such an obsession with social class. In the United States, it's so much easier to mingle and socialize with people who would be considered beneath me in the East. But what can I do? I'm a Chinese woman with Chinese parents and Chinese friends. How can I lead a great life without their approval?
Lulu says, "Fishing? Making bread? It sounds so boring. The American suburban life is not for us."
"But Tom is so nice," I say.
"But he is not one of us," Beibei comments. "He's not a yuppie, nor is he international enough for you."
"But Tom is a man of integrity and honor. I've met too many international yuppie jerks from San Francisco to Beijing." I sigh, as the thought of Len once again creeps into my head. My time in the States has made me think of him more often. That's why I have decided not to return to Berkeley this time.
"Now you know why we are still single," Lulu speaks. "We love our lifestyle better than we love love."
52 The Striptease Club
What Tom and I have shared is a short fling that doesn't have any future. I know that my friends are right. I can't change my lifestyle for Tom. I leave Missouri for Washington, D.C., to visit my friend Ann, another overeducated single gal.
Ann lives in Dupont Circle and works for the Department of State. We go to the nice restaurants and bars in the neighborhood to hang out. D.C. is a place full of young, single, and politically ambitious professional men. But I am not in the mood to date: I am leaving town soon – too soon to develop any serious relationships. Plus, I feel guilty for leaving Tom.
On the last day in D.C., I take a walk along Pennsylvania Avenue. I'm dressed in baggy clothes. In Lafayette Park behind the White House, I run into six Asian tourists who are sitting on the lawn, smoking and chattering. From the small bags under their arms, the Olympus cameras they carry, the badly fitting suits and ties they wear, and the ever-present cloud of cigarette smoke, it's easy to tell that they're from China. Of course, the fact that they are also speaking Chinese is a bit of a tipoff as well…
In the past few years, Chinese delegations have been a major part of the American tourist scene. They arrive in groups and their expenses are often paid by their companies or
work-units as some kind of bonus.
"Hi!" I greet the Chinese tourists warmly.
"Are you Chinese?" asks a man who wears bottle glasses.
"Yes."
"Are you American Chinese?" Another young man asks.
"Yes."
"You don't work for the CIA or the FBI, do you?" A stocky middle-aged man asks. It's difficult to tell whether he is joking or serious.
"Of course not." I laugh.
"We were told that we might be tailed by spies in the United States. We have to be careful about speaking to strangers here." The stocky man is serious.
"Who told you that? I don't believe that bullshit. Where are you from?"
" Linyi County, Shandong Province,' the young man replies.
"What do you think of D.C.?" I ask them.
"At first, I thought I was in Africa. I didn't expect to see so many blacks in D.C. You know, the Hollywood movies mainly feature white actors. So I thought…" the young man quickly voices his opinion.
"In D.C., 62 percent of the population is African American," I tell him.
"I think the guesthouse for foreign state guests doesn't look luxurious at all, at least from the outside," the man with glasses says.
"I thought the United States was a rich country and it should be full of skyscrapers. But it is disappointing that D.C. doesn't have as many skyscrapers as Beijing or Shanghai," says the stocky man.
" Washington has a rule that no buildings can be taller than the Capitol. Since they cannot be tall, they are quite wide," I explain.
"Okay, I can understand why the buildings are so wide now, but why are the people as well?" The stocky man asks me, eying the ped estrians.
"Show some respect to the American people!" Before I can speak, a tall authoritarian-looking man who has been silent stops everyone.
