A Question of Race

 The reality of race is that whether consciously or unconsciously we are all thinking about it.  I am just forced to think about a lot more than most, especially when I travel abroad. I have recently gotten it into my head that I must be some kind of  Johnny Appleseed. For where ever I travel, I spread the curious topic of race around me. Not because I go around pontificating about such deep subjects while on vacation, but because I have been given a burden, or perhaps a gift, of having at times a racially ambiguous appearance.  And when I am out of context, that context being the US of A, my appearance always begs the following questions: “Do you speak Spanish?” [No.] “Where are you from? [The US.] “Where are your parents from?” [The US.] “No, where are they from originally?” Here I could respond truthfully, and continue saying the US, but experience has taught me that that response would only leave my questioner confused, and both of us frustrated. So I help him along by giving him the answer to the question that he does not know how to ask, “I am African-American. I’m black.” In response I get a puzzled look and I continue to provide answers for questions that only linger in the air… “My father is biracial which means my grandmother is white and my grandfather was black. And my mother is an African American with a light complexion.” I find stating the facts to be the simplest way to clarify things and I leave the analysis up to the questioner. Because after all, “race is a social construct,” which means, just like beauty, it is in the eyes of the beholder.

Now it is only when I am in a new context and meeting new people that I even remember that to some people I don’t immediately look “African American” or “black.”  At first when I get some where new, I am actually always surprised that I have to play the above question and answer game multiple times . And no matter who I meet, eventually, they will ask me. And sometimes that gets annoying and I just want to get the explanation out of the way. So I will try to be proactive about it. People ask me, “Vanessa, what time it is?” And I say, “Well, as an African American I believe it is 2 o’clock.” Ok, not really.  More like, “Vanessa, do you want to go to a movie?” And I say  “Sure, but I’ll probably be the only black person for miles...” To which my new acquaintances just smile. Talking about race is never exactly subtle, but I try. And sometimes I don’t.

Most recently I was out to drinks with some new friends when, yet again, someone asked me about my background. I started to say, “My father is biracial which means…” And then I stopped abruptly.   I interrupted the friends chattering near me and gathered them close by, and with a small attentive group, I resumed, “Just so I don’t have to keep repeating myself … My father is biracial which means my grandmother is white and my grandfather was black.  And my mother is African American with a light complexion.”

“She’s an albino?” came a questioning voice from the crowd.  We erupted in laughter.

“No, stupid, it just means she has a light complexion, like Vanessa,” someone clarified.

And so it goes…

[Please note that this may be the first, but it is certainly not the last time that the topic of race will come up].

Eating Fresh or Aquarium Eating

As an American I like my food to look like food. That means I don’t want to see tails, eyes, fins, heads, necks, ears, feet, skin or anything else that might make me realize that I am not eating food, but dead animal. The Chinese on the other hand, like their food to be fresh. Not freshly flown in from somewhere. I’m talking freshly-head-chopped-off-two-seconds-before-cooking FRESH. This means that they like to eat out of aquariums. I personally, have some unresolved childhood issues concerning aquariums. After a mop hit the kitchen table and made my first pet (and only goldfish, Daisy) flop on to the floor and suffocate one morning, I have never trusted aquariums since the tender age of 5. And I have had an overwhelming empathy (and strange fascination) for the fish and other sea creatures that are forced to live in these precarious glass boxes. They should be safe in there, but as Daisy demonstrated, aquarium life is fragile. There are many things that could go wrong, but least of which should be the chance to be eaten by a human.  

So you can understand that I find it wildly uncomfortable to see fish tanks outside of restaurants all over Hong Kong filled with sea creatures that are swimming along minding their own business, unaware of the horrible fate that awaits them when someone comes and taps on the glass.   

Now I am aware of the fact that lobsters also await this fate in the US, but as with all things cultural, I grew up with that phenomenon so it doesn’t bother me. But what I have seen in Hong Kong goes far beyond the occasional tank of 10 lobsters in a fancy seafood restaurant. These tanks are everywhere here, including the grocery store. Just like in the US there is a seafood section in large grocery stores. While ours is filled only with fish on ice, theirs is also filled with tanks of live fish and other small slimy things that come with or without shells. Don't think shells are protecting these animals. Most recently I saw a few little turtles swimming around in tank outside of a restaurant. All I could think when I saw them was “run little turtles… RUN!!” 

Similarities & Differences

Blog you have said. So I am blogging. Emailing you all back individually is starting to take up too much time anyways. And it’s about time that I start. I have been putting this off for the last week and I fear my perfectionist tendencies will continue to prevent me from writing unless I am up front about the following:  there will be typos, misspelled words, incoherent sentences, and the occasional incoherent thought.  And that’s all this little blog aims to be, a collection of my random observations on living, working and playing in Hong Kong. I will try to keep my entries short and do my best to make them entertaining (at least entertaining to me).

For my first week I will describe the top 10 similarities and differences that I have found between Hong Kong and my home, Chicago/USA.

One

Similarity: It is winter so many people wear puffy coats, scarves, and the occasional hat
Difference: The average high temperature today is 65; average low is 56. I wear a spring jacket.

Two

2.     Similarity: There is an (extensive) subway system

Difference: The subway stations and cars are immaculate. And instead of homeless people walking through cars asking for money, I saw an official train person walking through the train… (wait for it…) CLEANING the train car!  (If that isn’t an idea that needs to be exported to Chicago, I don’t know what is. Mayor Daley, please take note: you wanna create jobs… then get to cleaning the L!)

Three

1.     Similarity: There are traffic cops

Difference: They directing the insane flow of pedestrians coming in and out of the subway… and elevators. (People wait in line for elevators too. No milling around here).

Four

4.     Similarity: People walk here.

Difference: People walk soooooooooo slowly! I don’t know if it’s a height issue… or what. But they could pick up the pace… a lot.  

Five

5.     Similarity: People love designer bags.

Difference: There must be some sort of Louis Vuitton bag law or something because everyone carries those puppies like they bought them on the cheap… oh, wait… they can in Shenzhen (a market area known for the cheap designer bags).

Six

6.     Similarity: I still don’t speak Chinese (Cantonese or Mandarin)

Difference: Everyone already knows I don’t speak Chinese based solely on my appearance. So everyone immediately addresses me in English, and I am thankful for it.  And for that reason, I am turning over a new leaf: generalizations are correct and warmly accepted.

Seven

7.     Similarity: There is Chinese food.

Difference: There is Chinese food ALL the time. J  But as a cheese lover… all I can say is that the Chinese don’t know how to do cheese.

Eight

8.     Similarity: There are black people.

Difference: Ignoring glances in the mirror, I’ve seen maybe 5 African Americans… in the last 11 days. :( If you include Africans… maybe we can bump it up to 9.

Nine

9.     Similarity: There are apartments here.

Difference: They are the size of American walk-in closets.

Ten

10 Similarity: My height: 5.6

Di Difference: I AM TALL! I know what it is to look across the tops of heads in a crowd!