Please, Don't Touch and No Photos
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**Note:
Culture shock is a topic that deserves its own space to be discussed. It is too important to be handled as an add-on to a different topic. I will explore it in a separate blog post (or, perhaps, a series.
I must preface this blog post with a reminder that my goal for this platform will always be to spark conversation. I am aware that a subject as heavy as this deserves careful time and attention (believe me, I spent the entire week devoted to drafting this post). However, it is important to remember that my experience is just that—mine. I would like to start a larger conversation about this where others’ voices and experiences may be considered but, until then, I cannot offer a final, all-answering resolution to the struggles people of color face. I can only offer the solution I found for myself in this one, particular situation.**
Recently, a friend asked if the people of China are mystified by seeing a person of color and I’ve actually been wanting to address this topic for a while. My experience being a Black woman in China has been rocky and I am eager to share my story with you all.
So far, the older the Chinese person, the longer and more intense the stares have been. Truthfully, this is the pattern I’ve noticed. Now, to be fair, I will admit that I have always enjoyed dressing up. I like to look my best because it helps me feel my best. Back home, this sometimes meant constant looks (and sometimes hollers)— from both friend and foe (come on ladies, you know what I’m talking about). Adding on top of all that the fact that I am Black AND rocking braids?! The minute I stepped out of the airport, I was bound to get some extra attention.
PHASE 1: STARES, STARES, STARES
I take the train every morning to get to my classes and when I tell you that it’s like I’m a celebrity, I’m speaking the truth! The guards at my stop have become accustomed to going out of their way to wave to me and practice their English. I always respond because, I mean, why not? It’s sweet. Plus, you never know if I may need to call on them for help if, God forbid, something were to happen to me or a friend while in the train station.
There are times, though, when the intentions don’t seem to be so gracious.
Men have stopped short and doubled back just to take a longer look. Some gesture over to their friends to come over and take a peek. Women have come up to me— just two feet in front of me— to stare and point. I promise, as dramatic as I have been known to be, I am not over-exaggerating. Others have actually reached out and TOUCHED MY BRAIDS. I don’t even let my friends do that! Teenagers have asked to take pictures with me. Children have looked at me with wide eyes, trying to take in as much as their little minds could process.
In the beginning, it felt innocent. I didn’t view it as a negative. It wasn’t annoying and I wasn’t offended. Furthermore, I am a pretty optimistic person and don’t think badly of others easily, so I didn’t feel the need to be on the defensive. I came to China knowing that people of color are of great rarity here. I knew that I would be regarded as a novelty— I had done my research. But as time wore on, it began to grate at me, especially when people started sneaking pictures of me. They angle their phones strategically to get a selfie with me without asking. Yes, I do mean with me. They stand close to me on the train, slowly lift their phones up, and snap the photo— a selfie of me, “unaware”, and them, smiling.
I am a very outgoing person. My grandmother has described as “bubbly” since I was a little girl. Keeping my head up and a wide smile on my face comes naturally. I am happiest when I am around others and interacting with them. But here, my only interaction with locals, due in large part to the language barrier, is through eye contact (stares), facial expressions (shock), and finger pointing (Oh great, there goes one now).
There are days where I am actually aching for a good conversation and all I am met with is eyes. Some friendly, others indifferent, but always staring. It can get to be a lot to deal with and, at times, can be anxiety-inducing. Those are the times when I crack a little.
PHASE 2: SUNGLASSES
That is when I pulled out the sunglasses. Sure, I would fake it and tell the people in my program that I was just using them to complete my outfit but, truthfully, I was using them to hide from the stares. When I was in public spaces or on the metro I would pop them on just so that I wouldn’t have to deal with all of the looks. Cowards way out, I know, but sometimes you really just need a nonverbal way of saying, “Leave me alone.”
There were instances where I totally sabotaged myself by accidentally leaving my sunglasses at home or realizing they were stuck at the bottom of my backpack. In those moments, I would bury my face into my phone, glaring at a screen that I wasn’t paying any attention to, reprimanding myself for being so stupid. Other times, I would pop my earphones in so I could retreat into my Spotify playlists. On the days where my phone wasn’t in-hand, I would stand in the corner of the train, distracting myself with the advertisements that passed by my window knowing all too well that if I looked just a little bit harder, the glass’s reflection would affirm what I already knew: I was being stared at—again.
PHASE 3: NO MORE
When I no longer wanted to deal with the gazes, I would glance right back at those eyes that were so transfixed on me. Only issue with that? Man or woman, they would KEEP staring, despite realizing that I had caught them. That is not how it’s supposed to work. I was always taught that staring was rude, especially so when you’re caught doing it. Since glancing wasn’t working, I have had to figure out a new strategy. Lately, staring back without blinking has been serving me pretty well. The manners my parents ingrained in me still tug at me, but I rest easy knowing that I’m not dishing out daring or chastising looks…just a look that says, “You are staring, so I will too.” It seems to make them uncomfortable, which gets them to finally break their gaze.
I will admit, in the beginning, I felt bad. They weren’t being prejudiced or racist against me (which is something that I have, unfortunately, endured back in my own country). They were not treating me as if I were inferior to them. These people have most likely only seen people like me in music videos or movies. It’s unlikely that they’ve ever been in direct proximity to a person of color. They are just curious.
*Sigh*
I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the enormous responsibility on my shoulders. For many of those staring at me, I could be the only Black woman that they will ever meet. That is heavy, especially for a student studying abroad. During this time in my life I am supposed to be care-free. I am supposed to do fun and crazy things. Yet, here I am being forced to manage a very serious situation. I didn’t ask for this. But just like all the other things in my life that I did not ask to have to deal with, I will manage it with grace and maturity. Throwing a tantrum and demanding to go home is childish and doesn’t help anybody—least of all me.
Though outwardly, I have chosen to handle this gracefully, inwardly I can’t help but wonder when what I want matters. Does my level of comfort matter? At what point do I get to say, “Enough”? When do I get to put down the mask that grins and lies so that I can show my authentic self? I refuse to uphold the caricature so many think Black people are. I’m not meant to entertain. I’m meant to live. No, I don’t want to be gaped or pointed at. And I definitely don’t want my braids touched.
TIME TO DISSECT
I’ve found that it helps to remind myself that this trip is for me. I worked hard to be accepted into the Global Bachelor’s Program. I wrote and rewrote my personal statement, sent countless emails, and made the grades. I made it possible for myself to travel to the other side of the world to this beautiful city of Shanghai. This program is for me. I know what it offers and I know how it can serve me. I have wanted this since my sophomore year of high school and here I am, finally! I made my dream come true. Now, rather than appreciating my new surroundings, I am stuck worrying about making others around me comfortable. I have become consumed by this staring business. Only three months remain before it’s time for me to pack up and go home. My time here needs to be about more than being stared at. I can’t change an entire city of people, but I, and I alone, have the power to choose how I wish to manage the situation around me. I also have some power over how I wish to be perceived by others.
>> I need to get my journal out. Maybe even talk with my mom just so I can wrap my head around this from a different angle.
Whether or not it is my obligation to represent an entire race of people is not necessarily a choice. I’m Black (and proudly so). This will not change, nor would I ever want it to. If the people around me will ever have the opportunity to learn more about my community as individuals is not something that I have the power to decide. I can only be me.
I’ve decided that the people staring will only see a young, Black woman who studies while she rides to school each weekday. She is well-dressed and neatly coiffed as her parents taught her to be. She sometimes enjoys listening to her music as she sits straight, shoulders back like her grandmother showed her, but with the occasional sway to the rhythm of the beats playing through her headphones. She shows her respect for others by offering her seat to the elderly woman in front of her, by standing for the mother who has given up her own seat for her child. She smiles to those native countrymen and women of this great city who take time to genuinely speak with her…the guards she sees each day as she enters the subway. This is what those who stare will see. This is what I’ve chosen to believe they will remember about me.
My oath to my love of travel is to always remember that travel is not solely about seeing and experiencing new lands, it is also about respecting and learning the cultures of those countries and the people from them. But my vow to myself is to forever honor my personhood and protect my well-being.
I do solemnly swear that I will, to the best of my ability, always respect, honor, and build understanding, as I wander through the cultures and communities of this world. I vow that those who see me will see who I am.
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