I am sitting in the United Airlines lounge, home for the famous automatic beer pouring machine, (not quite) halfway back to Chicago, but already I stop talking to people in Chinese, and I am transitioning to my American self again. (My apology for falsely reinforcing the dichotomy of East vs. West. This is strictly personal: I no longer feel the need to look smaller by haunching or sucking in my guts, or to look cute and agreeable, or to bat my eyelashes innocently. Feel free to expand. Take all the space you want. Of course, I will still complain about any non-Asian person trying to impose such a rigid contrast between East vs. West or subscribe to the idea that Asian women are oppressed. Bite my contradictory, non-consistent ass if you wish.)
First of all, I just want to thank all of you to continue to visit my blog even when I am not able to reciprocate. Sometimes I feel that blogging is ultimately a selfish act. Or rather, the reason why I blog. Or rather, the reason why I started blogging which has undergone some significant change over the course. It is selfish because when I have limited time and energy and am forced to choose, I almost always choose to post blogs rather than to read and comment. It is both selfish and self-indulgent and at the same time, an act of self-preservation as I need to jot down what’s swirling inside my head so I can clear it through the process.
When I hit the publish button, it is in the ether, in some sense, no longer my concern.
Of course, most of these are random things I found amusing of which I kept mental notes so I could regale an audience at a dinner party one day. Who am I kidding? I don’t think there is any dinner/cocktail party in my stars. So I put them out there. Voile! Carte blanche. ’cause my mental Post-It pad is as thin as the free ones you find on the desks in hotel rooms.
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I was assaulted by a wall of pink cuteness at the airport, a place you kind of expected to be safe from a culture that encourages its womanfolks, young and old, to be cute and adorable.
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Kawai. Japanese for cute, adorable. 可愛 in Chinese. It is a cultural obsession.
When I packed for this trip, I consciously left out tops that are too revealing, knowing that any indication of self-professed sexuality would be frowned upon. Unfortunately, I misjudged and two of my shirts, when I lean forward, reveal my cleavage, and this caused some visible discomfort in strangers, both male and female. At first it was quite puzzling to me: judging by the amount of advertisements devoted to breast augmentation, next only to those devoted to weight loss naturally, you’d think that people are at least used to the idea that boobs exist. Isn’t this contradictory?
Paradoxically, this actually falls in line with the schizophrenic idea of the female ideal: If you know Manga and Anime, you know we want our women to be Innocent + Sexy. Somewhat different from the Madonna + Whore paradox, we want our women to be CUTE. Juvenile. Forever 16 or 18. (Can you imagine La Madonna dressed in pink and adorned with Hello Kitty?)
I am pretty sure there is an entire dissertation worth of theorizing here but I am just going to do Stream-of-Consciousness which is to say, I have no idea what the fuck I am talking about and I am just going to type them up as thought clouds appear.
Someone asked me how much I drank when I was home. The answer is none. I do not drink when I am with my family because first of all they assume/prefer to think that I do not drink. Furthermore, the ability to hold your liquor is not something that will add to one’s desirability (not that I am looking to be desirable, being married and all, but you know what I mean…)
I am getting a clearer idea of why I always feel so out of place when I am home: I feel awkward, physically. Even if I were rail thin, Bulimia thin (which would be just about right according to the standards here. Ha!), I would still have been too tall. Cuteness and I simply do not mix. It was already like this when I was in college: I tried to dress the part, cutesy prints, flowery adornments, frilly edges and all, but there was always this gnawing in the back of my head telling me how ridiculous I looked trying to look adorable when I was towering over 80%* of the female population, and probably the male too.
Puke.
I am so relieved now to be sitting here, sipping my Bloody Mary, showing my cleavage, surveying the world, narrowing my eyes and sitting in a manner that suggests Yes, I know I am sexy and you want a piece of this.
Incidentally, I was informed that in many restaurants and all self-respecting KTVs (Karaoke with all private party rooms) in Taiwan, you can find a mini version of the urinal in the men’s bathroom for puking. Ingenious, isn’t it? We should get these into the bars in the U.S., and of course, in both MEN’s and WOMEN’s Rooms.
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* Number pulled out of my ass, in no way scientific.
So I’m invited to bite the contradictory, inconsistent ass out of which you are pulling numbers? Hmmm. I think it takes integrating a function to figure out how I feel about that, and I’m too busy puking about the cute.
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I like it when you are waken by the baby in the middle of night and you leave these awesome comments. (Don’t hit me!) It’s like your mind is drunk with exhaustion yet sharpened by the darkness and quiet. (I mean, “quiet” when the baby falls back asleep or is feeding…)
I’m just like you – I feel I am two people and when I travel home, I shed my American self to become that quiet little lady who (in front of my family) does not drink, party or dress provocatively (as in showing some skin, not a black leather mini dress). And god forbid I admit I’m divorced. Living with my partner and our baby “in sin”. And with someone 8 years my junior.
If I did that, I don’t think my family would be too happy to see my anymore…
Welcome back to the land of the free 🙂
Justine recently posted…Did someone say cake
It’s like being on a stage. Only sometimes I can’t remember/figure out which one is the front stage which one is the back stage…
Travel to another country can be like travel to another planet. You can do it in a spacesuit and come home to a parade. Or you can be abducted by aliens and come home with little pieces of metal in your body. Welcome back.
Renee Fisher recently posted…This Cricket was No Jiminy
Sometimes within your own country you may still feel like an alien. 🙂
I am fascinated by the anime-manga version of female sexuality. Male, too, for that matter. The women are all super-busty girls of 14 with that expression dogs get when they’re engaged in the act–looking off into space like nothing is happening. And the guys all seem to fit the American cartoon image of the gay male (super-stylish, super-thin, and hair super-styled to hang in the face provocatively).
Can you teach us more? My inner psychologist wants to understand the thinking behind these images, (e.g. Madonna is so dangerously sexual, she will force you to be unfaithful to your brand new bride, introducing you to S&M, which will lead to a lifelong addiction to both Madonna and whips and chains. You have no choice in the matter, and isn’t that fabulous?! Also, you can tell your mother about her adopted children, which might help out when your new bride cleans out your bank accounts and your family sides with her.)
Welcome home, honey.
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It’s full of contradictions, isn’t it? The prevalence of gay, bisexual, gender-ambiguous characters does not mean that society actually accepts them in real life. There have been a lot of research/papers done I believe. I may have written a paper about it but not from the gender/sexuality angle but rather in a fin de siècle context. (Wow. I forgot how good I was at BSing when I was still at school. LOL) Let me dig around and get back to you.
Girl, that bodacious cleavage of yours is too beautiful to keep under wraps. And I’ve always felt ridiculous in frilly, girly clothes, too. I think you lose the ability to pull off cute above 5’5″.
Elly Lou recently posted…Brief Encounter
WORD!!!!!! (to the cut off of 5’5″)
I’m with you on the “cute”…I have three daughters, a stepdaughter, and a granddaughter…it makes me angry!
I like reading my blogging buddies’ posts, but I understand that you have a busy professional life and don’t have as much time to read as I do.
Glad you’re back in the States!
Hugs,
Wendy
writerwoman61 recently posted…The Sweet Smell of Success- Sort of…
Thanks! I’m glad to be back and I am trying to catch up on everything!
So, basically, I should never travel to China, because even if I was wearing a turtleneck, I’d probably still manage to show too much cleavage…? And since there are a lot of words that might accurately describe me, but cute and/or juvenile are definitely not two of them.
(And you know that I’m probably happier when you don’t visit my Internet Place — but I would prefer to get more email from you, you know. In case you are taking requests…)
When you said “Internet Place” I don’t know why but it sounds naughty…
I know. Emails are the new phone calls for me now. I used to dread making phone calls. Now that people stopped using the phone and instead using emails I became afraid of writing emails. GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AND SPELLING ERRORS. My emails are full of them. Stream of consciousness aka running my mouth. If you are ok with that…
Ah, the good ol’ USA. Land of filth and freedom.
The Sweetest recently posted…Reconciliation
The best kind.
I love learning about this culture through you:) the good and odd (for me anyway). Glad you are back safely and that your cleavage is finally free again!
Wildology recently posted…Broken Sticks and Friends
Exactly! That’s why people kept on telling me I was fat over there. Here I get to distract people with my cleavage… There, nothing.
I could probably live quite comfortably without the wall of pink but anywhere with that much booze AND a shower is worth overlooking hello kitty for.
I’m google mapping and moving in.
Jennifer June recently posted…I wanted you until I wanted to be you until…
LOL. They also have free Wifi! Woohoo!
Kawai really creeps me out. I’m not sure what it is about the Japanese obsession with little girls. My first trip to Tokyo in 1995, I can remember standing in TCAT waiting for my bus to the airport, and perusing the racks of Manga, and Japanese magazines. That’s when I noticed shelves of kiddie p0rn. Magazine after magazine, of little girls in various states of undress. I wanted to throw up. It seriously makes me ill just thinking about it.
I have many Japanese friends, but I have never felt comfortable bringing up the subject with them to find out why. I just leave it in the category of “many things Japanese that I will never understand”.
Sigh. I would have said a lot more if I were not an “American” now with all the PC shit and stuff… So like you, I simply chuck it up to the list of things that make me shake my head and chuckle, “Only in Japan…”
A mini-urinal for puking? How very civilized of them.
Our neighbors used to have a Thai au pair, and she was always on a diet of some sort, obsessing with worry about becoming a “fat American.” Not sure which is worse–being a fat American or continuously trying to shrink yourself out of being one…
I am quite sad that I did not have the courage to march into the men’s room and take a picture of it.
I love hearing about this, how these two worlds exist within you. I suspect going home is similar for many, though perhaps in less obvious ways. Blogging is totally therapeutic, and many of us handle it the same as you. There is no guilt in blogging. So there.
Also, you are sexy and I do want a piece of that. 😉
Much love.
Yeah… I often feel that the long airplane ride is like my phone booth…
Love back.
There is much relief in your words. Seems from your trip there is no question America is a good place for you. Welcome back.
I often wonder whether there is some shared traits between most of the people that ended up here…