Celebratory Panic of the Bare Branches

The bachelors in China are panicking. By 2030, there will be at least 30 million more men than women in this country because of the female infanticides that resulted from the one child policy. Men are desperately trying to score wives. The ladies have become much more mercenary in love, taking their pick among those with the best cars, newest apartment, and biggest bank accounts. In an infamous Bachelorette spin off episode, a girl condemned her TV suitor with these cruel words: "I would rather cry at the back of a BMW than laugh at the back of a bicycle." Many men blanched. Many women nodded.

But on 11/11/11, bachelorhood was celebrated. The singles lorded over the couples, having exclusive KTV parties for the bare branches. The movie, 33 Days of Love Lost, was released on this special occasion (the anti 500 Days of Summer ?) and sold out weeks in advance. Weibo, China's twitter equivalent, even buzzed with the command for singles to buy all the odd number seats in the cinemas so couples would be forcibly separated.

Predictably, there were also a lot of brazen hookup solicitations. One leotard-wearing woman promised, on weibo, that if a man would spend bare branches day with her, then she would guarantee that he would be celebrating father's day the next year.

Hopefully the testosterone fueled suitors would cool down in time and realize that we're only 7 months till father's day.

But then again, she just might settle for a bike.

Ok, maybe an e-bike.

A Chinese Girl Learning Chinese

When I first got here, I couldn't make a joke without a resultant awkward silence reverberating around the office cubicle walls. At first, I just thought that my colleagues couldn't hear me. So I told my jokes louder. Still nothing. Then I realized that I was no longer witty. I had lost my gift to talk and connect to people, because I couldn't find the right words and inject them with the proper nuances to express myself.

After I finished my first week at work, I called my dad and cried for two hours. I should leave. I couldn't do this. I couldn't speak Chinese. I should had taken my so-called dream job and stayed on the predictable and secure path where I knew I could succeed.

Things did get better. I jotted down every new word. I tested out unfamiliar words, which my colleagues found endlessly amusing. I was soon considered one of the funnier people at the office. Four people even patted my shoulder and told me that my Chinese had improved drastically.

Two weeks ago, our board chairman visited us as part of his latest round-the-world business trips. He decided to give an impromptu speech, as a rousing gesture, to the entire company. Of course I translated. Of course I squirmed. At that moment, I fancied that #20, #23, and my perfectionist self were best buds, pointing fingers and hating on me when I couldn't think of the Chinese words for "Bolivia" and "Chief Information Officer." It didn't matter that the CEO told me that I got rave reviews for my translation - I hid miserably in the bathroom, once again questioning, berating, and despairing.

Why do I put myself in situations day after day, where embarrassment is merely one South American country away? I have worked hard my entire life to salvage the remnant shreds of Chinese learned from grade school and nurse and strengthen it through Chinese trade law internships and language TA jobs despite growing up in an English dominant environment. Why am I not satisfied with the hard-earned fluency? Why do I keep beating myself against such a soul crushing language, dreaming of crossing over the celestial threshold of native mastery?

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I was sitting at Church yesterday when I got a glimpse of the answer. A large man with gold rimmed glasses bore his testimony about his belief that someday, China would be open to missionary work. And I cried. Because I sensed, no I knew, that I will be a part of that work. By then, I will know how to be a friend to the Chinese people. I will know how to use their language - my language - to share something that is so important in my life.

At that time, there will be no more awkward silences.

In the mean time, all I can do is to print out the world map in Chinese and learn the countries one by one.

The girl crash course

I've never been very successful at being a girl. I feel helpless with makeup, hair stuff, and pink fluffy stuff. I'm not the biggest fan of teddy bears, flowers, or diamonds. I'm learning to do heels on a more daily basis around the office, but I'm still having a hard time fabricating meaningful conversation revolving around clothes, nails, and shoes.

Of course, these are not what makes girls feminine, but I recently found myself wanting to be a little bit more stereotypical.

In learning how to fit into the Chinese early 20's slash white collar scene, I'm getting a crash course into the ultimate so-sweet-you-can't-handle-it girl culture. Girls giggle good morning to each other every day as the outfit checking and obligatory complimenting session begin. They support each other as they talk about diets, boyfriends, and cute guys who are not their boyfriends, while sneaking in afternoon snacks to share. They gush about the latest TV shows (where the Chinese version of "Team Jacob" and "Team Edward" of bald Chinese men takes place) and browse online shops together during lunch breaks.

And I'm learning. Collective bathroom breaks, group post-lunch walks, team togetherness-in-everything-we-do don't bother me as much anymore. When office parties naturally split into kindergarten-esque girl boy teams, I stop gravitating to the guy zone unconsciously. I can almost beat the other girls in the cheesiness of the "You're the best best best!/ Did you get home alright? I'm so worried about you! / Hope the period pains aren't too bad!!" texts. 

But experimenting with the physical aspects of this new girl thing? Not working out so hot for me.

And I still change the printer ink, lift the barrels of drinking water, and screw together random pieces of IKEA office furniture by myself without thinking- all condemned as masculine office tasks. 

I'll let you know how it goes. *Giggle*

Ugh.

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Don't worry, I'm not experiencing a crisis of confidence in my personal identity. Most of my college girl friends are strong, smart, and ambitious women. I have yet to befriend more women like them here in China, so in the mean time, I'm learning how to be a good friend to all the wonderful types of women.

 . . . and also because I have a good texting plan.

The perennial question: Who would you choose?