Whenever I spend more than ten minutes talking with any of my relatives- including my mother – the subject of modern China’s utter mediocrity and fakeness in almost every aspect of living (except eating Chinese food and loftily declaring China as No.1) comes up. The conversation unfolds in a tone of dismay, dotted with frequent “ugh’s!” I know we are not unique in our sentiments, for any mention of modern China to another Chinese will immediately invoke a “Don’t. Even. Get. Me. Started.”
Yes, it’s true that most of America is run by borrowed money from China today, and it’s safe to assume that if you don’t see another entry here in 24 hours, I’ve probably been assassinated for this post or this website has been hacked, even though I live half way around the world from China.
It’s not self-hatred. It’s…well, a certain level of scrutiny only allowed to any race of people when discussing their own people. Comics have been doing it for years. Where does one even begin with the Chinese? The total lack of respect for intellectual property, the arrogance and anachronistic consumption of all living organisms for “delicacies,” the manufactured consent, manufactured stock numbers, manufactured news, fake ingredients, smelly drywalls, and the “kiasu” (fear of losing to other people) mentality, the overcompensation by way of brand label worship, and the endless supply of all things fake, copied, deceptive, built on a kaleidoscope of lies.
Sure, they can buy a Buick with all that dishonesty….but ask anyone around the world what they think of the Chinese today, and chances are, most will dispatch a dismissive diatribe that puts the poo in poo-pooing. Is it really worth this sort of ignominy for short term gains, especially when you are talking about one of the greatest civilizations in history? How did it go from the inventors of gunpowder, paper, noodles, compass to these modern day Louis Vuitton-carrying, Burberry-scarfed overgrown infant wannabes? You could say that this is all the handiwork of Mao, who set the nation back by some fifty years; but the truth is, the model for learning in Chinese culture is repetition and duplication. From the first day kids go to school, they are drilled to memorize and repeat what the teacher says. Piano lessons chock full of Fur Elise, multiplication tables, caligraphy lessons, language skills, you name it. The better you can reproduce what is put in front of you, the better your grade.
Unfortunately, this model of education encourages a lifetime of superficial imitation, not analysis nor penetration.
I mention all this because I want to set the foundation for what I’m about to talk about. An average trans person has an uphill battle because she is up against the same charges of counterfeiting (counterfeiting femininity) as the modern mainland Chinese are. Now, as a Chinese (possibly some Japanese in there), AND a trans* person, that normal hill, to me, becomes a personal Everest.
Even though I have only been to mainland China once in my life (and will probably be barred for life after this post), when I am identified with the nationality that is synonymous with cheap knockoffs and fakes, it’s a crippling double-whammy. Non-Chinese trans people have some room to play with. People will think “well, she’s not really a girl….but, hey, at least she can prepare babyfood out of real ingredients.” In my case, the consensus is “well, she’s not really a girl…..and she is also capable of ripping off I-Phone’s design, using cracked software, cooking with imitation truffles, making fake roast pork buns out of chopstick shavings, manufacturing toothpaste with antifreeze, stealing software code, selling crap on Ebay, making drywalls that emanate a fragrance in the house as if you had a visitor who just came from the local Taco Bell after a 2-for-1 bean burrito giveaway, and she could be carrying a fake Louis Vuitton, driving a stolen car, dating a wannabe boyfriend, printing money at home…..”
I know I have said we should all not care what people think. But when you’re up against a wall of doubt, you begin to question how many details in your life are indeed, authentic. You can get away with one gloss if your identity is rooted in a fairly respectable reputation. It’s like a slightly plump girl can still get away with wearing fitted jeans. However, when people see me as trans then associate me with the Chinese who are associated with cheap imitation, I’m like Kirstie Alley in a Brazilian low-rider: the muffin top is enough to get Ethiopians screaming for Jenny Craig trial memberships.
Consequently – even before I consider the trans angle – I have always pushed for originality and authenticity. When we were in bands, I always played and wrote my own lyrics and music. I try to create my own style and look, and steer clear from mimicking women per se. I have a strong disdain for lip-syncing (a big drag favorite) seeing it as “stealing” other people’s voices. We try to create an original Christmas tree in our home each year. I have such a phobia of counterfeiting that I didn’t even feel right using just any girl’s name. When I was dating, I instantly dropped any man who lied to me about his wife, marriage situation, or personal details. I constantly remind people of my age, my height, and the dizzying list of my shortcomings.
There’s simply no allowance for a single detail of phoniness in my life.
It’s not anyone’s fault if they happen to chose dating me. I pity the fact that I can’t provide anyone the luxury of daydreaming a little. Because of this complex I have been forced to be associated with, I crave originality, honesty, authenticity, and the genuine. (There’s nothing sexier to me than a decent man who has led an honest life)
Navigating between two groups that are seen as cultures rooted in imitation, I just can’t afford the psychic cost of knockoffs, whether it be a handbag, a scarf, or an imitation of life.
Let’s put it this way: even when I am wearing loose-fitting jeans, I still need to suck my tummy in.
Dorothy, do you have room for one more?
