The China Birthday Enthusiasm Gap

Happy birthday cake
Happy birthday meant something completely different to John, my Chinese husband (photo by Brandon Rittenhouse)

When my birthday came along this summer, my Chinese husband orchestrated yet another in a long line of grand “birthday programs” — mining the rainbow gleam of opal; breathing in the azure beauty of a pristine trout stream filled with river otters; and savoring the fragrant delight of coconut curries at a Thai restaurant downtown. The entire day felt as precious and beautiful as the double rainbow we glimpsed from the highway, arching in twin perfection against the tumultuous gray skies behind.

Two months later, when his birthday arrived, along with the new semester, I imagined a day of birthday revelry fit for the one man who captured my heart and soul. “Maybe we could go to the hot springs. Or a planetarium in a science museum. Or what about visiting a state park?”

But John shrugged, as if I was just discussing the week’s shopping list with him. “We don’t really have the time,” he said, referring to his heavy workload this semester. “You can just make me a chocolate cake,” he smiled.

“A chocolate cake?” I replied, with incredulity. “That’s all?” Continue reading “The China Birthday Enthusiasm Gap”

A Red China State of Mind, in an American Red State

Red China flags
Sometimes, even Red States in America have a little Red China in them.

“Wow, you’re like a celebrity!” he exclaimed. “I want to shake your hand!”

As a foreigner in China, I’d felt “almost famous” hundreds of times. Chinese have surrounded me in curiosity, asked for my photograph, and grilled me with the tenacity of a tabloid news outlet.

Except, this time, I wasn’t the “celebrity” — my husband was, in a Wal-Mart in Eastern Idaho, when a man discovered he was from China. Continue reading “A Red China State of Mind, in an American Red State”

Chinese Men Are Sexy

In October, 1999, it was as if I’d finally met my long lost locker pinup guy in the flesh. A sullen, James Dean type in a black leather jacket with a perfect ass. The kind of guy that made cliches like “tall, dark and handsome” drip from your mouth. It didn’t matter that he was spoken for, with a modelesque girlfriend that seemed worlds (and heavens) away from the mortal girl I was. He drove me so crazy, I spent weeks taking cold showers and long bicycle rides just to cool down.

He was a Chinese man.

And so sexy, as I reminded him one evening over the phone, after he left his girlfriend to get together with me. “But I’m a Chinese!” he whispered to me, echoing the ruthless stereotype that somehow infected the modern world — that Chinese men can’t turn Western women on.

It’s no wonder we ended up here, given what Sheridan Prasso wrote in The Asian Mystique:

For the most part, what we see of Asian male sexuality is the assertion of a stronger Western virility at the expense of Asian masculinity. In short, the imagery takes Asian men lightly, as less-serious competitors for women, and less-competent fighters.

Outside the theater, we transfer these perceptions of Asian men to Asian countries. If Asian men on screen are to be easily vanquished, so are Asian male leaders in real state-to-state relations. Even as Fortune columnist Stanley Bing writes in the title of his book, Sun Tzu is “a sissy.” This “lightness of being portrayed” can be seen historically in the descriptions of Asian male leaders such as Ho Chi Minh and Mao Zedong, and now even of Kim Jong Il. It seeks to minimize the Asian male as a threat — and, I argue, quite possibly leads to serious repercussions.

The thing is, despite the best laid schemes of Hollywood and the rest, Western women went to China (and other Asian countries), or started looking at the Asian (and Chinese) men in their own countries. And, then, we discovered some serious studs — who, in my case, just happened to be Chinese — that slid their way into our hearts (and pants). We even shared it with the world, from books such as Foreign Babes in Beijing, Lost in Translation, and The Last Chinese Chef, to blogging about it.

By the time I met my James Dean heartthrob, suddenly all of those stereotypes felt as out-of-date (and trash-worthy) as yesterday’s newspaper.

Jet-black hair and bronzed skin, I love you! Chinese may or may not have the “tall” (my husband doesn’t, but let’s not forget Yao Ming). But there’s plenty of “dark and handsome” to go around. As Priscilla wrote, “…once the blinkers are lifted, ladies, you’ll discover that you are actually surrounded by attractive [Chinese] men.” Add to that Ericka’s post, that Laowai girls like Asian boys (including the many hot Chinese guys).

Mystery is uber-sexy. In the “wham, bam, thank-you ma’am” era of American Pie, it’s almost as if we’ve forgotten that, sometimes, less is more. With many Chinese men I dated, I didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling — and that upped the volume on every flirtation and glance.

Chinese men have also surprised me with sexiness, where I never would have expected it. One guy once invited me to lunch at our favorite restaurant, and ended up hoisting my legs onto his lap (it’s still one of the hottest lunches I’ve ever had). Another time, I balanced on a bicycle frame between him and his handlebars, as he peddled all the way to our restaurant, with his arms tightly around me.

But what about sex itself?

First, let’s get a few things out of the way:

I don’t buy into Philip Rushton’s racist bullshit about the inverse relationship between brain power and penis size. How, exactly, did he carry out his oh-so-scientific research? It must be annoying to hear people who don’t know you (and have most certainly never looked in your pants, and quite possibly never into the pants of any Asian man) comment on the size of your penis. “I heard Asian men have small dicks.” Yeah? Well I’ve heard that Asian men have big dicks. What’s it to you?

Anti-miscegenation laws tried to keep Asian dicks from White vaginas. They were so scared of your sexiness that they had to create laws to assuage their own foolish fears. And after it became painfully obvious that these laws were racist, these nasty little rumors began to spread about the kind of package you were packing. (We won’t even get into the hypersexualized Black man; that’s a story for another day.)

All sorts of different men have all sorts of different penis sizes, but some people act as though a man’s penis size says something about him. Does it make him any more or less of a man? Please. It’s not so much the size of the boat as it is the motion of the ocean, and Asian boats are no different in size than any other boats.

…Stop being so presumptuous. Rule 1: Don’t knock it ’till you rock it. Rule 2: Even after you rock it, do remember that a lady/gentleman never kisses and tells. Didn’t your momma teach you not to believe everything you hear?

That’s right, don’t knock it ‘till you rock it. And, yes Virginia, you can rock it in bed with a Chinese man — horizontally, vertically, a la the Nerve.com Position Of The Day Playbook, loud enough to wake up the neighbors, you name it. That blissful, “the night after” smile you might have seen on my face? Let’s just say it was “sponsored by” a certain Chinese man my Chinese husband, John (sigh).

And I’m not the only one. The thing is, many of us have discovered our ultimate pinup guys just happen to be Chinese, like this reader who posted a comment here:

…I’m so in love with this [Chinese] man, because he’s so good, and strong (in character). He’s fun, and funny, and loving. He’s also very sexy!…

Now, if only Hollywood got that message more often.

Do you find Chinese men or Asian men sexy? Or, Chinese and Asian men, have you discovered and embraced your own sexiness? What do you think?

Photo credits:
Models: Justin Zhang, fitness coach and Youtuber (IG: NoobStrength) and
Angelina Bower, beautiful fashion model (IG: musicloveandlies)
Photographer: Ana Hudson (WhiteChocolatePlayer)

Finally, a Taobao for Foreigners in China – Shoppinglu.com

Shoppinglu.com, the first e-commerce site for foreigners in China
Taobao, eat your heart out -- Shoppinglu.com, the first e-commerce shop for foreigners in China, has landed in Shanghai, and wants to serve you.

E-commerce in China is simple for foreigners who can’t do Chinese.

Get a Chinese friend to help you search, translate and make the purchase on Taobao. Repeat every time you need something online in China. (And as you tire of this, wonder why on earth Taobao, in its rush for riches, left behind the foreigners.)

Jack Ma might just kick himself when he discovers the latest addition to the e-Commerce world in China — Shoppinglu.com, the first English (and Chinese) e-Commerce site just for foreigners in China.

Like Taobao, it has a wide array of merchandise for sale at deep discounts (20 to 80 percent), just a click away — from strappy sandals to Hello Kitty hair straighteners to laptops to android devices to even scooters. Currently they have more than 3,000 items available, and plan to add even more. And, like Taobao, you can communicate with sellers if you need another color or size. Continue reading “Finally, a Taobao for Foreigners in China – Shoppinglu.com”

The Sands, and Teahouses, of Time

When love bubbled over with my first Chinese boyfriend in a Taiwanese teahouse, I tried to hold on to that sweetness through the teahouse he left behind (image from Wikimedia Commons)

That Taiwanese teahouse in Zhengzhou, with its weather-beaten wooden facade and rickety sign, faded away beside the signs and storefronts splashed in reds and yellows and blues on the Western end of Weiwu Road.

It didn’t sparkle like the clothing stores on Huayuan Road, where beautiful apparel and even more beautiful salespeople glimmered across the pearl white floors, to a technopop soundtrack. It never shook with crowds like the outdoor vegetable market, where stacks of caged pigeons squawked right opposite the tractors filled with the freshest watermelons in the city. It couldn’t even out-class the luxury of those Beijing-style fabric slippers sold just down the street, in silky pinks and reds and blues fit for an Empress.

But I loved that teahouse more than any other place in Zhengzhou for one simple reason — I fell in love there in 1999. Continue reading “The Sands, and Teahouses, of Time”

The Parasol Paradox

China umbrella
I thought the umbrellas in China -- for sun protection -- were just crazy. Until I started carrying one too.

This past Tuesday, the sky was a blindingly bright blue, stretched over the arid landscape like a protective tarp. Nary a cloud interrupted that boundless mantle above. And the sprinklers on the campus lawns splashed the grass with their afternoon drink, because the weather still wouldn’t bring rain to this semi-desert terrain.

But there I was, strolling down the dusty hill in the shadow of a salmon-colored umbrella.

Crazy. That’s what I thought of the sea of umbrellas that ebbed and flowed on the urban streets of China in the scorching summer heat. In my mind, umbrella always meant rain, not sun. And if I hated the heat, I just donned a hat and slathered on the sunscreen.

But the longer I stayed in China, that sea of umbrellas soon flowed right into the background of my mind. Continue reading “The Parasol Paradox”

All Foreigners Look Alike, All Chinese Look Alike?

Crowd of Chinese people crossing the street in Shanghai China
Have you ever had trouble distinguishing between a group of people, such as Chinese or foreigners?

“I have a lot of trouble remembering the faces of my colleagues,” confessed Fang, a close Chinese friend of ours mentioned while driving home together from a dinner in town.

“How so?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Foreigners just all look alike to me.”

“But how can that be? Foreigners look even more distinctive than Chinese do, because our eyes, hair color and skin tones are so different from person to person.”

John chuckled and echoed Fang’s frustration. “They look all the same to me, too.”

I could almost understand Fang having this problem — but my own husband? Continue reading “All Foreigners Look Alike, All Chinese Look Alike?”

My Global Times Op-Ed on China’s “Vacationing Scholars”

flip flops
Read about China's "vacationing scholars" in my Global Times Op-Ed. (photo by Crystal Leigh Shearin)

My Op-Ed on China’s visiting scholars that really just vacation just got published in the Global Times. Here’s an excerpt:

Wang is not engaged in any of the rigorous teaching, lecturing or research that you would expect of a visiting scholar. She fills her mornings doing little more than the work of an undergraduate research assistant, such as organizing data or other clerical tasks. She has no supervisor in the US or China requiring her to produce, say, a scholarly paper for publication. She even invited her child and mother-in-law to live with her, something no serious visiting scholar would ever do, lest they be distracted from their studies.

Instead, you might call Wang a “vacationing scholar,” someone who travels under the guise of scholarly work, in order to enjoy a holiday abroad. Wang doesn’t deny it, either. Once, she confessed to me that her time in the US is like a comfortable respite from life in China.

Curious about China’s “vacationing scholar” phenomenon? Read the full article here. And if you like it, don’t forget to pass it on. 😉

“It’s Just a Storm”: The Ebb and Flow of Yangtze River Delta Weather

storm clouds
I never imagined “harmless” weather could look so horrible -- but China’s Yangtze River Delta, where I lived for more than four years, forever changed my perspective on storms.

One late summer afternoon at the office in Shanghai, I happened to glance out the window, only to find the summer sun engulfed in a dark blanket of clouds covering the city. The sky soon became so dark, it looked as if the sun had almost gone down — the kind of darkness that, for this US Midwesterner who grew up with tornado and severe thunderstorm warnings, foreshadowed destruction and danger.

I ran through the office in panic, pounding at the HR manager’s door. “Did you see how dark it is outside? Shouldn’t we evacuate?”

But the manager, after looking away from her computer, smiled the kind of comforting smile a kindergarten teacher might before a worried child, as she leaned back in her chair with her hands calmly laying in her lap. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just a storm. You can go back to work.”

Her words seemed so dissonant, spoken before the tumultuous sky framed in the window behind her. I retreated to my cubicle, my mind a cacophony of thoughts — as her reassurances thundered against my experiences with severe weather in Ohio. But, in the end, just as she told me, there was nothing wrong — no building damage, no heavy rain or winds. It was just a storm, a little thunder and lightening that passed harmlessly by.

Continue reading ““It’s Just a Storm”: The Ebb and Flow of Yangtze River Delta Weather”

The Dog Days of My China Summer

My husband John, petting Xigou, a miniature German Shepherd dog
My husband John gave Xigou one last pet before we parted last summer, never knowing it would be his last.

When John and I returned to his home in the countryside, we had a new voice — or should I say, sound — marking our arrival: a dog’s barking.

To be sure, this wasn’t exactly a welcome. The dog, who looked like a miniature German Shepherd, growled and bared its teeth, until my mother-in-law admonished him and shooed him away, to let us in the door. Well, he was only doing his job, as my mother-in-law put it: “He’s a guard dog.”

How could John and I have known then that the dog, affectionately known as Xigou, would become one of our favorite companions during the summer? We whiled away many a blissful moment just rubbing his belly or chasing him playfully around the yard. Even when we left John’s family home, we took pictures with Xigou and gave him one last belly rub, which caused the little guy to roll over excitedly many times.

But, for Xigou, it wasn’t all wanton pleasure, all the time — especially when John’s godfather, who had given the dog to John’s family, came over to see the dog. I once peered out a bedroom window, where I saw Xigou recoil timorously before the godfather, who then whipped him a couple of times — not for any obvious transgression by Xigou, but almost as if to remind Xigou of his subservience in the grand scheme of life there. Xigou yelped desperately, perhaps hoping someone like me or John would protect him from the pain. Continue reading “The Dog Days of My China Summer”