While many societies promote equal political and social rights for women (China being one of them), it’s rare to see it fully implemented in practice. This entry is about when I’ve received some sort of discrimination based on my gender at the pool. I don’t have any specific conclusions or policy recommendations; this is just a story of my life in China.

When I was studying in Harbin last year, I often went to Heilongjiang University’s pool. Every time I went, I stuck out as one of the fastest swimmers in the pool. I befriended the lifeguards there, who welcomed my presence every time with a smile and a wave. One lifeguard, ? (Li), in his late 40s, single, would often swim with me and race me. He always tried to invite me out to another pool he worked at during his off days from Heilongjiang University, though due to the distance and time constraints, I never made it out.

In order to let him know when I’d be heading to the pool (we became swimming partners), he took my mobile number. Sometimes I received texts that were written to be mass forwarded to friends–ones that wished health and happiness, success in life, and happy holidays. Eventually, he asked me to have a meal with him. I agreed, seeing no problem–friends have meals together, too. We dined, and afterward he insisted he show me his shabby apartment, adorned with tacky posters and trinkets collected from his many years in Harbin. He had a medal and trophy case, for the many times he’s won swim races. We took a photo together and I left. Simple as that.

At one point, he started telling me he loved me, that he wish he could be with me, lamenting the age difference being the only barrier to our being together. I cut off communications then. And then that’s when he would call and text nonstop. I felt sorry for ??, but never responded. How did the concept of friendship become “love” so fast?

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Once I moved to Beijing, I got a gym membership and spent most of my gym time in the pool. Again, the lifeguards immediately noticed me, smiled whenever I came, asked me how I was, and suggested workouts for me. Then, over time, one lifeguard, ?? (Laotian), would introduce me to other swimmers.

One time, a swimmer, ? (Wang), and I had a conversation:

Him: ?????????????????I am scared of immigrating to the U.S., because I am scared of discrimination against me because I am Chinese.
Me: ??????????????????????????????????????????????????But this is unavoidable. Regardless of what country you live in, society is not completely equal, you will face discrimination in some respect (be it social status, your profession, your gender, etc).
Him: ??????????????????????????????????I am happy to live in China because I am not discriminated against. You shouldn’t have any problem here either, right?

I went on to tell him that, in fact, China is a very discriminating place. He did not believe me, so I started giving examples. First, I told him that if I don’t speak Chinese absolutely fluently, I can be marked as an outsider, a non-Chinese. Secondly, I told him that if I were not a woman, but a man, that swam like I did in the pool, he would not have even noticed me. And that’s not even touching on the many other ways women and foreigners are discriminated against in China. His eyes showed a glimpse of understanding, though he never conceded to my argument.

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While the topic of “discrimination” is worthy of many posts and debates, how it has affected me personally led me to wonder whether I would have gone without this sort of attention if I were male. I wouldn’t be watched and pointed out to every time I swam when the lifeguard(s) I knew were on duty. I wouldn’t have to defend my right to ride a red and black road bike as opposed to the low bar, pastel-colored, single-gear bikes. Any male friend who swam well has never gotten the kind of attention I have, but is that a result of Chinese females being less forward and confrontational? Are men better swimmers than most women?

Is the attention negative? Never. These men have all been incredibly nice and well-meaning. However, their professions of love, the fact that I cannot swim in peace, and the need to worry about how to turn someone that I might have to see every day down is more than I bargained for when I signed up for the gym.

Hotel staff (Chinese): May I have your 身份证 (shen1fen4zheng4, identity card)?
I hand over my passport.
Hotel staff: What is this? Where is the number?
Me: I don’t have a national identity card; that’s my passport. I’m an American citizen.
Hotel staff (to a co-worker): What do we do? Where’s the number? Where’s her name? What should we put?
Me: Can’t you just input my English name and passport number?
Hotel staff: You’re sure you’re not Chinese? Do you have any other form of identification? What’s your Chinese name?
I go on to show them my school ID from last semester, as well as my work ID, neither of which are acceptable. I have no idea what they ended up doing, but I have never seen anyone so confused to see an Asian wielding a foreign passport before.

I don’t know what goes on in Chinese people’s minds when they get all wound up in determining someone’s ethnic background.  

Despite the swelling number of unemployed financial service employees, those qualified to work for Chinese firms is extremely small. Mr. Leggett’s background in Chinese — he studied Mandarin for four years as an undergraduate student at Columbia — made his move feasible. He has shocked many recruiters with his Chinese ability: “They see a tall, white guy and they’ve got low expectations. When they find out I can say a lot more than ‘hello,’ in Chinese, they begin to take me seriously.”

Oh that’s great. But when they see an average-height Asian girl they have different expectations. Every time I speak to a Chinese person, they expect me to be completely fluent.  Here are five different circumstances I find myself in:

1. I tell them I am Chinese (or Chinese-American). Laughter. Okay, seriously, what am I? Proceed to point out certain superficial features that lend then to believe that I am of a different race.
Conclusion:  I speak Chinese, but I look Korean or Japanese. Therefore, I am Korean or Japanese.

2. I tell them I am Chinese-American. Disappointment. Believe that as a descendent of Chinese people, my Chinese should be fluent.
Conclusion: My Chinese is awful. I should be ashamed.  

3. I tell them I am an American. Disbelief. Succumb to the fact that I am American, but think I’m probably lying.
Conclusion: My Chinese is stellar (opinion may change upon finding out I am Chinese-American)

4. I do not tell them what I am, where I’m from. I speak Chinese. They ask what I am, where I’m from. They notice I’m not fluent, but still Asian. Korean? No. Japanese? No. Confusion. 
Conclusion: My Chinese is good…for a Korean.

5. I am completely ignored because I am standing with a non-Asian person. All interest and attention is paid to the amazing white man who speaks impeccable Chinese.

Sometimes I want to study harder and harder and become fluent, so that I can show them I  can be taken seriously. But at the same time I want to be happy with my own fluency, because in reality, my Chinese is much better than many Chinese-as-a-second-language learners. Sometimes their accusations are so piercing and offensive that I begin to question my own identity. I have neither found a way to cope with it, nor have I found the best way to avoid such questions/accusations.

Then, the same NYT article points out bilingual Chinese people who transition more easily into a Chinese lifestyle:

The transition is easier for bilingual overseas Chinese like Kenneth Chen, 29, who is studying for his M.B.A. at the New York University Stern School of Business. Mr. Chen said that if he was offered a job, the decision to move to China would be a no-brainer: “In this environment, I don’t need anyone to persuade me to go to Shanghai. I want to go.”

But I have a strong belief that that notion only applies to men. Women in Chinese society, especially in the business world, have a very low glass ceiling, despite the supposed ???? (equality between the sexes). There are many, many unachievable standards and prejudices that keep women down, I guess you can call it a fusion of vestiges of Confucian society and Western misogyny. 

And that’s why it sucks to be a Chinese-American [woman] in China.