Currently Reading Faith and Feminism: A Holy Alliance By Helen, Ph.D. Hunt see related

Goodbye

As many of you know, I like to back-up what I say; SO, if I say that I'm only keeping this Xanga going while I'm in China, then that means that as of today, as I hit my ONE MONTH mark (of being back), this site will see its last post. I will leave it up and running until I figure out how I can save it all, because it has become the best record of my year, really--pathetic as it sounds; it was really not a good year for journaling, nor did I keep in great touch with anyone, but I did seem to churn these updates out every so often, usu. conveniently (for memories' sake) accompanied with pics. HOWEVER, I will now be trying to live my life with all of you in real time--face to face, on the phone, or via regular email contact, without either of us feeling the weight of China hovering over us and our interaction. THAT IS: I want to hear about all of you, your years, your lives. I would LOVE to share with you about China, and I have about a million pictures, but I also look forward to sharing the mundane in American existence with everyone (though we all know that I find numerous ways to keep life in the U.S. FAR from mundane: ask me about the wedding I just attended, if you need an example :)).

China is inside me now, though, and I feel like a bit of an alien here. There are so many things that I no longer understand about my own country: for example, I find myself amused at how often we change clothes, how many clothes we have, and how consumed we are with matching. I miss knowing that, just as I will probably show up with the same blue shirt on tomorrow, Belinda will have the same "sweet pussy" shirt on all week. I listen to some of the songs on the radio with newly-prudish ears, only able to think of Sheilly telling me that American girls "will do anything", and hoping she never hears the "Buttons" song. Everything seems so frivolous, so lightly-considered.

I miss living in a place where things had weight and meaning: not only teaching, but human interaction, with all of the associated negotiating of guanxi; not only the attention given to potential friends, but the necessary focus and attention devoted to grocery shopping and taxi-riding. This difference is especially apparent in food, and all associated mores and experiences: in America, we walk, dazed, through sanitized aisles, past santized meat counters; in China, fish jump out of tanks in open-air markets, and carcasses line the aisles of indoor shopping centers--brains and all. In America, we eat boneless chicken and seedless watermelon; in China, Helena makes fun of my aversion to things with bones as she eats the head of a chicken--"you guys so lazy!"

I miss being in a place that is equally influenced by past, present, and future. Each square foot in Beijing seems to simultaneously be significant to ancient dynasties, red-guards, and entrepeuners. This still blows my mind, and it could hold my interest forever.

But most of all, I miss my friends and students: I miss An Ke Liu, the "gate lady"; Liang, my taxi driver and Chinese father; Helena, best friend and big sister; Shelly, debater and teacher; Kitty, sweet and sassy at the same time; and all 120 of my students. And more, many more. I will leave you all with some pictures that a students recently sent me of some of them who are still around, many getting ready for their year in America.

I forced my brother to look at these the other day, and he said it was pointless, because they all looked the same to him (black-haired, brown-eyed Chinese fifth graders). Yes, this sounds unbelievably/unacceptably racist, but I think that this is the way it is to them, too: we are all laowai (foreigners, "old outsiders"). It's honest. I've had Chinese friends tell me this and African American friends say this. The point is, to get past it, to get to know a face of a different ethnicity than you to the point at which you could pick them out in a crowd, and run and give them a big hug, which is what I would do with any of these kids. To see a face and to know its shy smile, its proud smile, its nervous tics, its unique expressiveness, is a beautiful thing, and a beautiful picture of the Kingdom of Heaven

SO: goodbye, everyone. Luckily, we all know that it is really more like a "hello", in that now we can chat or hang out. So call or write, or come by the Houser-Scott's (or Boston, beginning in September). Thank you so much for supporting me, encouraging me, and investing in me by showing interest in my life this year. Though I was far from home, I have realized increasingly that "home" is defined by people, for me. And so, this year, your emails and comments and letters and packages and phone-calls and friendship were home. Thank you.

PS--Should I get My Space?? I told everyone I was against it, and yet, now that I abandon Xanga I secretly want to look everyone I know up on My Space. Awkward.

PPS--oh, yes. In case you were wondering what I'm doing next year: www.micahboston.org. 

PPPS--OH YES, CONGRATULATIONS BEN AND CHRISTINA ZOBA!!

Currently Reading Mao : The Unknown Story By Jung Chang, Jon Halliday see related

After several false starts, I may produce a post right at this moment. Why? Because I have other things to do. Why not in the past 2 and 1/2 weeks? Because time rolled out in front of me like a vast expanse of desert, and I did not know how to fill in the time or space; so, as per usual, I slept a lot. Now I am beginning to exist in the world, and I don't like it that much. In fact, it makes me want to go back to sleep.

It's been hard being back. For innumerable reasons. But here are five of them:

1. It's lonely here in Seattle. I love my family, but thats about it. I have three friends who are still here, and 2 are married. I am beginning to experience that "where is home?/what is home?" feeling, wherein it feels as if the answers are "Nowhere/Where the people I love are--but that is no longer one place"
2. Life feels a lot blander here; far less colorful, bemusing, frustrating, stimulating, exciting, infuriating, interesting, etc. Everything is so easy it doesn't even feel worth the effort. I almost miss the challenge of everyday life in China.
3. I get overwhelmed by little things very easily: I had to take a taxi the other day, and I didn't remember about tipping until the last minute, and I got REALLY NERVOUS about how much and whether I remembered wrong, etc. Also Hollywood Video: all of these choices around me in an organized manner in a language I can understand that cost real amounts of money, rather than $1.
4. I want to talk about China all the time, and the world doesn't want to hear about China all the time. Unless it's the New York Times telling them, which I'm not.
5. I miss community living. I'll say it again, for those who may not believe it: I MISS COMMUNITY LIVING. Why? Because I'm not so great when left to my own devices. I miss having people who prevent me from sleeping my life away, or who will come and enjoy porch culture, or who will hold me accountable, or who structure times of worship and prayer into my life that I would otherwise avoid. I miss praying and singing and eating and working and laughing and chatting and cuddling, etc.

Also, the other day, when I went to renew my driver's license, the woman who took my picture asked me if I felt threatened while I was in China. WHY THE HECK WOULD I FEEL THREATENED? I told her, no, I hadn't, and she was surprised. Later, when I told her I had taught English, she said, "oh, that's why they left you alone", as if this made sense.

I miss the Chiner.

PS--Upon my return to the country, I immediately picked up this recently-released-but-banned-in-China bio by the Wild Swans author, and, let me just tell you, it is not a *sympathetic* treatment. In fact, I'm not sure it should even be classified as a biography, more like a 600-page screed of an essay. I mean, I know he sucks real bad, but one has to at least make a show of neutrality, doesn't one? Neveretheless, it is extremely well-researched and exhaustive, and written in an engaging manner. Unfortunately, it is hard to read for long periods of time (despite the fact that, if there's one thing I have, it's long periods of time) because, as my mother put it:

"there are two things I don't like about this book: how biased the author is, and Mao."   

Currently Reading The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II By Iris Chang see related

LAST POST

I am LAX Airport, waiting 4 and a half hours to get back home. Luckily, I was pleasantly surprised to find a CTFer from Seattle waiting at my gate, so I am not alone in my overwhelming feelings of loss, excitement, adjustment, culture shock and anxiety. Unluckily, there is a screeching noise blaring throughout the gate area. Luckily, there is a Starbucks abutting the gate, from which I was able to order my first SOY latte in 1 year. Unluckily, Brooke (my CTF companion) and I calculated that we have been travelling for over 24 hours now.

SO, a little UPDATE on my dramatic departure from Hui Jia School (are you surprised that such a departure went down?): it was unclear what the competitive edge would be this year, as I had two suitcases packed several days prior to the move, and smooth sailing seemed to be the order of the day. Well, CHINA offered a new "friend" to shake things up a bit, a little friend named "giardia". In case you're unfamiliar with this sometime-occupant of the human body, it's an AMOEBA that lives in your bowels. I challenge you to think of a less attractive ailment than a bowel-living parasite. The SPECIFIC diagnosis was actually somewhat ambiguous, as the doctor said it could have been an amoeba, a different parasite entirely, or a bacterial infection. Nevertheless, it had been plaguing me for the last month, but I thought I could put off dealing with it until after the end of the school year. However, a sleepless night attached to the newest attack, followed by dehydration and collapsing and throwing up on the steps of Hui Jia on the last day of school indicated that my need to "kan bing" (see the doctor) was immediate.

If you have been following, you've noticed that this means that THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL was spent in bed, in the bathroom and at the hospital. This was also THE LAST DAY to turn grades and semester summaries in and the DAY BEFORE we were to move out. All things considered, it was not the ideal day for a trip to Beijing United Family Hospital. To top it all off, Liang wasn't available to drive Sally and me, although he called a friend. I lay down in the back of the van the whole way there, in the approximately 200 degree heat + pollution of my beloved host city.

Needless to say--two prescriptions later--I was a little behind everyone else in terms of getting ready, and arrived at debriefing several hours late in Liang's little blue che (car). On the positive, this allowed me to have final and special goodbyes with four of my closest Chinese friends: Helena, who rode in with me so she would have more time to say goodbye; Ankeliu, the gate attendant who called me down while I was finishing up to meet her husband, and offer help; Shelly, who told me that me inbox would explode with her "rubbish emails", and Liang, who responded to my exclamations of sadness by saying, "yes, it's sad, but meiyou banfa--nothing to be done".

Anyway, feel as though I am now staring my non-China life in the face, and it is nothing but a formless void, while the vibrant, colorful, spunky, quirky people and country I love recedes. The oddest part about it is, life in China--with all of its difficulties and frustrations and differences--has become NORMAL to me: perhaps what I will mourn most is this unique combination of a place and people I feel as though I can learn endless things from and about with a comfort and ease in a place that is anything but. The quirky and the mundane that together are my life in China. This is what I will miss most, I think.

PS--I MAY write a final "debriefing" post, so stay tuned.

PPS--note the light airplane reading I attempted today.

Who I Say Goodbye To Today

Currently Listening 2Pac - Greatest Hits By 2Pac see related

Tupac

So, when I was taking an anthropology class at the University of Washington during my time off from school (althought "taking a class" doesn't really sound like "time off from school"), I wrote one of my best papers ever on...well, I don't actually remember, so maybe it wasn't that great. What I do remember, though, is the fact that I quoted both Tupac AND Biggie, and got an A+.

Currently, I get this newsletter sent to my gmail account from Ron Sider's Group Es. for Social Action (ESA). I love Ron Sider, just btw. Anyway, the most recent edition boasted this serious article that ALSO quotes Tupac AT LENGTH, as well as a somewhat-humorous title. Not the best article I've ever read, but interesting. I especially enjoy how he gives his evangelical readers a little "hip hop history", introducing LL Cool J and Run DMC. Some of his statements might be a stretch, and I have bolded a) Tupac-based analysis, b) statements that may or may not be true c) funny things and d) good points. See if you can guess which are which :).

HIP HOP & THE CHURCH NEED NOT BE IN CONFLICT,
by Jimmy Dorrell

Urban youth leaders are my heroes.

From church youth directors to neighborhood recreation center leaders, those young adults who are investing deeply in the lives of today's hip-hop culture should be honored and thanked for their tireless efforts to reach this generation.

They work long hours, are usually underpaid and are frequently caught between the expectations of their own supervisors and the teens they serve.

Yet day in and day out they are trying to offer guidance, teach values and communicate love to an age group that is often crass, seemingly amoral and unthankful.

The hip-hop culture is more than rap, vulgar-mouthed icons and sagging pants. It is truly a generational worldview expressed in language, song and dress that most adults simply do not understand or want to understand.

Birthed somewhere in the early '70s, groups and artists like L.L.Cool J, Whodini, Run-DMC, Public Enemy and Tupac shaped the landscape of the urban community.

Lyrics that often degraded women, glorified sex and drugs, and used vulgar language as if it was acceptable to the mainstream began to emerge in the media and on ghetto-blasting speakers that literally shook the cars.

Yet behind the in-your-face words and music, there emerged a clear longing for something in life more than the current menu offered.

Conveying a religious desire in irreligious language, hip-hop artists challenged empty institutions while crying out for love, understanding and change.

In his song, "Changes," Tupac raps, "We gotta make a change; it's time for us as people to start makin' some changes.

"Let's change the way we eat; let's change the way we live, let's change the way we treat each other. You see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do what we gotta do, to survive."

His words express the nihilism of hopelessness in the present culture and a growing acknowledgement of personal responsibility, hallmarks of a large youth culture that is multicultural and vocal.

Urban youth leaders understand these cries and deal with them everyday. They refuse to accept the rhetoric of hopelessness and continue to challenge their "homies" to step up to more in life than accepting a vacuum of meaninglessness.

They learn the language of the youth whom they serve so they can understand and speak to this dominant hip-hop culture.

They offer programs or opportunities that are culturally relevant and reject old forms of youth programming that now are considered outdated by most teens.

Unfortunately, many churches and other youth-serving institutions stubbornly refuse to acknowledge or attempt to speak to this subculture, because the forms of expression used are offensive or confusing.

They forget that the Bible is filled with contextualized efforts to communicate truth in the mind-set of the local culture.

Paul talked with the Athenians in philosophical language, to the Jews in the traditions of the Patriarchs and to the Corinthians in their blue-collar society.

Truth goes beyond language but can creatively and uncompromisingly employ the dialect of the culture to offer hope and meaning.

Today, across our nation, many churches have discovered that Friday night hip-hop worship services are drawing back thousands of disenfranchised teens who left the church, to sing praises to God in a language they understand.

Effective youth programs are offering urban teens a venue where they discuss, explore and serve without the rigid boundaries or forms of past generations. Kids growing up in poverty and rejection are finding a place of meaning and hope. And all this because of the urban youth workers who care.

(Jimmy Dorrell is pastor of Church Under the Bridge and director of Mission Waco in Waco, TX. This article was originally published in the 6.11.06 issue of the WACO TRIBUNE-HERALD, and is reproduced here by kind permission of the editors.)