Whenever I hopped on a subway car and noticed a homeless person, I would walk to the other end of the car as quickly as possible, waiting for the train to stop so I can move into the next car. If I saw homeless people on the streets, I would avoid eye contact and hold my breath until there was enough distance between us.

I hate being asked for money; I felt above them; and their odors made me vomit. Homeless people are despicable. They’re homeless because they had a poor work ethic and should get a job to get out of the situation they put themselves in. Panhandlers and beggars are all scam artists.

That was my attitude until I met Joe.

The cosmos were knocking down fate’s dominoes for me. I reluctantly left a ridiculously expensive New Year’s Eve party at the Gansevoort Hotel on Park Avenue in New York City right after midnight to do a favor for a friend, but had nowhere to go for a few hours until the rest of my friends could meet me in Ktown. It was cold; I had a lot of baggage with me; and my phone was on the brink of death.

I walked by Kyochon and was drawn by the warmth and the throngs of people inside. I scanned the room for outlets. Everyone was coupled off, except this one white guy with tattoos on his arms, wearing a winter hat, with his backpack sitting on a chair to his right. The seat to his left was empty, but perhaps he was waiting for someone. He had a buzzer, clearly waiting for his food, and playing with his old school flip cell phone. I walked toward him and asked, “Do you mind if I sit here and charge my phone?”

“Yeah, sure”, he said.

I plopped down and plugged in.

I started thanking him as it was a relief for me to charge my phone so I can stay connected with the world. He revealed to me how he thought it was nice of me to even ask. I was a little puzzled. “What kind of impolite assholes do you come in contact with?”, I thought. Instead I asked more politely, “Why wouldn’t people ask?”. He responded with, “People usually just see me, walk away, and sit somewhere far away from me”.

I had the impression he was a backpacker, so maybe he smelled or something, but I didn’t smell anything offensive. Then I quickly thought maybe his tattoos were ominous to others, but I quickly abandoned that idea because people in New York City are more open minded than that. He could tell I was confused and when I asked him why people would do that, he revealed to me he was homeless. I fell silent. I didn’t know what to say because I find the homeless offensive, but this guy didn’t look or seem homeless to me at all. I didn’t know what to think and I didn’t want to be rude or seem like I’m uncomfortable, so I made conversation.

We ended up talking for an hour, and when he left, he introduced himself as Joe and shook my hand.

Not Joe.

“What’s your story? How did you end up homeless because you don’t look like the typical homeless guy?”, I asked.

Joe used to be a steam fitter outside of the city, somewhere upstate. I had to ask him what a steam fitter was. A steam fitter maintains, repairs, and fabricates piping systems. After doing some research online, steamfitters usually have to endure 4 or 5 years of apprenticeship before getting licensed. This means, this guy is no joke. After getting laid off, he couldn’t find another job for a while, then his wife divorced him for another man who just so happens to be employed. Joe left upstate to go to New York City to find employment. I was confused by his choice; New York City is one of the most expensive cities to live in. Joe stayed in New York because it’s familiar; he knows the ins and outs. That made sense to me.

We also covered his family. Joe has a 6 year old son who he doesn’t talk to anymore, but misses a lot. I asked him if he is allowed to talk to his son since his wife might be a little sensitive about his circumstances. To my surprise, his wife has been telling his son that “There are lot of homeless people in Florida and Daddy is there building houses for them” instead of “Daddy is dead”. I ask Joe if he is happy with this story that she painted for him. “Yes, but my son is starting to be inquisitive and asking questions like ‘Even if Daddy is in Florida, why can’t I talk to him on the phone?’”. Joe became so much more human when I heard this.

I asked Joe how he pays for food, especially the rather expensive Kyochon meal. He does try to find odd jobs here and there and he keeps a prepaid cell phone for this purpose. Funny enough, Joe is homeless, but he still complains about AT&T coverage. He seeks jobs he’s familiar with in construction. When he can’t find anything, he is panhandling. Joe usually eats pizza because it’s cheap, but he gets tired of it and splurges on something like the Kyochon meal. He actually offered me some because he couldn’t finish it. I was amused and touched by this offer. Despite his situation, his generosity is still alive and kicking. I thank him, but urge him to save it for his next meal. He is persistent with his generosity, but with embarrassment, I explain, “I have a very first world problem. I’m trying to stay away from food to lose some weight”, hoping this will end the offers. He chuckles, “I understand”. Joe’s sense of humor humbled me.

Our conversation was so genuine and free flowing that I started asking him anything. “How many of the panhandlers out there aren’t legitimately homeless?”, I asked. Apparently, I hit a nerve and Joe went on a rant. He knows a lot of them are scam artists and he personally knows some of them. I asked him how I can identify them, so, perhaps, I can actually help those who do truly need help, like Joe. Apparently, you can look at their shoes. If they’re new, they are definitely not homeless. I ask about the beggars who have their children with them. He tells me they are definitely not homeless. They’re gypsies and panhandling is part of their culture. I’m not sure which ethnic group he was referring to, but I let him continue since he was ranting. He’s seen their husbands drop them off and pick them up in fancy cars to their begging corners. I ask about the homeless and the pets. He passionately told me how he hates seeing this scenario and that some of them are just using their pets to get money. Some of them are truly homeless, but some aren’t.

Joe doesn’t like to go to shelters because since he’s white and most people in shelters are non-white, he runs into problems. Once he got beat up really badly in a shelter for his sneakers. He goes to a Church on the Upper East Side often to sleep. Since he doesn’t smell like the typical homeless man, I ask how he stays clean. He says he wipes down in the Church bathroom or befriends doormen who can let him shower at the residential buildings. Joe recently befriended a gay man who he knew had a crush on him. I was impressed. Joe is smart. He works his assets. This guy has always told Joe that he wanted to help him out, and Joe told him he could be a huge help if he could let him shower at his apartment a few times a week, but made it clear he wouldn’t do anything sexual in return.

Since Joe has a phone, I assumed maybe he also has a bank account. He told me he once had only $94 and needed to pan handle the rest of the $6 to meet the minimum balance to be able to open a bank account, but once he realized he wouldn’t be able to freely access that $100, he abandoned the idea. I asked him about his belongings. He has this mummy sleeping bag that’s warm enough even for the Arctic. He pan handled 6 months to buy that. He also had some kind of blanket that was made from recycled material that keeps him warm and dry in any kind of weather, even rain.

“Do you get offended when people don’t give you money when you panhandle?”, I ask. Without hesitation, he said, “No, it’s their choice to give or not and it’s okay if they don’t want to”. What upsets him the most is people who tell him to get a job or are very sarcastic. Once a guy took out a wad of cash and pretended to give him money, but once he was close enough to Joe’s cup, the guy quickly pulled away and laughed. I was so disgusted by this story. People don’t have to be mean to a perfect stranger.

At the end our conversation, as he leaves and thanks me for my time, Joe didn’t even ask me for any money. He wished me a good night and a happy new year. Joe walked into my life in that one hour and made a lasting impression.

Image: Max Weber

Two students of the University of Southern California leave flowers at the scene where two international students from China were shot dead on Wednesday in a "gang-infested" area near the university in Los Angeles, California.

From Los Angeles Times:

USC students killed: 1 shot while running for help; gunman sought

A gunman opened fire on a BMW near the USC campus Wednesday, killing two international students from China in a bungled robbery attempt, police said.

One of the victims, a man in his 20s, attempted to run for help after being shot but never made it. He was found collapsed on a porch, police said. The other victim, a woman in her 20s, was found slumped over in the BMW parked in the 2700 block of South Raymond Avenue, a few blocks from USC.

Police said both were graduate students from China studying electrical engineering, and Los Angeles authorities were working with school officials and the Chinese consulate to notify their families.

A lone assailant is believed responsible for the slayings, said Cmdr. Andrew Smith of the Los Angeles Police Department. He said detectives had little to go on and were examining all possibilities.

Ying Wu

From LAWeekly:

Ying Wu and Ming Qu, USC Grad Students From China, Identified as Shooting Victims

The USC grad students murdered in a 1 a.m. shooting outside their apartment have been identified as Ying Wu and Ming Qu, according to USC officials. They were both 23, and had traveled from China to study electrical engineering at the prestigious USC campus.

But the area surrounding USC is notoriously not so prestigious.

The couple, described by neighbors as private and reserved, were shot in an expensive new BMW on Raymond Avenue, the street where they lived, near 27th. One neighbor in particular told the Times that gang and drug activity in the area has been on the incline.

“Our community is saddened and outraged by this callous and meaningless act,” says Michael Jackson, vice president of USC Student Affairs, in a statement. “Our hearts and prayers go out to the victims’ families and friends and all who knew them at USC.”

He says Wu and Qu lived outside of the bubble that USC has taken measures to patrol:

“This incident occurred outside the neighborhood areas where over the past several years we have steadily increased our security presence, adding dozens of security and license plate recognition cameras, uniformed officers, and yellow-jacketed security ambassadors. However, tragedies such as this morning’s remind us that we all need to be continuously vigilant about safety and security.”

From MIT BBS:

walkwalkwalk:

Looks like the criminal got angry seeing Chinese drive good cars, and they know that the Chinese people do not lose their temper, so nobody will go after them even if they kill them…

walkwalkwalk:

And the criminal sent a message to the Chinese community where some feel they’re suddenly niubi if they have some money: You’re nothing but targets to victimize.

yarwood:

Did this international student buy the car with his/her own money? Or was the car paid for with the lives of Shanxi coal miners?

Commissar:

Ban guns, ban guns!

Zeratul:

I knew the USC area was unsafe, but I didn’t know it was this unsafe. Fortunately, when I was asked what school to go to back when I was still in China I firmly rejected/excluded USC.

A USC Public Safety vehicle drives on the street where two international students from China were shot dead on Wednesday in a "gang-infested" area near the University of Southern California, Los Angeles police in Los Angeles, California, April 11, 2012.

Some images and captions: China Daily

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For two years, Beijing has challenged me, hurt me, helped me grow, and sheltered me. But soon I’ll be boarding a plane and finally returning home.

As many expats know, leaving this country brings with it a mixture of emotions – everything from relief to a bittersweet sense of loss. As I reflect on this departure, I’ve been writing songs that talk about life here: both “the expat experience” and the local lives that I’ve seen.

This past weekend, I filmed and uploaded a music video for a song called “City of the North“, a letter to this city in all its difficulty, challenge, and unexpected beauty. It showcases a day in my life here, and stars the faces and lives that intersect in this explosion of culture: the students, migrant workers, foreigners, 老百姓 (ordinary common people), and more.

It would be an honor for you to watch “City of the North”; and I’d love to hear comments about your experiences – the places and ways that you too have lived, struggled, and grown abroad.

On YouTube:

On Youku:

Lyrics:

VERSE 1
I, started this rhyme as I waited for the train
On the platform, hearing instrumentals in my brain
My kicks dirty gray ‘cuz the air so foul
One hundred degrees out, so we pray for rain
The line pulls up, and it’s full as hell
Not to mention, these cats got a funky ass smell
LL might be somewhere ringin’ some bells
But as for me, I can barely even hear my cell
These are the middle class losers, beggars, students
Here, if you don’t got a car, you ain’t included
A place that turns flesh to stone, like Medusa
The ’60s, tried to make a ghost of Confucius
The car turns north as my head shuts down
Prepared to close doors like old John Brown
Done with the rhyme, and we’re almost out of town
And I almost missed my stop, I was busy with the sounds

CHORUS
Just another day in the city of the North
Some push foreign whips; some are just piss-poor.
Just another day in a city filled with schemes
Filled with teams who be dreaming of the cream, so it seems
x2

VERSE 2
I live in a city where the dust hits ya bones
Where to be heard, your words gotta use megaphones
Where everybody smokes and it’s killing them slow
Where you can sing out loud and nobody hears the tones
People tryna go hard, but they scared as hell
So they keep coming back like a carousel
no roots, so they move like a tumbling weed
Like police at the door while they bundling weed
They hear the knock outside and they stumble and flee
While I roam the city free like Grand Theft 3
There’s poison in the air, so he’s coughin’ up lungs
But he breathes in, the Spirit’s got him speaking in tongues
Coughed up some blood, guess he is a little scared
But he made it this far, guess he’s sposed to be here
A life well lived is a life without fear
Got more than 4 bars, am I coming through clear?

CHORUS

VERSE 3
I run the rings like Sonic, blaze like the chronic
Gaze at the stars, see my fate like a comet
But the haze on the city every day from the morning
No colors, just greys, like the city was in mourning
They poured over slums to make way for the champions
Now they got clubs where before, there were stadiums
Got bums, from locals turned aliens
An unmarked grave for the brave who remained in ‘em
I jumped off the train as I headed to the crib
and came face-to-face with a horse drawn rig
A man with blank eyes and a face like stone
Is this city mine, or his to call home?
Just another day in a city caught between
Tryna stay above water while we, chase our dreams
Some live and some die, tryna do their thing
Some live and some die, this big city, Beijing

CHORUS

Goodbye, Beijing. – 4/21 Online EP & Release Party

The above song is the first track off the new EP Goodbye, Beijing. that will be releasing on Saturday, April 21st at grandmaster.bandcamp.com. From 6-8 PM that day, we’ll be holding a release party/music video screening/farewell concert at Top Red Gallery in Beijing’s 798 Art District, premiering the second music video from the project. All chinaSMACK readers are invited!

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Every overseas Chinese have dealt with this problem in one way or another.

Being immigrants to our newly adopted country, The Philippines, our ancestors must adapt to its lifestyle, culture and of course – its language. Over time, they have come to learn the Filipino language and made it part of their own identity.

A healthy mix of the Chinese dialect — Hokkien and the local Filipino language is common among the older generation Filipino-Chinese. One problem though, this doesn’t necessarily translate to the succeeding generations of Filipino-Chinese.

Unlike our ancestors, we didn’t grow up in the Mainland. Thus, we were not exposed our ancestral culture, tradition and language to the extent that they did. Hence, we naturally would adapt to our immediate environment especially with the language – Filipino.

You would think parents and grandparents would understand this predicament, right? But they have a way of giving you a dose of guilt and shame, deliberately or otherwise, by making you feel inadequate because of your inability to communicate in Chinese.

There is a layer of disappointment whenever they have to translate their sentences to Filipino or English when they get your confused look of “what did you just say?”

This begs the question… where is this fine line between adopting your local language and preserving your own?

What languages I actually use (and to whom)

Personally, I speak a mix of Filipino and English 90% of the time. I only use my small arsenal of Hokkien vocabulary with my parents and grandparents as well as their peers.

I couldn’t really imagine speaking in straight Hokkien to anyone of my peers. That would seem the most unnatural thing to do, with the exception of using it as a secret language.

I believe this is true with majority of the Filipino-Chinese. You could only imagine how limited our capacity to communicate in our ancestral tongue is.

Coming from a close family, it does bother me when they say “These children always speak in Filipino, they don’t know how to speak in Chinese anymore” followed by a hint of disdain and disappointment. I consider my siblings and I pretty obedient kids and we definitely love our parents a lot. And it definitely sucks when you feel that you have let your parents down.

It sometimes led me to wonder, “What’s wrong here? Is it really my fault?”

Whose fault is it?

I don’t think it is really anybody’s fault.

As a kid, you don’t really think about your ancestry. You don’t consciously think about what language to use for which situation and to whom. You will use anything just to get what you want, right?

We naturally gravitate to the language that we could communicate our needs and wants most effectively. As a baby, that just consisted of crying and pointing.

In a country where we comprise just roughly 1-2% of almost 100 million people and where the primary teaching methodology in school is in English, one could easily see that’s where we gravitate towards.

For me, it is simply a matter of evolution.

The current generation right now is:

• More educated – There are plenty of Filipino-Chinese doctors, lawyers and other professionals now than ever before.
• More involved – Despite being a minority, Filipino-Chinese have been very influential in the economic, social and political affairs of the country

When it comes down to it, we could be functional, productive and successful without ever knowing how to speak Chinese.

But are these enough reasons to say we don’t need to learn Chinese anymore?

No.

Filipino or Chinese

Here is the funny thing. I have lived my entire life in the Philippines but people would always associate me with my ancestry rather than my nationality. They would ask “Chinese ka? (“Are you Chinese?”) to which I reply yes.

I have been to China as well and have been asked from which Chinese city I came from and I would simply tell them I’m a Filipino. Usually taken with a look of “Is this guy kidding around?”

My point is — we are neither just one nor the other.

Because we are both.

And the PUREST way we associate with our dual identities is through language.

Isn’t that the association we make with people and their respective nationalities/ancestry? He is German/Spanish/French thus he can speak its language. His failure to do so would boggle your mind right?

Thus to say that we can make do without the Chinese language is like saying we are leaving the other half of our identity — HOLLOW.

Let us not forget the reason we are in the Philippines in the first place. Our ancestors needed to leave China to provide a better life for their families. They migrated with the little possession they had and were simply fueled by their big hopes and dreams.

Language is the fiber of their community as a group and identity as an individual. And to simply treat the Chinese language as an after-thought is like disregarding their struggles and our history.

Which Chinese to learn? How do I fit it in my life?

All of us want a sense of approval from our respective families by improving our Hokkien. But I believe what they would truly be proud of is that if the current generation proactively pursues the study of Mandarin Chinese, as it already has an established system of instruction and has wider reach internationally, thus creating limitless possibilities for them.

I will be the first one to admit that my Chinese (Hokkien) is really just mediocre at best. I truly envy my peers who are really fluent in it. Subsequently though, I have discovered that all these languages need not be a source of struggle or insecurity by knowing their place in my life.

What I mean is I have accepted that Filipino and English will always be my mother tongue, and Chinese (Hokkien or Mandarin) would always be my second language. By simply understanding and accepting where to place them, the sense of competition among these languages will most likely dissipate and be replaced by a blanket of harmony among them.

Image: John Purget

Drawing the fine line

Finally, to answer the question “Where is this fine line between adopting your local language and preserving your own?” I say this. The image a fine line conjures is that of division and separation. As something that must not be crossed.

I believe there isn’t a fine line.

As we can see from the word “Filipino-Chinese”, there is indeed a line between the two. But it is not of division or separation but of connection. We must embrace both identities and must substantiate each with proper respect by learning and accepting its culture, traditions and language as our own.

This is my take on things. Do you have struggles with your native and ancestral language too?

Allan Ngo blogs at Money in Mandarin.

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G’day Ching Chong is a sound piece exploring the Australian identity through young ethnically Chinese people who now live in Beijing, China.

Making a move from their diverse Australian environments to a city of more than 22 million where they can be easily mistaken as a local, they’ve come to discover that what they look on the outside doesn’t necessarily reflect what they feel inside.

TRANSCRIPT

Alice Pung (AP):
The very first stereotype I guess is that we’re good at maths; we end up becoming doctors and lawyers; you eat cats and dogs; you steal jobs from the locals. They think we must be from some exotic land. “Go home Chingers,” y’know (laughs)

We don’t look white Australian, we have yellow faces.

Australia is a country of migrants.
There are no real Australians except the indigenous and the fact that we perpetuate this myth that there’s a true white Australian – back from the convict days, and everyone else is just a sham – is just ridiculous. It’s 200 years old. It’s a terrible myth.

MUSIC: Jin – “Learn Chinese”

AP
My name is Alice Pung and I come from Melbourne. I work as a writer and I work as a government lawyer as well.

Generally when people ask me “where I’m from?” I know they’re just interested. I take it as a cultural phenomenon because I lived in America for six months and Americans don’t ask that because they know it’s impolite and they know Asian-Americans have every right to be part of American culture. In Australia, we’ve always had a history of assimilation. Even recently on Australia Day you had slogans saying, “fit in or get out” and that has always been the mentality until 1980, which is why when Australians express fascination for people of different cultures they ask you that question, “oh where you from, you must be from somewhere interesting.” Personally I don’t take that as an insult but culturally we’re like a black and white television in the era of colour.

CLIP: “Tiny Delights” cooking show by Elizabeth Chong

Monica Tan (MT):
I don’t know about the food, I don’t know about the customs, I don’t know about any of the pop culture of any Asian country. My upbringing has been not very Chinese at all. So within like the first few minutes of meeting me you’ll forget that I’m Asian because I’m so not Asian.

Hi my name’s Monica Tan. I’m Australian and I’ve been in Beijing for six months. I study at Beiwai, studying Chinese…

Mark Hiew (MH):
My name’s Mark Hiew. I’m Australian Chinese. I’ve been in China about two and a half years…

Anne Lin (AL):
I’m Anne Lin and I’m from Sydney. I’ve been in Beijing for a year now and I’ve been studying at BLCU and my interests include watching live music and reading.

MH:
I grew up in Bunburry, Western Australia. It’s pretty homogenous; it’s a very white town. And I face a lot of outward discrimination probably on a weekly basis at least.

If you’ve heard a racial epithet about Chinese people, I’ve probably received it.

I also remember when I was in high school and my cousin and I was playing cricket and a couple of Aussie boys came and they were playing with us for a bit but then, they were starting to intimate the sort of physical hostility and I remember they made some sort of remark about us being “chinks” or something like that and just remember that epitomising my experience most of the time.

MT:
Growing up in Sydney, a very multicultural city, I can’t say that I’ve really experienced racism at all. But recently on Australia Day I happened to go to Foster. And my sister and I were on the beach and we were just chilling out and this local comes up to us and was like, “Konichiwa”. And I corrected him and was like, “we’re not Japanese we’re Chinese,” and then he’s like, “oh, you know, we don’t get many Chinese tourists out here.” And I had to qualify again, “we’re actually Chinese-Australian”. And he’s like “oh you’re Aussie then, OK OK,” and he was kinda hearing our accent. We chatted for a bit then when we were wrapping it up he was like, “well it was really cool to meet you, I’ve never met a Chinese person before,” and I was shocked and I literally was like “what? But there are so many of us.” And he’s like, “oh, but not out here. The only Chinese out here are the ones who own the Chinese restaurant”. And I’m like OK. And he’s like, “Yeah make sure you bring out all your friends out here,” y’know, all my Chinese friends I guess. And it was quite strange. He was being quite friendly and everything but it really did made me feel like an outsider. I mean a white person would just never experience that. So, I thought it was a pretty ironic thing to happen on Australia Day.

CLIP: 2008 Australia Day Ad

AL:
I grew up speaking Cantonese at home and my mother, also like a lot of other Chinese people growing up, sent me to Chinese school so I did grow up with a lot of Chinese influences, and I was very aware that I had two very separate identities, being Australian and being Chinese.

Since I’ve been in China I’ve actually found myself feeling more Australian than ever before. Ethnically I’m Chinese, but my nationality is Australian. So I can’t help the fact that in my DNA I’m Chinese looking but I don’t feel any of those ties towards China.

CLIP: Dave Chappelle “Untrained Eye”

MT:
All these Australian-Chinese now who were born and raised in Australia, we’re coming of age, we’re hitting our thirties, we’re becoming a part of the landscape in Australia. We’ve really negotiated very well these two ideas of having your ethnic identity as well as doing the whole Australian thing. And now to be Aust is not so narrow as it was before. You don’t just have to be a “bogan surfie” or live in the country. You can be in the city, live whatever lifestyle and hold that title of being Australian.

MH:
Part of the thing that I take as being uniquely Australian is the sense of fairness and justice as well a sort of larrikin ability to laugh at oneself. These are the sorts of things that a 21^st century increasingly cosmopolitan Australia will be embracing and will retain and these are the sorts of values I cherish and hold as very dear.

AP:
Australian television is all white and there will be the occasional ethnic. Until we infiltrate popular media with images of a multicultural – and not just in an ethnic sense – oh look at them they’re doing dragon dances or look at them eating felafels – as in Asians buying bread, Aboriginal people advertising toothpaste, it’s going to take a long time.

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