XIX

Absent from these discussion of foreignness has been the idea of privilege, an idea that I have been intentionally avoiding in part because the usual suspects of privilege, e.g. race, gender, and in this case, nationality, can quickly become the main event. Or in other words, I don't think there is much to be gained by writing about being a white American male in China. Not because there is nothing to be said, but because there are not many things that have not already been said. Yes I benefit from being a white American male in China, from boosting my authority in the classroom to rarely having to worry about safety. The web of identities conjured simply by walking down the street is infinitely complex, and I cannot begin the approach the sophistication with which many have already written about privilege, patriarchy, whiteness, fear, and its connection to the English language and American hegemony. Yet, there is a difference between experiencing privilege and the experience of privilege. While the former is often connected to political discourses that, at their best, work towards strengthening liberal democracy, the latter discussion of privilege is difficult to enter without spinning off into guilt spirals or psychobabble. It is the latter that I wish to discuss in the context of foreignness.

Specifically I want to discuss the privilege of an ubiquitous American cultural presence, and being able to relate to that presence. For example last week I saw the new Star Wars movie Solo (I liked it!). This morning I watched game 1 of the NBA finals on my television while eating oatmeal and drinking green tea. Last night I played pickup games in a gym adorned with huge posters of Kobe Bryant and James Harden. I can walk into any corner store and buy a coke or a Snickers or have burgers and Budweiser delivered to my door in thirty minutes. Here I sit in my living room connected though a VPN to Google's Blogger, a site that is theoretically beyond the great fire wall of China. I can stream Amazon or Netflix (if I were willing to pay for them), and lately have been digging for episodes of the newest season of Westworld, which I am regrettably not as enamored by since Dolores broke bad. QQmusic allows me to download, mostly for free, all kinds of music, from the mainstream to the obscure, and I thus I plug in my headphones on my way to work pedaling my Trek  up the wide avenues of Kunshan. I don't spend all of my time immersed in these American entertainments, but I could if I wanted to, and sometimes, when I have the time and need to take a break, I can leave China for a little while and visit familiar places. 

Part of this particular incarnation of foreignness then is the privilege of not being foreign, if only for a little while; to have the ever present option of engaging in media and activities I am well acquainted with. In contrast, I think of foreign students in the United States from smaller, not as wealthy countries. I think about the difficulty in accessing television and media from places that don't create as much content, or whose foods and cultural delights have not been aggressively exported. Without one's "home" culture easily available, there is no choice but to engage with what's around them, which in most cases, will require putting oneself in a vulnerable position. This privilege however is not unique to me, or Americans. Chinese students in the United States have a similar privilege as where if they don't want to, they can engage minimally in American goings-ons because there is plenty of other Chinese students, food, and media options to keep them entertained. I know this because many of my Chinese students in the States have said as much. In an even broader sense, this privilege of proximity is the backbone of the internet, and enables anyone with a smart phone to remain centered in a safe place. Though it may not be a part of foreignness for everyone, part of my being foreign then is both deliberately stepping away from the ease of this ubiquity. It is not easy.