Home Is Where the Lao Jia Is

Photo of colorful yarn from here

"I should let you know," I said recently on the first day of a new class, "that I'll be leaving for a few months in August. I'll come back around mid-October."

"Really?" my new students exclaimed. "Why...how did you get such a long vacation and where are you going?"

"One of the advantages of my job is that I can take all the leave I want, as long as I let the company know well in advance. I don't get paid for it, but that's OK. I'd rather get more unpaid leave than less paid leave. As for why and where, I'm going to Turkey for two months and then home to visit my parents and in-laws."

"Why Turkey?" came the obvious question.

"Because my mother's family is Armenian from Turkey," I said, writing out Armenian (亞美尼亞人) in Chinese on the board as I said it - nobody in Taiwan knows it automatically in English. "Many Armenians used to live there, but in 1915 the Turks started to kill them and force them out, and many died and others ran away. My family came to America. So you could say that southern Turkey is my ancestral home," I replied as I wrote "ancestral home" on the board and invited students to guess what it meant.

"Is it like 老家?" one student surmised.

"Yes, exactly. I'm returning to my lao jia for a visit."

There was a pause.

"Man, I sound Chinese," I said as they laughed.

Since then, two thoughtful blog posts I've read recently - Home is the Lint in My Pocket fromOffbeat Home and Home and Books by Kathmeista have gotten me thinking about home. (Both are definitely worth your reading time). Home as a person who has a lao jia - most Americans do, but few ever think to visit it, and many have no idea where it might be - home as a person currently dealing with a family illness (fortunately all signs point to it being something we'll get through with a happy ending), and home as both a traveler and expat.

A lot of people write about where they fit in (or how they fit in to a new community), where they're from or how they define "home". I see it a little differently - I feel as though I have many homes, with different connections to all of them. Instead of viewing these connections as a web, I view them as different skeins of yarn with varying thicknesses, textures and colors. I'm connected to all of them, just in different ways and with different feelings attached to each. I'm closer to some than to others, but no matter how pale or thin the thread, there's still some slender attachment.

As many Americans do, I technically have more than one lao jia - I can count Armenia via Turkey, Poland, Switzerland and the UK/Ireland among them, as well as a trickle of Iroquois blood. The reason I tend to be the most attached to my Armenian heritage is not out of any feeling of superiority: simply that it's the one with the closest generational association. My grandfather still speaks Armenian, after a fashion. I have no other living relatives whose native language is Polish, or Swiss, or Iroquois or Gaelic (although on one side, many speak some Polish as a result of growing up in a community of Polish immigrants). We still set out hummus, babaghanoush, lahmajoun, tabbouleh, shish kebab, pilaf, bowls of olives, string cheese and cheorog at family functions. While kielbasa, pierogies and galumpkies have made an appearance on the other side, it's far more rare.

That said, I'm also proud to be Polish (kielbasa! yay! If I ever do go vegetarian, kielbasa along with lamb kebab and lahmajoun may be the last painful threads to cut) and do fully intend to visit Poland one day, in the not-too-distant future.

I've never been to Armenia, Mousa Dagh (where my Armenian ancestors are really from), Poland or Switzerland, but I feel connected to these ancestral homes with slender but vibrantly-colored thread, a connection that seems tenuous but, like a dark dye, has seeped into me in ways that I'm still discovering. The yarn seems thin, but the importance of the tie presents in its brilliant hues. I'm sure that when we do make the journey to Mousa Dagh later this year - this year! We already have tickets to Istanbul! - that I'll discover even more ways in which I'm tied to this place I'd never laid eyes on before.

I've found that many Taiwanese and Chinese people feel similarly: they may have never been to their ancestral home, but making a trip there, if done, is not something to be done lightly. Their family may have lived in Taiwan or a province of China that they're not originally from for hundreds of years and even tens of generations, but they can still tell you, if not the village of their origin, then the region or province. Even Taiwanese who in every other respect do not think themselves Chinese are often able to say "Well, I'm Taiwanese and this is my country, but my great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents came from Quanzhou (in Fujian)."

I have two hometowns - Saugerties, NY and Highland, NY. My thin, white connection to Saugerties is really just in childhood memories: picking all of mom's tiger lilies to make a bouquet. Roller skating in the kitchen. Playing with my friend Peter up the street. Picking some sort of azalea and finding an earwig inside. Listening to Richard Marx (hey, it was the '80s) with friends from school. Winning a school award for art. The time my sister found the little cup of hydrogen peroxide that Mom was soaking earrings in, and drank it (they called poison control. She was fine). The time I filled the house with smoke trying to bake Jiffy Mix cornbread without permission. Mom's screaming and Dad's snapping to action when the cat brought home a still-living black snake.

A slightly stronger, but murkier, connection to Highland: my family still lives there in a lovely old farmhouse with all sorts of annoying quirks. I go home once a year or so to spend a week with them, and I enjoy several aspects of that time: crickets in the evening instead of traffic and neighbors shuffling about. Cooler, less humid weather. Waking up to American morning shows (totally vapid, but I have this thing where I like to watch them when I'm home). Trees and grass right outside.

My parents' beautiful rural backyard at our day-after-wedding brunch.

When I was going through adolescence, though, I can't say I held any warm feelings for the town. I didn't share the town's community values (conservative) or outlook (not inclined to celebrate learning, focused more on sports). School was very much a "why do kids needs all these 'arts' and 'multicultural studies'? When I was young we learned the three R's and if that was good enough for me then it's good enough for my kid!" I had friends, but we were more of a little group apart from others than among them: I just wasn't interested in the things that interested the town. You should have been there to see the shining of my eyes the day I was set to leave for college. I would miss my family but not the town. Highland taught me a lot about who I was by showing me what I didn't want to be, and while I visit home, I really restrict it to visiting my parents and the much cooler town of New Paltz down the road - I don't bother much with Highland. You can say I've never really looked back. I do like some small towns - New Paltz is great, and I find Bangor, ME to be really charming - just not Highland.

In contrast to the itchy woolen yarn in forgettable colors that connects me to Highland, I'm tied in several ways to my home during college - Washington DC and its surrounding area. I didn't like everything about GWU, but I did get a good education there, not to mention the chance to study abroad, live on my own and be exposed to an urban awakening that has kept me a happy monkey in concrete jungles ever since. Could I have gotten a similar education for less than GWU's exorbitant price tag (though I was on a Presidential scholarship so I paid a lot less than many students there)? Yeah, but I met Brendan at GWU which is why I affectionately call him my "very expensive sweetheart"! Gee-dub wasn't perfect by any stretch, but it was cool and urban and without it I wouldn't have such a fantastic husband.

After a year in China, I returned and lived in nearby and just-as-urban Arlington, VA. For most of that time I rented a townhouse with others on Columbia Pike, and the safe-yet-multicultural, not-yet-gentrified, slightly gritty feel of the neighborhood weaseled its way into my heart with its downmarket charm, Ethiopian and Salvadorean restaurants, independent coffee shops and second run theater that serves alcohol. I made a lot of friends in that time and while I didn't care for my job in those years, I do look back on my social life in Arlington with a warm heart.

More distinctive threads connect me to India and China. In her story "The Long Conversation", Deryn P. Verity says, "...but the cliche is true: your first foreign country speaks to you as no subsequent one can. Although you may come to prefer life in other places, first patterns persist, providing insistent, if faded, touchstones for everything to come."

India was like that for me - I can't say whether I do or don't prefer life in other places, because my experience in India was so life-changingly different that "preference" doesn't really come into it. Simply put, India is the touchstone by which I measure everything that has come after. It's not a matter of preference. It's a matter of what is. I got my first taste of children on dusty side streets shouting questions at me just for being foreign: Sister, Sister! Are you liking our idli-dosa? I lived a vegetarian life in which I was woken up by chickens cawing and put to bed by goats bleating. I cooled off on the hottest days by sitting on the floor. I learned to use a squat toilet and got my first taste of true bargaining in a riotous market. You may think you bargain in flea markets in the states - you don't. I learned to enjoy Saturday nights that consisted of watching TV with Amma and Shiva and going to bed at 10, before the current would go out. Do I "prefer" life in Taiwan? I can't honestly say. India was a home to me when I was so desperate to see something of the world, a home to me in that I lived in a family home and, for all intents and purposes, had a family there.

A taste of a different kind of urban life in Madurai, India

China was not as much of a life-changing experience. If India is the touchstone for all future experiences abroad, China is anti-matter. Brown and gray, the frayed threads that connect me to China bring back memories of a Miao wedding in the hills, the best Sichuanese food of my life (although Tianfu in Dingxi comes close), friendly locals, fiery haw-berry brandy, seeing a giant roach while playing canasta with my roommate, watching horrendous state-sponsored TV, and memorable trips to Xinjiang and Xi'an. Drinking beer by the paved-over riverside and hiking in Phoenix Park and taking the bus to Guiyang just to eat pizza and have tea in the pagoda on the river. It reminds me of walking up the hill behind the department store, through the market and to Fragrant Mountain Temple, one of the few truly preserved temples in the country (covering over a temple in bathroom tile and calling it 'restored' does not count), and studying Chinese in the Guanyin shrine while drinking tea with Old Zhang.

Old Zhang at Fragrant Mountain Temple - Zunyi, China

But it also brings back memories of twice-contracted pneumonia, gray chicken feet in viscous soup, picking up my gloves warming on the charcoal heater only to find that they'd melted (I thought they were made of wool!), towels that moved water around but didn't absorb it, being put in a SARS quarantine and not being able to access news easily: I didn't learn that the USS Cole was bombed until I left the country months later. It reminds me of smoggy skies (if India is a touchstone, China is murky quartz) and box-shaped concrete behemoths lurking in the distance. It reminds me of buying jewel boxes topped with shards of priceless porcelain smashed during the Cultural Revolution. It reminds me of people who would overcharge me even after vigorous bargaining and of a blatant disregard for women's rights or respect for women's equality - more so than India. It reminds me of a scarred and saddened country with the worst air and water quality I've ever experienced - a country that I hope, for the sake of its 1.6 billion people, will throw off its sad 20th century inheritance and usher in a new government.

I can't say I loved China, or even particularly liked it, but I do have a lot of stories to tell (like the time I pooped on a pig, or the time I puked on a bus driver, or saw a Muslim cemetery upturned with a new housing development about to be plopped on top) and I can't say it didn't impact me. Was it "home"? Not by a long shot, but it was a kinda-sorta home for the time I was there and for the memories it brought me.

Which brings me to Taiwan. I've stayed here for nearly five years, and so, really, Taiwan is now my home. It will still be my home if we choose to leave, and I can't imagine leaving with no plans to return. I said the same thing about India, and I've been back four times, so I don't take those proclamations lightly. Taxi drivers who have an opinion on everything and ask me questions that would be rude by Western standards, the kids in my neighborhood who practice violin or piano (some are pretty good, others should honestly quit and find something they're more talented at), the pedestrian-unfriendly larger streets with their unrelenting scooter swervings and exhaust fumes and the quieter lanes where a sense of peace rises from the asphalt as I ride my bike through. The great seafood and etiquette-free but friendly demeanor of the people. Four and a half years of friends and experiences. The breathtaking views from the road up Hehuan Mountain and the slower pace of Pingdong life.

Taiwan is my home, in a way that no place has been since India and Washington, DC, and considering the portion of my adult life spent here, now approaching critical "I feel more at home when I get off the plane in Taoyuan than I do when I get off the plane in New York" mass, I feel like there's more than one thread connecting me. A blue-green thread of friends, a bright red thread of daily life and colorful festivals, a heathered thread of friendliness mixed with occasionally rude behavior (OK, not rude, just not polite by Western standards) and a pink fried pork colored thread of food. There are all sorts of tiny but unbreakable bits of fishing line hooking into me from living for years in Jingmei and watching the old folks who sit outside gossiping get older, the kids pushed around by grandmas, housewives or Indonesian nannies get older, stores opening and closing, being on a first-name basis with the 7-11 clerks, and being used to speaking Chinese outside home and work. If I ever moved back to an English-speaking country I swear I'd get jolted back to reality the first time I were to get in a taxi and try to give directions in Mandarin!

I do wish I could say "yes, this is my home". In her post, Kath talked about how Cornwall, New Zealand and Taiwan were all homes to her. In her "lint in my pocket" piece, the writer's home was clearly Guildford, England. My friend Emily talks of England and Australia as her twin homes (although after her latest stint in England she may be more inclined towards Australia).

I feel like I have multiple homes: Mousa Dagh; Poland; Saugerties; Highland; Washington, DC; Arlington, VA; Madurai, India; Zunyi, China; Taipei, Taiwan. I can't name a single one as my true home, and I can't say exactly how to prioritize one over the other. It's like they're all a giant knobby scarf, and I'm woven right in there. Or that they're all ropes for hanging trapezes as well as the colorful net below and I am the acrobat, swinging around to newer places and yet knowing that I am supported and in part defined by the places I've been.

They're all home, and where many people feel the need to be grounded, to have a place of origin or somewhere to come from and go back to, I feel better hurtling through mid-air, far from grounded, knowing that my multiple homes are swinging above me and knitted below me, and that with the experiences and knowledge they've provided I can safely swing to ever newer destinations.

Pineapple Cakes!

I don't know if I'm the only one who feels this way, but I have a sort of love-hate relationship with pineapple cakes (the square ones with the crumbly outside and pineapple jam inside). I love them, but so often I find them lacking: the outside crumbly cake has no taste or tastes just of lard, and the pineapple preserve inside is sweet and ooky and sometimes tastes nothing of pineapple.

So if you're like me and you like the idea of pineapple cakes but not necessarily the execution, I urge you to try Sunny Hills pineapple cakes made from all natural ingredients, no chemicals.

These guys come in heftier rectangle blocks, almost certainly cost more than typical pineapple cakes, but use only natural ingredients.

That means that the outside has its own flavor, and the inside has a strong hit of that sweet-sour pineapple taste that I love. No more sugary goo whose only connection to real "pineapple" is its bilious yellow color: these cakes are all KAPOW! with the citrusy pineapple flavor.

Definitely get your hands on some if you like pineapple and pineapple cakes as much as I do!

Reasons #15 and #16 to Love Taiwan

#15: lots of fun Asian candy!

OK, fine, a lot of Asian candy - especially Chinese candy - is crap. At my friend Karen's New Year's party they set out some local weird white rectangle candy that a student had given her and it was quite literally one of the most disgusting things I've ever put in my mouth (and I've eaten raw stinky tofu fermented for 14 days in rotting vegetable goo at Dai's House of Unique Stink)

But so much of it is actually good.

For example, Taiwanese milk caramels in matcha tea, English black tea, plain, brown sugar and chestnut. All of them super yummy. These caramels are among the best packaged local products made in Taiwan. I have a strong preference for soft candy over hard, so the milk caramels really suit me.

Of course, not all of the great candy available in Taiwan is actually from Taiwan. Above is a melange of candy that we gathered to offer in lieu of favors at our wedding (we mixed it all up in a huge red fake lacquer bowl so people could take what they liked). Most of the above is from Japan: mango hard candy with gooey centers, rose candy which is actually rose-shaped and has a bit of a lemony-rose taste, and Japanese soft matcha candies covered in slightly bitter matcha powder (the brown package is of the Taiwanese brown sugar milk caramels).

Other good choices are Kopiko Indonesian coffee candies (I like the coffee+milk kind) and Ting Ting Jahe Indonesian ginger candy, available at the Indonesian grocery in Taipei City Mall.

Less appealing but always fun for bringing back your culture shock:

Some of the offerings here include durian candy (stink-tacular!), yoghurt candy, taro candy, sour plum candy, vinegar candy and a few others that are downright weird. Note the one that claims it is flavored like "Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee". Heh. Yeah, right. Like that canned coffee in convenience stores that calls itself "Blue Mountain Mandheling". Suuuuure. You aren't fooling anyone. Health food stores sell pink Himalayan salt candy. Yeah, not so much to my taste...but interesting!

#16 - Affordable, accessible massage.

About twenty meters from my apartment - and probably yours as well - there is a massage parlor, and no, not the sketchy kind. I just came back from a really good one hour deep tissue massage, for which I paid NT $700 (about $25 US). You can't get that for less than $50 back home, and you have to travel to and from a spa - not that I've ever gotten a massage in the USA. Here, if I want a ten minute foot or back rub, it's a hundred kuai ($3) and easy to find.

Considering my chronic neck, back and headaches, plus tired feet from being up in front of a class on most work days, having so many options is a godsend. I've never really taken "qi" seriously, or feng shui or what have you, but I have to say when a masseuse pounds on the muscle deep in my shoulder or pelvis and says "your qi is stuck here", honestly, whatever was bothering me enough to go in and get a massage disappears when (s)he's done.

Space Confucius!

I was writing another post - I have a few on the back burner right now - but have come down with an irritating headache on the right side of my face: I blame the constantly changing weather.

So instead, enjoy this photo I took at Dragon Boat last year.

I think it is especially appropriate that I picked a beer-in-yer-pocket photo because 7-11 is now stocking Sam Adams again. Yay! I still tend to go down the street to the specialty store for Erdinger or Duvel, but hey, I'll take a Sam Adams any day.

Almost related but not quite: I've learned recently that mixing local energy drink (that stuff in the brown glass bottles with white labels that looks totally foul) with canned Mr. Brown coffee is a big thing among the blue collar and laboring class.

So...nasty viscous energy drink and canned coffee?

Really there's just one word to describe that.

And that word is "Ew".

Women in the Tech Sector

The Lack of Women in Technology and Startups and its soul-sister post, Horror Stories from Women in Tech: two Jezebel articles covering women in the tech sector.

Living in Taiwan, where tech companies, science parks, engineering and IT jobs, IT and the semiconductor industry is king, I do feel that it's worthwhile to reflect on why so few women enter this industry. I don't have an answer for that, but do not believe that it's because Taiwanese female students are discouraged from pursuing math and science related fields (I've met more women in scientific fields in Taiwan than in the USA, though I am not sure of the overall numbers). Certainly it is not implied to young Taiwanese women that "women are bad at math", if anything, from a culture-and-education perspective, female students are expected to be just as good at math as men. Back in the USA you can see the ripple effect of this in that a significant portion of the women you encounter in math or science related fields are Asian.

So why do so few of them enter the tech industry? I'm saying this from experience: in four and a half years of teaching classes at several tech companies, I've encountered a grand total of three - three - female engineers (I have taught women in tech companies who work in marketing, HR and other office-job, female-friendly fields, and am focusing on engineering here for a reason: it requires a different sort of training altogether from an HR professional, marketing specialist or event planner). It is not unusual to have classes made up entirely of men in those companies, or to have ten men and one woman.

I can't help but think that while women are expected to be good at hard science fields as students, that if they test into college majors that involve math or science, parents tend to push them more towards accounting or medicine, while pushing their sons into engineering. This is good for nobody: it takes away a female voice from an innovative field, it pushes women into less innovative fields (not talking about medicine here so much as accounting - one of the least innovative fields out there) which stifles female creativity, it creates a gender divide that can translate into prejudice - "there aren't many women in the tech sector" can so easily and scarily become "women aren't good in tech fields so they shouldn't take those jobs" to "As a boss, I prefer to hire men because women aren't suited to the tech sector" and suddenly, BOOM. Full-on discrimination.

And no, we are not saving Taiwan's women from famously long and arduous working hours - make no mistake, you'd feel a lot less ethically good about owning so many smart gadgets if you knew what the workers at some of these companies had to put up with in terms of work hours and expectations of workload and productivity. Accountants, especially young auditors, work just as long if not longer. I had a student once - a young auditor for a Big Four firm - fall asleep on break and snooze for a good 45 minutes because she'd been working 7am-2am every day, and sleeping three to four hours a night - it was tax season and that's what they have to do.

The Low Marriage Rate in Taiwan: Part II

There was an article recently in the China Post that I thought I'd address here, all about low marriage and birthrates in Taiwan.

I'll cover it in two sections - first revisiting the idea of marriage in Taiwan, and then I'll put up a new post above discussing the issue of the low birthrate. I'm very much anti short-form blogging (it has its uses but if you want to really get at the meat of something and consider every angle, it doesn't work and it promotes short attention spans) but it would probably behoove me to shorten my posts just an eensy bit!

I've already covered my thoughts on why Taiwanese women aren't marrying at anywhere near traditional rates but with the publication of this article, I thought it would be a good time to revisit the topic. I won't cover my reasoning and thoughts again - but I stand by what I said back then: the expectations of traditional gender roles in marriage and a rising consciousness and awareness that they don't have to stand for such treatment is probably what's keeping Taiwanese women from choosing to marry, along with feeling that Taiwanese men haven't kept up with the times and changing values brought about by modernity - the fact that hey, it's no shame to share an equal part in handling home, child and elder care duties and hey, it's OK if your wife out-earns or out-reputations you - yes, I made that nouny verb up - and hey, women ARE in fact equal to men. Different, but equal, and there is no shame in that so get over yourselves already.

To be fair, not all Taiwanese men feel that way. I am happy to be able to cite many men among my students whose wives are equally successful and of whom they are proud, not ashamed. I am happy that I can tell anecdotes of male students who, when asked what they did on the weekend, say things like "I took care of my baby" or "I visited my in-laws because my wife is on a business trip" or "I cleaned the house with my wife". Good for you. The world needs more of you.

To put it simply, encouraging the government to "instead of being pro-natalist, be pro-marriage" is just not good enough. The government, if it is to be pro-marriage, needs to do so in a modern, equality-minded way and maybe look into the reasons why women are choosing not to marry (again, covered in my last post, linked above). They need to take into account that marriage and children (mostly children) generally don't present a problem to men climbing the career ladder, but that they do present a problem to many women. They need to encourage men to accept more egalitarian household and child-rearing roles. Then we might see more marriages.

This story was linked to by Michael Turton, and I have to say that one comment on that post disturbed be a bit:

Dismissing marriage as simply a bad institution is a cop-out. There have been serious structural changes to Taiwanese society, economic in particular, that are not necessarily desirable. No, no marriage for marriage's sake, but we should think about what's changed rather than be so politically correctly dismissive. The decline of marriage, I think many will find, is a reflection of harsh realities for the generation coming of age and in its early adulthood. And the 1 year+ military draft on males just makes things worse (in a more traditional society, military draft didn't make as big of an impact, but today, that means women make more than men, at least early in their careers).

I would really, really like to know what "Anonymous" means by that. "there have been serious structural changes, economic in particular, that are not necessarily desireable...today, it means women make more than men, at least early in their careers."

Um...I can't help but read this to imply that the pro-female changes that have taken place in Taiwanese society are, according to Anonymous, "undesireable", and most undesireable of all is the idea that Taiwanese women often make more than men.

Really? Like, for serious? Why is this a problem, and while I admit that for some, it is a problem, why should it be? What is so bad about a wife out-earning her husband? Is this so shameful that it is causing women to choose not to marry, or that - even worse - it's causing Taiwanese men not to marry Taiwanese women (and if it is, why are we focusing on the women - the problem in that case is with the outdated attitudes of the men).

I did have a few problems with the article: namely, why is it that when we discuss marriage in Taiwan, we always focus on women? Why isn't any one discussing how men feel about this? If the marriage rate of women is down, wouldn't it also be so for men? There are two possible issues at play:

1.) That the marriage rate isn't really down for men, as many of them take foreign brides, something Taiwanese women don't often have as an option.

If anyone has a statistic that can prove or disprove this, I'd love to hear it. Yes, I am a lazy blogger who doesn't want to hunt for her own statistics, which is why I'm a blogger and not a journalist.

Yes, many more Taiwanese women marry Western men than Taiwanese men marrying Western women (though I can point to at least one real-life example of a Taiwanese man-Western woman marriage, so it definitely can happen). I'm not entirely sure why this is, but I think the answer is both obvious and multi-faceted. Taiwan is more progressive than other Asian countries, but I have found it to be absolutely true that there are still traditional gender role expectations among many (not all!) Taiwanese men that Western women just can't accept. If there's a language barrier, I've found that a Western woman is less likely to accept this in her relationship - here are two anecdotes that don't prove anything but do make a point:

When I first arrived in Taiwan, I posted on a popular travel forum that I was here and happy to meet up with anyone in town for drinks or a coffee (a fairly popular way for travelers to meet up in the age of the Internet). I ended up having lunch and tea with a Canadian in town for a week visiting friends, on her way to the Philippines to go diving. She told me about her last boyfriend, who was French Canadian - English was not his first language and she didn't speak French fluently. She clearly remembered a conversation they had in which she just couldn't make the nuances of her point clear to him in a way he understood. She said that she knew right there that that the relationship would not end in marriage - she couldn't be with someone that she couldn't express her thoughts to and couldn't communicate with fluidly in a common language.

After I'd been here for awhile, I changed jobs and had a coworker (who still kind of works for us, but in a limited capacity) - in order to make a point clear in a seminar we were co-teaching, he told the class about his wife, who is Taiwanese. He talked about how sometimes, she would try to say something and end up speaking pidgin, children's English because she knew what she wanted to express but just didn't have the words to get it out - so they ended up communicating in simplified language (there is a similar anecdote in the Amitav Ghosh book, In an Antique Land, which I thoroughly recommend, about his research into an individual who lived during the Indian Ocean trading decades in the 1100s. He was from somewhere in the Arab world, and his wife was south Indian - Ghosh surmised that they must have communicated in a type of pidgin language). He thought this was perfectly OK, but I remember thinking "Wow. Well, good for him, but I could never do that. I need someone I can have long, winding, tangled-up conversations with." I don't mean this as a slam against him - he's a great guy. Just...different strokes for different folks.

There's also the fact that, let's face it, there is still a prejudice towards couples where the man is bigger and the woman is smaller, and we Western women tend to be taller and curvier and so many Asian men are shorter and thinner. This is, once again, not always true, and I know many men in Taiwan who are taller and burlier than I am, but it probably is a factor. Is this fair? Well, no, but it's probably true to some degree.

And finally, there's the fact that Taiwanese men are - honestly - a bit more shy about asking women out and there is still a bias towards men asking women on dates (I've never felt that this should be an issue, but apparently it is).

2.) The more sexist reason - it's not seen as "important" or "an issue" if a man chooses to remain a bachelor, but heaven forfend that a woman might choose the same.

I would really like to think that this is not true. If it is, it's so deeply sexist that I don't even know where to begin. I mean, seriously [redacted] that [redacted]! (My in-laws read this thing - you can fill in the expletives).

Unfortunately, it probably is true, at least to some degree. Take these two paragraphs:

The largely single status of Taiwan's most popular female entertainers is also worth noting; if their chosen predicament is not a direct reflection of society, then it certainly serves as either affirmation or a consolation for the unhitched woman. Lin Chi-ling, top supermodel and considered one of the most beautiful women in Taiwan, turns 37 this year without an engagement announcement in sight. Pop Princess Jolin Tsai, despite her youthful appearance, is also pushing 30 and single. The same status goes for famed artists like A-mei (38), Vivian Hsu (36), Elva Hsiao (31) and many others.

On the other end of the public spectrum, both Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) chairwoman Tsai Ing-wen and former vice president Annette Lu are single. Both women voiced their desire to run for 2012 presidential elections, although Lu publicly dropped out of the DPP primaries Tuesday, citing her concern for the environment outweighing her need to win in an election. Chen Chu, the incumbent mayor of Kaohsiung, is entering her 60s and has never married.

The first paragraph - "then it certainly serves as either affirmation or a consolation for the unhitched woman" - the writer makes it sound as though being an unhitched woman is some sort of disease that deserves neither consolation nor affirmation. Really? Seriously?

Then the writer goes on to name several high-profile single women - never once mentioning high-profile single men. Jay Chou is single - why not mention him? There must be a few unmarried male politicians and captains of industry in Taiwan, and I have met more than a few unmarried engineers working for Taiwan's major tech/IT firms.

So why is this only a problem vis-a-vis the women - particularly the successful women - of Taiwan? Why all the hullabaloo about the low marriage rate regarding women? Why this assumption that it's fine to be a single successful man, but worthy of a mention in the newspaper if you are a single successful woman?

Feeling generally annoyed with this double standard - that the low marriage rate is somehow a woman's problem and not a man's (AAAAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!1111!!!!!111!!!!one! NOOOOOO!!!) - I've been asking Taiwanese men since I wrote my last post what their thoughts are on this issue.

I don't have a huge sample size, but I've gotten a few answers:

- Women aren't interested in traditional gender roles

- We (the men) who would have married in an earlier era are not doing so, because we work so hard that they have no time to date (notably, engineers)

- A lot of the women who would have married in an earlier era are not doing so because they also work so hard that they have no time to date (notably, accountants)

- Taiwanese women are more interested in studying or living abroad or advancing their careers (maybe in the cities, but the countryside? And even in the cities, I already addressed how most "office jobs" in Taiwan are so uninspiring and require putting up with difficult bosses and long hours that I can't imagine that that's why women aren't marrying - we aren't talking about a new generation of women who are passionate about their work)...and Taiwanese men want women who are more interested in family and children.

- We (the men) want women who are more traditional, and Taiwanese women aren't fulfilling that (if true - and I am not sure it is - that makes me really sad)

- Taiwanese women insist that any man she marries has sizeable savings and can afford to buy an apartment and a car (not sure how true this is, but someone did say that so it's worth mentioning)

- Taiwanese women are sick of putting up with the traditional expectations of in-laws and don't want to deal with the pressure to have a baby that they may not want, so they just have boyfriends, they don't marry

- We (the men) aren't changing our outlook fast enough and the women aren't going to tie themselves to someone who can't bring himself to do the dishes (this from one of my more progressive male students)

- We (the men) can get a foreign bride so we don't necessarily care why Taiwanese women don't want to marry

- We (the men) are so scared off by the white men that Taiwanese women date that we are too shy to ask the girls we like on dates (I smell BS on this one, personally).

And of course, the Internet, which is full of all sorts of horrible comments, has dredged up some other ideas, notably that Taiwanese women aren't keeping themselves as pretty as they used to - more body fat, less makeup, hair that's not done up - and so men are losing interest. I call BS on this one because I've met plenty of average-looking married Taiwanese women (and as an average-looking American woman I can say that not being "hot" is not much of an issue of you are looking to marry a man who isn't superficial).

In short, when looking at low marriage rates in Taiwan, why is everyone watching the women, and why isn't anyone looking at the men? Aren't they half the equation?

COLD

...it's cold.