If you think "Taiwanese men are beta-male pansies" is insightful or funny, it's time to retire

There's a writer who's well-known and seemingly well-liked among expats in Taiwan and in defense analysis circles -- or at least by other white men. And I don't doubt this is all true. He probably is quite friendly in real life.

He writes colorfully; he's even been called the "Hunter S. Thompson" of Taiwan policy analysis. That's all fine. As readers surely know, I have no goddamn problem at all with some strong language. He's published some books and written for Jane's, which show real expertise. All fine.

His main deal seems to be that Taiwan is not prepared in terms of national defense, and needs both a better security environment and a more committed attitude to defending itself against China. I actually agree with this: at heart I'm a peacenik, but you just don't get to decide when the other guy starts a war with you. Especially if the other guy is the CCP, which lies, breaks promises and chooses to be angry when it suits them.

You can't play dove with that. You have to defend yourself, and Taiwan seems unprepared. I get it. 

He might even be right that Taiwanese don't care enough about national defense, but I'm far less sure. That conjecture is based almost entirely on military recruitment, but people who are willing to fight if China invades aren't necessarily going to join the military as their job. They may desire other careers, or maybe the military just isn't a good career choice generally. That doesn't mean they won't fight, though -- polls consistently say most are willing to. The polls may be wrong, but that's a matter of opinion, not fact. 

In any case, my issue isn't his actual take on Taiwan's national defense or security. Even if I disagreed, it's not my area of expertise. 

Here is what I have a problem with. From this post:





I won't comment on him as a person -- again, I am sure he's quite affable, at least if you have sufficiently proven your chudliness -- but these ideas, which I am free to comment on? Fucking yikes.

Where I do talk about a certain type of expat (generally older, white, cisgender and straight, though I've met other types), I want to be clear: There are a lot of foreign dudes walking around with these opinions, and some even write about it. This isn't about one guy.

So let's talk about the article, and this attitude in general.

First, it's just mean. It's not a discussion of Taiwan or its security situation as a nation, or interpretation of poll results (because, again, the polls contradict his opinion). It's insulting Taiwanese as human beings, with broad-stroke pronouncements about what they are like as people. It isn't relevant to why the military may not be an attractive career, or what bureaucratic and governmental issues may be holding Taiwan back.

It's also wrong. It tries to be funny, but isn't. I'm fine with being mean if someone has earned it. But mocking the entire population of Taiwan, or even just the male population? Come on.

That meanness lays bare no deeper truths: all it does is make Taiwan look like a place not worth the international community's time, which can't get its own act together, and may as well be left to be ravaged and subjugated by China, the people -- sorry, pansies -- slaughtered. All because they won't stand up for themselves (even though, again, polls say they will -- and "but they like strawberry bubble tea!" isn't funny, it's just poor argumentation.) 

It's racist, because it calls into question the virility and courage of 12 million or so Asian men. This just clobbers readers with old-timey caricaturing of Asian men as effeminate or unmanly. It was racist back when some people thought it was funny, and it remains so.

There are multiple expats in Taiwan -- mostly white men -- who hold such opinions. Some even write similar drivel: it's not just him. Some of them defended this as "spot on". 

I wonder, have any of them participated in a decades-long but ultimately successful underground resistance, at risk of torture and execution, aimed at overthrowing a dictatorship and democratizing their country?  

Doubt it. 

So maybe sit the fuck down.

While some of them may have talked to Taiwanese men to say more than "another beer, please" or "再一瓶" if they've learned three words of Chinese -- I do wonder.

And here's how you can tell the whole logic of the piece is racist. Beyond the references to hentai and whatnot, there's a line in there (in a screenshot below) about how Ukrainians are tough, and Taiwanese aren't. The Taiwanese who, left without resources by the Qing, colonized over and over and given a pretty terrible hand historically, overthrew a dictatorship and built a modern nation? The ones who mounted rebellion after rebellion? I don't know that they "eat bark", but I don't see a "not tough" narrative there. 

The article dismisses all of this, saying there's no narrative to replace the (hole-ridden and dictator-driven) one, which is ultimately not particularly inspiring because the KMT lost. In fact, every "red in tooth and claw" story he says Taiwan lacks (the Alamo, the 300 Spartans) is a story of losing. That's supposed to be the kind of inspiring story Taiwan reaches for? Why? 

The article doesn't give any reasons for praising stories of losers and dismissing Taiwan's actual story other than...what? 7-11 has effeminate decorations? That's not a reason. It boils down to "because I don't like it and it doesn't make Taiwanese seem wimpy enough". 

As for Ukrainians, it's not as though they were all boar-hunting buff strongmen before the war. There's a lot of gender role crap in Ukraine, but I promise you, some of the bravest Ukrainians are willing to dance around in heels. Besides, Russia expected Ukraine to surrender quickly. As Zelenskyy put it, they were banking on cowardice. That doesn't sound like a story about how Ukrainians have always been Fighter Dudes to me. 

It's literally no more than Eastern European Men = Chads; Asian Men = Virgins. That's not analysis or even thoughtful opinion. It's a meme, and a half-assed one at that.

The article is also misogynist, because it codes all behavior considered female as 'bad'. It assumes that cute stores, or adorable cats is sufficient evidence that the people of Taiwan won't fight because...Hello Kitty, or something. Like you need to look a certain way to fight. Specifically, a male way. Specifically, a straight male chud way. 

As a middle-aged frizzy-haired chubby lady who Instagrams her cats, but would rather die than let China take Taiwan without a fight, I suggest anyone reading this who thinks "Taiwanese are pansies because the stuff they like is girly" not only sit down, but also go ahead and lick my salty buttcrack.


              

Who Instagrams her cute fuzzers and would fight for Taiwan? That's right.

In other words, I may not be effeminate but I am a woman (or are we feeeeemales? I always forget). I prefer non-violence but I will Molotov a fucker if they threaten my home.

And you can tell it's misogynist because it mocks President Tsai in her role as head of the country and its military, calling it "LARPing", when she's doing her fucking job.






I don't recall these guys jeering at Ma Ying-jeou when he was in charge of both the country and military. He might be called incompetent, but he wouldn't be mocked as though it were all an elaborate costume -- men in this position are taken seriously, even when undeserved.

This is even more galling as, however imperfect, she's done more for the military than Ma. I'm not even sure what "post-modern woke policies in the military" he's referring to, because that doesn't make any sense, and he gives no examples. It honestly feels like she's getting shit just because she's a woman, not because she's doing a worse job.

Anyway, all the chuds whining about Tsai -- because the writer here is not the only one -- are you guys the Commander in Chief of anything? No?

So again, maybe sit the fuck down and get right back in that ass for more crack-licking. We ain't done.

It's also misandrist. I mean, calling 12 million men "beta males" is just inherently anti-male, and pro-asshole.

It assumes that any person with a dick should behave in certain ways, coded as masculine, and anyone who strays from this awful binary is less-than. That's insulting to men too. Society needs all types, including swaggering pussy people and thoughtful dick people. It's part of what makes the world beautiful!

In coding insufficiently masculine behavior as "bad". It calls men "pansies" and makes jokes about Pride, as though being a more openminded society than its neighbors is a sign of weakness. Or as though gay people can't fight! 

    

The context given for this is that the men he knows didn't want to do mandatory military service. But frankly, the training they receive isn't very useful. Friends of mine say that you barely get time to practice shooting a gun, but you spend a lot of time cleaning. I'd be happy to do a program where I learned to shoot, but don't really want to clean toilets for no reason. Maybe they don't want to go because they know it's pointless, not because they're cowards?

While we're on the topic, why no screaming about the fact that national service is only for men? Women may be physically weaker on average (though not necessarily individually), but we can shoot, and do lots of other things, and we have a higher pain tolerance. I don't know that Taiwan needs national service at all, but if they do, it should be both useful and mandatory for every citizen. 

Regardless, all the jokes implying gay people can't fight are just inaccurate and sad. In a hint about a story for another time, if you'd like I can direct you to at least three (?) gay male strippers in Ximending who look like they could help take out a PLA soldier or twenty. Even if they don't want to fight, I cam promise any one of them could benchpress some of these expat beerguts.

In addition to mocking Pride, he also artlessly implies that Madame President Dr. Tsai Ing-wen is somehow inferior because she's a lesbian (you can see it in the "mysteriously never married" dogwhistle). She might be. I do not know, I do not care, and you shouldn't either.

Frankly, the whole passage clarifies how threatening a smart woman who doesn't need a man but can run a country is. How insecure it makes some men feel, and how cowardly that is.






Apparently, being (oh no!) a Possible Lesbian and A Woman is somehow worse qualification for running the country than shitting your pants because someone compared you to Winnie the Pooh? That sure sounds like Hysterical Male behavior to me. Christ, who wants a literal child in charge of the country, just because he has a squiggle-dick and a big baby temper? Not me. I'll take the (Oh No!) Possible Lesbian and A Woman who keeps her cool, thanks. 

If you prefer your opinions in meme format, well, would you rather have this woman in charge:






Or this Hysterical Male:

All this lays bare the deeper problem: this article would rather be a rant about post-modern gay woke beta whatever than actually make a real point, although it tries to be an opinion about defense. It claims to be "satire" in addition to "opinion", but satire should be funny.

What is it then? Chudswagger, as though Taiwan should be grateful to have guys like this around to tell them how much Taiwan sucks and they know better. Like the worst expat white guys at the worst bar you know, who seem friendly until they start ranting hysterically three beers in about WOKE SOY CUCK CULTURE COMING TO TAI-WAAAAN! 

I mean, maybe these guys are upset that Taiwan is no longer a place where they can act like Trump Uncles without getting the side-eye. Can't say I feel too bad about it, though.

This article flows the way of all hot garbage juice writing (this guy engaged in it too, and I wrote back) and ties all of it to Taiwan's declining birth rate. The Taipei Times guy linked above blamed it on insufficient slut punishment (not his words, but that's the gist). This post? Seems to think it's about being too feminine or gay or unable to fuck...or something.

Now, do I know if Taiwanese men can fuck? Well, I didn't date anyone seriously before Brendan moved here. But I know lots of people who have, and indeed they agree: Taiwanese men fuck. 

If you are one of these old white dudes, try not to faint from the shock that you might not be the hottest ticket in town. Honestly, it's better to just accept it.

So why is the birth rate declining? It's not "hentai" or a need to "ban porn" or gayness or an inability to fuck. As I wrote in the Taipei Times link above, most people want children. They aren't having them because most people also want some security before they do: an apartment they can call their own, enough money, time to spend with their offspring. This is true in Taiwan as everywhere else.

In other words, the problem is fundamentally economic. I do think it can be solved, though I'm not sure how. But, of course, some people think it's more fun to be insulting and hateful and say it's about something something beta male something porn something. 

I suppose writing like this is one's right. You can publish that if someone will give you a platform, or publish it yourself if they won't. You shouldn't go to jail for it. I have a blog and I say all sorts of things people don't like. It's fine.

But if you think mocking perceived gay or female behavior is insightful or funny, it's not -- and it's time to retire. 

If retirement is not desirable, then focus on your actual area of expertise, as colorfully as you like! Just leave out the anti-gay racist shit. Nobody needs it, nobody wants it, it's wholly unnecessary and it's not even amusing, let alone correct.

I love colorful writing. Colorful language is absolutely fine. 

But just shitting on people, calling them cowards by implying they're gay or "unmanly", and acting like that's amusing -- or trenchant and worthwhile -- analysis? 

Naw. This is old shit. This is like a comedian from the '90s who can't figure out why no one laughs at their schtick anymore. This is Trump Uncle at Thanksgiving who doesn't understand that he's the reason why nobody lingers over dessert. This is Grandpa who wonders why his grandkids never call. This is material for Conservative Stand-Up Night at Shady Pines.

I mean, it's just preposterous. I don't know what smegma-streaked helldream this version of Taiwan comes from, but it's not the Taiwan I live in. Gay men can fight. Women can fight. Lesbians can fight. People who like Hello Kitty can fight. People who like pornography and video games and strawberry bubble tea can fight. The country's internationally-famous black metal frontman posts cute cat videos, but I bet he can fight. I mean have you seen that man shirtless?

If not, here you are: 

Definitely hotter than you

Would you rather have this absolute beefcake fighting alongside you, or some white dudes who still think the Combat Zone is cool?

And if you're one of those people who makes themselves feel better about mocking any of these groups, as though you're such Big Swagger Dudes, well...I don't like to use the term "beta" because it's ridiculous, but that sure looks like beta behavior to me. So terrified of some girls & gays. Like insecure Trump Uncles who are afraid of a world they do not understand. It's sad, really. 

Maybe the Taiwanese won't win, and it's probably true that Taiwan needs to do more for its defense. But again, according to the polls, they say they are willing to fight. 

Even if you think they won't, that's just like, your opinion, man.

Another beer, please. 

The Restored Taipei Heritage Building Megapost

First, a quick life update: I have COVID! So, depending on how that turns out, you can either expect lots of posts as I don't have much to do, or nothing because I don't feel well (right now I'm doing alright). 

Now, on to the actual post.

In recent years, Taipei has been working practically in overdrive not just to preserve the heritage architecture that remains, but (for the most part) turn these old buildings into useful or interesting public spaces. 

You surely know some of these already -- Huashan and Songyan Creative Parks, Bopiliao, Dihua Street and -- well, so many that it'd be impossible to list them all. A few are privately owned: Leputing is housed in a Japanese-era dormitory for government officials, built in the 1920s and renovated with government subsidies. Fireweeds offers more traditionally Japanese fare, in a smaller-scale building. I used to frequent Cafe Monument when I had a reason to be in that area. Nobody who knows a thing about Taiwanese history is unaware of Wistaria House (though it can be hard to get a table). 

Others have been more recently renovated. As such, they're less well-known. 

I've been spending a lot of time these past few years writing about these places (among other topics) for Taipei Magazine. That's not a plug -- the point is, I spend a lot of time visiting these places because the city government wants to get the word out. It's been an enjoyable enough series of assignments that I thought I'd summarize some of my favorites, with a few picks of my own. 

Some of the links lead back to my own writing, some to other sites -- I wanted to offer a list of my favorites (including places I've visited on assignment) rather than just hawk my own work. Not every item comes with photographs: I simply can't find all of my own pictures. I'm not sure it matters much -- I'm not the best photographer.

This is by no means a definitive list. I'm giving the places above the short shrift, and leaving out Beitou and Shezi completely. Old favorites, like the Xiahai City God Temple, Bao'an Temple and Qingshan Temple didn't make it in. There are enough Japanese-era residences around NTU and Shi-da alone to create an entire post. I didn't include the 228 Museum because I wanted to add at least one picture to that, but I don't have any (it will feature in an upcoming post on all the museums you can visit if you don't want to go to the National Palace Museum again). 

That's okay -- I can't cover everything, so let's focus on what I can do! 

Kishu An

Also called the "Literature Forest", this renovated section of a 1917 Japanese riverside banquet hall -- much of which was destroyed in a fire decades ago -- offers a calm spot for relaxation, a shop, cafe and event space. The massive banyan trees lend themselves to the 'forest' part of the site's name, and novelist Wang Wen-hsing lived here for a time, hence the connection to literature. In fact, much of the Taiwanese novel Family Catastrophe was set here.

Taiwan Literature Base and surrounding neighborhood (same link as above)

Near Huashan Creative Park, the Taiwan Literature Base is housed in a series of dormitories once occupied by Japanese civil servants, first in the Japanese era and for a period, ROC government workers as well. It was left abandoned for some time before being designated as a historic site and renovated. Qidong (Chitung) Street is much older, however: it was used as a transit route for goods headed to the port of Keelung during the Qing Dynasty and Japanese colonial era. Now, the dormitories house exhibits, spots for reading -- including one filled with books in Taiwanese and Hakka -- or just places to hang out, in a quiet complex with plenty of outdoor seating. 

There's more to this neighborhood than just the dormitories, however. Other renovated Japanese era buildings house the Taipei Qin Hall (also called Taipei Calligraphy Academy) the residence of Li Gwoh-ting. Both of these host events, exhibits and activities.

Tip: for this and Kishu An, bring bug spray. It turns out that shady banyans attract mosquitoes.

Railway Department Park

This has gotten quite a bit of press since opening in 2020, but I wanted to include it as not only a recent renovation, but also one of my favorite visits. With an Art Deco entrance, cypress from Alishan, a Beaux Arts conference room, and exhibits on railway history, there's a lot to see here. Buildings outside have a lot of history to explore as well. It's become one of my top recommendations for very hot or rainy days, if you want to get out of the house, explore a historic site, and have enough to keep you engaged for the day. 

Futai Street Mansion

Walking down Yanping Street one day, I passed this smallish historical building and found, to my surprise, that it was open to the public. This simple European-style commercial building (it was built in 1910 to house the offices of a Japanese construction company) holds a place in my memory in part because I found it on my own; no guidebook or brochure mentioned it, and I wasn't asked to go there to write about it.  Constructed of stone from Qili'an in northern Taipei with a ceiling of Taiwanese cypress, it's the only commercial building left on Yanping Road, which was once lined with them. It houses a gift shop and as of my last visit, a small cafe as well. Renovation and management was conducted by the same person who manages the Taipei Story House near the Fine Arts Museum. I appreciate the warm cypress scent that wafts through the building; you'd hardly think that this was used as accommodations for high-level ROC officials -- it looks like it was always meant to be a commercial building on a commercial street.


Nishihonganji

Built in the early 1900s, was originally a Buddhist monastery and temple that served as a Taiwan-based chapter of a Japanese Shin (or Pure Land) Buddhist order. When I first moved to Taiwan in 2006, I remember coming across it in disrepair, but in the years since it's been renovated and turned into a popular attraction. The bell tower is especially nice, though I remember it most fondly as one of the first historic sites I came across in Taiwan that was later renovated. The architectural designs are eclectic, and the head priest's residence (the rinbansho or rinbansyo)

is now a teahouse called, predictably, Rinbansyo and is built and decorated in a thoroughly traditional Japanese style. I've been, and I recommend it! 

(On a personal note, Rinbansyo holds a lot of sad and nostalgic memory for me, as the one time I went, I was with a friend who later passed away of a heart condition. It was the last time I saw her. I should go back, but I haven't yet.) 

North Gate

In my first years in Taiwan, North Gate was that incongruous little square building with the traditional-style roof that few paid attention to. Why? Because it sat right next to a massive highway ramp. When I had a class in Wugu, a student would drive me back to Taipei Main Station and I'd always notice how pretty that old Minnan-style roof looked, silhouetted by the city lights beyond. It was hard to get close to the actual gate, though, and on the ground its surroundings drained its attractiveness.

Friends began pointing out the gate's significance. As one of the only relics of the Taipei city walls (constructed just before the Sino-Japanese war in the late 1900s, and demolished very soon after by the incoming Japanese), and as the only Taipei surviving city gate retaining its original southern Chinese form. The others were renovated (retconned) into the bright red-and orange northern Chinese style buildings the KMT plonked on Taiwan to make it seem not just 'Chinese' but the specific kind of "Chinese" aesthetics they preferred. That is, not simple, elegant Southern Min brick. 

Imagine my shock when one day I walked by that intersection to see the ramp gone, and pedestrian friendly walkways allowing one to truly admire this forgotten old gate in the shadow of an overpass. But of course people hadn't forgotten; it took awhile to do the right thing and give North Gate its due.It took breaking the KMT domination of the Taipei mayorship and showing that in fact, a simple, local-style gate can be more lovely than the most firecracker-red columns you can out up to push your view of history on the people.

It's small, and takes just a moment to walk through. But you can walk through it now, and that wasn't always the case. And that's what matters.

Taipei Info Hub

Not far from Futai Street Mansion (you can walk between the two by crossing under North Gate), Taipei Info Hub is a recently-renovated warehouse building housing various exhibits on the first floor, with a second floor event space. Built in 1913 for the erstwhile Mitsui & Co (no relation to the current company), Taipei Info Hub also houses a cafe with ample seating in an area where there were once very few food and drink options. Interestingly, the semicircular gable that graces the building now isn'r original; the original was deemed too vulnerable to be left in position and is now on display inside the building.


National Center of Photography and Images

In the same article linked above, I wrote about NCPI -- the National Center of Photography and Images. In the same neighborhood as the Railway Department Park, North Gate, Futai Street Mansion and Taipei Info Hub. 

You probably know this building; very near Taipei Main Station, it was designed by architect Setsu Watanabe and built in 1937. It's certainly got Japanese influences in the roof design -- note the distinctive turret -- but was also designed to be simple and modern. Originally an office for the Osaka Mercantile Co., the turret was eventually lopped off in order to build a fourth story, during the period when it housed the Provincial Highway Bureau. During renovations, Watanabe's original intent was coaxed back into existence, with the turret replaced. 

Now, NCPI hosts rotating exhibits on photography in Taiwan's history. Not everything is subtitled in English, but enough is to enjoy yourself. While enjoying the exhibits, be sure to take in some of the other Art Deco details of the building, especially the stairway.

The first floor also houses a minimalist cafe and interesting gift shop. (I bought a Furoshiki Shiki miscellaneous goods bag, because I thought the design was cool.) 

New Culture Movement Museum

One thing I love about Taiwan: when dealing with the renovation of historic sites that evoke painful memories of colonialism and brutality, the current government has not shied away from re-imagining them as spaces to talk about Taiwan's history on its own terms, while reminding people of the original purpose of the sites. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Japanese-era police stations in Taipei and Tainan. Tainan uses its old police station as part of a fine arts museum complex, exhibiting fine artwork specifically from Taiwan which evokes the Taiwanese experience through history and today. 

In Taipei, this means using an old police building to house a New Culture Movement museum. When I went, the current COVID outbreak was just starting to become a concern, and the place was deserted. While that's probably due to the pandemic, I also worry that news of the museum's existence hasn't gotten around yet, either. That's a shame, because in addition to exhibits about the New Culture Movement (which was strongly tied to the Home Rule movement of the time), the building itself is of historic interest. From my article: 

Built in 1933, the station also served as a detention center. In the ensuing decades, the edifice was replaced with red tiles and a third story was added. Renovations began in 2014, and the choice of exhibit was intentional: Taiwan Cultural Association (台灣文化協會) founder Chiang Wei-shui (蔣渭水) had been imprisoned at the station’s former site in the 1920s. The New Cultural Movement in Taiwan encouraged understanding of Taiwanese culture and history through performances, lectures, essays and a newspaper, the Taiwan People’s News (台灣民報).

POPOP Taipei

This is another one of those city government initiatives aiming to renovate Taipei's historic sites and re-make them into usable spaces for contemporary times. POPOP was once a bottle cap factory in Nangang, a part of the city that, to be honest, doesn't have a lot going on (though if you find yourself there, the Academia Historica museum is interesting, and there's an old family mansion near the Academia Sinica). 

Unlike, say, the creative parks at Huashan and Songshan, POPOP is a fairly new project, and hasn't quite taken off yet thanks to the pandemic -- but hopefully, it will. Instead of following the old 'creative and culture park' model, POPOP was conceived as a 'maker space', with the main part of the old factory buildings turned into a single long workspace with tables, counters, outlets -- you know, a space for makers. There's not a lot going on yet, but check back in a few years.

For the casual visitor, there's also a cafe, a sake bar and an antique shop in addition to some small but pleasant outdoor spaces. 

U-mkt

From the same article above, the Shintomicho Cultural Market (U-mkt) can be found at the other end of the MRT's blue line, near Longshan Temple and Bopiliao. Built in 1935, commercial operations ceased in the unique U-shaped building in the 1990s. Xinfu Market, however, still bustles around it, and is interesting both when open and closed (as the pull-down garage doors on the shops are covered in colorful graffiti). Today, U-mkt has exhibits on the building's past, kitchen and lecture spaces and two cafes, one in the curve of the "U" and the other in the Japanese-era office just outside. 

Neihu Assembly Hall

This Art Deco building caught my eye in a book of Taipei heritage buildings. Looking one weekend day for something to do, I suggested to Brendan that we head up to Neihu just to have a look. After all, we rarely get up that way; there just isn't that much to do in Neihu if you don't live there! We weren't able to enter the building, and frankly, the façade is probably the most interesting thing about it. Built in 1930, it's one of the few Japanese-era buildings that isn't done in the "baroque" style reminiscent of British colonialism, but straight-up Art Deco, complete with 'air defense' tiles which were probably more for decoration than actual camouflage.

It's worth coming up here, though, as you can combine it with a visit to visit the Kuo ancestral shrine (below). 

Kuo Family Shrine

This gem of a building is designed more in the Japanese Baroque style that is so common in Taiwan than the Neihu Assembly Hall, and is linked with it above. Hiking up the steps to get to this hilltop mansion, you'd never know that it's right next to an MRT station. Unlike the assembly hall, the family mansion is open most days, and is pleasant to wander around. It's also the headquarters of the World Kuo Family Association, has some Tang-dynasty tablet rubbings, and features a shrine to the most famous Kuo -- Kuo Ziyi. Though he's claimed as the ancestor to all people surnamed Kuo, that's likely not the actual case. 

Sun Yat-sen Memorial House / Yixian Park / Umeyashiki

Can you imagine someone living in Taiwan for almost 15 years, and not visiting this site? Well, that was me. Next to Taipei Main Station, this was a restaurant and guesthouse during the Japanese Era, where Sun Yat-sen apparently spent a night (also, it's apparently been relocated from its original site nearby). 

After so many years of seeing the walls keeping this small park and building from the noise and traffic outside, I finally popped in one day when I had nothing else going on, and had just had lunch with a friend nearby. I ended up spending much of the afternoon just sitting and relaxing. The Japanese-style building itself houses a small exhibition related to Dr. Sun, and the garden around it is landscaped in a Chinese style. A brochure describes it as a fusion of the two styles -- Japanese and Chinese -- with some sort of metaphorical link to Taiwan and fusion of the two cultures. 

            

I don't care much for the metaphor, but it is a pleasant spot. Perhaps sit and reflect on how the "father of modern China" (or something) visited Taiwan, stayed here, and never said a thing about Taiwan being Chinese. To Sun, Taiwan was very obviously Japanese. Now consider how China views its 'claim' to Taiwan as something historic -- the evidence is apparently 'antiquity' itself. 

Does that claim seem particularly legitimate in light of what you've just learned? I hope not! 


The Lin Antai Mansion

Competing with other old family mansions such as the Banqiao Lin Family Garden in New Taipei, the Li Family House in Xinzhuang and the Wufeng Lin Mansion just outside Taichung city, the Lin Antai house is probably the best-preserved old mansion in Taipei. It took me years to visit, simply because it's not close to anything else and not particularly close to an MRT (some bus lines run up to that corner of the city, but that's about it). I enjoyed it immensely when I did, however. Fun fact: the house used to be located on what is now Dunhua South Road. I saw the original site on an old map once, and it wasn't far from MRT Technology Building -- it's surreal to think the whole thing got moved up to the riverside.

Ciyun Temple (慈雲寺)

We found this temple so many years ago that the photos I took got lost somewhere in the shuffling of files from old computers to new. I remember it though, because in a district full of flashier and more famous temples, this simple brick structure felt like a throwback, or at least a very unpretentious example of its type. The old brick arcades certainly give the area the feel of a time long past. Built in 1924 with private funds, it was on newly reclaimed land behind what is now Ximenting when first constructed. Now, the temple lives on, but seems to be bookended with hip-looking cafes. I don't mind, that, really. 

If you make your way from some of the sites around Taipei Main to Ciyun Temple, you'll find yourself walking through Ximen, which is an interesting way to spend a day regardless of your destination. There's plenty to see in the area, and if you aim your walk in the direction of Zhongshan Hall and some of the other historical sites and temples I've skipped, you'll also pass one of my favorite old houses:

 

I don't think there's anything especially historic about it, I just think it looks cool. 

In fact, although it's often labeled an unattractive city, Taipei has lots of architecture that is in fact quite interesting:

Contrastia

It's all tilted.

I do not want to write about Abe Shinzo. I’m not qualified to, but it seems that hasn’t stopped many. I do not want to discuss my opinion of him, but I will say this: some things are simple and some are complex. 

Xi Jinping is simple. He’s a brutal dictator and genocidaire and should not hold the position he has. Nuance regarding him only serves to distract from that fundamental truth. Abe Shinzo, however, was complex.

I can’t say I agreed with Abe’s conservatism. But there’s more to it than that; he was an important ally to Taiwan, and his legacy is not one of straight-shot conservatism. I don’t know that I agree with everything in this piece, but it’s worth a read for another perspective. (I do not exculpate him from war crime denialism to the extent Smith does in that link, for example). 

Now that I’ve just spent a few paragraphs talking about the thing I didn’t want to talk about, let’s get to what I do want to discuss in the wake of last week’s assassination. You know the old grade school cliche that such-and-such is a “land of contrast”? 

Well, it would be silly to call Taiwan that; fundamentally the term connotes something that doesn't quite line up or make sense, and given the geopolitical reality thrust on Taiwan by the both the world and the former KMT dictatorship, I think a lot of things actually do make sense when you take two seconds to think about them.

But I will call myself that: my own head is a land of contrasts. Contrastia? That's my brain.

If I didn't care about Taiwan, my views on Abe Shinzo's legacy would be far less inflected; he's probably not someone I would have voted for. In the country where I can actually vote, I wouldn't have to tolerate friendly overtures toward Taiwan from politicians I despise -- I could just hate them outright. 

To be honest, I already do: I certainly wouldn't vote for a right-winger. Recent bipartisan agreement on Taiwan has been a salvation at the voting booth; I wouldn't vote for anyone who was anti-Taiwan or, say, anti-abortion. What would I have done between a candidate who was pro-Taiwan but anti-abortion, and another who was anti-Taiwan but pro-abortion?

But if I didn't care about Taiwan I would not, for example, find myself explaining to like-minded friends in the US that Taiwanese didn't favor Trump in 2020 because they love the right wing, white supremacy or electing rapists. I don't even think they favored him because they genuinely thought he, personally, cared about Taiwan. One would have to be airy around the ears to think he did.

They favored him because his administration was the first in awhile to speak favorably of Taiwan. That's it. A lack of similar rhetoric from the other side -- at least until very recently -- was noticed and does matter. 

I may have to live in Contrastia, where I vote against people whose only good platform is support for Taiwan (often for the wrong reasons, but at some point support is support). But it's quite straightforward from a Taiwanese standpoint: who offers the stronger commitment to international friendship, however informal, with Taiwan?

The same is true of Abe. The Taiwanese mourning him are not stupid, they do not need to be lectured at that he was a conservative (and a pretty normal one by Japanese standards). They're not misunderstanding anything. 

He cared about Taiwan and was not afraid to stand up to China. Think what you will of his push to increase the defense budget and end an era of pacifism; it signaled that Japan was a regional partner that might actually be there for Taiwan in ways that mattered.

Even if they didn't care for anything else he did, it makes perfect sense that many Taiwanese would mourn him for these reasons. Does the opposition in Japan stand for Taiwan as much as Abe did? Would one of their senior leaders call Taiwan a "country"? How about other factions in the LDP?

If the answer to any of these questions is "no", then the reasons why Taiwanese liked Abe Shinzo should be obvious. If you don't like that, try to get better commitments to Taiwan from people you prefer. That's how you move the dial.

Telling Taiwanese that it's wrong to feel favorably to leaders who act favorably toward them is, frankly, condescending. Yes, even if those leaders are otherwise terrible. The only solution is to secure similarly good relations from less-terrible people. Otherwise, you're not living in Contrastia with me where sometimes things don't make sense; you're inhabiting Delusia where you refuse to see the world as it is. 

I'm a bit guilty of this too. I've made it clear that I don't care for these right-wingers in other countries who support Taiwan. During the Trump presidency, I'd point out that if the US slides toward right-wing authoritarianism, that influences the world -- simply saying a few kind words about Taiwan was insufficient. If the US is weakened globally because the blorp-in-chief can't even get diplomacy with America's friends right, that hurts Taiwan too. 

I still think I was right about that. But it would have been foolish of me in 2019 to expect the general public in Taiwan to support the guy whose administration's stance on Taiwan would be unclear until after he was elected, over the guy whose otherwise awful Secretary of State had one (and only one) good position: supporting Taiwan.

In the past few years, I haven't noticed much lasting affection for Trump in Taiwan. What changed? People didn't suddenly realize that Trump actually sucked (I think they already kind of knew that). Rather, the Biden administration made similar or even better commitments to Taiwan, and Taiwan responded. 

It's really that simple. 

Of course, Abe wasn't Trump, and those comparing the two are wrong. He was more of a conservative who retained public support despite corruption scandals thanks to a lot of rah-rah patriotism. That makes him more of a Reagan. 

There's a lot one might say about the legacy of Japanese colonialism in Taiwan here, but I don't actually think it's as relevant as it seems. Taiwanese didn't feel affection for Abe because they think of the Japanese colonial era with great nostalgia. They liked him because he was a friend of Taiwan. 

I could write a whole post on how Taiwan views the Japanese colonial era, but my conclusions would not point to a failure to deal with that historical legacy, rather, what it says about the era that followed. Regardless, I don't think it's more than tangentially relevant here. Taiwan does know its history; it retains informal but warm ties with Japan despite this, not because people have forgotten.

I understand why many disliked Abe. I didn't like him either (though I have no comment on Abenomics, because I am not an economist). He was not a fascist, as I've seen him called, and in a country that is still legitimately considered 'free', he was not an authoritarian. 

In fact, I think it's straight-up dangerous to be throwing these words around to describe democratically-elected leaders unless they (*cough* Trump *cough*) actually try to overthrow democracy. Calling Abe such things not only render the terms meaningless, but reveal only that you have not lived under a truly fascist state. 

Feel free to call him a war crimes denier, though -- he was. However, every other Japanese leader has been more or less the same on this issue, some worse than Abe (a half-assed apology regarding Korean comfort women isn't good enough, but it's still better than visiting Yasukuni Shrine annually, as Koizumi did). 

Should Taiwan eventually seek to resolve its own war crimes issues with Japan? Yes. Should Taiwan give Japan the cold shoulder over it? Not when they're a friend at a time when China is looking to invade, no.

Still, it is tempting to compare Taiwan's reactions to Abe and Trump. I wouldn't. Unlike Trump, Abe actually knew something about Taiwan. He understood the local and regional issues involved. Of course he did; unlike Trump he wasn't an unread clown, and he was actually from the region. I might be rather conflicted on the man -- after all, my brain is Contrastia -- but for Taiwan, it makes perfect sense that people would realize this and react accordingly.

In other words, let's not pretend Taiwanese are unaware of who Abe was or what his legacy entailed, including all the negatives. They did. But he was an ally of Taiwan, and people noticed. There aren't many choices here: rely on the allies you have, or try to gain more allies. Even if you do the latter, a multilateral, cross-party international consensus on Taiwan matters too, and you'd be wise to keep the allies whose politics you don't otherwise love. That may mean dealing with some icky people, lest Taiwan become a partisan issue again.

Anything less is imposing an impossible moral test on Taiwan that frankly, a country in its position -- trying to gain international recognition while holding off a slavering, brutal, genocidal and subjugationist China -- does not deserve. It's moral highgrounding at (not for, and not alongside -- at) a country just trying to do what's best for itself, as all countries do.

In fact, with Taiwan still working toward that international recognition and regional security, it's deeply unfair to expect it to go against its own interests, whether because confronting China is hard, or because you don't like whomever is showing support for Taiwan, or because it forces some of us to live in Contrastia, where the people you like and the people who support Taiwan may not be the same.

In fact, as a final point, I think it would be wise to simply make more space for Taiwan to express itself, rather than tell Taiwanese what to think, or why they are wrong about whatever thing is happening at the moment. If the rest of the world -- including other countries in the region -- aren't going to give Taiwan the recognition it deserves or even stand with it against the horrible bully next door who wants to invade, then it makes sense that Taiwan would find its own way, and consider its own interests rather than sublimating them into whatever the rest of Asia, the left, or the right deems correct. 

If we stop thinking about whatever Taiwan can do for our cause -- whether that's the US-led world order (if you're a pro-US or conservative libertarian type) or the global left (if you're not) -- and start thinking about what Taiwan needs to do for itself, then a lot of these issues really do resolve themselves.

Or, to put it another way: one supports anti-imperialism in in Taiwan by supporting anti-imperialism in Taiwan. Right now, this means doing what is necessary to stop Chinese annexation.  It does not mean lecturing Taiwanese people about how yes, China is imperialist, but so are all of Taiwan's (informal) allies, so they won't do either, sorry Taiwan, you just have to sit in the corner and wait until the 'right' anti-imperialists notice you, hope China doesn't get you first, ta! 

I can't think of a worse fate for Taiwan than that.

Do people actually leave the United States because they're angry about politics?

One cold morning in 2004, I walked into work to find my colleagues congratulating each other. We're talking clinking coffee mugs, back pats, louder greetings ("HEY!"). I was crestfallen, but alone. In a financial services office, most employees voted Republican. Of course, the back-patters were the managers, the people with offices; as a twenty-something administrative assistant in a cubicle who took the bus to work and struggled to make rent, I most certainly had not. 

It wasn't just that the much-touted tax cuts hadn't helped me at all, or that the excellent Afghan restaurant in Georgetown closed despite hanging a huge American flag over the door; the new rah-rah-America-stop-the-Muslims ensured few customers. Of course it wasn't just about that one Afghan restaurant; it was a whole culture of bullying and distrustfulness that I could not stomach.

Having lived abroad before and already starting to feel that America being the richest country in the world did not necessarily equate to it being the best. There were other places I might live. Perhaps not China, where I'd recently lived. India didn't seem to have any job openings for me. Taiwan, however, looked intriguing.

I was frustrated with my coworkers but held my tongue. It seemed unprofessional, and besides, the one time I had implied I didn't agree with them my supervisor asked me not to talk about politics at work. 

"But they talk about politics," I pointed out.
"Yes but..."
"But..?"
"I mean, but the office is...most people are...there's no disagreement."
"So, it's okay to talk about politics here if you are a conservative because enough people in power agree with you, but if you are a liberal you shouldn't? That's blatantly unfair. Either it's okay for everyone, or no one. So maybe go talk to them."
"But they're senior managers."
"So?"

She just sighed. It didn't matter. I was on my way out anyway.

Then the election came around and I lost my head all the back-patting. I snarked that I was gonna leave the US and go live somewhere else as soon as I could, because I was done with a country that would re-elect George W. Bush.

A manager laughed at me, and said I probably wouldn't. I wonder if he thought I simply couldn't afford it, or that I was young and naïve but soon I'd see that the US was the greatest country in the world, or something. A few months later, the same guy said "I thought you were planning to leave?"

"Yeah, it takes some time to plan these things." 

He walked away. I guess he didn't know what to say.

So I got a second job, started saving my cash, found a job at some cram school in Taipei, quit my job and left. 

* * * 

This story is true, but contains a massive lie of omission. 

I did indeed snark at a manager. I did leave after the 2004 election, though it took me until 2006 to make it happen. I was broke, after all. Bush-era American culture -- the culture that had helped close my favorite restaurant and "cancelled the Dixie Chicks" -- was one reason for that. But the truth is, I was kind of trolling my coworkers. I was annoyed with them, and if they thought I left only because I didn't like W (and they did), then that suited me just fine.

The whole truth is that I was coming to realize that I'd preferred being abroad, though I wasn't sure why (there was certainly a huge amount of unexamined white privilege in there. I apologize. It was 2004 and I wasn't even 25.) I was figuratively sick of exhaustingly inefficient public transit. I was literally sick from not seeing doctors when I should have about chronic back pain, because even with a good company insurance plan I still couldn't afford the co-pays. Even then, I was sick of people trying to expand rights for guns but reduce them for women, expand savings for the rich but reduce social welfare for those who needed it, and sick of how much the United States tolerated that -- encouraged it, even. I was sick of people pretending centrist (or generously, center-left) Democrats were "on the left" when that's never been true. 

There were also positives, too: I wanted to explore and understand a new culture, try living abroad for longer, practice Mandarin in a country where it's a lingua franca. 

So, do people actually leave the United States because they are angry about politics? 

Sometimes, yes. Or at least, that's one of the reasons more often than I think Americans in general want to accept. 

I had a list of reasons, but politics was definitely on it. I've met people for whom it played an even bigger role. Couldn't afford health care, one expat told me in those early years. It was actually cheaper to pack up my life and move to Taiwan than to pay what they wanted to charge me. Another cited fear of mass shootings, but also fear that the people Americans elect don't do a thing about it. She was sick of the thoughts and prayers. These issues aren't directly about Republicans or Democrats -- except when they are -- but they are indirectly political.

Often, people move for similar reasons to mine: politics is part of it, but a combination of not having any strong feeling about (or actively disliking) the USA, coupled with a desire to learn more about another culture or study a foreign language bring a bit of weight to the desire. Frankly, if someone isn't interested in learning a new language or living in a different culture, they probably won't move -- "politics" or not. 

For others, politics might give a nudge to all the other reasons they were interested in living abroad in the first place. 

Of course, let's not forget that these stories come from people with some mobility: they're native English speakers, they have whatever degree or job prospects they need to move abroad. They have the ability to save enough money to leave, and enough freedom from whatever other constraints might keep people in place to do it. Fundamentally, we're talking about a privileged group. Myself included, despite being broke as a joke when I actually left. 

Regardless, my experience picking up 16 years ago -- in part because of politics -- has me scratching my head at some current social media discourse. 

"What's stopping Americans from picking up and moving to Europe?" one massive Twitter thread asked recently, in the wake of Roe v. Wade.

ok serious question, what keeps the average American (that can afford it) from moving to Europe?

please enlighten me

— Peer Richelsen 🗓🍊 (@peer_rich) June 25, 2022

The answers people gave for not leaving straight-up scrambled my brain. Seriously guys, some of them were bonkers.

Apparently, in the wake of many American women losing not just abortion rights but basic bodily autonomy, some big reasons for staying included "bigger cars", "big lawns", "better coffee" and "monolingualism" (America isn't actually monolingual, but alrighty). All of these, to me, are downsides of America -- yes, even the big lawns, because they create communities that necessitate driving and exclude anyone who won't drive, or can't for whatever reason -- and it only got more bizarre from there. Someone complained about beans on toast being bad. 

First of all, my grad school experience is screaming that beans on toast are not bad, if you add some nasty cheese slices and a squirt of hot sauce. But secondly, I will gladly eat beans on toast in a country where I can get a fucking abortion, Chadston. 

When you live in a place with a variety of food available, you can cook whatever you want in your own kitchen. It's not like you move to the UK and suddenly the Beans On Toast Police come to your house and ask why you are not making the legally required beans on toast. 

The same goes for coffee. Maybe you don't like tiny European coffees. Fine. Buy an American drip coffeemaker, a French press, a goddamn Turkish ibrik. Nobody cares. It's your house. You're not on tour. You aren't restricted to six overpriced cafes near the Eiffel Tower. When you actually live in a place you can make your own coffee any goddamn way you want, but crucially, you do not have to do your own abortion. Which is kind of the point. 

My final shock regarding these threads was how so few people brought up the obvious reason why many don't leave: work and visas. We were lucky that we wanted to live in a country that made it fairly easy to come here, and as teachers, we wanted to do the jobs that were available to us. Mostly, it's quite difficult getting a work or residency visa. It might be easier if you're privileged, but it's not just something you can do. You can't just move to Paris, get any old job and legally work at that job with no issues. Do people assume that you can? Is "I don't like the coffee" too big a barrier but "I literally cannot get a work visa approved" not?

Just as bad, however, were all the people saying it was silly to think about moving, or just dismissing it all with "eh, you won't move and you know it! Don't be childish!"

As someone who did move, I can say that this is also wrong. America isn't some unique paradise in comparison to a world where everyone walks around caked in mud with their thumb up their ass, or heaven forbid, drinks coffee you don't like.

Sixteen years in Taiwan and I do not feel like I've lost anything significant by moving here except for time with my family. People cite "freedom" as a reason to stay, but that's not a uniquely American thing. Taiwan is a free society, too. Or they cite "quality of life", but in this advanced Asian democracy, quality of life seems pretty similar to me, if not somewhat better thanks to the great healthcare. And that's not just me: though Taiwanese do leave (some percentage of any population is going to), my friends generally say they stay because they want to. 

Sure, I don't have a lawn in Taipei (though if I moved to the countryside, I might). But I can afford to see the doctor and even get an abortion if I need one. Taiwan has freedom of speech, freedom of assembly and a free press -- though that doesn't always equate to a high-quality press. Taiwan also has democratic government, good public transportation and offers a reasonably normal life in a reasonably safe country. I can walk down the street as a woman alone at any time of night and not worry about my safety. I've learned a language and built a career and community of good friends. It's not a lonely life. Finding food I like is not difficult; it helps that I enjoy local cuisine, but there are options if I'm feeling international, though that wasn't always the case. 

With the exception of good bagels and voting rights (for me specifically, as I'm not a citizen), I can't think of a single positive thing the US offers that Taiwan does not. There are negatives to life in Taiwan, but I doubt they'd be much different elsewhere.

In other words, the bad things about the USA seem uniquely bad by developed-economy standards. But the good things about it -- and there is some good! -- aren't particularly unique to it. 

There are indeed plenty of reasons to stay. Aside from the obvious barriers to leaving (not enough money, can't get a visa), people may have family obligations, jobs they actually want to keep, or their own personal reasons. Some may not think voting, donating and contacting one's representatives is sufficient activism, and want to stay and fight. I respect that a lot, though honestly I think it's unfair to insist that any woman worried about being affected by an abortion ban who can leave should actually stay and have her rights stripped away as she fights back. It's admirable to stay and fight, but it's wrong to demand of anyone.

I'm sure someone will read this and think, if someone can pick up and move to another country, surely they can afford to get an abortion in another state?

That is true. But with right-wingers talking about finding ways to ban that -- I'm not sure how it would be possible, but that doesn't seem to stop them -- it's honestly unclear if a year from now a woman will be prohibited from crossing state lines if it's suspected she's trying to get reproductive healthcare. If you're worried about being treated like a trussed-up incubator, you may want to get out now.

And yes, I do believe anyone who gets stroppy enough to imply women shouldn't leave even as they're being accorded fewer human rights than corpses in some states probably just hates women. The guys going off about how "oh but the coffee is bad" perhaps don't realize that this question isn't about coffee but basic humanity; they don't have a uterus so it's easy to forget. Those that think anyone who can get pregnant should sit tight and wait to be told to what degree they are considered mere egg sacks -- that leaving is "silly" -- are simply misogynists.

For me, the overturning of Roe v. Wade has tainted my impression of the United States, possibly irrevocably. Now, leaving in part because I didn't like George W. Bush feels almost quaint. How young, how naïve. I could still think of things to like or even love about the US, even as I chose to build a home in Taiwan. 

Now, thinking about the US is like mistaking salt for sugar when making cookie dough. It doesn't matter if the chocolate chips are still fine; the whole thing is ruined. Maybe some of the other ingredients are right, but the wrongness is pervasive and the result is inedible.

If you are thinking of leaving and able to do so, don't let the naysayers get you down. Don't let them convince you that nobody actually leaves for these reasons. People kind of do, and not just to Europe. Some of us have been gone for the better part of two decades, and aren't moving back. 

I don't have a statistical breakdown or a study to show you. I'm not sure anyone has actually researched expat populations to see how many left for political reasons. All I can say is I've met such people. To some degree, perhaps I am one (though again, I'm overstating the degree to which it was politics compared to all the other reasons.)

If you join us abroad, I promise you can make your coffee any way you want. 

And if you're a woman afraid for the security of her basic bodily autonomy and are thinking about moving to Taiwan, feel free to ask me for any advice. 

I'm also curious about foreigners in Taiwan reading this. Did you leave because of "politics"? Why did you leave the countries of your birth?

The Light Generation

Here are the things that swirl around my house and my head: it's the middle of the night, and I've taken the upper amount of anxiety and sleeping medication indicated by my doctor. My body is asking for more if it's to sleep, which I cannot give. Ambient light from outside provides just enough to navigate by, but no more than that.

Laptop in my lap, because I touched the black mound on my coffee table and it answered me with an annoyed prrrt. He's not supposed to be on the coffee table. Oh well. 

I am still angry to my core; I didn't know I had an aquifer of rage so voluminous. It's not that I was unaware that horrific injustices worse than the loss of Roe v. Wade happen around the world frequently; of course I knew that people in the US and beyond have been fighting them for longer than I've been alive. I thought, especially for Taiwan, that I had been regularly tapping into that cold, clear fury. I, too, am surprised it runs deeper. I suppose this is the difference between being an ally and being a person directly affected. (Even though I'm safe as a Taiwan resident, I'm still a US citizen with a uterus that is probably capable of bearing children.) 

This is affecting not just my sleep, but my work and life. It's a vise of anger during all hours, productive and not, that the infuriating debate over which human rights I get to have, and which I don't because I was born with complicated innards -- as decided mostly by people with different, simpler innards -- has even more real consequences.

It clarifies a lot, realizing that the people out there who thought they had an honest argument for why you are more of an egg sack than a human actually won something. But then the whole room fills with smoke.

While trying to manage my ire from Taiwan -- where I'm not of much help, but have been hunting for and donating to various sources -- I've been confronted with a more troubling self-truth. So many of the dark thoughts I know I should be managing, as I did during my first anxiety outbreak in 2020, aren't going away. What's worse, that's very clearly because I do not want them to. I won't detail every violent event I've imagined celebrating (most of them circle back to Molotovs; it's actually rather boring and repetitive -- Molotov this, Molotov that, you know, the usual). 

It is hard to focus beyond this shrieking wall of inchoate rage, to try and envision a world I don't want to burn to the ground. Yes, a single court ruling taking away my basic humanity in the country of my citizenship turned a boring center-left normie lib into a flaming anarchist.

But I don't want to talk about that. Too much, anyway.

Instead I'll focus on a deeper intransigence -- family. 

Friends and social media connections are easier to deal with -- if one supports the hijacking of a uterus for any reason, in ways we don't even violate corpses, then it's blammo for you. Get out of my life; we are not on speaking terms.

Family, though?

I love them very much. Many of them, I know, understand the importance not just of a woman's right to privacy and choice. Many understand that even if you support your loved ones, if you vote for people who will hurt them -- officials who have made it their life's work to do just that -- your support is shallow and hypocritical. 

Others, however, are less clear. People who have always been good to me, but drop hints that they voted for Trump, don't think I deserve full humanity as a woman, people who love me because we're related but genuinely wish that someday I will understand that God is real, and he prefers that women have subhuman status, not equal rights. 

Of course, I will never understand that because it is not true. 

I do not know who believes what exactly, because I'm afraid to ask. I have made it clear that I do not wish to be on speaking terms with anyone who thinks it is acceptable, should the circumstance arise, to force me to give birth to a child I do not want. But I'd prefer not to directly tell family members I care about that I cannot speak to them -- not until the federal law changes, or their opinions do. It would be fairly easy from Taiwan; I don't visit the US much anyway, and these are all extended family. It's hard to pull that plug, though. I both comfort and torture myself with the realization that they probably know exactly how I feel. 

There is nothing in the modern world that offers respite, let alone answers. The drugs don't make me worse, but they certainly don't work, either. So, of course, I turned to a book I cannot read. 

Last month, my immediate family and I spent a week cleaning out a packed storage unit. Inside were a stack of my great grandfather's books, mostly in Armenian. I asked an Armenian genealogy group to help translate the titles, and most turned out to be somewhat bland ecclesiastical reference materials. A plain brown tome simply called "Sermons" by a man surnamed Papazian. "The Radiance of the Bible" had a straightforward image of a Bible surrounded by light rays on the cover. These stirred no feeling, and I set them aside. A few I kept, even though I don't read or speak Armenian: most were cultural histories, one had stunning illustrations. 

The only religious title I kept was The Light Generation. It's a history of the Armenian Evangelical Movement, bound in dark leather decorated with swooping floral patterns. 

I wasn't attracted to it just for the cover: I'd already started playing with the words. The Light Generation. The Generation of Light. The Lightweight Generation, floating away like spent dandelion puffs as the diaspora spreads. A Generation of Lightweights, unable to fight as their descendants would for what is right, instead clinging to batty old conservatism. Or maybe we're the lighter generation; after all, they survived a genocide. 

The Generation of Light -- the light we make. Things are dark now, but we can generate light. Our generation can bring it forth. Or theirs did: maybe they were the Light Generation -- the light needed for their times, not ours -- and we have the Sisyphean task of finding our own light.

I can't read a single word of this book, much as I never had the chance to meet the man who owned it, and was too young to appreciate growing up with his widow, my great-grandmother. It's on my bookshelf all the same.

In the past year, I've been working through some heavy mental stuff by finding connections to past and family through amateur genealogical research. It would be a lie to say I haven't begun to write about it as well, but I'm unprepared to discuss the type and extent of that writing just yet. 

I can say this: people from the past are so much easier to work with. Most likely, I disagreed with almost all of them on social issues, perhaps even more strongly than I'd disagree with my conservative relatives now. 

But they are gone, and they did things I will never do. Surviving a genocide, watching your father led off to die, engaging in vigilante justice against criminals in your village, leading a church, raising three children, emigrating as refugees to the United States, rebuilding a family separated for months by arbitrary quota systems. Bringing their lives and images back into a living person's memory means I can accept that they (likely) believed things I wound find abhorrent, but I don't have to have a conversation with them, and considering their historical legacies in their own right is worthwhile regardless. It's a route back to family when I am not sure what extended family I can actually talk to right now. 

Certainly my mind could use the generation of some light. Rather like the dark living room, made moodier from the cool blue screen of a computer that should not be open, I don't know where to go from here. I've donated to all the resources, rage-posted for days straight. I don't know that any of it generates a speck of light. Maybe I'm a lightweight. I feel like I generate nothing; my generation has nothing.

Another book on my shelf (A Latter Day Odyssey by M.M. Koeroghlian) describes the ecumenical questions that beset the Armenian Evangelical Church in Athens, during the time that my great-grandfather worked there. The seminary and church community was plagued by dissent for a time, between conservative "mainline" types who believed in "simple" faith. That is, dogmatic faith in which a religious teaching is true because it was revealed to be true through miracles and scripture by in some way by an interventionist God. Believe in that God and his "miracles" and your path is correct. Do not ask questions.

These mainliners were worried that the School of Religion was teaching more "modernist" scripture: deist views eschewing 'revealed truth' and associated miracles, pointing instead to an innate knowledge of right and wrong in everyone, through which an understanding of God could be found through reason and observation of the natural world. Not religious strictures handed down by an angry God who blesses and smites, but moral guidance woven into the natural way of things.

Theoretically, according to this philosophy, even non-Christians could be good people worthy of Heaven if they understood and followed these natural laws. (I suppose these pastors felt it would be better, however, if the non-Christians converted.) 

Despite my own atheism, given what I know of my great-grandfather's personality, I have every reason to believe he was more of a modernist, not someone who put much stock in miracles or dogmatism.

As an atheist, I don't really believe in any of this, but there is some room in my thoughts for natural law and ethics. Of the schools of Christian theory, this is one of the least offensive. For what it was at the time, I can say it generated light.

Of course then, the question is: which ethics are natural? Would these enlightened Christian modernists of the early 20th century now accept that women's bodily autonomy is a fundamental human right, to be protected at any cost? 

I doubt it. 

But they probably would have believed that, even if a woman terminating a pregnancy ought to feel sorry for her "sin", that God would not smite or strike her or anyone over it. No cataclysms. No disasters. Just a choice she made, for which only God could judge her.

I don't believe this either, as it is quite plainly not ethically wrong to terminate a pregnancy. It is ethically wrong to deny a woman her humanity, even for a moment. There is no special case that changes this natural logic.

They likely wouldn't have agreed with me. But their light generation has passed, and mine is alive. If they believed an appeal to reason and natural law would return sufficiently consistent ethics across vast swaths of generational and cultural shift, they were mistaken.

This story is a difficult one. The road to the past is complicated, and in parts I have to fill in what I think happened. It's not so simple as saying I'm mentally sinking, but seeking solace in the stories of the past. I don't agree with everything those from the past would say. I'm not yet uplifted. I do not float.

But maybe the modernists of the past would be able to grasp that cultural norms do, indeed, change over time. That if nature reveals truths to us through reason, that our interpretation of that reason would certainly change as our society does. That what was seen as  "good" or "right" in the past may not be now. And perhaps that the god (and the good) they believe in simply would not want women to suffer and die. 

I don't know what The Light Generation says about any given generation in the history of Armenian Protestantism. Even if I were religious, I can't read or speak Armenian, so I doubt I'll ever read it. I don't even know if the title, in its original language, allows for such wordplay: Armenian is an Indo-European language, but it sits on a lonely branch. I do not know if generation can have two meanings in it, just as I don't know if those who once read it would think I'm improperly using their stories, or updating them for a new era.

But I have decided that every generation has the opportunity to be the Light Generation. Generating light isn't hard; some moral questions are complex, but some are quite clear. 

In this case, uphold women's unquestioned equal access to human rights at all times -- in fact, anyone's equal access regardless of their reproductive organs -- with no exceptions.

Maybe it's just a thread to hold onto -- long-dead ancestors who can't talk back, when I'm not sure who I can speak with alive. I can't even say it will be a useful road to get my own mind out of the dark pit of unmitigated fury, to a place of light generation. Perhaps it will. 

Or perhaps not.