People are always asking me, "If you could give America one gift from China, what would it be?"
No they're not.
But If I Could Give America One Gift From China, this is what it would be. A total, complete, profound lack of self-consciousness.
In China, if you want to go stand in the middle of the park and sing Peking Opera (or Lady Gaga) into your karaoke machine, you do. Not for money, not for anything other than the sheer joy of singing. And if you want to swing dance at the Temple of Heaven every morning, there is a group (or 3 or 4) of about a hundred people who would love to join you. And if you want to compose poetry on the spot and write it in water calligraphy on the sidewalk, someone will follow closely behind you to ponder what you wrote. And if you want to walk around the edges of the park while hopping on alternate legs every 5th step and clapping your hands over your head, please do. And if, as all of us have, you feel the desire to don a full-out costume and perform ethnic minority dances on the covered walkway next to a famous world landmark for all passersby to enjoy, you are more than welcome to. All of these activities will gain you an appreciative (sincerely) audience, or a group of co-performers, anywhere you go. And their joy will be real in watching you do what you love, just because you love it. And if you love it, why wouldn't you want to share it?
Then we go to America, where a professional pianist still has to pretend, when asked to perform, that they really don't want to. "No no no, well, okay, if you insist . . ." Because to WANT to perform would be weird, and self-important, and arrogant. And heaven help the amatuer who wants to perform anywhere at all. "What, you think you are good enough to have people watch you? How self-deluded can you be?" Where any adult who wants to join any amateur performance group of any kind, or who wants to learn any new performance-related skill, or who even dares to THINK about taking dance/music/acting lessons as an adult, is alarmingly strange. "Dance lessons are for KIDS! Once you hit 15, you go professional, or you quit. I mean, how EMBARASSING would it be for an adult woman to perform as an amateur! Ick!"
Two words. Michael Scott.
I weep for what America is missing. The total soul-fulfilling joy of learning to Bollywood dance (and performing! unashamedly! in PUBLIC!!!) at 32 years old. The society-building, mental-and-physical-health-enhancing, happiness-making experience of every retired person in the vicinity meeting at the park every morning to sing, dance, play poker, do tai ji, play ping pong, play hackisac . . . The ability to do what makes you happy, without embarassment, without the lurking suspicion that people are mocking you, without any fear at all.
As
my sister observed during her visit, "It's not even that you don't care what people think about you. It's that nobody is thinking about you."
Meanwhile, in America, we have a show where we take the very best dancers in the country, the VERY BEST, and slowly kick them off for not being
good enough. We take mind bogglingly, jaw-droppingly talented people, and we eliminate them. And just in case this message isn't clear enough, we call this show, with the best of the best . . . "So, you think you can dance!?"
I weep.
The Chinese, for all their political oppression, are free in a way we will never, ever be.
In Mandarin, the word play doesn't just apply to kids. When you go out, as an adult, with your friends, know what you are doing? You are playing. As you should be. "What did you do this weekend?" "I played with my friends." "Hey, Mary, why don't you and John come over this weekend, and we will play." How beautiful is that?
And that's what I would give America. Play.
