John Wagner Givens: Beijing Hooters Is Nothing to Hoot About

John Wagner Givens: Beijing Hooters Is Nothing to Hoot About

John Wagner Givens

Doctoral Candidate specializing in Chinese Politics

Posted: April 27, 2010 02:30 PM

On April 9th, the LA Times featured an article by Lily Kuo on the Beijing location of the US chain, Hooters, claiming that it offered "a snapshot of changing attitudes toward sex in China". The article, a concise example of much of what is wrong with journalism about China, is misleading touristic journalism that lags woefully behind the times and is hopelessly biased towards Beijing, Shanghai and the Pearl River Delta. The presence of Hooters is a product of the increasing prevalence of expatriates in Beijing and is largely unrelated to changing Chinese mores. The restaurant is located in foreigner ground zero, and even Ms. Kuo admits that the "clientele is largely clean-cut, corporate expatriate types". She goes on to mention the sign by the bathroom, "Caution. Blonds thinking." which simply shows that right down to the kitsch on the walls the restaurant is an import for the consumption of expatriates; China has a dearth of both blondes and stereotypes about their mental faculties. "Of course I know what hooters means" says a Chinese Hooter's Girl at the end of the article, but Kuo neglects to point out that the restaurant does not take risque risks with its Chinese name, which translates as "American Owl Restaurant."

This kind of distortion is often present in the foreign media about China. Facts are adjusted or ignored in order to tell a simple story that fits neatly with readers' pre-conceived notions and fears about China, preferably casting China as a threat or, contradictorily, predicting its imminent collapse. A good example is recent coverage on China's exchange rate which consistently insists that China's fixed-rate policy hurts American business while overlooking the way in which the policy substantially benefits American consumers with artificially cheap goods and the fact that emerging economies are the policy's primary victims. Another example comes from recent articlesclaiming that Chinese authorities banned Bob Dylan from performing in China. It turns out that this was almost entirely unsubstantiated, but it fit so well with stories like "Bjork's Tibet Outburst Provokes Censors" and "China bans Oasis" that no one bothered to actually ask Dylan's staff if the performance had indeed been banned.

According to Ms. Kuo, Hooters offers "a snapshot of changing attitudes toward sex in China". Even if this were true, it is pretty outdated for a snapshot. Hooters opened its first location in China in2004, and its Beijing location opened in 2007 (not 2008 as the article asserts). But this, too, is typical of coverage in China. Academics are hardly known for their sense of immediacy. From conception to publication, academic articles often take years, but when it comes to China today'snews is often last years' academic article. This blogger is no fan of the 24 hour news cycle, but coverage that lags years behind is problematic in such a rapidly developing country.

The Hooters' article is also a classic example of Friedmanesque touristic journalism--that is, drawing conclusions about a country based on what one observes on the streets of upscale neighborhoods in its most developed cities. Chinese mores may in fact be liberalizing, but drawing that conclusion simply from the presence of a single Hooters in Beijing is like looking across the street from Hooters to China's only Apple Store and assuming that Mac is becoming a major presence in China. In fact Mac's market share in China is "negligible", and a 2003 survey found only 14% of Chinese University students to be sexually active, compared to 77.6% in the US.

Much of the problem arises from the substantial difficulties that media faces in China. Most conspicuous and probably most damaging are the restrictions and harassment that the Chinese state levels at journalists. Recently, there have been numerous (though possibly exaggerated)reports of the e-mail accounts of foreign journalists being hacked. Additionally, Chinese is a difficult language to learn and many journalists work with translators (sometimes euphemistically referred to as assistants). Furthermore, mastery of standard Mandarin Chinese is by no means universal among Chinese and more than one layer of translation is sometimes needed to converse in one of China's hundreds of dialects or languages (think of this scene from the movie Hot Fuzzplus one extra layer of translation). The need for translation limits journalists' options and removes them from their subjects. Finally, China is both huge and changing so quickly that it is difficult for even the most intrepid reporter to keep current.

But these problems are not insurmountable. With some notable exceptions, foreign journalists in China tend to be relatively young and inexperienced reporters with a smattering of Chinese under their belt who will only stay in China for a few years. The situation could be greatly improved if China acquired a cadre of experienced Chinese-speaking correspondents willing to make China their long-term home. If Beijing is truly going to become a hub of power equal to Washington DC, then it needs an equal to the White House Press Corps.

Many of my criticisms could be leveled at journalism anywhere, but in China the problem is probably worse because Westerners tend to understand so little about China. As journalism continues to reinforce pre-conceived notions and fears about China, it becomes ever harder to publish thoughtful and innovative pieces and break the vicious cycle of oversimplified stereotyped ignorance. I do not raise the faults of the Hooters article in order to denigrate Ms. Kuo or the LA Times, but to appeal for a level of coverage that corresponds with China's increasing prominence.

(7 April 09) COS Contemplations

The other day I was asked to help out the school in my village with an activity.  They were practicing how to physically describe a person.  Their task was to describe me.  First, they mentioned my long legs, red lips and white teeth, then moving on to my small head, long hair, short neck & obese form.  I let those descriptions be; however, I did correct them when they tried to say my skin was white.  It took them a minute to come to a consensus; they debated yellow violet and red, but finally they settled on café au lait.

Being the focus of their descriptive adjectives got me to start thinking about how we perceive the world around us.  While the primary objective of their activity was to practice descriptive vocabulary, as opposed to accurately describing me, I realized some of the ways in which their perception of me differs from my own.  For example, I would describe my hair (which now reaches just past my ears) as quite short, whereas to the students here it really did seem long.  When it came time to describe my skin at first they said white, though they all know I have neither the same fair skin as Erin or Sara (the two closest pcv’s) nor the same dark pigmentation as themselves.  It was interesting to watch them try to decide on a color to describe me.  I admit it was the teacher who finally suggested café au lait, but they were stuck with yellow red or violet up to that point.  At least they were right on the long legs.

My sister Penda was just remarried this past month.  Her four months and ten days of mourning for my uncle (her first husband) finished in late December and no time was wasted in finding a new husband to take his place.  Her husband now is a marabou (a kind of religious healer) near Kaolack who already has two wives. Though Penda has been excited and giddy with anticipation, I can’t help but feel knots twisting inside me at the thought of her new position.  Polygamy is legal here, but each wife exerts dominance over any future wives.  So Penda is now subservient not just to her new husband and his parents, but also to the two wives before her.  I cringe when I think of Baby Sharon (who turned one year old Jan 24) growing up with two ‘step-mothers’ always holding her parentage against her.

Of course, this is how I see it.  Penda has been all smiles with talk of her new husband and he even called several times in the weeks before she left.  Over the phone I told him if he doesn’t take care of her I will bring him big problems; he said thank you.  My parents also seem pleased with the match.  While I don’t know much about the particular village she now calls home, I do know that there’s a faucet with running water in the compound and schools nearby.  As the wife of a marabou she should be respected and have enough to eat.  All of these represent the glass half full, but regardless for the rest of my time in the village my glass will be half empty.

My time in the village is indeed winding down and as it does I find myself questioning and reevaluating everything I’ve done or not done.  I see the good, but I can’t help but also see the possible bad.  I guess I want to make sure I leave here without regrets, but at the same time I don’t want to look back on my service with rose-tinted glasses.  Yes, I want a clear conscience, to know that I not only tried my best, but also that something positive came of it; that I did more help than harm.  Peace Corps stresses the importance on increasing the capacities of the communities we work with.  It is left to us to figure out how best to do this.  There is no exact formula to know when to interfere/get involved or when I should let them work something out on their own.  Another ambiguity is how we are to evaluate the work we’ve done.  I suppose in the increasingly interconnected world we live in it’s only getting easier to come back after a few years and see where things are, but what about in the meantime?  I find myself longing for the holy grail of development work, sustainability, but Peace Corps is inherently not sustainable with Peace Corps Volunteers leaving after two years.

I’ve brought many things to my family: money for food, a donkey, clothing, chickens, a few home repairs, but have I created a dependency on something that won’t last?  Maybe they have eaten better or been ‘better off’ during my time here, but will any of these benefits outlast my two years?  I helped my village acquire a grain-pounding machine (currently up & running), but have I helped increase their organizational capacity to manage it?  I like to think so, but coming back a few years from now and checking will be the true test.  The group from the US government finally called me back and is installing a hand pump in one of our village wells.  The OSC (Office of Security Cooperation, affiliated with the DOD) was reluctant to install a motorized pump after seeing so many fall into disrepair or disuse (if they run out of gas or money to buy more), but I’ve had no luck researching if a hand pump at 65meters is actually easier than how they currently pull water.  I’ve already extended my time in the village until installation is complete, but I won’t be around for long to see how it works.  My deepest fear is that I’ve made their access to water more difficult.

One of my good friends in the village, Daba Ndao, just gave birth to her fourth child March 31.  Her youngest was just a few months old when I arrived back in May 2007 and it was Daba, along with a few other women, who started asking me about family planning.  A month or two ago, when I first realized she was pregnant (half the time I don’t realize a women is pregnant until after she’s had the baby), I asked Daba if she had been to the health-post for a pre-natal checkup. She had gone for one, but didn’t have enough money to buy the medicines they said she needed and hadn’t been back.  I told her that is she/her husband found a charette to take us to the health post and back, I would pay for the appointment and any medicines she needed.  Another woman from the same compound, Amy Ndao, has also approached me to discuss birth control.  Her husband, Subberou Mbacke, agrees he doesn’t need any more children, but doesn’t have money to give her to get birth control meds and is unlikely to use condoms.  Amy gave birth to baby Fatou in September of last year.  Since the baby is now over six months old Amy reminded of me of our talk and asked if I could help her.  Though I wasn’t able to accompany her to the health post to meet with the nurse, I was able to pre-pay for her visit and three months of either the pill or Depo-Provera (the only two options in Kouthia Ba).

Am I overstepping my bounds by paying for these women to go the health post and get the treatment they want and need?  Am I sending a message to their husbands and the village that if they don’t take care of this themselves, the Peace Corps Volunteer will pay for it?  Obviously I think I’m making the right decision by doing this, but I’m not sure it’s quite that simple. 

Just this past week the PCV replacing me in May came to Lewe for five days, accompanied by the PCVs going to Koumpentoum and Kouthia Ba.  Katy is fresh out of college, excited, and doing well with her Wolof.  My family has already re-named her Penda Mbodj and they get along well.  I feel a sense of relief that someone competent and motivated will replace me; I just hope that I’ve set her up well and not left any unfinished projects or annoying precedents.  Already I’ve seen things normal to me that she’d like to change.  If I’ve learned anything in my two years, it’s how little control I actually have relative to what I think I should have. 

It’s clear at this point that after two years here, my feelings flow between both positive and negative.  Right now, I really don’t know how to personally evaluate my service, as the objectives and accomplishments seem more abstract than the disappointments and failures seem concrete.  Much like the students in that classroom activity saw things from a perspective different than my own, I find myself caught between varieties of ways to look back on these two years.  I fluctuate between feelings of confidence and doubt, lacking an accurate way to surmise it all.  I suppose the Peace Corps proverb rings true:  the optimist sees the glass half full, the pessimist sees the glass half empty, while I, the Peace Corps Volunteer, look at it and can only say, “I could take a bath in that.”

Jamm Rekk,

Kodou Mbodj

PCV Senegal ’07-’09

PS- Don't forget to check out the most recent photos at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/sksuri

(25 December 2008) As 2008 Comes To A Close

Merry Christmas!

Only three and a half months left before I leave my home of the previous two years.  The nights are cold (high 50’s-low 60’s), but the days are still hot (100F).  I’ve made new friends and family and have already experienced the loss of some of them.  I began to share this experience with my friends when I went home in June and my family was able to experience my life here firsthand when they came to visit in November.  I helped organize a women’s group for the village and once funding is complete (almost there, but still a little left.  Go to: https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-107 if you want to contribute) will assist them in the installation and management of a grain milling machine that will lessen the arduous labor that is a woman’s life in the village.

I knew from the beginning that two years here would fly by and it has.  At times I’ve lamented it; other times I’ve longed for it.  As my time in the village winds down I look forward to some things: easy access to clean vegetables parasite-free water and the internet, electricity to facilitate work after dark, better transportation, a diet free of white rice, and minimal interaction with bugs like earwigs, horse scorpions, wasps, and stinging ants.  On the flipside I can already imagine some of the things I’ll miss: all the downtime to chat with my family here, watching my tomah (namesake) and all my siblings grow up, subsistence on almost entirely local products, and a night sky darker and clearer than any other I’ve ever come across.

I’ve set as a goal for myself to return to Senegal in the next five years (if I end up in grad school that extends to ten).  I can only imagine the changes that may take place between now and then.  By then the road between Tamba and Kaolack should be fully paved and the road from Koumpentoum to Kouthia Ba might be as well.  I think running water is coming, however its reliability will always leave something to be desired.  I think electricity will reach Kouthia Ba by then, though I imagine it will take much longer to make its way to the villages.  Hopefully more students from my village are able to continue their education at the college (junior high) in Kouthia Ba.  With only a handful of adults literate in French an increased literacy rate will open doors of opportunities.  Many of these opportunities will lie outside of what the village is able to offer.  It saddens me to think of how few people may be left in Lewe in five to ten years time; already more and more people spend the non- planting/harvesting portion of the year in search of work elsewhere.  I suppose the migration from villages to towns and cities is inevitable and will bring increased access to things such as education, work, and a quicker exchange of ideas.  

Last night we cooked up a big holiday meal at the Tamba house.  We originally expected to be a small group of 4, half vegetarian half not.  However, teacher’s strikes in the neighboring region of Kedougou spread to all out riots with some gunfire, forcing the PCV’s of that region to evacuate.  Fortunately we had planned to cook enough food for a few days so we were able to accommodate the extra 6 people that came our way looking for safety and Christmas cheer.  Our menu included: roast duck (the original 2 non-veg’s thought this was a splurge, but we were glad to have it once the guests arrived), lentil soup, mashed squash, mashed sweet potatoes, green beans, chocolate chip cookies, and vegan and non-vegan squash pies.  Though our evening was more crowded than we had anticipated, it was nice to spend the holiday with friends.  Fortunately the situation in Kedougou is simmering down so the PCV’s for that region are looking forward to getting back to site.

I just finished reading both Guns Germs & Steel by Jared Diamond and Land of a Thousand Hills by Rosamond Halsey Carr.  GGS examines the paths of different civilizations and how they ended up where they are today.  I quite appreciated Diamond’s analysis of how different peoples have worked with what was available to them (good or bad soil, favorable or unfavorable climate, many or few animal possibilities for domestication) and how some groups gained advantages before others.  I also liked how he addressed the controversy of racism in his discussion.  Land of a Thousand Hills is the memoir of a woman who followed her husband to the Congo 1949, moved to Rwanda shortly after, and spent the rest of her life in that area until her death in 2006.  She lived through multiple revolts (she was evacuated during the genocide but later returned to convert her plantation into an orphanage) and was friends with Dian Fossey.  Her memoir is only a glimpse into the geography and history of Rwanda , but I’m intrigued enough to visit.  The book I’m currently reading is The White Man’s Burden by William Easterly.  After reading Sachs’ The End of Poverty and both of Stiglitz’s books on globalization, it’s quite informative to read someone with such specific objections to them. Easterly’s credentials include over 16 years at the World Bank, but rather than trying to work on a utopian one-solution-fits-all approach, which he claims Sachs advocates, he sees real development as happening through piecemeal solutions specific to different situations.  His humor leaves something to be desired, but I appreciate his attempts to liven up what can be an overwhelming subject.  We’ll see how I feel when I’ve finished the book. 

Before I forget to mention it, the girls leadership camp in Koumpentoum went off great.  We were indeed plagued by problems arising everyday for the week leading up to the camp, but it all worked out and 20 girls in total attended the two day seminar.  Check out the Picasa site for pictures (http://picasaweb.google.com/sksuri).

Thank you to all of you for your continued support in thoughts, discussions, letters, packages and donations.  It really does mean a lot to both myself and my village.

Peace only,

Sharon

(22 September 2008) The Passing Of My Mentor, Work Continues On, Get Involved

Greetings to all.  I am sad to report the passing of my uncle, Mamadou Camara, on August 24.  I was near Dakar at the time and so received the news by phone. There is no official diagnosis but my guesses are: heart attack, stroke, or head injury (he fell down before he died).  He leaves behind his wife, my sister Penda, their seven month old daughter, Sharon, the village of Keur Ndongo and me.  Penda is in mourning for four months, at which point I’m not sure what will happen; she is already in the same village as her family so she might just continue to live in her house or she might remarry.  Right now some family from other villages, her grandmother/sister-in-law and a few others, have come to stay with her.

We are already a month or two into the hungry season and the rains bring other concerns.  This is just a hard time of year for people here.  With no system set up to catch and store rainfall (except for the ground) immense swampy puddles form that create ideal breeding grounds for mosquitoes, flies, frogs, and diarrhea, while leaving transport carrying rice, vegetables, and other goods literally stuck in the mud.  However, at the same time, it is these rains that feed the crops that will in turn feed my village for the next year.  As far as our crops are concerned, the more rain the better.  The rains also bring cooler temperatures.  It’s really nice not to go to bed sweating every night and wake up the same way every morning.  I can even have a cup of coffee with my breakfast without beads of it rolling down my face. Though I won’t miss when the mosquitoes and black flies die down, taking the forever festering skin infections that accompany them away, the cooler weather is nice.

But enough about the weather.  I have been back from the US for two full months and things keep moving.  I’ve been following up with prices on different types of well pumps and looking into grain-pounding machines.  A few days ago some organization came to my village and said they want to put a robinet (French for ‘faucet) in my village with water being pumped from another village 9km southeast of us.  They need to fix the forage (a really big pump) in the other village first, but they are hoping to complete that project in early 2009.  Having seen the rate at which projects here fall through, or forages break down, I’m not going to stop pursuing the pump project I already started.  I think I have funding for it if I can find a pump for less than $2500.  Though I’m a big proponent of solar technology, I think a hand or foot pump is our best bet.

The next big project I’m working on is details for a proposal to bring a grain pounding machine to my village.  Pounding and preparing grain is a huge bulk of the women’s work here and takes a toll on their bodies.  The women’s group identified obtaining a pounding machine as their top priority when we had our big meeting last year; getting a well pump was a close second.  I had been in Dakar researching machines when my uncle died.  Not only was this incredibly sorrowful to me personally, I saw it also as a huge setback to most of the work I’ve been doing in my village.  Everything I do here involved my uncle in one way or another.  He facilitated the women’s group meetings and was able to translate both the ideas I wanted to communicate to them and explain to me what was going on.  He really bridged the gap between western ideas and organization and the traditional slow-to-change ways of the village.  It was probably unwise for me to have depended on him so much, but I did and I feel it was to the benefit of the village.  As it is now, things here will keep moving on, perhaps just a bit slower.  In terms of the pounding machine this means I must now focus more on how we can successfully manage the machine.  My father, the chief of the village, has already worked out some of the details: we will have a committee that keeps track of the finances; we will send two or three people to a training in Dakar offered by the manufacturer on how to operate and make small repairs on the machine.  All that’s left is to work out some of the other details, have the women work out the details on organization, for me to write the proposal, and the money to be raised.

This is where you can insert yourself, if you would like.  The proposal is going to be through Peace Corps Partnerships, which puts PCV projects on their website where interested people can donate to the projects of their choice.  I’m not sure what the total project cost will be, of which the village will pay 25 percent, but I’m guessing just over $6300.  The machine itself is $5900 and on top of that we’ll need to build a hut with a good roof to keep it in and pay for its transport.  So in a short while I’ll be working to raise $4750.  I’ll send out the web link and information as soon as everything is submitted and approved.  And yes, donations are tax-deductible.

I may have mentioned before that Erin and I submitted eight girls as candidates from our local college (junior high) for the Michelle Sylvester Scholarship (named for a deceased PCV).  The scholarship is run through our Senegad (Senegal Gender And Development) program (www.senegad.org) and awards one 30000cfa ($70) scholarship to one girl at each participating college.  In Senegal college is like a three year junior high, but many of the students are in their mid-teens before they pass to this level.  A Peace Corps Volunteer has to organize and manage their applicants so colleges without a PCV nearby are unable to participate; however, urban PCVs with multiple college close by can work with as many as they choose.  The principal and teachers pick four girls from each grade, usually twelve girls per college, and we the volunteers meet with them, do home visits/interviews, collect teacher recommendations and the girls’ compositions, and submit them to Senegad.  The winner for each college is selected at a meeting in Dakar in August.  Senegad only has enough funding to sponsor one scholarship per school so Erin and I decided to cover the cost of a second in Koutia Ba (our college is new and only has two of the three grade levels offered so far).  In Koumpentoum Sara’s family back home is going to provide an extra $140 so that there can be a winner in each of the three grade levels there.  Erin, Sara and I are also planning a weekend leadership camp for all the candidates (20 girls in total from both our colleges) to be help in Koumpentoum in early November.  We have applied for funding through another PC grant that sponsors activities involving HIV/AIDS education, which we discuss in the female reproductive health portion of the weekend.  The three of us have a lot of work ahead of us: we are bringing in five female speakers, have sessions to plan, and are working on the logistics at a nearby campement.

The next big collaborative project we’re working on is hosting an eye clinic in Koumpentoum in January.  Another PCV with contacts to a medical group in the states that performs cataract surgery hosted an eye clinic in eastern Senegal last December.  The doctors enjoyed what they did so much that they asked to do it again in another location.  Hopefully this will bring sight to tens or thousands of people in the surrounding communities of Koumpentoum.  While Sara, Erin, myself, and the next two closest PCVs are excited to host this, we have a lot of logistical work to do from making sure the generator at the health post works to publicity to finding places for the doctors to sleep to getting ready for the crowd control problems that plague every medium-large size function in this country.  My family is coming to visit in November, which will leave December for all the last minute details.  I’m excited and exhausted just thinking about it.

For now the corn is tall and the millet stalks taller.  My four year old brother passes the days catching crickets and grasshoppers to feed to my cat (she really likes the insects).  Ramadan started September second here, so there’s no lunch to break up the day.  It’s interesting to think of the people here fasting on purpose when they were already skipping so many meals on account of lack of food.  But soon the fruits and grains of their labors will start to come in and another year will begin again in this tenacious little village.

Ba Chikanom,
Sharon