Accommodating Difference

Being fat is something that I confront personally nearly every day of my life. It has been part of my life directly since I was nine years old and before that through the words of my family members regarding their own bodies or those of friends, family, or even complete strangers. In the U.S., it is not something that confronts me on a daily basis, except through my own thoughts. In China, however, my size is an absolute anomaly. Combine my height, weight, and my apparent foreignness, and I am fodder for endless discussion and curiosity. Some people are just curious. Others laugh and point. I thought I was prepared to manage my feelings about my size and others’ reactions to me. I was absolutely wrong.

Yesterday, I gave myself a day off from school. I didn’t work on any papers. I didn’t do any academic reading. In the morning, I did laundry and took a walk to take a few photos. After lunch, I walked to the grocery store and visited the lady who manages the fresh fruit department. She always smiles and patiently helps me bag and price my fruit and vegetable selections. Her understanding is a welcome respite from the rolling eyes and deep sighs of the cashiers as they realize that I don’t understand their questions.

As I walked out of the store, I felt like someone was following me. I turned and saw a young man behind me with his arms and legs splayed wide like he was clutching a giant, invisible ball, cheeks puffed out, and stomping like a fake Sumo wrestler. It was a little like Madea, the Beijing version but without a costume budget. When I turned, he spit the air out of his mouth, doubled over, and laughed as he turned toward the group of young people standing behind him. Some of them crowed in return and a few looked at the ground like children caught doing something forbidden.

I hurried back to my apartment, locked the door, and gave myself a few minutes to think about what happened. I was angry and hurt. I wondered if the young man would have behaved that way if I was a man. The experience brought forth a flood of adolescent memories and emotions. I let them run through me while I closed my eyes and relived the scene. After a short time, I opened my eyes, put away my groceries, and decided that a little Netflix therapy was in order.

The rest of the day, I watched American television and drank good tea. This isn’t the first and won’t be the last time that something like that happens. I’m steeling myself to manage my emotions and concentrate on the people who are curious rather than laughing and pointing. As in any other country of the world, there are varied levels of respect and accommodation afforded to people who are different. I can learn about my own behavior from the way I was treated by that group of young people. I’m asking myself how I can be more welcoming of difference. It’s an important reflection.  

Some days, you need to remember that people love you and those who don't may not be worth your thoughts.