Never before have I been witness to an event such as the one I experienced on Thursday November 13th 2008. And I have seen a lot of Sh*t! I dare not delay this blog entry for I do not want to forget a single detail nor miss any element. This may be an all-nighter! I fear that any description I can imagine, any words that I can create, or any statement I can manage to type into my computer will not do justice to the display of utterly confused showmanship which would mislead an audience to interpret such an incomplete message that was literally “Lost in Translation” and is somehow interpreted as, of what one would stretch to call… No, dare to call, art or perhaps even entertainment. Wow. And I say again… Wow. Give me a minute here. I am still trying to absorb that last long-winded statement I made. I have read it eight times now, and yes, it is exactly what I meant to say. However, I need yet another minute as my mind is still trying to process everything that has happened in the three hours prior.
The story begins with a simple invitation from a friend. “May I treat you to the opera tomorrow night?” she said. “I would love to,” I said. And so it began. Steve and Travis, “You missed out!” Marta and I met our friends outside of our gate and piled into a cab. The theater is just outside of the city’s west gate. It is a beautiful theater; its grandeur reminds me a little of Vegas. A bold face and towering pillars mark the entryway. As you enter, light shimmers from crystal chandeliers high above. The banisters of a sweeping grand staircase are woven with red ribbons. The center piece of the entrance hall is a masterfully carved wooden Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith commemorating the 2008 Beijing Olympics! This beautifully sculpted wooden artwork was created by a native
The girls check their bags and we make our way inside the opera hall. The seats are wonderfully cozy. The interior is much like the Goodman Theater,
Let me pause with my description of the evening so that I may focus my audience’s attention on the word ethnocentrism! I know some of my students may be reading and it is important that they understand my understanding of their understanding of the cultural significance of the events of this evening as I attempt to understand it myself and help others to understand my understanding of the audiences’ understanding of the performances. If you are lost in this sentence, not to worry, that is a good start. Being lost is important for us to be able to appreciate ethnocentrism. Yes, appreciate. If we are never lost how could we learn to find our way? Let me share with you how I found my interpretation of ethnocentrism.
The dictionary will tell you that ethnocentrism is the belief of the superiority of one’s own ethnic group. Superiority, really? I think the dictionary made a typo; or is their a better word for its definition or perhaps a better definition? I think the dictionary definition of ethnocentrism is meant for the word ethnosuperioritism; patent pending. And no, ethnosuperioritism is not a fancy word for racism. Racism is the belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capabilities and that these racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race. Ethnosuperioritism is the belief that ethnicity is the primary determinant of human behavior, customs, and language and that these ethnic differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular ethnic group. So, how is ethnocentrism different? Well, ethnocentrism simply doesn’t have the attitude of superiority within its definition. Bias, yes! Predisposition, absolutely! Superiority, I don’t think so!
Ethnocentrism is the tendency to interpret another ethnic groups’ behavior, ideology, and custom with the bias, predisposition, and filter of one’s own ethnicity. Now, the purpose of my blog is to describe the events I witness and share the interactions I experience. To enhance my definition of ethnocentrism I will continue my description of the event I witnessed on Thursday, November 13th 2008 and the corresponding interactions of that evening. Let me remind my audience and myself that I am lost in my own ethnocentricity and as the introduction expressed; I am very confused and even overwhelmed. With that said, let me first say that while I may be lost, it is my opinion that the people in the audience whom I shared this experience with were possibly just as lost if not more so. The question I therefore pose is if they are just as confused about the events of the evening then why do they behave the way they do? O.K. enough jibber-jabber! Let’s get down to business!
An older women steps into the spotlight of center stage. Of course I don’t understand a word of the gentile voice that fills the concert hall. Fortunately my friends are here to help translate. I won’t spend time explaining the translations unless it is valuable to the story. From here on I will tell the story as if I understood the language but keep in mind that my descriptions come from a mix of my friends translations, my own incite, and the historical knowledge of myself, Marta, and Wikipedia.
The woman at center stage tells us the story of an ancient time; a time when Bianjing, now
The scene is set as performers pull fruit and vegetable carts into position. In the background dancers are twirling about and tossing colorful ribbons to-and-fro. The stage lights swirl around and around adding to the magic and mystery of the performance. There is a man strolling from one end of the stage to the other. He is well dressed and has a steady gait. The character exudes authority and demands respect. He stops at the different shops to examine the merchandise. He appears to be wealthy but lacks an entourage so I do not believe he is of nobility. We see the man stop and look into the background and foreground and even into the audience. He is an intellectual… He is an Artist! He is the great calligrapher who created the Qingming Scroll, a brilliant visual representation of
Zhang Zeduan walks the streets of
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