After all the female artists have performed – the sweet, the crazy, the angry, the weird, the loud, the wild, and the sick – the Young Revolutionaries, surrounded by their entourage, come out onstage. The Young Revolutionaries were born and raised in Manchuria and have drifted down to Beijing, where they burst onto the music scene. Growing up listening to pirated foreign CDs, they are influenced by Western pop and punk music. They enjoy the limelight, being packaged, signing autographs for fans, and putting on cool poses for the cameras.
When the music starts, I see two groups in the audience: There are kids with dyed hair and vacant expressions who dance wildly; these are from China 's one-child generation which doesn't believe in limits. And there are older folks who twist their stout beer bellies, trying to shake away their midlife crises.
The Young Revolutionaries rap out their song:
"These Young Revolutionaries have the dance steps of the Backstreet Boys, John Lennon's hair and political sensibility, Michael Jackson's crotch-grabbing, Ricky Martin's butt-swinging, Nirvana's smashing guitars – the only thing they don't have is themselves!" CC declares.
" China is currently in a stage where it can only imitate. Everything is like that, including entertainment," says Lulu. "Young people will do everything possible to be different, but they end up falling into the same old conventions." Lulu doesn't like the Young Revolutionaries either.
Beibei is unhappy. "What's wrong with imitating? Even Hollywood movies are imitating Chinese martial arts movies!"
"Chinese kids today are really something. They haven't practiced their skills, they haven't trained their voices, but they dare to come out and be idols? Do they think we're all stupi d?" Jean shows no respect for the Young Revolutionaries.
As everyone is talking, Weiwei opens his mouth: "I can smell marijuana."
In front of us, a group of students with nose-rings are lighting up, and several girls with fluorescent bands around their arms and necks are violently shaking their heads to the music.
Although it is superficial, vulgar, and drug-fueled, the Little Women's Club Concert has raised 250,000 yuan. Mimi, CC, and I bring the money to a poor village in Xi'an. On the way, I say, "If such a manufactured and unremarkable event can lead to such good, perhaps it should be encouraged after all!" Mimi says, "The event allows big women and men to see what our little women are capable of." CC shakes her head as she replies, "I don't want our club to be associated with brats like the Young Revolutionaries. What I can't bear the most isn't their stupidity. Plus, as men, they are just too short!"
98 Too Far Ahead of Her Time
CC decides to go back to England. As she tells me about the decision, I'm shocked.
CC says, "It's been five years since I returned to China. I did my best to become more Chinese, but it didn't work."
"You don't like China anymore?"
"Sometimes, coming back to China is like living in Hong Kong twenty years ago. It's so hard to find people who are at my level. I'm a misfit here."
One of CC's problems is that she's too far ahead of her time. In China, it's considered cool to carry a credit card, for instance, but CC has five or six. It's considered cool to drive a Buick, but CC was chauffeured in a Bentley as a young girl. It's considered cool to drink Blue Mountain coffee, but she's gone through her coffee-drinking phase and has moved on to green tea. It's considered cool to drop English words into your con versations even if your pronunciation is incorrect, but CC speaks fluent English. It's considered cool to know how to bowl, but she grew up playing golf with her parents. It's considered cool for young educated women to discuss works of the Beat Generation such as Jack Kerouac's On The Road and Allen Ginsberg's Howl, but she read them when she was a student.
"I can't stand people who show off their brand-name clothes that are at least two years behind New York and London fashions. I have to lower myself again and again in order to stay popular among my Chinese friends. I'm getting tired."
"There are two choices for Western-educated Chinese who return to China," I say. "You either hold on to what you've learned abroad, applying it to your new life in China to become part of its native-born expatriate community, or you try to hide your Western values and pretend to be native all over again."
"Apparently, Niuniu, you have chosen the latter. But for me, that choice is a step backward. I don't really want to go native," CC replies, as her arms flail ab out in desperation. "For a while, I tried. But I can never forget that, at a beauty salon, some women thought I was the second wife of a Hong Kong man," she adds, as if it was the ultimate insult one could receive.
"What happened?" I ask.
"I told them I was local, but they knew that the clothes I was wearing could only be bought at The Peninsula shopping arcade in Hong Kong. So, they concluded that I could only be a second wife. I guess they must have a lot of experience. From then on, I decided not to hide my Hong Kong roots anymore," CC says with a tone of finality. "I like China, but I don't like to be a Chinese woman living in China. I lost Nick and I don't find Chinese men attractive. We used to make fun of this, but it's not fun anymore. I want to go back to see my online date in London or find a former classmate to get married."
"You feel the urgency to get married?" I ask CC.
"Yes. And you, Niuniu? Don't you want to get married?"
"Yes. Someday, but not now," I say.
"I really would like to have my own family by the time I reach thirty-three."
"So you don't think you can find Mr. Right in China?"
CC sighs. "I don't want a rich guy. All I want is a man I can communicate with. But most men I've met here are so shallow. Those who aren't shallow often become so popular that they don't want to stay faithful. China isn't a paradise for educated women to search for spouses: that's the sad simple truth."
After my failed relationship with Len, I came back to China to return to my Chinese life. I didn't want to fall in love immediately. I have chosen to become a detached observer of other people's lives; my passion has been left in the States. CC's words make me wonder: Do luck and love have anything to do with location? Sometimes it seems as though in certain places, you're luckier than other places. Perhaps, that's why so many Chinese tourist groups take Chinese women to Silicon Valley for matchmaking, Japanese girls spend romantic holidays in Bali, and European tourists escape to Thailand for sexual adventures. But if China is really like CC says, a wasteland for educated women, what about America? Why did I fail there where I had no shortage of admirers and sex partners?
"If you want to go back to England to get married, what about your career here in China?" I ask CC.
"My career in China? Don't you see those job ads? Women over thirty-five are hard put to find jobs here. This is another sad truth. But the saddest fact for me is that my Chinese friends are all becoming CEOs and their companies are going public. Even though many of them are clearly behind the times in terms of fashion and philosophy, they've become part of the superrich, whereas I'm still a PR account manager. I'm not stupid, and I've got a great education, but they have occupied the resources here. If I can only be a member of the middle class, I'd rather be middle-class in Great Britain where my kids don't need to breathe smoggy polluted air every day."