If The Chinese Practice Gender-Based Infanticide, Why Are There Still So Many People at Carrefour's?

I just realized it's probably not a good idea to put "kill" and "girl babies" in the same sentence, particularly on what my mother calls "that internet thingy,"  so I just amended the title. Here's the deal: I keep meeting up with ignorant people who say things like, "Oh, here in China they just kill all the girl babies," oblivious of the fact that their hamburger at Hard Rock Cafe has been delivered by a female waitperson (Chinese.) So, if all the girl babies are killed, how come there are still people of all ages living in the nation? Why isn't it a nation of sad and largely gay men, then, huh? If there is zero population growth--indeed, negative growth rate--and all the girl babies are always getting clubbed like baby seals in a Greenpeace video, who is giving birth to all the new babies?

I just wish people would shut up sometimes and open their eyes always. I am seriously offended by posts from people alleging to be Christians who write things like, "Been here ten days and finally found evidence that Jesus lives! Yes, Jesus is here in Beijing but it took us more than a week to find Him." Uh--isn't He in your heart? What do you mean, you found Him? Was He missing? You found a picture of Him? What, you just noticed that there was a church across the street from your hotel? Or you noticed your cab driver had a cross around his neck and that is why he (and I quote) "treated us real good."  There's an expression here which I like a lot, which is "People come to China either to lose themselves or save someone else." That pretty well sums up the experience--a trip to reckless hedonism where any man, no matter how reprehensible, can get a fairly normal-looking woman (hint: it's a combination of beer, cash, and a place called Maggie's) or here to "save" people by making them "Chrustun" or worse, "teaching" them English.

I have been here lo, many many years, most of my adult life, and I will continue to be here where I earn sufficient cash to keep my daughter in her expensive private university. I came here because I was safer here from my crazy abusive ex than I was in the US, where the law had a peculiar "let it roll" attitude where child safety was concerned.  (As my attorney said, "I can't do anything until he actually dips her in boiling oil, and even then, after he served his sentence, he'd still get to see her." ) I figured that being under constant surveillance I'd be safer, and I was right, plus the added bonus of Ex having to put in a lot more effort to mess with me, ensured minimal contact. Safe, but not particularly lolling about enjoying the sweet life. I don't envy those people who come here and find what they're looking for, whether it's double-jointed loose women or fame on local TV stations. Good on them: I find I like the hedonists far more than I like the missionaries, with the attitude of  "I'm gonna learn 'em ta be Amurrican and love Jesus!"

While the hedonists aren't necessarily learning a lot of Chinese, at least they are receptive to some new experiences, whether they're threesomes or jelly fish on a stick. The missionaries, however...well, to be fair, two of my closest friends are missionaries but they are the more laid-back variety, as respectful and willing to see the Divine in everyone and in every belief, as I could wish for. The others...well, suffice to say, come Christmas I have witnessed breakdowns by big white ladies in Jenny Lou's who began screaming hysterically because they couldn't make a birthday cake for Jesus if the fucking Betty Crocker was sold out. Whoever heard of a birthday cake for Jesus made from the crappy Australian Green cake mix? (I didn't realize that loving the Lord meant never serving Him organic produce.) Yeah, as I noted before, we all have the occasional freak out, and this could have been one of them, but I do notice a tendency in the missionary crowd--particularly the missionary Embassy crowd-- to be very "let's pretend we're still in the US."

True: I knew a missionary family that had Astro-turf covering their patio so they could pretend it was grass. Mom had grown up in Taiwan but did not know a single word of Chinese. The boys, born and raised in China, did not know any Chinese. Dad had a Ph. D, spoke fluent Chinese, but was content to be the translator/mouthpiece for the family as he was, after all, the spiritual head of the home. I showed Mom Jenny Lou's and she fell to her knees praising Jesus for the stock of Cream of Mushroom soup. (I wish I were kidding.) It was sweet to see someone so openly thankful--yes, I do say Grace in public myself on occasion--but somehow seeing this woman nigh-on genuflect to Campbell soup made me a tad uncomfortable. Thou shalt have no false gods before me...not even if they're Mmm mmm good!

I think when you leave your home land, what you're really doing  (if you're at all open and in tune to the possibility that some of your assumptions might actually be incorrect) is discovering yourself. If you come over to impose yourself, your standards, your thinking, on someone else, you're not learning. This is my argument with the missionaries. I love the ones who are here to learn, to help, to seek true communion and brotherhood, and it's been a real privilege to know and love them. (How I love it when I have LDS neighbors! I can also point out two Baptist missionaries who are extraordinarily fine people.) The rest, however...bless 'em and their cans of soup and with luck someday it will dawn on them that if ALL the girl babies are exterminated, how come it's so damn crowded at Carrefour?

Almost a Post-Script. There's another saying: When the footprints on the toilet seat are yours, it's time to go home. Amen to that one!