Mistaken identity
In our last week in Beijing before our trip, Brigid and I experienced two situations of mistaken identity.
The Wednesday afternoon of that week, I had to go to the bank. Since Randy was working from home, I left Myles there with a pile of schoolwork and Brigid alone came with me. I took my number, sighed at its note that there were 29 people ahead of me, and followed Brigid to a pair of seats she had already picked for us.
A few minutes later, a woman approached us, smiling. "Emily?" she said to me, then turned to Brigid, "Is this Steven?"
In my head I replied to her, "No, I'm sorry, that's the other white family." Instead, I just gave her a confused look. Her number was called just then, so I was rescued from trying to behave myself. She probably had only heard of the other American family, perhaps she was a friend-of-a-friend of theirs, and likely did not know that Steven is a boy's name.
Then on Thursday afternoon I was out with some other homeschooling moms while Myles and his friends had their art class. Brigid was again with me. One of the attendants at this place needed to move Brigid out of his way. He picked her up and asked her where she wanted to go. When Brigid said she wanted her Mama, the attendant walked away from me and started to hand Brigid over to one of the other women, a tall, slender, attractive blonde. Brigid protested anxiously, refusing to sit with her. There was general confusion which continued even after I announced in Chinese that I was that child's mother. I had to repeat myself, and the attendant turned to me in disbelief.
"Yes," I said in elevated and frustrated English, "someone that looks like me can have a child that looks like she does."
There were two possible reasons I can think of for the mix-up. Ever since we first arrived in China five and a half years ago, Chinese friends and strangers alike have questioned why Myles (and later Brigid) had such light-colored hair when I did not. That is, unless they were probing to understand what serious illness or vitamin deficiency would cause such a phenomenon for us as it would for a Chinese child,. The other possibility is one I've been hearing with increased frequency lately around Changping. In the midst of complimenting my children's good looks, total strangers have remarked with amazement that I am very not good looking. Either way, to the attendant that afternoon it was hard for them to see how I was Brigid's mother.
Twice in less than twenty-four hours, Brigid and I experienced mistaken identity. The first time was because we fit the part, and the second because we did not, all based on our appearance.
The Wednesday afternoon of that week, I had to go to the bank. Since Randy was working from home, I left Myles there with a pile of schoolwork and Brigid alone came with me. I took my number, sighed at its note that there were 29 people ahead of me, and followed Brigid to a pair of seats she had already picked for us.
A few minutes later, a woman approached us, smiling. "Emily?" she said to me, then turned to Brigid, "Is this Steven?"
In my head I replied to her, "No, I'm sorry, that's the other white family." Instead, I just gave her a confused look. Her number was called just then, so I was rescued from trying to behave myself. She probably had only heard of the other American family, perhaps she was a friend-of-a-friend of theirs, and likely did not know that Steven is a boy's name.
Then on Thursday afternoon I was out with some other homeschooling moms while Myles and his friends had their art class. Brigid was again with me. One of the attendants at this place needed to move Brigid out of his way. He picked her up and asked her where she wanted to go. When Brigid said she wanted her Mama, the attendant walked away from me and started to hand Brigid over to one of the other women, a tall, slender, attractive blonde. Brigid protested anxiously, refusing to sit with her. There was general confusion which continued even after I announced in Chinese that I was that child's mother. I had to repeat myself, and the attendant turned to me in disbelief.
"Yes," I said in elevated and frustrated English, "someone that looks like me can have a child that looks like she does."
There were two possible reasons I can think of for the mix-up. Ever since we first arrived in China five and a half years ago, Chinese friends and strangers alike have questioned why Myles (and later Brigid) had such light-colored hair when I did not. That is, unless they were probing to understand what serious illness or vitamin deficiency would cause such a phenomenon for us as it would for a Chinese child,. The other possibility is one I've been hearing with increased frequency lately around Changping. In the midst of complimenting my children's good looks, total strangers have remarked with amazement that I am very not good looking. Either way, to the attendant that afternoon it was hard for them to see how I was Brigid's mother.
Twice in less than twenty-four hours, Brigid and I experienced mistaken identity. The first time was because we fit the part, and the second because we did not, all based on our appearance.
Comments
"But you're so fat! And she's so skinny! Hahahaha."
People, my kid is 1/2 Asian and has so far won the DNA lottery. But if you look at her face, she's a total mini me.
At home, whenever we are out the my brother and his family, strangers try to return their protesting 2 year old to me... she's a redhead, and so I am. It can happen anywhere.