(A note about terminology: In China, people from other countries are referred to as “外国人¹,” “foreigners.” In English, people like me are comfortable calling ourselves “foreigners.” However, I would never use the English term to refer to someone else.)

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When I first moved to out-of-the-way China in the 1990s, foreigners like me were scarce, and I had no hope of fitting in. My language, appearance, habits, and mannerisms all marked me unmistakably as an outsider.

One winter night as I hurried across campus running a last-minute errand before bed, I was bundled from head to toe against the cold. Even my eyes, the only part of my body not covered in layers, were hidden deep inside my hood. In the dark of night (and lack of street lights), two young men creaked by on a bicycle. The one pedaling spotted me first and called back to his companion riding behind, “老外²,” “Foreigner!” How did he know?!!

Fast forward twenty years or so, and I remember one of the first times I felt like an insider. Only my given name had been appearing on the school’s course schedule. That seemed problematic in a culture where politeness rules require students to use a teacher’s family name and title (or only the title). In order to solve the issue, I approached the course administrator and requested gently that my family name be used instead. He sheepishly explained that the system wasn’t set up for English names and “Emery Kaye” was too long to fit. Then, with deeper embarrassment, he asked, “Could we use your Chinese name instead?”

When my Chinese family name 凯 (Kai) began appearing on the  course schedule, people across campus got into the habit of calling me 凯老师³, Teacher Kai, including students, colleagues, staff, and even school leaders. Whether they were aware or not, they drew the outsider in by addressing me in a way typical to their society.

A few years later, a good friend invited me to her brother’s wedding. I attended the wedding one day and that night slept with my friend and her mom on a 炕⁴ in their home. The next morning, while my friend and her family scurried around preparing to host their new in-laws for a meal, I picked up a broom and began to sweep the courtyard. No one seemed to notice, unusual in a society that values hospitality. Instead, they took it in stride that I, the outsider they had welcomed in, would join the family flurry.

Most recently and most curiously, enough different times that it’s more than a coincidence, a stranger has stopped me on the street to ask for directions. My appearance will always mark me as an outsider, but could I possibly have picked up some local mannerisms, ways of walking and holding myself? Or more likely, they’re distracted by anxiety over being lost. Each time part way through my response, the humor of the situation dawns on their face as they realize they’ve just asked a foreign outsider for insider knowledge. I always join their laughter, but inwardly my heart rejoices in the fleeting fitting in.

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These days, my international connections have widened. On longer stints in my home country, I interact with students in my English class and neighbors who have moved into the community from different places around the world. I want them to feel welcome, especially in the current climate. Wherever you live, perhaps you too are meeting new neighbors who have come from other countries seeking refuge in your community. How could my experiences in China translate into ways we could draw our neighbors in?

Name Calling

Of course, I’m not suggesting we call our neighbors names. Rather, how could we humbly and thoughtfully approach the way we address them? Our efforts might have an inclusive effect on them in the way the use of my Chinese name drew me in.

To broaden my perspective, I contacted a friend from China. She’s been in the U.S. for nearly ten years now. Her English name Anna was given by her parents at her birth and is part of her identity. When asked whether she prefers Americans to use her English or Chinese name, she explained that since most of them botch the pronunciation of her Chinese name, she prefers the English. Interestingly, sometimes her American friends teasingly “mispronounce” her English name and unwittingly end up sounding like they’re following Chinese pronunciation rules. (The “a” sounds are slightly different in the two languages.) This “mispronunciation” tugs at her heart and poignantly reminds her of home.

I share Anna’s thoughts to point out that our experiences are different. In other words, there is no one name rule to follow that will draw our neighbors in. Instead, we can let them choose how they want to be addressed, listen to their way of pronouncing it, and make a humble attempt, no matter how awkward, to get it right. We shouldn’t, however, Anna would add, overemphasize our efforts (with pride?) because that can have an opposite othering effect.

Helping Hands

Perhaps, your first thought when you saw the heading above was something like, “Of course, I’m going to help my neighbors as much as possible.” But it’s not our hands and our help I’m referring to. One of my most memorable insider experiences was helping my Chinese hosts without them seeming to notice.

This advice is something I struggle to follow. It was on my mind yesterday when I took a bag of potatoes to one of my international neighbors. We’d accidentally bought two, and I’d phrased the offer as helping us not to waste them. When she gave some fruit in exchange, I tamped down my natural tendencies and received it graciously.

Sometimes, in order to draw our neighbors in, we need to be on the other side of Jesus’ words and allow ourselves to be served rather than only serving.

Forgetting I’m Foreign

Again, the heading may get you thinking about how you can forget your neighbors are from another country. What I’m suggesting, rather, is to consider how you can help them forget their outsider feelings.

When strangers in China fail to notice I’m a foreigner and ask me for directions, they draw me in. However, my friend Anna and I would agree that insider feelings come as much from within as without. She reflected, “What makes me feel most welcome are actually the moments when I forget that I’m not from here.”

My experiences are similar. Performing daily tasks on my school campus or in my neighborhood, I sometimes forget that I’m an obvious outsider and feel surprised when someone highlights my foreignness. Sometimes to my pleasure, the colleague or shopkeeper doing business with me is surprised too.

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With our neighbors, we may struggle to pronounce their names and show interest in their lives and backgrounds while avoiding othering behavior. Finding ways to help them feel like insiders may also be challenging. But the struggle is worth it, or as Chinese friends over the years have pointed out to me (in English), “No pain, no gain.” Paul might add that “our light and momentary” troubles can result in eternal joy for us all.

加油!⁵

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1. wai guo ren ↩︎
2. lao wai, a colloquial way of saying foreigner that isn’t used much anymore ↩︎
3. kai lao shi ↩︎
4. kang, a concrete or brick platform where a whole family may sleep together, sometimes with a fire inside for winter warmth ↩︎
5. jia you, literally “add oil,” a cheer used at sporting events or to encourage friends ↩︎

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Photo by Brett Sayles.