Look, Foreigners!

Shanghai, 2009

Redhead, ginger, carrot-top—we have many different names, much more than the boring brunettes or clichéd blondes. These boundless labels are a testament to our rarity, our eye-opening stand-out quality. We’re unique and the whole world knows it. 

So, what happens when you plop one redhead, bright hair, pale skin, freckles and all, someplace they don’t exist. The impossibility of blending in would be complete, the stares frequent. Embarrassment takes on a new meaning with an audience constantly in tow.

           
I didn't really realize how much I would stand out until I got to China. I mean, people in the US are constantly stopping me to comment on my hair. How bad could a few extra stares really be? In China, however, I wasn't just stared at on occasion because of my hair. People weren't asking me what hair dye I used or if the color was natural. I was a novelty, not just for my hair, but for my skin. So were my travel companions. 

         
The first weekend I was in Shanghai I went to Yuyuan gardens. It is a quaint shopping area alongside a gorgeous lake and enclosed garden loved by Chinese and Western tourists alike. I was taking everything in, still not truly believing that I was actually in China. We made our way across the many bends of the bridge zig-zagged across the lake. We slowly nudged past crowds of tourists stopping to snap pictures and chat, speaking what, to my untrained ears, was mere gibberish.

           
While I enjoyed watching the bright orange coi swimming through the water and exploring the traditional Chinese garden at the other end, it is what happened before all of this that affected me the most. Our group had started out our adventure as the typical tourists—taking multiple photos. We took them as a large group and made quite a few funny faces.

           
One such photo was in front of a Haibao statue. Haibao is the mascot for the 2010 World Expo being held in Shanghai. He looks like a blue Gumby. This particular Haibao was much taller than us and was posed leaning to one side with one arm bent upward and one bent downward. Naturally, the nine of us could not pass off this photo opportunity. We all stood in front of the Haibao in a line and made the same pose, laughing the whole time.

           
We composed ourselves and smiled for the picture. As the camera we were all looking at flashed, we noticed that there was more than just the one flash. While our photographer was reaching for the next of his small pile of cameras, we paid closer attention to the surrounding people. We quickly realized what was going on—Chinese tourists were taking photos of us! The American tourists had instantly become a tourist attraction. A couple Chinese girls even asked to join in our picture.

          
It was a strange sensation, one that was occurred frequently throughout my time in China. It came to a point where I’m sure I had become paranoid. I was scrutinizing every photographer as potential paparazzi. And, yes, I was singled out some. Surprisingly, though, it wasn't usually because of my red hair itself but the ghostly pale skin that came with it. People repeatedly placed their hands on mine to compare our skin tones.

           
I could picture a Chinese family sharing the photo and saying: “look at the waiguoren, the foreigner, we saw.” or “I told you her skin was that light.” I mean, wasn’t I supposed to be the tourist? But then again, I had a camera full of pictures, some of random people I saw. So, I couldn’t really get too annoyed (and, honestly, sometimes it was fun).