Reflections in Tian’anmen Square
This morning, we were supposed to go to the Great Wall non-touristy tour with her friends, but of course, we didn’t wake up early enough and they left without us. We ended up doing a LITTLE bit of shopping and went to Tian’anmen Square and the front door of the Forbidden City.
It was when I just realized, or should I say, it suddenly hit me that I am Chinese and all the history behind my country.
We bought a ticket to the tower of Tian’anmen and we walked upstairs. When we first got into the tower-room type of space, I thought the room was really tacky. There were those Chinese chairs nicely lined up with yellow, probably gold lining cushions, and really Chinese paintings on the walls. One word: tacky. Then I thought it would do no harm to actually read the “history” of Tian’anmen.
Apparently, my arrogance came into place. The history started with the invasion of the eight countries. It started to get really overwhelming when they said those armies completely robbed “the treasures from the Ming Dynasty, all food storage…”, all nice, useful things basically. Walking down the stairs, I saw many people, apparently not rich, if not very poor. I am guessing that they are already wearing their best to come visit Beijing, still, I wouldn’t have even worn it to bed. Poverty, yet again, screaming in front of my eyes. This time, it really made a stronger statement; it jst felt so much more urgent and needed to be solved asap. I think the reason is because those people look like me, speak the same (almost) language as me, act like me (somewhat), but most of all, they really look like me, and they are a part of me. Not that I was not sympathetic to other ethnicities in poverty, but seeing my own people, who actually look like me, in poverty suddenly became a much more at-home problem. I guess it should be no surprise. The power of race. Speaking of looking alike, I feel like that people here are a manifestation of me. Okay, I might have overestimated myself (O boy, the arrogance), but I feel like I might be the Dr Jekyll and some people I see here are Mr Hyde. The difference is simply due to our backgrounds; nonetheless, the people here are the more honest version of me.
Enough spritual journey in one day. I can’t stand it.
