The Silence of the Lambs
Two weeks ago, I went on a picnic in the graveyard with this girl who turned out to be a weep agent. It was one of the most awkward dates I have ever had in China, especially because during our date, she got fired from her job. But we felt something, not sure if it was the spirits in the graveyard or a spark between us, but we knew that we liked each other, so we went out on a few more dates.
“I need to find a new side hustle,” she said, “and I need it fast.” She told me that her mom who lives in Shanghai went through a critical surgery recently and was recovering at home, alone. She felt helpless being so far away, especially because she was the only child, her father passed away when she was seven, so there was no one around to take care of her mom during this difficult time. “I have hired help, but it’s getting expensive.”
I told her about the time when I became a fake boyfriend in China, “you are gorgeous, you can make so much money,” I laughed. “Do I look like a hooker?” She slapped her hand on my chest. “You don’t have to sleep with anyone, you just have to pretend that you are their girlfriend,” I said. “I’m not doing that,” she rolled her eyes. “At least look it up online, people pay big bucks for that,” I said, “it’ll be the perfect side hustle.” She pulled her phone out of her handbag, and searched. “This is so stupid,” she shook her head. “Just be open minded,” I tucked her hair behind her ear.
She scrolled on her phone while I scrolled on mine. “Did you hear about this foreigner,” she laughed while her eyes were glued to her phone. “Which foreigner?” I sneaked. A bizarre and disturbing WeChat exchange had gone viral on Chinese social media, where locked down neighbors in Shanghai had suggested eating a black guy who lived in their building because they were running out of food. “This shit can’t be real,” I said. “This is hilarious,” she slapped her thigh.
Hilarious? I was flabbergasted that she couldn’t see how racist that was. “You can’t say that,” I explained to her how that incident would be considered racist, but she couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it. “It’s just a joke,” she said. “First of all, it’s cannibalism, and then you pick a black guy, how convenient,” I said. “Look,” she showed me her phone, “people have already started making memes,” she laughed.
“You might as well design a T-shirt that says Don’t Eat Me,” I shook my head, “these dumbasses will buy them in a second.”
“Wow,” her eyes widened, “that’s brilliant,” she said.
“I was just joking.”
“But I am not,” she picked up a napkin, drew an outline of a T-shirt on it, wrote #DontEatMe inside it, and added a few fruits and vegetables under it. She took a photo of the illustration, and sent it to one of her designer friends.
Later that night, I followed the story on Chinese social media. Turned out the black guy was an American international teacher from Chicago named Jacobie Kinsey. He said that a part of him thought it was a joke and another part of him thought that these people could be serious, especially during this time in Shanghai. Surprisingly, he took the comment being more so ignorant than being racist. Unfortunately, in China, some people do not know that comments like these have racist undertones.
The next morning, when I woke up and checked my phone, I couldn’t believe what popped up on my WeChat feed. It was the #DontEatMe T-shirt. The Chinese media asked Jacobie Kinsey if he was the one selling them. He denied, but joked about getting royalties from whomever was behind this ingenious idea.
“Morning sunshine,” I woke her up, “you should check your phone,” I kissed her.
“Why?” she rubbed her eyes, “are we going for brunch, I’m so hungry.”
“Don’t eat me,” I said.
