Old habits die hard – I began preparing a few days before my lecture on the American Dream at the United States Consulate in China. Staying up past midnight for many days, I revised, re-researched, added, removed and finally submitted the Powerpoint slides for the big day. The last time I had given a speech there was on Breaking the Glass Ceiling in America and I was so nervous that I vowed not to put myself through it again – except fear was an imagined terror because I enjoyed it so much that I decided to do it again.
What better topic to talk about in another country, at the U.S. Consulate other than the great American Dream? To talk about the country known for its land of opportunities not just in the past but even today. While traveling for the past one year, the people I’ve met in Europe and Asia praised it for its transparency, integrity and a place that can offer them what their mother country could not – a better life.
But like any creative work, my initial intent on speaking about the “great” American Dream morphed. Instead of talking about the good, I presented both sides of the coin, the good and the bad. I gave four examples: Danny Chen, a marine who committed suicide because he was racially harassed in the military, former President William Clinton, current Secretary of Transportation Elaine Chao, who immigrated from Taiwan to America at the age of 8 and the black lives matter movement.
Pressed for time as the conference room where I gave the presentation must be vacated sooner than usual and foreign to my slides, I read them, seldom making eye contact with the audience, a room of thirty people. I tried to be mindful of my speed because they were all native Chinese speakers and their English proficiency varied from grade one to high school; some did not speak an ounce of English.
After my lecture, I began the discussion with questions such as “What is your American Dream?” “Are all men created equal? (a reference to the Declaration of Independence)” I was full of excitement, waiting for a wave of heated discussion.
Contrary to my last lecture, perhaps more straightforward, more people and less controversial which ended in many questions and comments, this time the audience was pitch quiet.
Instead of answering my questions, someone asked me, “What is your American Dream?”
“Freedom,” I said.
A person made a quiet but audible comment, “That’s hard.”
No one shared what their American dream was or any dream. No one answered whether they believed that all men were created equal.
I was unsatisfied so I asked again, “Anyone want to share their dream?”
Complete silence. This could not be how the event will end. “Then, are all men created equal?” Still complete silence. Was this really how it was going to end?
The examples I shared were successful American dreams and tragic ones – the suicide, the racial discrimination. What happened? Did they understand my slides? Did I speak too fast? Did I not explain thoroughly? Was I unclear? Were the examples not controversial enough to stir a discussion that I had hoped for? What did they think? Does the American Dream exist or was it a hopeful fantasy? Why wasn’t anyone making any comments? No questions at all?
I looked at the officer and she asked again, if anyone has any comments or questions. Again, silence. She thanked everyone for coming and the audience stood up, shuffling through the double doors.
“It’s finished already?” one of the blue uniformed guards came into the room.
“Is it because the teacher did it in Chinese?” She was referring to me, who looked Han Chinese and assumed that because I looked so the presentation must have been done in Chinese.
“No. Not that. I think people felt rushed because they were told we had to end early.” She started to pack up the laptop attached to the monitor screen and turned off the speakers for the microphone.
A young lady, wearing black framed eyeglasses, walked towards me with a notepad and a pen in her hands.
“Ke yi shuo zhong wen ma?” she asked, meaning can I speak in Chinese?
“Ke yi (sure),” I said.
She asked if it was better to pursue a career that your parents wanted you to pursue or do something that you wanted to do. I told her that it’s a decision she has to make – that if you get a job your parents wanted, they would be happy but you would not; if you get a job that you enjoyed, happy you, angry parents.
“Xie xie (thank you)” she said, holding the notebook close to her chest with both her hands. I took a sip of the water on the lecture stand and saw from the corner of my eyes that she walked through the double doors and out of my sight.
The officer and I said our goodbyes. At the consulate’s entrance, I picked up my passport and cellphone and waited for the security guard, stationed in a possibly bullet-proof glass booth to buzz me out of the locked door.
“Why didn’t anyone respond?” I blurted out to my friend who came to watch my presentation. “I thought there was so much room for discussion – I wanted to know if their perspective of America has changed, if it is still the land of opportunity.”
“I suppose this is the difference between the East and the West,” he pointed out.
“How so.”
“You’re expecting the students to give you feedback but they’re used to listening to the teacher.”
For the rest of the afternoon, we sat in the coffee shop, chatting over other matters. I couldn’t help but wonder if that young lady understood what I meant to tell her – do what you want to do, to hell with others.
Wonderful article. Great presentation. Wrong audience. The author has yet to find her true question 😁