In the fall of 2012, I traveled to Beijing to work for CNN for three months. One day, as I exited the Puhuangyu subway off of line five after work, I felt an aggressive tug on my messenger bag that sent me stumbling backwards. Unable to turn around quickly enough because of my cumbersome down coat and unable to see peripherally because of my large hood, I assumed the worst and I quickly yelled, “Fang shou, fang shou [let go, let go]!”
There was no response. My strap had snagged on a short pole fencing the station. It was very elastic so like a yoyo, I ricocheted a number of times against the pole when I tried to move forward and untangle myself from my imaginary thief.
I’ve lived long enough in New York City, London and other global cities to know that there would have been a high chance someone would have videotaped me with his mobile phone and posted it on Youtube and titled it, “Idiot Commuter Yells at Pole for Grabbing Her Bag.” At the very least, I would have gotten a chuckle, a stare, or from more compassionate observers, a helping hand.
Here in Beijing, no one blinked an eye. Not a sound was made, not a word was said. For the four street vendors lined up outside the station, it was like nothing happened. It wasn’t until I walked by one of the vendors, hidden behind the others, I caught him wheezing quietly in laughter. But he stopped abruptly when he saw me pass him.
That evening, and for the rest of the week, I wondered why I was met with such a wall of silence after my embarrassing incident at the Puhuangyu subway. Could this behavior be explained in part by what many now know as ‘saving face’ or mianzi in China? Were the other commuters and the vendors trying to ’give me face’ (gei wo mian zi) or help me save face by pretending the embarrassing moment had never happened? Do Chinese people just not have the same sense of humor?
Well, when I explained my incident to my CNN coworkers the next day, many of them Chinese, they had no trouble laughing at me.