Stranger in a Strange Land: Ethnicity, Work, and Food on Someone Else's National Holiday

Stranger in a Strange Land: Ethnicity, Work, and Food on a Someone Else's National Holiday

On Memorial Day I found myself in Columbus, OH visiting friends. I didn’t expect to do any work—if that’s what my research on ethnic groceries can be called—but my good friend, Liz, who is also a folklorist and a keen observer of everyday life, mentioned that there were numerous small ethnic stores in her neighborhood. I figured I would drive by to see if they were even open, given that it was a national holiday. I didn’t expect to find them not only open, but fairly empty, so that the individuals working there had time on their hands to chat. One young woman in a Chinese grocery was more than happy to talk, sharing insights into the loneliness that can accompany being a “stranger in a strange land.” Her story was also a sobering counterpoint to the more cheerful ones of individuals who had found community and family through work surrounding ethnic food.

LinFang is only 26. She was born in southern China and came to the U.S. 4 years ago, sent by her parents to find new economic opportunities. Like many immigrants with minimal job training, education, and English language skills, she initially worked in a Chinese restaurant. It was hard work with long hours and low pay, but it was busy and exciting in its own way with the constant influx and changeover of customers. The job provided an excuse to practice her English along with social interactions with people from a diversity of backgrounds and cultural heritages.

 Her move to an Asian grocery store was a step up and a step on the way to fulfilling her own dream of one day owning her own business and having a family, but it also brought unexpected isolation—a loneliness that emphasized her status as a stranger in a strange land—particularly and acutely felt on a national holiday such as Memorial Day.

I met her while she was working as a cashier in a grocery store. The store was not identified as Chinese by its name and actually advertised itself on the front door as “international,” but the name was also written out in Chinese characters, and the products being sold were definitely Chinese, as well as other Asian ethnicities. Very few people came in while I was there, which was not surprising given the holiday, but the ones who did were Asian. The lack of customers meant that we had plenty of time to talk, so I interviewed her while she stood next to the cash register, so she could keep her eye on the door. I also told her I would not give the name of the store in case her employer did not approve of her being interviewed. (Afterwards, I realized that her musings could have been taken as criticisms, so I deleted any references to the store’s name.)

LinFang said that the customers were mostly Asian, but not necessarily Chinese or if Chinese, not from southern China, and so spoke a different dialect. She found he Asian customers somewhat difficult to work with—they were used to haggling but also knew how to judge the quality of the produce and other products—and had opinions on them which they felt free to express. Although the local Chinese population is large because of the major research university in the city, it was not necessarily comforting to her. She made a distinction between them being a community versus a family. As a community, they supported each other through various formal associations, but each individual was expected to pull their own weight and find their own way. Self-owned businesses were the assumed goal, and working for each other was seen as a mentoring until individuals got established on their own. She was adamant that it wasn’t a family, in which people looked out for each other’s emotional needs. Work was work! It made her a little lonely at times, but that was just the way it was.

She also pointed out that American customers were frequently friendlier than Asian ones, asking advice and engaging her in conversations. She didn’t understand the interactions, though, and found herself without companions on the one day a week she had off. She turned sad when she spoke of that one day off, wistfully wondering how to make friends.

I’ve oftentimes lived in cultures other than my own (whichever that one is!) and know the kind of isolation she expressed—and I can imagine the loneliness of working on a national holiday in which everyone else seems to be gathering with friends and celebrating a unity in which one is not included. Being surrounded by food would, I think, make that loneliness even worse. Food frequently brings people together, with meals being occasions for socializing or just touching base with others. Perhaps the customers purchasing food at that store were taking it home to cook for family dinners or were taking it to parties or other public events. Linfang, however, had to focus on that food as commodities, presenting them, displaying them, and, hopefully, selling them. At the end of the day, it was the numbers on the cash register that mattered the most. I found that sad. She was so full of hope, but also so wistful. I hope she does achieve her dreams of owning her own business, but I also hope that she finds friendship and family, too, and doesn’t have to give that up for the first. Most of all, I hope she doesn’t lose the eagerness she displayed to learn new things, open up to new experiences, and to give to those around her. I’ll make a point to go back to that store, to buy something there, and to affirm her dreams.