有一次，在加州蒙特雷半岛上用餐时，我母亲私下悄悄地对我说：“嫂嫂想做个彬彬有礼的客人，但是装得太厉害了！何必费劲讲究形式上的客套呢？到最后她还是什么都要。”
我母亲行事像个“外侨”，即一个移民国外的侨民，因为她已经不耐烦老一套的禁忌和礼数了。为了证明她刚才的观点，她手伸过桌子，把蒜香海鲜拼盘里的最后一个扇贝，连同牛腩排及黄瓜沙拉一起，递给我从北京来的年长舅妈。
嫂嫂皱起了眉头，“不要，真不要！”她一边大声说一边拍着自己已经吃得很饱的肚子。我不要了，真的不要了。 “拿去吧！拿去吧！”我母亲用中文责备道。预料到她就会这样，就像月亮盈亏周期似的。 “饱了，我已经饱了，”嫂嫂低声嘀咕着，眼睛却瞟着扇贝。 “哎！”我母亲感叹着说，“没人愿意吃，只能让它坏掉了！”
嫂嫂叹了口气，从碟子上拿去了那个扇贝，就好像是帮了我母亲一个大忙，并省去了我们用箔纸将剩菜打包的麻烦似的。
我母亲转头看着她兄长——一位经验丰富的中国地方法官，这是他初次来看我们。她说：“在美国，一个中国人可能会饿死。要是你不打破老一套的礼数说你要吃，他们就不会再问你了。”
我舅舅点点头，说他完全理解：美国人待人接物快速迅捷，因为他们没有时间客气来客气去。
I read an article in The New York Times Magazine on changes in New York's little cultural colony of Chinatown, where the author mentioned that the interwoven configuration of Chinese language and culture renders its speech indirect and polite. Chinese people are so \modest\
Why do people keep fabricating these rumors? I thought. They describe us as though we were a tribe of those little dolls sold in Chinatown tourist shops, heads moving up and down in contented agreement!
As any child of immigrant parents knows, there is a special kind of double bind attached to knowing two languages. My parents, for example, spoke to me in both Chinese and English; I spoke back to them in English. \\
\\
\
If I consider my upbringing carefully, I find there was nothing discreet about the Chinese language I grew up with, no censorship for the sake of politeness. My parents made everything abundantly clear in their consecutive demands: \engineer, they prodded.\
It seems that the more forceful proceedings always spilled over into Chinese: \Having listened to both Chinese and English, I'm suspicious of comparisons between the two languages, as I notice the reciprocal challenges they each present. English speakers say Chinese is extremely difficult because different words can be denoted by very subtle variations in tone. English is often bracketed with the label of inconsistency, a language of too many broken rules.
我在《纽约时报杂志》上读到过一篇文章，描述的是纽约市内的中国城这一小块文化聚居地的变迁。作者在文章中提到，中国语言与文化错综交织，使中文十分委婉和客套。中国人是如此“谨慎和谦虚”，文章开头写道，以至于他们都没有词语来表达“是”和“不是”。
我思索着，为什么人们会不断地编造这样的谣言呢？他们把我们描述得就像是唐人街旅游品商店里出售的一批小布娃娃。那些布娃娃的头不停地上下晃动，似乎对一切都心满意足，完全赞同。
生于移民家庭的孩子都清楚，有一种特殊的两难境地与说两种语言的生活联系在一起。比如我父母，他们和我说话时中文和英文都用，但我和他们说话时只用英文。
“艾米啊！”他们会这样责备我。 “怎么啦？”我会回问道。
“我们叫你时，不要对我们反问，”他们会用中文训斥道。“这是不礼貌的！” “你们什么意思？”
“哎！我们不是刚刚说过，叫你不要反问吗？”
仔细想想自己的成长过程，我发现，我从小到大所接触到的中文并不是什么特别谨慎的语言，也不存在出于客气而对所说的话进行仔细检查的现象。我父母向我提一连串的要求时，总是把一切都表述得清清楚楚：“你当然会成为著名的航空工程师，”他们会鼓励我说，“对了，你业余时间还要做音乐会的钢琴师。”
似乎更加强硬的事情总是通过中文倾泻出来：“不能那样！你淘米的时候，必须一粒都不漏。”
由于一直同时听着中英文两种语言，故而我对它们之间的任何对比总是心存怀疑，因为我注意到它们各自都有对方所没有的难点。说英文的人会认为中文极其难，因为中文用非常微妙的声调变化就可以表示不同的词语。而英文则常常被认为缺乏一致性，因为英文具有太多不合规则的用法。
Even more dangerous, in my view, is the temptation to view the gulf between different languages and behavior in translation. To listen to my mother speak English, an outside spectator might make the deduction that she has no concept of the temporal differences of past and future or that she is gender blind because she refers to my husband as \Chinese people take an indirect route to get to the point. It is, rather, my mother's individual tendency to ornament her language and wander around a bit.
I worry that the dominant society may see Chinese people from a limited perspective, hedging us in with the stereotype. I worry that the seemingly innocent stereotype may lead to actual intolerance and be part of the reason why there are few Chinese in top management positions, or in the main judiciary or political sectors. I worry about the power of language: If one says anything enough times, it might become true, with or without malicious intent.
Could this be why the Chinese friends of my parents' generation are willing to accept the generalization?
\appreciate such an honorary description?\
在我看来，更危险的做法是，人们往往倾向于通过翻译来理解不同语言和行为之间的差异。如果一个旁观的外人听我母亲说英语，可能会得出结论，说她对过去和将来这样的时间区别没有概念，或者认为她对人的性别不加区分，因为她提到我丈夫时总是说“她”。如果一个人对此类现象不假思虑，他也许还会概括说，所有中国人都是通过委婉迂回的方式才能说到话题重点的。而实际上喜欢修饰和绕弯子只是我母亲个人的说话风格。
我担心主流社会可能会从一个狭隘的角度、以一种成见看待中国人。我担心这种看似无害的成见实际会导致人们对中国人难以容忍，并成为中国人在高层管理职位或主要的司法及政府部门寥寥无几的部分原因。我担心语言的力量，即如果一个人将一件事说了很多遍，无论其是否有恶意，这件事都会变成事实。 这会不会就是我父母辈的中国朋友愿意接受那些对中国人的简单概括的原因呢？
“你为什么要抱怨呢？”他们中有人问我。“如果人们认为我们谦虚礼让，就让他们那样想好了。难道美国人不喜欢这种赞誉性的话吗？
And I do believe that anyone would take the description as a compliment - at first. But after a while, it annoys, as if the only things that people heard one say were what had been filtered through the sieve of social niceties: I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard many wonderful things about you.
These remarks are not representative of new ideas, honest emotions, or considered thought. Like a piece of bread, they are only the crust of the interaction, or what is said from the polite distance of social contexts: greetings, farewells, convenient excuses, and the like. This generalization, therefore, is not a true composite of Chinese culture but only a stereotype of our exterior behavior. \
At this junction, I do agree in part with The New York Times Magazine article. There is no one word for \to be discreet. If anything, I would say the Chinese equivalent of answering \Ask a Chinese person if he or she has eaten, and he or she might say chrle (eaten already) or meiyou (have not).
Ask, \have not, never beat, have no wife. What could be clearer?
我当然相信每个人在一开始都会把这种描述的话当成称赞。但过了一段时间，这种话就会让人恼怒，就好像所听到的只是些经过细微的社交区别过滤后的言辞，诸如“很高兴认识你，我听到许多人都夸奖你”之类的话。
这些话不能表达什么新观点，也不能传达什么真实的情感或深思熟虑的想法。它们就像一片面包，只是人们交往中最表层的东西，或社交场合下出于礼貌而说的一些话：问候、道别、顺口的托词，诸如此类。由此看来，那些对中国人的概括性评价并非是对中国文化成分的真实描述，而仅仅是对我们外在行为的一种成见而已。
“那么中文究竟怎么表达?是?和?不是?呢？”我的朋友也许会小心翼翼地问。
在这一点上，我的确在某种程度上同意《纽约时报杂志》的那篇文章。在中文里，没有哪一个字专门用于表达“是”或“不是”，但这并非是因为需要保持谨慎。若的确有什么不同的话，那我会说中文里对应的“是”或“不是”的表达通常是针对所问的具体内容而定的。 如果你问一个中国人是否吃饭了，他（或她）会说“吃了”（已经吃过）或“没有”（没有吃过）。
你若问：“你停止打老婆了吗？”他会直接就所断定或所否认的假设进行回答：已经停止了，还没有，从来不打，没有老婆。 还有什么能比这更明了的呢？
Unit 6
The weight men carry
When I was a boy growing up off the grid in the Commonwealth of Virginia, the men I knew labored with their bodies from the first rooster crow in the morning to sundown. They were marginal farmers, shepherds, just scraping by, or welders, steelworkers, carpenters; they built cabinets, dug ditches, mined coal, or drove trucks, their forearms thick with muscle. They trained horses, stocked furnaces, made tires, stood on assembly lines, welding parts onto refrigerators or lubricating car engines. In the evenings and on weekends, they labored equally hard, working on their own small tract of land, fixing broken-down cars, repairing broken shutters and drafty windows. In their little free time, they drowned their livers in beer from cheap copper mugs at a bar near the local brewery or racecourse.
The bodies of the men I knew were twisted and wounded in ways visible and invisible. Heavy lifting had given many of them spinal problems and appalling injuries. Some had broken ribs and lost fingers. Racing against conveyor belts had given some ulcers. Their ankles and knees ached from years of standing on concrete. Some had partial vision loss as the glow of the welding flame damaged their optic receptors. There were times, studying them, when I dreaded growing up. All around us, the fathers always seemed older than the mothers. Men wore out sooner, being martyrs of constant work. Only women lived into old age.
There were also soldiers, and so far as I could tell, they scarcely worked at all. But when the shooting started, many of them would die for their patriotism in fields and forts of foreign outposts. This was what soldiers were for - they were tools like a wrench, a hammer or a screw. 男人背负的重担
当我还是个小男孩时，我住在弗吉尼亚州一个偏远的地区，那时我所认识的男人们从清晨的第一声公鸡啼鸣一直劳作到日落。他们都是些不起眼的农民、牧羊人，勉强度日，或是焊接工、钢铁工或木匠；他们制作橱柜、挖掘沟渠、开采煤炭，或驾驶卡车，这使他们拥有肌肉结实的上臂。他们训练马匹、填塞炉膛、制造轮胎，站在装配线上将零件焊接到冰箱，或是给汽车发动机上润滑剂。到了傍晚或周末，他们也要同样辛苦地劳作，在自己的一小片土地上耕作，修理出了问题的汽车，修复坏掉的百叶窗和漏风的窗户。在仅剩的闲暇时间里，他们会在当地的啤酒作坊或赛马场附近的酒馆里用盛在廉价铜杯中的啤酒将自己灌得烂醉。
我所认识的那些男人的身躯遭受着种种看得见或看不也的扭曲和伤痛。搬运沉重的物品给他们很多人造成了脊柱病和可怕的伤痛。有些人断了肋骨，掉了手指。在传输带上不停地工作使他们有些人患了溃疡。他们的脚踝和膝盖由于经年累月站立在水泥地上疼痛不已。有些人由于焊接火光损伤视觉感官而遭受部分视觉缺失的折磨。有些时候，打量着他们，我会害怕长大。在我们周围的人中，父亲们看上去总是比母亲们要老。男人衰老得更早，长期遭受着因持续劳作带来的病痛。只有女人才活到年老。
还有士兵也是男人的工作。据我所知，他们几乎不工作，但当战争一打响，他们很多人都会出于爱国热情而战死在疆场或异域前哨的堡垒前。这就是士兵的作用——他们就像工具，如同扳钳、锤子或螺丝一样。
These weren't the only destinies of men, as I learned from having a few male teachers, from reading books and from watching television. But the men on television - the news commentators, the lawyers, the doctors, the politicians who levied the taxes and the bosses who gave orders - seemed as remote and unreal to me as the figures in old paintings. I could no more imagine growing up to become one of these sophisticated people than I could imagine becoming a sovereign prince.
A scholarship enabled me not only to attend college, a rare enough feat in my social circle, but even to traverse the halls of a historic university meant for the children of the rich. Here for the first time I met women who told me that men were guilty of having kept all the joys and privileges of the earth for themselves. I was puzzled, and demanded clarification. What privileges? What joys? I thought about the grim, wounded lives of most of the men back home. What had they allegedly stolen from their wives and daughters? The right to work five days a week, 12 months a year, for 30 or 40 years, wedged in tight spaces in the textile mills, or in the coal mines, struggling to extract every last bit of coal from the rock-hard earth? The right to die in war? The right to fix every leak in the roof, every gap in the fence? The right to pile banknotes high for a rich corporation in a city far away? The right to feel, when the lay-off came or the mines shut down, not only afraid but also ashamed?
这些并非男人们唯一的归宿，我从曾经有过的几位男教师、从看书及看电视中认识到了这一点。但是，那些上电视的男人们——新闻评论员、律师、医生、课 征税款的政治家及发号施令的老板们——在我看来就像古老绘画上的人像，遥远而不真实。我不能想象自己长大会变成这些精明世故的人中的一员，就像我无法想象自己能变成一个权力至高无上的国君一样。
一份奖学金使我得以上大学，这可是我社交圈子里极其难得的荣耀。不仅如此，它还让我能够穿行于为富人家的孩子打造的史上著名的大学殿堂里。就在这里，我生平头一次碰到女人告诉我说男人是有罪的，因为他们把地球上所有的欢乐和特权都据为己有。我被弄糊涂了，要求她们予以解释。什么特权？什么欢乐？我想到家乡大多数男人那种艰难严酷、伤痛累累的生活。人们所说的他们从妻子和女儿那里偷走的东西又能是些什么呢？难道是每周五天、每年十二个月，如此三四十年里挤缩在纺织厂狭小的空间里，或是在煤矿下挣扎着从岩石般坚硬的泥土中挖出最后一点煤的劳作的权力？战死疆场的权利？修缮屋顶上每条裂缝和围栏上每个断栏的权利？为一个遥远的城市某个富裕财团垒积钱钞的权利？在遭遇解雇或煤矿倒闭时感到既害怕又羞耻的权利？
In this alien world of the rich, I was slow to understand the deep grievances of women. This was because, as a boy, I had envied them. Before college, the only people I had ever known who were interested in art or music or literature, the only ones who ever seemed to enjoy a sense of ease were the mothers and daughters. What's more, they did not have to go to war. By comparison with the narrow,
compartmentalized days of fathers, the comparatively lightweight work of mothers seemed expansive. They clipped coupons, went to see neighbors, or ran errands at school or at church. I saw their lives as through a telescope, all twinkling stars and shafts of light, missing the details that truly defined their days. No doubt, had I taken a more deductive look at their lives, I would have envied them less. I didn't see, then, what a prison a house could be, since houses seemed to me brighter, handsomer places than any factory. As such things were never spoken of, I did not realize how often women suffered from men's bullying. Even then I could see how exhausting it was for a mother to cater all day to the needs of young children. But, as a boy, if I had to choose between tending a baby and tending a machine, I think I would have chosen the baby.
So I was baffled when the women at college made a racket accusing me and my sex of having cornered the world's pleasures. They demanded to be emancipated from the bonds of sexism. I think my bafflement has been felt by other boys (and by girls as well) who grew up in dirt-poor farm country, by the docks, in the shadows of factories - any place where the fates of men and women are symmetrically bleak and grim.
When the women I met at college thought about the joys and privileges of men, they didn't see the sort of men I had known. These daughters of privileged, Republican men wanted to inherit their fathers' power and lordship over the world. They longed for a say over their future. But so did I. The difference between me and these daughters was that they saw me, because of my sex, as destined from birth to become like their fathers, and therefore as an enemy to their desires. But I knew better. I wasn't an enemy to their desires, in fact or in feeling. I was an ally in their rebellion. If I had known, then, how to tell them so, or how to be a mediator, would they have believed me? Would they have known?
在这样一个满是富人的陌生世界里，我在理解女人们深深的怨怒方面很是迟钝。这是因为，当我还是一个小男孩时，我就嫉妒过她们。在上大学之前，我所认识的唯一对艺术、音乐或文学有兴趣的人，唯一看上去能够享受一丝自在的一群人就是那些做母亲和女儿的人。而且，她们也不必去参加战争。与父亲们所遭受的狭隘的、封闭的日子相比，母亲们所承担的相对较轻的工作显得更加宽泛一些。她们剪用购物券，探访邻居，在学校或教堂跑跑腿。我仿佛是透过望远镜看到她们的生活，满是闪烁的星星和一缕缕光线，而漏掉了她们生活岁月的真实细节。毋庸置疑，如果我用更具理性的方式审视她们的生活，我就不会那么嫉妒她们了。可在那时，我实在看不出一幢房子能成为什么样的牢狱，因为房子在我看来比任何厂房都更亮堂、更体面。我也没有意识到女人是多么频繁地遭受男人的欺凌，因为这样的事情从未被提及过。即使在那时，我也能够看出一个母亲整日忙碌着应付年幼孩子们的需要是多么地辛苦。但是，作为男孩，如果我那时必须在照顾婴儿和照看机器之间作选择，我想我会选择照顾婴儿。
所以，当学校里的女性大吵大囔，谴责我和我所属的性别，说我们霸占着世间的欢乐时，我很困惑。她们要求从性别歧视的束缚中解放出来。我认为别的男孩（女孩也一样）也会有我这样的迷惑，只要他们成长于一贫如洗的农村，成长于码头边或工厂附近——成长于任何让男人和女人的命运同样苍白和严酷的地方。 当我在大学里遇到的那些女子们想到男人的享乐和特权时，她们并没有见过我以前认识的那些男人。这些特权阶层的、共和党男人的女儿们渴望继承她们父亲的权力和凌驾世界的贵族身份。她们渴望能对自己的未来拥有发言权。而我也渴望这样。我和这些女儿们之间的区别在于，她们看我时想到的是，我因为自己的性别而自出生起就注定可以成为像她们父亲那样的人，从而也是她们实现自己欲望的敌人。但我比她们更清楚，无论是事实上还是情感上，我都不是她们欲望的敌人。我是她们反抗行动的同盟者。如果那时我就知道如何把这些告诉她们，或如何在中间做一个调停人，她们会相信我吗？她们能够理解吗？