Published: September 27, 2007

“How was China?” people ask  of my summer abroad. I freeze. How do I condense 50 life-altering days into a simple one-liner? “Oh, it was amazing and completely different,” I usually respond. Yet deep down I know, in no way can overused adjectives like ‘amazing’ and ‘different’ sum up an experience that has changed my life.

As the plane departed to Beijing two days after my last final, I had every inclination that this would just be a much-needed vacation to get away and see a part of my family I had only heard stories about. Did I think that I would be writing about this trip months afterwards? Of course not! But there were a lot of things I did not think would happen.

One day, I decided to go shopping with my mother. I walked into a big clothing store and instantly was surrounded by a group of retail girls. One of the girls caught my attention because she began speaking to me in Mandarin as if I were one of the natives. I did not understand most of what she was saying but I got the gist of it. She was trying to sell me clothes.

Standing, at most, five feet tall, the girl helped me pick out t-shirts. I began to ask her about her life (mostly because my mom was shopping as if she was going to buy clothes to last the next five years). Her name sounded like Sue, and she was surprised that a customer would care enough to want to know anything about her. She had been working in retail for three years, and anyone who works in retail is automatically considered a poor foreigner born outside of Beijing. There is absolutely no reason to associate with them. Their existence is to wait on you and to fetch whatever you want.

She was born in Yunnan, in the countryside of Lijiang, the oldest of six, and had to leave her family in search of work in the city at the age of 15. She felt fortunate to be in Beijing, working 10-hour shifts everyday for 800 Yuan a month, compared to the average yearly wage of 1,000 Yuan most Chinese farmers earn.

As I stood there holding a t-shirt worth 200 Yuan after having a 100 Yuan breakfast with my mom, I had to ask her how it was remotely possible to survive in Beijing with her meager salary. Every month, she said, she sends 300 Yuan back home to her family and buys food with the rest.

When she offered to show me her living space, provided by her employer, I refused at first out of respect, but my curiosity got the best of me. Sometimes I wish I had simply walked away with my t-shirt and continued living my comfortable life. What I saw the next moment made me sick. I had heard stories and seen pictures of old tenement houses, but nothing compared to this. Hunched up in a little room on the third floor of a rundown apartment were eight girls the same size as Sue. There were no real beds, simply floor coverings where the girls slept. There was no bathroom; the girls had to use the public bathrooms around the corner, which were cleaned once a week.

She asked me my age. When I told her I was 20, she looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes and told me she had just turned 20 a month ago. We were the same age, yet in completely different worlds.

Sue was intelligent, hard-working and extremely polite. She was content with her life, but I knew this was as good as it would get for her. With no education, she won’t be able to find another job, and as soon as she hits her 25th birthday, working in retail will no longer be an option. (If you thought Abercrombie had strict hiring policies, you’ve never worked retail in China). It will be back to the farms for Sue, and I’m sure she understands that, which is why she seems so happy right now, even when her life is so bleak.

As I left Sue’s little apartment and walked back into the streets of Beijing, the tourist hotspots and shining lights did not look as glamorous as before. The strip of hotels and rows of luxury cars parked across from where I was standing bled with the sweat and blood of all the impoverished and exploited workers it took for a few individuals to enjoy that luxury. Most people never see how the other 95 percent lives. It’s not that they don’t want to; it’s just that they are hidden from view.

My trip through China lit a spark within me to embark on a soul searching journey to discover who I am and what I want to live for. I hope that others will begin to think globally, perhaps through our very own Global Outreach program. Time spent with GO! might not make any grand changes, but if you come back with a different outlook on life and a desire to be the leader of change in your community or even amongst your friends, then that is a trip worth taking.