Opinion: My childhood in Hong Kong prepared me for how China reacted to ‘The Little Mermaid’

Growing up in Hong Kong, “The Little Mermaid” was my favorite movie. As a kid, I used to sing “Under the Sea” and “Part of Your World” at the top of my lungs in Cantonese, while soaring on the swing at the playground.

When my dad took my siblings and me to the neighborhood pool, I would imagine that I was swimming like a mermaid. To this day, I credit my childhood desire to swim like Ariel – beautiful yet agile, supple yet athletic – for my love of the water.

My grown-up self still loves Disney films. I was excited to learn a couple of years back that a live-action version of the movie I loved so much as a kid was being filmed. And, as a Blasian – a person of Black and Asian heritage – I was especially pleased that the lead role would be portrayed by a Black actor.

My father is Chinese and my mother is Jamaican. I was born in Hong Kong, which is where I spent the first 12 years of my life. Being Black profoundly shaped my early childhood. At school, on the playground and in my neighborhood, my siblings and I were always the only Black kids around.

Excitement turns to disappointment

My excitement about the casting of “The Little Mermaid” turned to disappointment when I saw the negative reception the film received when it opened in Hong Kong. Many people posted derogatory commentary online, expressing displeasure that Halle Bailey, a Black actress, had been cast in the lead role.

As I scrolled through movie reviews on Douban (a popular Chinese movie review website), it was upsetting to see comments like, “she’s a Black clown mermaid” and “this is the ugliest version of ‘The Little Mermaid’.”

The remarks reminded me of the racism I encountered in my childhood as an Afro-Asian child in Hong Kong.

I was called all types of names in Cantonese, among them  污糟妹 (dirty girl) and 黑妹 (black girl). There wasn’t much in the way of microaggressions – racism towards me was never subtle. Among my classmates, I was sometimes singled out for punishment by my teachers for innocuous behavior like biting my nails.

On one occasion, I was accused of having somehow caused a classmate’s eczema on her arm by my mere proximity to her. And for a school art project, rather than being praised for my keen eye and attention to detail, I was accused of plagiarism and punished for having turned in an assignment that looked too perfect to be my own handiwork.

One of the worst days of my childhood occurred on the night of my 10th birthday when I suffered an asthma attack and was coughing up blood. The emergency room doctor at one hospital turned me away, insisting that nothing serious was wrong with me. My parents took me to a different hospital, where I was admitted immediately. I was deemed sick enough to require four days of treatment there.

Against that backdrop of discriminatory treatment and racist taunts, I’m really not all that surprised about the negative reviews directed at a fictional Black mermaid. Colorism has existed in China since long before “The Little Mermaid.”

A preference for pale skin, dating back centuries

In ancient China, pale skin represented beauty, health and a higher socioeconomic status. Dark skin was associated with poverty and working in the fields. There’s an old proverb in Chinese, “一白遮三丑”, which means a light skin complexion can hide your ugliness.

The desire to have pale skin persists to this day. The Chinese term for “whitening” is  美白 which combines the characters “white” and “beautiful” together. Many women today continue to turn to skin-whitening products to achieve beauty. Despite the controversy and potential harm, these products are big business in Asia.

I’ve always thought that the negative views and stereotypes that some people in China hold against Black people, as well as some other foreigners, is largely the result of a lack of exposure. China is still a very homogeneous country.

According to the 2021 Census published by the National Bureau of Statistics of China, about 91% of the population is Han Chinese. Minority ethnic groups (such as the Zhuang, the Uyghurs, and the Manchus) comprise only around 9% of the population.

With respect to foreigners, only fewer than a million lived in China in 2021, a very small number compared to the  overall  population of 1.4 billion people.

Without many examples in society of interracial and intercultural connection, I looked to my parents and the inspiring story of their courtship and marriage. During the 1980s, my dad went to Jamaica to work for two years, even though he didn’t speak much English or patois and didn’t know anything about Jamaican culture.

He ended up falling in love with my mom and marrying her there. He brought his Jamaican bride back to Hong Kong, only to face criticism and rejection from his family and friends.

My mom was a foreigner of the sort that most people in his family had never encountered. She never gained the acceptance of my father’s extended family, but that didn’t stop my mom from learning Cantonese and working as a nurse at one of the largest hospitals in Hong Kong.

Most of my dad’s relatives never reconciled to my parents’ marriage, however. My family had little contact with them while we lived in Hong Kong and when we later moved to America, my dad cut most of his familial ties.

But within my immediate family, my parents set an example for what it can mean to be exposed to – and lovingly accepting of – Black culture and interracial marriage, even within an unrepentantly racist society. They spoke up against racism when they saw it, and they weren’t afraid to make a scene or call the police if they felt that members of their own family were on the receiving end of racist treatment.

And we found that, over time, many people did treat us better. Teachers gradually stopped targeting me at school. I wasn’t turned away for medical treatment anymore, as they got more used to my family – and presumably other non-Chinese and mixed-race families – that they came into contact with.

Limited exposure to Blacks in the media

Still, I’m convinced that the process of greater acceptance took longer than it might have, in large part because of the limited exposure to media depicting a diverse range of humanity.

The Chinese government controls all forms of media – television, movies, social media, newspaper, magazines and books. Chinese people’s perceptions of what other cultures are like is largely shaped by what is shown – and what isn’t.

As a kid growing up, one English-speaking channel was a mainstay in my household. I watched “Teletubbies” and “Rugrats,” and our family enjoyed movies like “Titanic” and “Harry Potter.”

What I didn’t see on that channel was Black people. I never saw, or even knew about, iconic television programs like “The Cosby Show,” “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” or “Sister, Sister.” And as far as I know, movies like “Coming to America” and “Barbershop” were not widely released in Hong Kong theaters. I sometimes wonder how attitudes towards Black people might have been different if they had been.

Despite many racist encounters, my early years in Hong Kong were mostly happy, thanks to my wonderful classmates and their families. Unlike my teachers, my school friends never treated me differently or called me bad names. We played together during recess, spent time at each other’s homes and hung out with me at the mall, just like teenage girls do everywhere. These friends and families showed me that good people do exist, even in a broadly biased society.

Eventually my family left Hong Kong and settled in the United States, where my parents felt that my siblings and I would face less discrimination and have more educational opportunities. Still, I’m glad in many ways for those early years in Hong Kong, where I became really steeped in the culture and language of my father.

And it wasn’t all bad news for “The Little Mermaid” in China. The movie tanked at China’s box office, but 14% of patrons who watched the film gave it a four- or five-star rating on Douban. Some of them praised Bailey’s beautiful voice and credited the movie’s emotional story line and magical narrative.

And a few commentators even addressed the racism issue in China head on, urging their countrymen to look past Ariel’s outward appearance when judging the film. It might have sparked the beginnings of an important discussion about race and colorism. And whether you loved “The Little Mermaid” or not, that alone has got to be worth the price of admission.

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