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Those addresses, they keep on changing
Zhou Liming Updated: 2004-01-07 07:28
It used to
be so simple.
Twenty-five years ago, before China opened its door to the
caprices of the outside world, one could address anyone else by the ubiquitous
tongzhi (comrade). Actually, it was de rigueur and carried a strong connotation
of social equality.
If you addressed a sales lady as xiaojie (Miss), you
might have got a stern look instead of a friendly smile and good service. At
that time, xiaojie was tinged with old-time decadence and recalled the pre-1949
era of big-family melodrama.
Things have come full circle. If you speak
Chinese, you are again advised not to use xiaojie indiscriminately. After
gaining respectability as a courtesy title for women of noble birth or
honourable pedigree, it has been gradually hijacked by the world's oldest
profession as the default address for women who offer titillation or sex. "Miss,
can I have a cup of tea"'' is more likely heard in a house of ill-repute than in
a house of tasty food.
To counter the downward spiral of a once-lofty
classification, people have come up with ingenious alternatives. Some retailers
have begun to use meinu (beautiful woman) for any female customer. Preliminary
reports reveal that it is producing small miracles as women who don't quite
match up to the "beauty'' tag feel so flattered that they end up buying more
than they need.
The title as a compliment for good looks is bound to
diminish in effectiveness if it turns into mainstream usage. Word choice is just
like any other commercial product "the more people use it, the lower its social
status. And when you push it to extremes, it may just bounce back to bite you.
Take laoban (boss) for instance. It used to refer to owners of small or
medium-sized businesses. It is still used in this sense, but patrons of all
service industries, usually male, are increasingly addressed as such, even
though they may not have a single share in any enterprise. Even government
agencies have quietly joined the wordplay as officials, sometimes at very senior
levels, are alluded to as laoban by their employees, usually behind their backs.
So, what happened to all the official titles, invariably ending with
zhang and translated into "director'' of various denominations"
They
commanded deference, but in this day and age when the economy is overtaking
politics as the focus of public attention, they have lost some of the
bureaucratic grandeur. As market and law become dominant forces, fewer people
will flaunt their official titles like championship trophies.
Meanwhile,
businesses are more creative and customize for local or personal flavour in
greeting clients. A chain restaurant serving northeastern cuisine has its
waitresses welcome customers by calling them dage (big brother), which in China
does not have any Orwellian undertones but conjures familial warmth. The same
with xiaomei (little sister).
In Cantonese-speaking areas, liangzai
(handsome boy) and liangnu (beautiful girl) can be used to address any young
person. But would it sound sarcastic if one looks like the opposite of a prince
charming or a cover girl"
Fortunately, irony and humour are seeping into
this aspect of daily life. Some of the pejorative terms used in the "cultural
revolution'' (1966-76), such as heiwulei (the black five categories), have taken
on new meanings as preferred brand names.
Linguists must be having a
field day chronicling all the changes and nuances of modern-day salutations. And
purists are probably fuming over the subversion of dictionary-sanctified
conventions. But those who use the language, native speakers or second-language
users alike, may have something to discuss or digest when traffic jams become a
boring topic.
As for tongzhi (comrade), the whiff of egalitarian utopia
is giving way to a very definite and completely distinct denotation. It is now
used within the gay community for mutual identification, and this applies in all
parts of China, including Hong Kong and Taiwan.
(China Daily )
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