Here I am waiting in the German Consulate in Chicago. This is my second attempt at getting a German visa to study at the University of Leipzig. Last time, the official told me that my U.S. visa would expire during the intended trip. My only choice was to go back to China, renew my U.S. visa, come back to the United States and apply for a German visa again. According to the German official, and an advisor at OU’s office of International Student and Faculty Services, it was the only way.
I paid for my carelessness. I researched the possibility of renewing my visa in Canada, scheduled a Canadian visa appointment in Washington, D.C., and prepared all the required documents (passport, photos, application form, F-1 visa, I-20, travel itinerary, declaration, family information, financial support, money order for visa fee ... now sing them in a rap) — all while overloaded with graduate-school work. The moment I passed through U.S. customs with a new visa, I felt like kissing the ground.
“RIDICULOUS”
Today, even with every required document, my destiny is still undetermined. The German consul still asks for more: proof from OU that I do not need to speak German to study under the American Studies program and whether I’m covered by overseas health insurance that will repatriate my body if I die in Germany.
Ridiculous? That’s what I thought. But I’m calm enough to handle visa drama. Within the next few hours, my visa is put in the processing line. At this point, the students of the Leipzig Summer Program 2012 (my first attempt) have already been back for more than a month. Most of them are Americans who can travel to 130 countries, including Germany, without a visa. One Pakistani student had no trouble getting a German visa because her U.S. visa is good for five years.
But the U.S. government only offers students from mainland China one-year visas — regardless of how long the education programs are. After one year, we can stay to finish our studies, but we cannot travel outside the U.S.
“WHY AREN’T WE TRUSTED?”
I still remember the longest hour I spent at San Francisco International Airport. I didn’t have my flight itinerary from California to Ohio ready. I had mixed feelings watching a family from Australia passing through customs within one minute. One minute. That was how long it took for me to enter Vietnam.
Why aren’t we trusted?
Are we illegal immigrants? Are we littering or jumping lines? Those bad impressions might have been drawn from a few tourists in the past, but not today. In 2010-2011, more than 157,558 Chinese students were in the U.S. — a 23 percent increase from the previous year. Many of us just want to experience the reputable American education and return to China, or legally stay in the U.S. with a decent job.
Maybe it’s a matter of cultural difference? Well, this is a time when Americans are learning Chinese kung fu and Chinese people are watching Hollywood movies. We know each other well enough to at least get a nice conversation going.
Perhaps it’s the “Communists?” Yeah, the Communists. During the Cold War, the competition between the U.S. and the Soviet Union distanced capitalism and communism to an extreme.
That might still be the case. Hong Kong and Taiwan share the same root of culture with mainland China, but the U.S. government offers students from these capitalist regions four-year visas.
Not China.
There were 15 Communist countries before 1989. Now it’s down to five. I know some of my Vietnamese friends at OU are struggling with visas as well. And I’ve never met a student on campus from Laos, Cuba, or North Korea.
“ARE WE REALLY THAT DIFFERENT?”
Now that almost 40 years have passed since the Cultural Revolution, I wonder if the stereotype of Chinese holding the “Little Red Book” (Quotations from Chairman Mao Zedong) is gone. Even if the whole nation was still so fanatic, so what? Aren’t we supposed to be different from America? And ... are we really that different?
I want to be a world citizen. I want to explore different parts of the world and see how people eat and have fun, how they make a living, how they educate their offspring. I want to find a path to make my hometown a better place. But I feel that my hands are tied. If my trustworthiness only depends on whether my destination country sees eye to eye with my motherland, if I’m defined only by a piece of paper, if I have to choose between my home country and a foreign nationality with little visa drama, then I’d rather live without any nationality.
Bingxin “Sophia” Huang is a master’s student in the E.W. Scripps School
of Journalism who is studying abroad at the University of Leipzig this semester. Email her at bh586611@ohiou.edu.
