Lingering in the Courtyard: Language, Space, and Social Networks in Guilin, China

I remember waking up to the sound of the crowded courtyard in 明珠花园 (the name of the apartment complex where I lived) every morning. Children often screamed loudly, running around freely at seven a.m., waiting for their 婆婆 (grandma) to take them to school. Concurrently, many single working adults would be going off to work, operating on a different tempo and rhythm than these children. Despite these differences, all of these individuals shared the space and coexisted. I understood this apartment complex to operate as an intergenerational rhythm, full of individual lived experiences that shaped how the space was interacted with.

This apartment complex’s courtyard was sectioned off into rectangles, each with its own set of workout equipment. I would wash my clothes on my balcony and look out to see older Chinese aunties stretching, walking around their rectangular sections, and chatting with their friends. Middle-aged individuals would often leave the apartment complex to play sports elsewhere or go for a long walk in the surrounding neighborhood. The younger kids would play outside till they fell asleep, and the sky was dark, often needing their parents to drag them in. In the summer, the children were especially loud and active at night, which diminished as the school year rolled around. I began to question what this information means for placemaking (Schneekloth & Shibley, 1995). What did this courtyard mean to the residents? Would that be reflected in the actions and behaviors of these residents? What made this courtyard attractive to these people from different backgrounds? How did their individual day-to-day lived experiences affect the attractiveness of that space?

This courtyard also functioned as an informal social network. This is where you run into your neighbor, whom you haven’t seen in a few weeks, or meet a stranger who you think is cool. The socialization outcomes were infinite in this courtyard. The physical presence, also known as proxemics, created this forced collision space for these individuals to get to know one another (Hall, 1966). I recall many times being asked questions by the loud little kids in the courtyard, or being asked, “Where did you get that food from? It smells amazing.” These micro-interactions build a social network we may not value on the surface. However, understanding this built social network helps explain how spaces that may not have been designed for social use become social hubs. The original architect could have simply enjoyed the idea of a courtyard and found it aesthetically pleasing. Sociality here was adaptive, a spontaneous byproduct of human interaction with the architectural layout.

The concept of belonging was also buzzing in my brain, and I wondered, who “belongs” in this apartment complex and courtyard? As an international student staying at a homestay, I had no control over which family I would be placed with. This random insertion into their already established social network served as a gift because my “in” was being a temporary visitor. I didn’t find this apartment complex through word of mouth or a website; I “fell” into it. I observed daily who stayed in this courtyard, who left, and who lingered just for a bit. How would I get in and be “initiated” into this system? I began by using the workout machines during peak hours. This is when most kids would surround the 外国人（foreigner) and ask me tons of questions about my “belonging”. Where was I from? How did I learn Chinese? What am I doing in China? All these questions began to contribute to the main idea: to exist in this courtyard, I needed to be something or someone. To refuse their questions was to reject a social invitation, and to answer was to begin the work of becoming a neighbor. The need for identity formation that these children and I were practicing was a form of performative belonging (Butler, 1990; Bell, 1999). I needed to become understandable and relatable to these children so they would trust me as a valuable asset to their social courtyard network.

The next layer of social belonging within this courtyard was linguistic use. Observing the dynamics of language socialization, I realized that linguistic competency was the primary “gate” to these localized Chinese ecosystems (Schieffelin & Ochs, 1986). I would hear stories and warnings about not going to Beijing or Shanghai if I wanted to learn “real” Chinese. Beijing and Shanghai have high levels of international English-speaking populations. For a Chinese language learner, going to an international hub was deemed “lower in return value” than going to a small, non-English-speaking place like Guilin. In these courtyards, speaking Mandarin was a major asset for connecting with the Chinese crowd. The next step was learning 桂林话（Guilin Dialect), which was mainly spoken by older adults born pre-Cultural Revolution. It was considered a sign of respect to use their chosen, more familiar dialect to connect with them. The elders would often ask me, “Do you speak Guilinhua? Do you speak any other dialects (besides Mandarin Chinese)?” However, the younger children were often not taught their village's dialect or Guilinhua, so their proficiency was in Mandarin. The elders' biases often softened once a foreigner demonstrated linguistic competency. The mere effort of learning became a proxy for respect and good intent. It was a signal that it was safe to invite this individual into their courtyard dynamic.

I began to piece together all these complex concepts into a general idea of social belonging in public spaces and the social networks it built. Through language use, designated social collision spaces, and a sense of communal belonging, I became a member of this community. I remember the day I really felt intertwined with 明珠花园(the apartment complex). I was in the elevator with a young girl and her mother, whom I often talked to in the courtyard. They addressed me by my Chinese name, 雅阁, and we exchanged small talk. No more “Where are you from?” questions; I finally belonged. But all the pieces had to fall into place, while keeping my place as the 外国人 (foreigner) I was.