"We've waited a hundred years"

Between Guinea-Bissau and Sierra-Leone, the thousand-strong crowd that had gathered at the big screen in front of the Workers' Stadium found other ways to entertain themselves. A lone Fijian cheered loudly when her fellow islanders made their entrance. A few unsuspecting Chinese onlookers lost their freak-dancing virginity to a group of Madagascarians getting all up on each other. A pair of Australians yelled "Aodaliya! Aodaliya!", proving that any language can be spoken with an Aussie accent. The rest of the crowd just fanned their exposed bellies and drank.



When Morocco came out, the bright red flag threw the crowd into a false start. A few people started to chant, awaking the rest of the mob from the lull. Close enough - Zimbabwe and Australia later, the Big Yao walked in with the real red flag.



I knew that the passion of the mob can be as ugly as it is beautiful, but it was hard not to be swept up in the moment. Critics lament that China killed the spirit of the Olympics when it decided to use the Games as a political tool. Yes, China did plant a laundry list of if-then statements in the minds of its people: if China succeeds in hosting the Olympics, then it will have finally shed the Third World label. If China can wow the world with its spectacles and athletic prowess, then it will have been the culmination, the cherry on the top of two decades of miraculous socioeconomic growth. If China can put on a good face for the world, it will have fully recovered its long-lost glory. But the International Olympics Committee already knew that was going to be the narrative when it decided to give the bid, for the first time ever, to a nation that's not considered fully Westernized. And the Chinese people needed no coaxing to buy the story. The joy I felt around me at the Workers Stadium was raw, intense and genuine. So here's another if-then: if the Olympics has the power to lift a nation of 1.3 billion people out of a century-long inferiority complex and let them stand tall again, then haven't the Games achieved their purpose?

A few minutes later, I witnessed the answer: it's not that simple. In the midst of the "Let's Go China" chant, a drunk white guy walked up to the front row of the huddle and started saying, "Let's Go Xinjiang" and "Let's Go Tibet." In a matter of seconds, I saw the mood change distinctly from awkward confusion to simmering anger. Smiles disappeared, flags drooped, and the more gung-ho chanters started yelling at him. Fortunately, a swarm of security guards came right away to escort him out. But there was a lesson: the Olympics-inspired fervor isn't just an expression of solidarity, but also insecurity. Because the if-then statements are based on such precarious grounds, anything that questions or dampens them is an an insult and worse, a threat. The bubble of hard-earned pride can only survive with exclusion and suppression.

As a Chinese person, I couldn't stand untouched by the mob. I think of my grandparents, who only two generations ago had to live through one of the worst humiliations in Chinese history, and know that I'm lucky to be witnessing this only half a century later. And the things I saw that night will stay with me for a long time to come - a woman quietly waving a Chinese flag larger than her body in front of the TV in her living room; foreigners in Communist Party regalia chanting alongside the Chinese, having no idea what the moment means to us. Nevertheless, it's useful to be vigilant of the dark side of such volatile emotions. It would prove the critics right if we let that squander the Olympic good will.