For China to really go global, we have to localize English. This will mean accepting the pointlessness of that cherished Chinese dream: to speak "perfect" English. Instead, we must learn to embrace, not laugh at, our version of the global language, Chinglish.

Just saying "Chinglish" to a Chinese speaker of English inevitably produces a nervous giggle, and a reddened cheek. It's the shame reflex, instilled by far too many years of studying "who" and "whom," of trying to wrap the head around past perfect progressives and split infinitives.

But why on earth do we struggle for mastery over rules only grammarians get worked up about, and vocabulary we'll only need if called upon to debate the finer points of Pride and Prejudice?

We Chinese are at once the greatest pragmatists and the most hopeless romantics. Our rejection of Chinglish belongs to the latter tendency. If called upon, we can make a bicycle a family conveyance, but we can't bear the thought of playing the piano with less than Rachmaninoff skill, or speaking a foreign tongue with less than native ability. Not with strangers listening.

The pity is that Chinglish, believe it or not, has the potential to be a uniquely Chinese offering. When different cultures collide on common ground, new trends are born.

Rock and roll is the child of young white post-war angst and old black blues. Manga has American pulp comics for a father and quirky Japanese aesthetics for a mother.

The trick is to accept the new while maintaining a profound respect for what you are and where you come from.

Consider Jamaican English. How many minutes do you think Usain Bolt has wasted wishing he sounded like William F. Buckley? A Jamaican may well say "Me badder dan dem," but not because he feels any deficiency in his English skills.

Jamaicans own their version of English, and use it with pride, so instead of ridicule, Jamaican patois wins cool points and admiration from Bob Marley-loving music fans worldwidely.