Sources and Suggested Readings

• Barlow, Tani E. “Gender and Identity in Ding Ling’s Mother. In Modem Chinese Women Writers: Critical Appraisals, ed. Michael S. Duke. Armonk, N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, 1989.
• Chow, Rey. Woman and Chinese Modernity: The Politics of Reading between West and East. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991.
• Ding Ling. I Myself Am a Woman: Selected Writings of Ding Ling. Ed. Tani E. Barlow with Gary J. Bjorge. Boston: Beacon Press, 1989.
• ———. The Sun Shines over the Sanggan River. Trans. Yang Hsien-yi and Gladys Yang. Peking: Foreign Languages Press, 1954.
• Feuerwerker, Yi-tsi Mei. Ding Ling’s Fiction: Ideology and Narrative in Modem Chinese Literature. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982.
• ———. “In Quest of the Writer Ding Ling.” Feminist Studies 10, 1 (Spring 1984): 65-83.
• Liu, Lydia H. “The Female Tradition in Modern Chinese Literature: Negotiating Feminisms across East/West Boundaries.” Genders 12 (Winter 1991): 22-44.
• Nienling, Liu. “The Vanguards of the Women’s Liberation Movement—Lu Yin, Bingxin, and Ding Ling.” Chinese Studies in History (Winter 1989-90): 22-45.
• Titov, A. “From the Cohort of the Unbending (In Memory of Ding Ling).” Far Eastern Affairs 1 (1988): 98-103.
• Wang, David Der-Wei. Review of I Myself Am a Woman, ed. Tani E. Barlow with Gary J. Bjorge. Journal of the American Oriental Society 111, 3 (1991): 617-18.
• Wei, William. “From Miss Sophia to Comrade Wanxiang.” American Book Review 12, 4 (September 1990).

When I Was in Xia Village (1941)

Because of the turmoil in the Political Department, Comrade Mo Yü decided to send me to stay temporarily in a neighboring village. Actually, I was already completely well, but the opportunity to rest for a while in a quiet environment and arrange my notes from the past three months did have its attractions. So I agreed to spend two weeks in Xia Village, a place about ten miles from the Political Department.

A female comrade from the Propaganda Department, who was apparently on a work assignment, went with me. Since she wasn’t a person who enjoyed conversation, however, the journey was rather lonely. Also, because her feet had once been bound and my own spirits were low, we traveled slowly. We set out in the morning, but it was nearly sunset by the time we reached our destination.

The village looked much like any other from a distance, but I knew it contained a very beautiful Catholic church that had escaped destruction and a small grove of pine trees. The place where I would be staying was in the midst of these trees, which clung to the hillside. From that spot it would be possible to look straight across to the church. By now I could see orderly rows of cave dwellings and the green trees above them. I felt content with the village.

My traveling companion had given me the impression that the village was very busy, but when we entered it, not even a single child or dog was to be seen. The only movement was dry leaves twirling about lightly in the wind. They would fly a short distance, then drop to earth again.

“This used to be an elementary school, but last year the Jap devils destroyed it. Look at those steps over there. That used to be a big classroom,” my companion, Agui, told me. She was somewhat excited now, not so reserved as she had been during the day. Pointing to a large empty courtyard, she continued: “A year and a half ago, this area was full of life. Every evening after supper, the comrades gathered here to play soccer or basketball.” Becoming more agitated, she asked, “Why isn’t anyone here? Should we go to the assembly hall or head up the hill? We don’t know where they’ve Page 359 →taken our luggage either. We have to straighten that out first.”

On the wall next to the gate of the village assembly hall, many white paper slips had been pasted. They read “Office of the [Communist] Association,” “Xia Village Branch of the [Communist] Association,” and so on. But when we went inside, we couldn’t find a soul. It was completely quiet, with only a few tables set about. We were both standing there dumbly when suddenly a man rushed in. He looked at us for a moment, seemed about to ask us something, but swallowed his words and prepared to dash away. We called to him to stop, however, and made him answer our questions.

“The people of the village? They’ve all gone to the west door. Baggage? Hmm. Yes, there was baggage. It was carried up the hill some time ago to Liu Erma’s home.” As he talked, he sized us up.

Learning that he was a member of the Peasant’s Salvation Association, we asked him to accompany us up the hill and also asked him to deliver a note to one of the local comrades. He agreed to take the note, but he wouldn’t go with us. He seemed impatient and ran off by himself.

The street too was very quiet. The doors of several shops were closed. Others were still open, exposing pitch-black interiors. We^? still couldn’t find anyone. Fortunately, Agui was familiar with the village and led me up the hill. It was already dark. The winter sun sets very quickly.

The hill was not high, and a large number of stone cave dwellings were scattered here and there from the bottom to the top. In a few places, people were standing out in front peering into the distance. Agui knew very well that we had not yet reached our destination, but whenever we met someone she asked, “Is this the way to Liu Erma’s house?” “How far is it to Liu Erma’s house?” “Could you please tell me the way to Liu Erma’s house?” Or, she would ask, “Did you notice any baggage being sent to Liu Erma’s house? Is Liu Erma home?”

The answers we received always satisfied us, and this continued right up to the most distant and highest house, which was the Liu family’s. Two small dogs were the first to greet us. Then a woman came out and asked who we were. As soon as they heard it was me, two more women came out. Holding a lantern, they escorted us into the courtyard and then into a cave on the side toward the east. The cave was virtually empty. On the kang under the window were piled my bedroll, my small leather carrying case, and Agui’s quilt.

Some of the people there knew Agui. They took her hand and asked her many questions, and after a Page 360 →while they led her out, leaving me alone in the room. I arranged my bed and was about to lie down when suddenly they all crowded back in again. One of Liu Erma’s daughters-in-law was carrying a bowl of noodles. Agui, Liu Erma, and a young girl were holding bowls, chopsticks, and a dish of onions and pepper. The young girl also brought in a brazier of burning coal.

Attentively, they urged me to eat some noodles and touched my hands and arms. Liu Erma and her daughter-in-law also sat down on the kang. There was an air of mystery about them as they continued the conversation interrupted by their entry into the room.

At first I thought I had caused their amazement, but gradually I realized that this wasn’t the case. They were interested in only one thing—the topic of their conversation. Since all I heard were a few fragmentary sentences, I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. This was especially true of what Liu Erma said because she frequently lowered her voice, as if afraid that someone might overhear her. Agui had changed completely. She now appeared quite capable and was very talkative. She listened closely to what the others were saying and seemed able to grasp the essence of their words. The daughter-in-law and the young girl said little. At times they added a word or two, but for the most part they just listened intently to what Agui and Liu Erma were saying. They seemed afraid to miss a single word.

Suddenly the courtyard was filled with noise. A large number of people had rushed in, and they all seemed to be talking at once. Liu Erma and the others climbed nervously off the kang and hurried outside. Without thinking, I followed along behind them to see what was happening.

By this time the courtyard was in complete darkness. Two red paper lanterns bobbed and weaved above the crowd. I worked my way into the throng and looked around. I couldn’t see anything. The others also were squeezing in for no apparent reason. They seemed to want to say more, but they did not. I heard only simple exchanges that confused me even more.

“Yüwa, are you here too?”

“Have you seen her yet?”

“Yes, I’ve seen her. I was a little afraid.”

“What is there to be afraid of? She’s just a human being, and prettier than ever too.”

At first I was sure that they were talking about a new bride, but people said that wasn’t so. Then I thought there was a prisoner present, but that was wrong too. I followed the crowd to the doorway of the central cave, but all there was to see was more people packed tightly together. Thick smoke obscured my vision, so I had no choice but to back away. Others were also leaving by now, and the courtyard was much less crowded.

Since I couldn’t sleep, I set about rearranging my carrying case by the lantern light. I paged through several notebooks, looked at photographs, and sharpened some pencils. I was obviously tired, but I also felt the kind of excitement that comes just before a new life begins. I prepared a time schedule for myself and was determined to adhere to it, beginning the very next day.

At that moment there was a mans voice at the door. “Are you asleep, comrade?” Before I could reply, the fellow entered the room. He was about twenty years old, a rather refined-looking country youth. “I received Director Mos letter some time ago,” he said. “This area is relatively quiet. Don’t worry about a thing. That’s my job. If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask Liu Erma. Director Mo said you wanted to stay here for two weeks. Fine. If you enjoy your visit, we’d be happy to have you stay longer. I live in a neighboring cave, just below these. If you need me, just send someone to find me.”

He declined to come up on the kang, and since there was no bench on the floor to sit on, I jumped down and said, “Ah! You must be Comrade Ma. Did you receive the note I sent you? Please sit down and talk for a while.”

I knew that he held a position of some responsibility in the village. As a student he had not yet finished junior high school.

“They tell me you’ve written a lot of books,” he responded. “It’s too bad we haven’t seen a single one.” As he spoke he looked at my open carrying case that was lying on the kang. Our conversation turned to the subject of the local level of study. Then he said, “After you’ve rested for a few days, we’ll definitely invite you to give a talk. It can be to a mass meeting or to a training class. In any case, you’ll certainly be able to help us. Our most difficult task here is "cultural recreation.’”

I had seen many young men like him at the Front. When I first met them, I was always amazed. I felt that these youth, who were somewhat remote from me, were really changing fast. Changing the subject, I asked him, “What was going on just now?”

“Zhenzhen, the daughter of Liu Dama, has returned,” he answered. “I never thought she could be so great.” I immediately sensed a joyful, radiant twinkle in his eyes. As I was about to ask another question, he added, “She’s come back from the Japanese area. She’s been working there for over a year.”

“Oh my!” I gasped.

He was about to tell me more when someone outside called for him. All he could say was that he’d be sure to have Zhenzhen call on me the next day. As if to provoke my interest further, he added that Zhenzhen must certainly have a lot of material for stories.

It was very late when Agui came back. She lay down on the kang but could not sleep. She tossed and turned and sighed continuously. I was very tired, but I still wished that she would tell me something about the events of the evening.

“No, comrade,” she said. “I can’t talk about it now. I’m too upset. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Ahh . . . How miserable it is to be a woman.” After this she covered her head with her quilt and lay completely still, no longer sighing. I didn’t know when she finally fell asleep.

Early the next morning I stepped outside for a stroll, and before I knew it I had walked down to the village. I went into a general store to rest and buy red dates for Liu Erma to put in the rice porridge. As soon as the owner learned that I was living with Liu Erma, his small eyes narrowed and he asked me in a low, excited voice, “Did you get a look at her niece? I hear her disease has even taken her nose. That’s because she was abused by the Jap devils.” Turning his head, he called to his wife, who was standing in the inner doorway, “She has nerve, coming home! It’s revenge against her father, Liu Fusheng.”

“That girl was always frivolous. You saw the way she used to roam around the streets. Wasn’t she Xia Dabao’s old flame? If he hadn’t been poor, wouldn’t she have married him a long time ago?” As she finished speaking, the old woman lifted her skirts and came into the store.

The owner turned his face back toward me and said, “There are so many rumors.” His eyes stopped blinking and his expression became very serious. “It’s said that she has slept with at least a hundred men. Humph! I’ve heard that she even became the wife of a Japanese officer. Such a shameful woman should not be allowed to return.”

Not wanting to argue with him, I held back my anger and left. I didn’t look back, but felt that he had again narrowed his small eyes and was feeling smug as he watched me walk away. As I neared the corner by the Catholic church, I overheard a conversation by two women who were drawing water at the well. One said, “She sought out Father Lu and told him she definitely wanted to be a nun. When Father Lu asked her for a reason, she didn’t say a word, just cried. Who knows what she did there? Now she’s worse than a prostitute...”

“Yesterday they told me she walks with a limp. Achh! How can she face people?”

“Someone said she’s even wearing a gold ring that a Jap devil gave her!”

“I understand she’s been as far away as Datong and has seen many things. She can even speak Japanese.”

My walk was making me unhappy, so I returned home. Since Agui had already gone out, I sat alone in my room and read a small pamphlet. After a while, I raised my eyes and noticed two large baskets for storing grain sitting near the wall. They must have had a long history, because they were as black as the wall itself. Opening the movable portion of the paper window, I peered out at the gray sky. The weather had changed completely from what it had been when I arrived the day before. The hard ground of the courtyard had been swept clean, and at the far edge a tree with a few withered branches stood out starkly against the leaden sky. There wasn’t a single person to be seen.

I opened my carrying case, took out pen and paper, and wrote two letters. I wondered why Agui had not yet returned. I had forgotten that she had work to do. I was somehow thinking that she had come to be my companion. The days of winter are very short, but right then I was feeling that they were even longer than summer days.

Some time later, the young girl who had been in my room the night before came out into the courtyard. I immediately jumped down off the kang, stepped out the door, and called to her, but she just looked at me and smiled before rushing into another cave. I walked around the courtyard twice and then stopped to watch a hawk fly into the grove of trees by the church. The courtyard there had many large trees. I started walking again and, on the right side of the courtyard, picked up the sound of a woman crying. She was trying to stop, frequently blowing her nose.

I tried hard to control myself. I thought about why I was here and about all my plans. I had to rest and live according to the time schedule I had made. I returned to my room, but I couldn’t sleep and had no interest in writing in my notebook.

Fortunately, a short while later Liu Erma came to see me. The young girl was with her, and her daughter-in-law arrived soon after. The three of them climbed up on the kang and took seats around the small brazier. The young girl looked closely at my things, which were laid out on the little square kang table.

“At that time no one could take care of anyone else,” Liu Erma said, talking about the Japanese attack on Xia Village a year and a half before. "Those of us who lived on the hilltop were luckier. We could run away quickly. Many who lived in the village could not escape. Apparently it was all fate. Just then, on that day, our family’s Zhenzhen had run over to the Catholic church. Only later did we learn that her unhappiness about what was happening had caused her to go to talk to the foreign priest about becoming a nun. Her father was in the midst of negotiating a marriage for her with the young proprietor of a rice store in Xiliu Village. He was almost thirty, a widower, and his family was well respected. We all said he would be a good match, but Zhenzhen said no and broke into tears before her father. In other matters, her father had always deferred to her wishes, but in this case the old man was adamant. He had no son and had always wanted to betroth his daughter to a good man. Who would have thought that Zhenzhen would turn around in anger and run off to the Catholic church. It was at that moment that the Japs caught her. How could her mother and father help grieving?”

"Was that her mother crying?”

"Yes.”

"And your niece?”

"Well, she’s really just a child. When she came back yesterday, she cried for a long time, but today she went to the assembly in high spirits. She’s only eighteen.”

"I heard she was the wife of a Japanese. Is that true?”

"It’s hard to say. We haven’t been able to find out for sure. There are many rumors, of course. She’s contracted a disease, but how could anyone keep clean in such a place? The possibility of her marrying the merchant seems to be over. Who would want a woman who was abused by the Jap devils? She definitely has the disease. Last night she said so herself. This time she’s changed a lot. When she talks about those devils, she shows no more emotion than if she were talking about an ordinary meal at home. She’s only eighteen, but she has no sense of embarrassment at all.”

"Xia Dabao came again today,” the daughter-in-law said quietly, her questioning eyes fixed on Erma.

“Who is Xia Dabao?” I asked.

"He’s a young man who works in the village flour mill,” replied Liu Erma. "When he was young, he and Zhenzhen were classmates for a year. They like each other very much, but his family was poor, even poorer than ours. He didn’t dare do anything, but our Zhenzhen was head over heels in love with him and kept clinging to him. Then she was upset when he didn’t respond. Isn’t it because of him that she wanted to be a nun? After Zhenzhen fell into the hands of the Jap devils, he often came to see her parents. At first just the sight of him made Zhenzhen’s father angry. At times he cursed him, but Xia Dabao would say nothing. After a scolding he would leave and then come back another day. Dabao is really a good boy. Now he’s even Page 362 →a squad leader in the self-defense corps. Today he came once again, apparently to talk with Zhenzhen’s mother about marrying Zhenzhen. All I could hear was her crying. Later he left in tears himself.”

“Does he know about your niece’s situation?”

“How could he help knowing? There is no one in this village who doesn’t know everything. They all know more than we do ourselves.”

“Mother, everyone says the Xia Dabao is foolish,” the young girl interjected.

“Humph! The boy has a good conscience. I approve of this match. Since the Jap devils came, who has any money? Judging from the words of Zhen-zhen’s parents, I think they approve too. If not him, who? Even without mentioning her disease, her reputation is enough to deter anyone.”

“He was the one wearing the dark blue jacket and the copper-colored felt hat with the turned-up brim,” the young girl said. Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity, and she seemed to understand this matter very well.

His figure began to take shape in my memory. When I went out for my walk earlier that morning, I had seen an alert, honest-looking young man who fit this description. He had been standing outside my courtyard, but had not shown any intention of coming in. On my way home, I had seen him again, this time emerging from the pine woods beyond the cave dwellings. I had thought he was someone from my courtyard or from a neighboring one and hadn’t paid much attention to him. As I recalled him now, I felt that he was a rather capable man, not a bad young man at all.

I now feared that my plan for rest and recuperation could not be realized. Why were my thoughts so confused? I wasn’t particularly anxious to meet anybody, and yet my mind still couldn’t rest. Agui had come in during the conversation, and now she seemed to sense my feelings. As she went out with the others, she gave me a knowing smile. I understood her meaning and busied myself with arranging the kang. My bedroll, the lamp, and the fire all seemed much brighter. I had just placed the tea kettle on the fire when Agui returned. Behind her I heard another person.

“We have a guest, comrade!” Agui called. Even before she finished speaking, I heard someone giggling.

Standing in the doorway, I grasped the hands of this person whom I had not seen before. They were burning hot, and I couldn’t help being a bit startled. She followed Agui up onto the kang and sat down. A single long braid hung down her back.

In the eyes of the new arrival, the cave that depressed me seemed to be something new and fresh. She looked around at everything with an excited glint in her eyes. She sat opposite me, her body tilted back slightly and her two hands spread apart on the bedroll for support. She didn’t seem to want to say anything. Her eyes finally came to rest on my face.

The shadows lengthened her eyes and made her chin quite pointed. But even though her eyes were in deep shadow, her pupils shone brightly in the light of the lamp and the fire. They were like two open windows in a summer home in the country, clear and clean.

I didn’t know how to begin a conversation without touching an open wound and hurting her self-respect. So my first move was to pour her a cup of hot tea.

It was Zhenzhen who spoke first: “Are you a Southerner? I think so. You aren’t like the people from this province.”

“Have you seen many Southerners?” I asked, thinking it best to talk about what she wanted to talk about.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes still fixed on me, she added, “I’ve only seen a few. They always seem a little different. I like you people from the South. Southern women, unlike us, can all read many, many books. I want to study with you. Will you teach me?”

I expressed my willingness to do so, and she quickly continued, “Japanese women also can read a lot of books. All those devil soldiers carried a few well-written letters, some from wives, some from girlfriends. Some were written by girls they didn’t even know. They would include a photograph and use syrupy language. I don’t know if those girls were sincere or not, but they always made the devils hold their letters to their hearts like precious treasures.”

“I understand that you can speak Japanese,” I said. “Is that true?”

Her face flushed slightly before she replied, in a very open manner, “I was there for such a long time. I went around and around for over a year. I can speak a fair amount. Being able to understand their language had many advantages.”

“Did you go to a lot of different places with them?”

“I wasn’t always with the same unit. People think that because I was the wife of a Jap officer I enjoyed luxury. Actually, I came back here twice before. Altogether, this is my third time. I was ordered to go on this last mission. There was no choice. I was familiar with the area, the work was important, and it was impossible to find anyone else in a short time. I won’t be sent back anymore. They’re going to treat my disease. That’s fine with me because I’ve missed my dad and mom, and I’m glad to be able to come back to see them. My mother, though, is really hopeless. When I’m not home, she cries. When I’m here, she still cries.”

“You must have known many hardships.”

“She has endured unthinkable suffering,” Agui interrupted, her face twisted in a pained expression. In a voice breaking with emotion, she added, “It’s a real tragedy to be a woman, isn’t it, Zhenzhen?” She slid over to be next to her.

“Suffering?” Zhenzhen asked, her thoughts apparently far, far away. “Right now I can’t say for certain. Some things were hard to endure at the time, but when I recall them now they don’t seem like much. Other things were no problem to do when I did them, but when I think about them now I’m very sad. More than a year... It’s all past. Since I came back this time, a great many people have looked at me strangely. As far as the people of this village are concerned, I’m an outsider. Some are very friendly to me. Others avoid me. The members of my family are just the same. They all like to steal looks at me. Nobody treats me the way they used to. Have I changed? I’ve thought about this a great deal, and I don’t think I’ve changed at all. If I have changed, maybe it’s that my heart has become somewhat harder. But could anyone spend time in such a place and not become hardhearted? People have no choice. They’re forced to be like that!”

There was no outward sign of her disease. Her complexion was ruddy. Her voice was clear. She showed no signs of inhibition or rudeness. She did not exaggerate. She gave the impression that she had never had any complaints or sad thoughts. Finally, I could restrain myself no longer and asked her about her disease.

“People are always like that, even if they find themselves in worse situations. They brace themselves and see it through. Can you just give up and die? Later, after I made contact with our own people, I became less afraid. As I watched the Jap devils suffer defeat in battle and the guerrillas take action on all sides as a result of the tricks I was playing, I felt better by the day. I felt that even though my life was hard, I could still manage. Somehow I had to find a way to survive, and if at all possible, to live a life that was meaningful. That’s why I’m pleased that they intend to treat my disease. It will be better to be cured. Actually, these past few days I haven’t felt too bad. On the way home, I stayed in Zhangjiayi for two days and was given two shots and some medicine to take orally. The worst time was in the fall. I was told that my insides were rotting away, and then, because of some important information and the fact that no one could be found to take my place, I had to go back. That night I walked alone in the dark for ten miles. Every single step was painful. My mind was filled with the desire to sit down and rest. If the work hadn’t been so important, I definitely wouldn’t have gone back. But I had to. Ahh! I was afraid I might be recognized by the Jap devils, and I was also worried about missing my rendezvous. After it was over, I slept for a full week before I could pull myself together. It really isn’t all that easy to die, is it?”

Without waiting for me to respond, she continued on with her story. At times she stopped talking and looked at us. Perhaps she was searching for reactions on our faces. Or maybe she was only thinking of something else. I could see that Agui was more troubled than Zhenzhen. For the most part she sat in silence, and when she did speak, it was only for a sentence or two. Her words gave voice to a limitless sympathy for Zhenzhen, but her expression when silent revealed even more clearly how moved she was by what Zhenzhen was saying. Her soul was being crushed. She herself was feeling the suffering that Zhenzhen had known before.

It was my impression that Zhenzhen had no intention whatever of trying to elicit sympathy from others. Even as others took upon themselves part of the misfortune that she had suffered, she seemed unaware of it. But that very fact made others feel even more sympathetic. It would have been better if, instead of listening to her recount the events of this period with a calmness that almost made you think she was talking about someone else, you could have heard her cry. Probably you would have cried with her, but you would have felt better.

After a while Agui began to cry, and Zhenzhen turned to comfort her. There were many things that I had wanted to discuss with Zhenzhen, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I wished to remain silent. After Zhenzhen left, I forced myself to read by the lamp for an hour. Not once did I look at Agui or ask her a question, even though she was lying very close to me, even though she tossed and turned and sighed all the time, unable to fall asleep.

After this Zhenzhen came to talk with me every day. She did not talk about herself alone. She very often showed great curiosity about many aspects of my life that were beyond her own experiences. At times, when my words were far removed from her life, it was obvious that she was struggling to understand, but nevertheless she listened intently. The two of us also took walks together down to the village. The youth were very good to her. Naturally, they were all activists. People like the owner of the general store, however, always gave us cold, steely stares. They disliked and despised Zhenzhen. They even treated me as someone not of their kind. This was especially true of the women, who, all because of Zhenzhen, became extremely self-righteous, perceiving themselves as saintly and pure. They were proud about never having been raped.

After Agui left the village, I grew even closer to Page 364 →Zhenzhen. It seemed that neither of us could be without the other. As soon as we were apart, we thought of each other. I like people who are enthusiastic and lively, who can be really happy or sad, and at the same time are straightforward and candid. Zhenzhen was just such a person. Our conversations took up a great deal of time, but I always felt that they were beneficial to my studies and to my personal growth. As the days went by, however, I discovered that Zhenzhen was not being completely open about something. I did not resent this. Moreover, I was determined not to touch upon this secret of hers. All people have things buried deeply in their hearts that they don’t want to tell others. This secret was a matter of private emotions. It had nothing to do with other people or with Zhenzhen’s own morality.

A few days before my departure, Zhenzhen suddenly began to appear very agitated. Nothing special seemed to have happened, and she showed no desire to talk to me about anything new. Yet she frequently came to my room looking disturbed and restless, and after sitting for a few minutes, she would get up and leave. I knew she had not eaten well for several days and was often passing up meals. I had asked her about her disease and knew that the cause of her uneasiness was not simply physical. Sometimes, after coming to my room, she would make a few disjointed remarks. At other times, she put on an attentive expression, as if asking me to talk. But I could see that her thoughts were elsewhere, on things that she didn’t want others to know. She was trying to conceal her emotions by acting as if nothing was wrong.

Twice I saw that capable young man come out of Zhenzhen’s home. I had already compared my impression of him with Zhenzhen, and I sympathized with him deeply. Zhenzhen had been abused by many men, and had contracted a stigmatized, hard-to-cure disease, but he still patiently came to see her and still sought the approval of her parents to marry her. He didn’t look down on her. He did not fear the derision or the rebukes of others. He must have felt she needed him more than ever. He understood what kind of attitude a man should have toward the woman of his choice at such a time and what his responsibilities were.

But what of Zhenzhen? Although naturally there were many aspects of her emotions and her sorrows that I had not learned during this short period, she had never expressed any hope that a man would marry her or, if you will, comfort her. I thought she had become so hard because she had been hurt so badly. She seemed not to want anything from anyone. It would be good if love, some extraordinarily sympathetic commiseration, could warm her soul. I wanted her to find a place where she could cry this out. I was hoping for a chance to attend a wedding in this family. At the very least, I wanted to hear of an agreement to marry before I left.

“What is Zhenzhen thinking of?” I asked myself. “This can’t be delayed indefinitely, and it shouldn’t be turned into a big problem.”

One day Liu Erma, her daughter-in-law, and her young daughter all came to see me. I was sure they intended to give me a report on something, but when they started to speak, I didn’t allow them the opportunity to tell me anything. If my friend wouldn’t confide in me, and I wouldn’t ask her about it directly, then I felt it would be harmful to her, to myself, and to our friendship to ask others about it.

That same evening at dusk, the courtyard was again filled with people milling about. All the neighbors were there, whispering to one another. Some looked sad, but here were also those who appeared to find it all exciting. The weather was frigid, but curiosity warmed their hearts. In the severe cold, they drew in their shoulders, hunched their backs, thrust their hands into their sleeves, puffed out their breath, and looked at each other as if they were investigating something very interesting.

At first all I heard was the sound of quarreling coming from Liu Dama’s dwelling. Then I heard Liu Dama crying. This was followed by the sound of a man crying. As far as I can tell, it was Zhenzhen’s father. Next came a crash of dishes breaking. Unable to bear it any longer, I pushed my way through the curious onlookers and rushed inside.

“You’ve come at just the right time,” Liu Erma said as she pulled me inside. “You talk to our Zhenzhen.”

Zhenzhen’s face was hidden by her long disheveled hair, but two wild eyes could still be seen peering out at the people gathered there. I walked over to her and stood beside her, but she seemed completely oblivious to my presence. Perhaps she took me as one of the enemy and not worth a moment’s concern. Her appearance had changed so completely that I could hardly remember the liveliness, the bright pleasantness I had found in her before. She was like a cornered animal. She was like an evening goddess. Whom did she hate? Why was her expression so fierce?

“You’re so heartless. You don’t think about your mother and father at all. You don’t care how much I’ve suffered because of you in the last year.” Liu Dama pounded on the kang as she scolded her daughter, tears like raindrops dropping to the kang or the floor and flowing down the contours of her face. Several women had surrounded her and were preventing her from coming down off the kang. It was frightening to see a person lose her self-respect and allow all her feelings to come out in a blind rage. I thought of telling her that such crying was useless, but at the same time, Page 365 →I realized that nothing I could say now would make any difference.

Zhenzhen’s father looked very weak and old. His hands hung down limply. He was sighing deeply. Xia Dabao was seated beside him. There was a helpless look in his eyes as he stared at the old couple.

"You must say something. Don’t you feel sorry for your mother?”

"When the end of a road is reached, one must turn. After water has flowed as far as it can, it must change direction. Aren’t you going to change at all? Why make yourself suffer?” The women were trying to persuade Zhenzhen with such words.

I could see that this affair could not turn out the way that everyone was hoping. Zhenzhen had shown me much earlier that she didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. She, in turn, had no sympathy for anyone else. She had made her decision long ago and would not change. If people wanted to call her stubborn, then so be it. With teeth tightly clenched, she looked ready to stand up to all of them.

At last the others agreed to listen to me, and I asked Zhenzhen to come to my room and rest. I told them that everything could be discussed later that night. But when I led Zhenzhen out of the house, she did not follow me to my room. Instead, she ran off up the hillside.

“That girl has big ideas.”

“Humph! She looks down on us country folk.”

“She’s such a cheap little hussy and yet she puts on such airs. Xia Dabao deserves it...”

These were some of the comments being made by the crowd in the courtyard. Then, when they realized that there was no longer anything of interest to see, the crowd drifted away.

I hesitated for a while in the courtyard before deciding to go up the hillside myself. On the top of the hill were numerous graves set among the pine trees. Broken stone tablets stood before them. No one was there. Not even the sound of a falling leaf broke the stillness. I ran back and forth calling Zhenzhen’s name. What sounded like a response temporarily comforted my loneliness, but in an instant the vast silence of the hills became even deeper. The colors of sunset had completely faded. All around me a thin, smokelike mist rose silently and spread out to the middle slopes of the hills, both nearby and in the distance. I was worried and sat down weakly on a tombstone. Over and over I asked myself, “Should I go on up the hill or wait for her here?” I was hoping that I could relieve Zhenzhen of some of her distress.

At that moment I saw a shadow moving toward me from below. I quickly saw that it was Xia Dabao. I remained silent, hoping that he wouldn’t see me and would continue on up the hill, but he came straight at me. At last I felt that I had to greet him and called, “Have you found her? I still haven’t seen her.”

He walked over to me and sat down on the dry grass. He said nothing, only stared into the distance. I felt a little uneasy. He really was very young. His eyebrows were long and thin. His eyes were quite large, but now they looked dull and lifeless. His small mouth was tightly drawn. Perhaps before it had been appealing, but now it was full of anguish, as if trying to hold in his pain. He had an honest-looking nose, but of what use was it to him now?

“Don’t be sad,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow everything will be all right. I’ll talk to her this evening.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow—she’ll always hate me. I know that she hates me.” He spoke in a sad low voice that was slightly hoarse.

“No,” I replied, searching my memory. “She has never shown me that she hates anyone.” This was not a lie.

“She wouldn’t tell you. She wouldn’t tell anyone. She won’t forgive me as long as she lives.”

“Why should she hate you?”

“Of course—” he began. Suddenly he turned his face toward me and looked at me intently. “Tell me,” he said, “at that time I had nothing. Should I have encouraged her to run away with me? Is all of this my fault? Is it?”

He didn’t wait for my answer. As if speaking to himself, he went on, “It is my fault. Could anyone say that I did the right thing? Didn’t I bring this harm to her? If I had been as brave as she, she never would have—I know her character. She’ll always hate me. Tell me, what should I do? What would she want me to do? How can I make her happy? My life is worthless. Am I of even the slightest use to her? Can you tell me? I simply don’t know what I should do. Ahhh! How miserable things are! This is worse than being captured by the Jap devils.” Without a break, he continued to mumble on and on.

When I asked him to go back home with me, he stood up and we took several steps together. Then he stopped and said that he had heard a sound coming from the very top of the hill. There was nothing to do but encourage him to go on up, and I watched until he had disappeared into the thick pines. Then I started back. By now it was almost completely dark. It was very late when I went to bed that night, but I still hadn’t received any news. I didn’t know what had happened to them.

Even before I ate breakfast the next morning, I finished packing my suitcase. Comrade Ma had promised that he would be coming this day to help me move, and I was all prepared to return to the Political Page 366 →Department and then go on to [my next assignment]. The enemy was about to start another “mopping-up campaign,” and my health would not permit me to remain in this area. Director Mo had said that the ill definitely had to be moved out first, but I felt uneasy. Should I try to stay? If I did, I could be a burden to others. What about leaving? If I went, would I ever be able to return? As I was sitting on my bedroll pondering these questions, I sensed someone slipping quietly into my room.

With a single thrust of her body, Zhenzhen jumped up onto the kang and took a seat opposite me. I could see that her face was slightly swollen, and when I grasped her hands as she spread them over the fire, the heat that had made such an impression on me before once again distressed me. Then and there I realized how serious her disease was.

“Zhenzhen,” I said, “I’m about to leave. I don't know when we'll meet again. I hope you’ll listen to your mother—”

“I have come to tell you,” she interrupted, “that I’ll be leaving tomorrow too. I want to leave home as soon as possible.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, her face again revealing that special vibrancy. “They’ve told me to go in for medical treatment.”

“Ah,” I sighed, thinking that perhaps we could travel together. “Does your mother know?”

“No, she doesn’t know yet. But if I say that I’m going for medical treatment and that after my disease is cured I’ll come back, she’ll be sure to let me go. Just staying at home doesn’t have anything to offer, does it?”

At this moment I felt that she had a rare serenity about her. I recalled the words that Xia Dabao had spoken to me the previous evening and asked her directly, “Has the problem of your marriage been resolved?”

“Resolved? Oh, well, it’s all the same.”

“Did you heed your mother’s advice?” I still didn’t dare express my hopes for her. I didn’t want to think of the image left in my mind by that young man. I was hoping that someday he would be happy.

“Why should I listen to what they say? Did they ever listen to me?”

“Well, are you really angry with them?”

There was no response.

“Well, then, do you really hate Xia Dabao?”

For a long time she did not reply. Then, in a very calm voice, she said, “I can’t say that I hate him. I just feel now that I’m someone who’s diseased. It’s a fact that I was abused by a large number of Jap devils. I don’t remember the exact number. In any case, I’m unclean, and with such a black mark I don’t expect any good fortune to come my way. I feel that living among strangers and keeping busy would be better than living at home where people know me. Now that they’ve approved sending me to [Yan’an] for treatment, I’ve been thinking about staying there and doing some studying. I hear it’s a big place with lots of schools and that anyone can attend. It’s better for each of us to go our own separate ways than it is to have everyone stay together in one place. I’m doing this for myself, but I’m also doing it for the others. I don’t feel that I owe anyone an apology. Neither do I feel especially happy. What I do feel is that after I go to [Yan’an], I’ll be in a new situation. I will be able to start life fresh. A person’s life is not just for one’s father and mother, or even for oneself. Some have called me young, inexperienced, and bad-tempered. I don’t dispute it. There are some things that I just have to keep to myself.”

I was amazed. Something new was coming out of her. I felt that what she had said was really worth examining. There was nothing for me to do but express approval of her plan.

When I took my departure, Zhenzhen’s family was there to see me off. She, however, had gone to the village office. I didn’t see Xia Dabao before I left either.

I wasn’t sad as I went away. I seemed to see the bright future that Zhenzhen had before her. The next day I would be seeing her again. That had been decided. And we would still be together for some time. As soon as Comrade Ma and I walked out the door of Zhenzhen’s home, he told me of her decision and confirmed that what she had told me that morning would quickly come to pass.

(Translated by Gary J. Bjorge)

Thoughts on March 8 (1942)

When will it no longer be necessary to attach special weight to the word “woman” and raise it specially?

Each year this day comes round. Every year on this day, meetings are held all over the world where women muster their forces. Even though things have not been as lively these last two years in Yan’an as they were in previous years, it appears that at least a few people are busy at work here. And there will certainly be a congress, speeches, circular telegrams, and articles.

Women in Yan’an are happier than women elsewhere in China. So much so that many people ask enviously: “How come the women comrades get so rosy and fat on millet?” It doesn’t seem to surprise anyone that women make up a big proportion of the Page 367 →staff in the hospitals, sanatoria, and clinics, but they are inevitably the subject of conversation, as a fascinating problem, on every conceivable occasion.

Moreover, all kinds of women comrades are often the target of deserved criticism. In my view these reproaches are serious and justifiable.

People are always interested when women comrades get married, but that is not enough for them. It is virtually impossible for women comrades to get onto friendly terms with a man comrade, and even less likely for them to become friendly with more than one. Cartoonists ridicule them: “A departmental head getting married too?” The poets say, “All the leaders in Yan’an are horsemen, and none of them are artists. In Yan’an it’s impossible for an artist to find a pretty sweetheart.” But in other situations, they are lectured: “Damn it, you look down on us old cadres and say we’re country bumpkins. But if it weren’t for us country bumpkins, you wouldn’t be coming to Yan’an to eat millet!” But women invariably want to get married. (It’s even more of a sin not to be married, and single women are even more of a target for rumors and slanderous gossip.) So they can’t afford to be choosy, anyone will do: whether he rides horses or wears straw sandals, whether he’s an artist or a supervisor. They inevitably have children. The fate of such children is various. Some are wrapped in soft baby wool and patterned felt and looked after by governesses. Others are wrapped in soiled cloth and left crying in their parents’ beds, while their parents consume much of the child allowance. But for this allowance (twenty-five yuan a month, or just over three pounds of pork), many of them would probably never get a taste of meat. Whoever they marry, the fact is that those women who are compelled to bear children will probably be publicly derided as “Noras who have returned home.” Those women comrades in a position to employ governesses can go out once a week to a prim get-together and dance. Behind their backs there will also be the most incredible gossip and whispering campaigns, but as soon as they go somewhere, they cause a great stir and all eyes are glued to them. This has nothing to do with our theories, our doctrines, and the speeches we make at meetings. We all know this to be a fact, a fact that is right before our eyes, but it is never mentioned.

It is the same with divorce. In general there are three conditions to pay attention to when getting married: (1) political purity; (2) both parties should be more or less the same age and comparable in looks; (3) mutual help. Even though everyone is said to fulfill these conditions—as for point 1, there are no open traitors in Yan’an; as for point 3, you can call anything “mutual help,” including darning socks, patching shoes, and even feminine comfort—everyone nevertheless makes a great show of giving thoughtful attention to them. And yet the pretext for divorce is invariably the wife’s political backwardness. I am the first to admit that it is a shame when a man’s wife is not progressive and retards his progress. But let us consider to what degree they are backward. Before marrying, they were inspired by the desire to soar in the heavenly heights and lead a life of bitter struggle. They got married partly because of physiological necessity and partly as a response to sweet talk about “mutual help.” Thereupon they are forced to toil away and become “Noras returned home.” Afraid of being thought “backward,” those who are a bit more daring rush around begging nurseries to take their children. They ask for abortions and risk punishment and even death by secretly swallowing potions to produce abortions. But the answer comes back: “Isn’t giving birth to children also work? You’re just after an easy life; you want to be in the limelight. After all, what indispensable political work have you performed? Since you are so frightened of having children and are not willing to take responsibility once you have had them, why did you get married in the first place? No one forced you to.” Under these conditions, it is impossible for women to escape this destiny of “backwardness.” When women capable of working sacrifice their careers for the joys of motherhood, people always sing their praises. But after ten years or so, they have no way of escaping the tragedy of “backwardness.” Even from my point of view, as a woman, there is nothing attractive about such “backward” elements. Their skin is beginning to wrinkle, their hair is growing thin, and fatigue is robbing them of their last traces of attractiveness. It should be self-evident that they are in a tragic situation. But whereas in the old society they would probably have been pitied and considered unfortunate, nowadays their tragedy is seen as something self-inflicted, as their just deserts. Is it not so that there is a discussion going on in legal circles as to whether divorces should be granted simply on the petition of one party or on the basis of mutual agreement? In the great majority of cases, it is the husband who petitions for divorce. For the wife to do so, she must be leading an immoral life, and then of course she deserves to be cursed.

I myself am a woman, and I therefore understand the failings of women better than others. But I also have a deeper understanding of what they suffer. Women are incapable of transcending the age they live in, of being perfect, or of being hard as steel. They are incapable of resisting all the temptations of society or all the silent oppression they suffer here in Yan’an. They each have their own past written in blood and tears; they have experienced great emotions—in elation as in depression, whether engaged in the lone Page 368 →battle of life or drawn into the humdrum stream of life. This is even truer of the women comrades who come to Yan’an, and I therefore have much sympathy for those fallen and classified as criminals. What is more, I hope that men, especially those in top positions, as well as women themselves, will consider the mistakes women commit in their social context. It would be better if there were less empty theorizing and more talk about real problems, so that theory and practice would not be divorced, and better if all Communist Party members were more responsible for their own moral conduct. But we must also hope for a little more from our women comrades, especially those in Yan’an. We must urge ourselves on and develop our comradely feeling.

People without ability have never been in a position to seize everything. Therefore, if women want equality, they must first strengthen themselves. There is no need to stress this point, since we all understand it. Today there are certain to be people who make fine speeches bragging about the need to acquire political power first. I would simply mention a few things that any frontliner, whether a proletarian, a fighter in the war of resistance, or a woman, should pay attention to in his or her everyday life:

1. Don’t allow yourself to fall ill. A wild life can at times appear romantic, poetic, and attractive, but in today’s conditions it is inappropriate. You are the best keeper of your life. There is nothing more unfortunate nowadays than to lose your health. It is closest to your heart. The only thing to do is keep a close watch on it, pay careful attention to it, and cherish it.

2. Make sure you are happy. Only when you are happy can you be youthful, active, fulfilled in your life, and steadfast in the face of all difficulties; only then will you see a future ahead of you and know how to enjoy yourself. This sort of happiness is not a life of contentment, but a life of struggle and of advance. Therefore we should all do some meaningful work each day and some reading, so that each of us is in a position to give something to others. Loafing about simply encourages the feeling that life is hollow, feeble, and in decay.

3. Use your brain, and make a habit of doing so. Correct any tendency not to think and ponder, or to swim with the current. Before you say or do anything, think whether what you are saying is right, whether that is the most suitable way of dealing with the problem, whether it goes against your own principles, whether you feel you can take responsibility for it. Then you will have no cause to regret your actions later. This is what is known as acting rationally. It is the best way of avoiding the pitfalls of sweet words and honeyed phrases, of being sidetracked by petty gains, of wasting our emotions and wasting our lives.

4. Resolution in hardship, perseverance to the end. Aware, modern women should identify and cast off all their rosy illusions. Happiness is to take up the struggle in the midst of the raging storm and not to pluck the lute in the moonlight or recite poetry among the blossoms. In the absence of the greatest resolution, it is very easy to falter in midpath. Not to suffer is to become degenerate. The strength to carry on should be nurtured through the quality of “perseverance.” People without great aims and ambitions rarely have the firmness of purpose that does not covet petty advantages or seek a comfortable existence. But only those who have aims and ambitions for the benefit, not of the individual, but of humankind as a whole can persevere to the end.

August 3, dawn

Postscript. On rereading this article, it seems to me that there is much room for improvement in the passage on what we should expect from women, but because I have to meet a deadline with the manuscript, I have no time to revise it. But I also feel that there are some things that, if said by a leader before a big audience, would probably evoke satisfaction. But when they are written by a woman, they are more than likely to be demolished. But since I have written it, I offer it as I always intended, for the perusal of those people who have similar views.

(Translated by Gregor Benton)