Chewing the Cud

Book that I am currently reading: Spider Eaters by Rae Yang,

I have spent the last four hours reading the memoirs of a woman that lived through the Cultural Revolution. It was refreshing to read something so engrossing and moving. In many instances I felt that the author’s thoughts and feelings were ones that I had experienced before. I felt a strange familiarity with Rae Yang’s thoughts and emotions even though they were from a time and context that I am at a loss to imagine. Weaved through her personal memoir are the stories of people in her life that have suffered through China’s history of reoccurring misfortunes. Stories of mother’s losing their husband to disease, and then after working hard for many years to support her children, lose them to the war. Embedded in her story is a sentiment that is piercing enough to break through stereotypes of Red China. My own impression of China has changed significantly since I’ve come to China and begun to learn more about its history.

Ever since I can remember, though it probably started sometime during middle school, the image of China being a Communist state has been hard wired to my brain; and since Communist was associated with backwards and wrong, I never thought of China and its history worthy of any further investigation. Though I do remember reading a biography of Sun Yat Sen in elementary school, I was too young to make much of it; for me it was simply a wonderful story of revolutionary triumph. I find it a bit ironic that I considered myself Chinese without really having even a cursory understanding of Chinese history; when I refer to Chinese history, I am not talking about the facts that I was taught in school, but rather the narratives that Chinese families passed down to their children about the harshness of the revolutionary period and of the Cultural Revolution. My father often told me stories about how poor he was as a child, how they had nothing to eat except rice and some pieces of boiled cabbage for days at a time, but without context, it was just another story about the old days when my father had a perpetually empty stomach. In the past few weeks, hearing stories from people that lived through those tumultuous times and reading memoirs such as Spider Eaters, has brought me closer to China and my heritage as a Chinese American. Working hard, honoring your father and mother, obedience, these were tenets of my upbringing as a child that I took for granted; I assumed that every parent would stress these points, it didn’t occur to me that these tenets were my link to my heritage, to a place and a people that was thousands of miles away separated by a sea of ignorance and indifference.

Chinese people suffered greatly; whether it was from foreign invasion or internal strife, the people lived through years of tumult. I was talking the other day with my language partner and somehow we started talking about the costs of education. She told me that she was the only one from her village of 400 to go to college. Even more shocking was the fact that her family had a annual family income of 2000 yuan a year (less than 300 USD) On my plane ticket alone I had spent nearly three times their annual income. And yet despite the difference in wealth between America in China, the current state of China is infinitely better than what it was back during the 40s through the 70s. The more I learn about China and the egregious differences between the environment I grew up in and the one that most Chinese peers grew up in, the harder it is for me to justify anything that I have been given in my life. My parents were lucky enough to flee China during the harsh times and I was lucky enough to have been born and raised in this country where opportunities and resources are available for the taking. (of course this is a bit of an exaggeration, but I believe that in essence the sentiment is true) I am no better, just luckier, if you can call it that. As someone who tries his best to believe that the world is essentially fair and just, the more I learn about China, the more I get slapped in the face with a reality that would beg to differ. I haven’t quite figured out how to resolve these tensions yet, perhaps I may never be able to do so, but I will leave the discussion here and allow myself more time to ruminate.

I find it a bit ironic that China adores Mao as their hero and beloved Chairman when he was probably the sole cause for nearly three decades of suffering. Perhaps no amount of reading will ever render me capable of understanding China's adoration for Mao.