Jiang Xi-Wen Character Analysis

Song Po-po told us that our extended family used to occupy two whole buildings, ten rooms all together. “Then they all moved away, and only your family and your Fourth Aunt’s family were left. Your family only has one room now. It’s just too bad.” She shook her head sadly.

But I didn’t feel that way at all. I loved our top floor room. […] Our room was ten times as big as many of my classmates’ homes, and a hundred times brighter. Best of all, we had a private bathroom, a full-sized room with a sink, a toilet, and a tub. It was almost as large as some families’ entire homes. Many did not have a bathroom at all, or even a flush toilet, and very few had a full-size bathroom that they did not have to share with other families.

Du Hai took the lead. “Down with the bourgeois Jiang Xi-wen! Long live Mao Ze-dong Thought!” he shouted. We repeated the slogans. Then Yin Lan-lan recited, “Our great leader, Chairman Mao, has taught us, ‘Everything reactionary is the same; if you do not hit him, he will not fall. This is also like sweeping the floor; as a rule, where the broom does not reach, the dust will not vanish by itself.’” Her voice was loud and forceful. “Today, we proletarian revolutionary young guards have come to revolt against you bourgeoisie. Jiang Xi-wen, this is our da-zi-bao. You are to post it on your door now.” She shook the white paper in front of Aunt Xi-wen’s nose.

After a few steps, I turned around to see if they were all right. I could hardly believe my eyes! Shan-shan had walked right past his mother! She was lying there, injured, and he had not stopped to help her. He couldn’t possibly have missed her. He must not have wanted to expose himself to criticism by helping someone from a black category.

What a son! I took a step toward Aunt Xi-wen and stopped. Maybe I shouldn’t help her either. People would probably say something if they saw me, especially since I was from a black family too….

[…]

Now I remembered that Shan-shan had written a da-zi-bao after their house had been searched, formally breaking relations with his mother. I had admired him for his courage and firmness then.

“This is the blind old grandfather. Every day, in bitter cold or in scorching sun, his little granddaughter led him out to beg for their food. With the little food that he managed to receive, how could he repay his debt to the landlord? Each year the debt increased. Finally, Liu Wen-cai forced him to give up his granddaughter in payment. How could he do that? She was his eyes, his whole life. But what else could he do to escape from this brutal landlord? With tears in his lifeless eyes, he said to her, ‘My dearest, you must go with Mr. Liu. It is not because I do not love you, it is that black-hearted landlord who is tearing us apart.’” My voice trembled slightly, and I became more and more emotional as I spoke.

The woman from the theater spoke. “It’s really not such a hard thing to do. The key is your class stance. The daughter of our former Party Secretary resolved to make a clean break with her mother. When she went onstage to condemn her mother, she actually slapped her face. Of course, we don’t mean that you have to slap your father’s face. The point is that as long as you have the correct class stance, it will be easy to testify.” Her voice grated on my ears.

“There is something you can do to prove you are truly Chairman Mao’s child.” Thin-Face spoke again. “I am sure you can tell us some things your father said and did that showed his landlord and rightist mentality.” I stared at the table, but I could feel his eyes boring into me. “What can you tell us?”

Song Po-po told us that our extended family used to occupy two whole buildings, ten rooms all together. “Then they all moved away, and only your family and your Fourth Aunt’s family were left. Your family only has one room now. It’s just too bad.” She shook her head sadly.

But I didn’t feel that way at all. I loved our top floor room. […] Our room was ten times as big as many of my classmates’ homes, and a hundred times brighter. Best of all, we had a private bathroom, a full-sized room with a sink, a toilet, and a tub. It was almost as large as some families’ entire homes. Many did not have a bathroom at all, or even a flush toilet, and very few had a full-size bathroom that they did not have to share with other families.

Du Hai took the lead. “Down with the bourgeois Jiang Xi-wen! Long live Mao Ze-dong Thought!” he shouted. We repeated the slogans. Then Yin Lan-lan recited, “Our great leader, Chairman Mao, has taught us, ‘Everything reactionary is the same; if you do not hit him, he will not fall. This is also like sweeping the floor; as a rule, where the broom does not reach, the dust will not vanish by itself.’” Her voice was loud and forceful. “Today, we proletarian revolutionary young guards have come to revolt against you bourgeoisie. Jiang Xi-wen, this is our da-zi-bao. You are to post it on your door now.” She shook the white paper in front of Aunt Xi-wen’s nose.

After a few steps, I turned around to see if they were all right. I could hardly believe my eyes! Shan-shan had walked right past his mother! She was lying there, injured, and he had not stopped to help her. He couldn’t possibly have missed her. He must not have wanted to expose himself to criticism by helping someone from a black category.

What a son! I took a step toward Aunt Xi-wen and stopped. Maybe I shouldn’t help her either. People would probably say something if they saw me, especially since I was from a black family too….

[…]

Now I remembered that Shan-shan had written a da-zi-bao after their house had been searched, formally breaking relations with his mother. I had admired him for his courage and firmness then.

“This is the blind old grandfather. Every day, in bitter cold or in scorching sun, his little granddaughter led him out to beg for their food. With the little food that he managed to receive, how could he repay his debt to the landlord? Each year the debt increased. Finally, Liu Wen-cai forced him to give up his granddaughter in payment. How could he do that? She was his eyes, his whole life. But what else could he do to escape from this brutal landlord? With tears in his lifeless eyes, he said to her, ‘My dearest, you must go with Mr. Liu. It is not because I do not love you, it is that black-hearted landlord who is tearing us apart.’” My voice trembled slightly, and I became more and more emotional as I spoke.

The woman from the theater spoke. “It’s really not such a hard thing to do. The key is your class stance. The daughter of our former Party Secretary resolved to make a clean break with her mother. When she went onstage to condemn her mother, she actually slapped her face. Of course, we don’t mean that you have to slap your father’s face. The point is that as long as you have the correct class stance, it will be easy to testify.” Her voice grated on my ears.

“There is something you can do to prove you are truly Chairman Mao’s child.” Thin-Face spoke again. “I am sure you can tell us some things your father said and did that showed his landlord and rightist mentality.” I stared at the table, but I could feel his eyes boring into me. “What can you tell us?”