Beyond Aung San Suu Kyi: Five Asian Female Leaders You May Not Know

For a long time, gender equality has been something the world has strived for. In the U.S., the fight for gender equality erupted during the Women’s Rights Movement more than a century and a half ago.

With that in mind, as well as the bad rap Asian countries often receive for female oppression (foot binding and geishas, anyone?), it may be a surprise to some that Asian countries seemed to have made more progress in terms of female leadership than Western countries. In fact, nine Asian countries (South Korea, Indonesia, India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Thailand, the Philippines, and Mongolia) are currently or were led by a female, democratically elected head of government.

Needless to say, the U.S. has yet to have a female president.

While the reasons for this political difference give rise to a whole ‘nother article, in this one, I’d like to highlight a few of these – inspirational? controversial? certainly always interesting – Asian female leaders.

Pratibha Patil – 12th President of India (2007-2012)

Born in 1934, Patil had a long political career prior to becoming president, holding roles such as parliament member and governor. After winning the presidency with nearly 2/3 of the votes, her time in office saw a few controversies. For instance, she commuted the death sentences of 35 people, and embarked on more foreign trips than any other president.

Corazon Aquino – 11th President of the Philippines (1986-1992)

Born in 1933, Aquino was the first female president not only of the Philippines, but in all of Asia. Without holding any past political experience, she was the most prominent figure in the 1986 People Power Revolution and oversaw the promulgation of the 1987 Constitution. As president, she emphasized human rights and peaceful negotiations. Additionally, she focused on molding a market-oriented and healthy economy in the Philippines.

Yingluck Shinawatra – 28th Prime Minister of Thailand

Born in 1967, Shinawatra is a businesswoman, politician, and the first (and current) Prime Minister of Thailand. After election to office in 2011, she invoked the Disaster Prevention and Mitigation Act in response to the 2011 Thailand floods; reshuffled her cabinet in 2012, and dissolved the Parliament, calling for early elections due to the 2013 anti-government protests. She is currently facing corruption investigations.

Chandrika Kumaratunga – 5th President of Sri Lanka

Born in 1945, Kumaratunga was elected Prime Minister of the People’s Alliance and was the leader of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party until 2006. She spent much of her presidency trying to negotiate and make peace with opposing national political parties. She is also a member of the Council of Women World Leaders.

Megawati Sukarnoputri – 5th President of Indonesia

Born in 1947, Sukarnoputri was the country’s only female president and is also leader of the Indonesian opposition party. While her presidency was characterized by slow progress, reforms, and resolutions, it also brought about the stabilization of democracy and more solid relationships amongst the legislative, executive, and military branches of government.

What It’s Like To Be The Only Asian-American Woman in the U.S. Senate

Senator Mazie Hirono has “first” all over her resume. A Democrat representing Hawaii, she is the first Asian-American woman elected to the United States Senate, the first female senator to represent her state, and the first Buddhist in the Senate. She’s also the first U.S. senator to have been born in Japan.

Hirono immigrated to Hawaii as a little girl because her mother was seeking stability for Mazie and her brother. The children’s father was an alcoholic and a compulsive gambler. They fled him and their homeland on the steerage deck of a cross-Pacific ship. Hirono remembers crying as Yokohama Harbor receded in the distance. She was eight and spoke only Japanese.

Life in Hawaii was a struggle at first. The family slept sideways in a shared bed in the single-room boarding house they rented. Hirono helped support her mother and brother with the money she earned as a cashier in the school lunchroom and with her earnings from an after-school newspaper route.

Eventually, she paid her way through college at the University of Hawaii and law school at Georgetown University. Hirono went on to become a state representative, Hawaii’s lieutenant governor, and a congresswoman. She was elected to the U.S. Senate in 2012.

I caught up with her about what it’s like to be a woman in the U.S. Senate, where inequality still persists, and what it took to get her where she is today. Here’s our conversation, lightly edited and condensed:

What’s your first memory from when you were a little girl of what you wanted to be when you grew up?

At a pretty young age, I wanted to do something with my life that would help people. I’ve been that way for quite a while. I wanted to be a counselor or social worker. That’s one of the reasons I was a psychology major.

How did watching your mother go through what she did affect the way you thought about women and what it takes for a woman to be in control of her own life?

I always saw my mother just making decisions that helped our family. It was much later when I realized how courageous she really was, and I came to understand what a risk-taker she was. That’s very much a part of how I am. I never took a path that was the usual path for someone in my generation. A lot of the women who I went to school with, in those days, it was still the track of becoming a teacher, becoming a nurse. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but I didn’t go down that path. I did things that were different than what my classmates were doing. I think that’s really from my mom.

Who else inspired you to do something other than what society expected?

No matter how independent you are, you’re still part of a larger community with sexual stereotyping and everything else that really goes on. The book that really opened my eyes — here I am in college, and that’s when I read Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. Even if I had such an unusual mother, so independent, I still — there was a part of me thinking, ‘Well, I’m gonna get married and I’m gonna have kids.’

And then I read that book, and literally a lightbulb went on in my head: ‘Why am I thinking this? I’ve never had a male presence in my life, really, so why do I think some guy is going to come along and I’m going to have this traditional life?’ It was at that point I think that I really began to look at my life as something that was probably going to take a different path, and it did.

Hirono and husband Leighton Oshima at the White House Bowling Alley, 2012

There were fewer women in law school during your time at Georgetown. What was that experience like?

Oh, yes. There were maybe 20 percent or fewer. I don’t know that I saw that much of a distinction by the time I was in law school. Definitely, there weren’t 50 percent [women], but at that point, at Georgetown, you’re competing with everyone else. It was a very competitive environment. I wanted to do public interest law. And the reason I selected Georgetown is they had really strong clinical programs, and I was in one of these clinical programs that involved being an advocate.

Fast-forward to being in Congress. Obviously we get more women with each election, which is great.

Yes. It’s really great.

But I’m still curious about some of the nuances — even if it’s something as seemingly small as the women’s bathroom being farther away from the floor.

You should see how it was on the House side. It’s much closer on the Senate side.

What are some of the other things you notice that are different for a woman than for a man, things that people who aren’t in Congress might not be privy to?

I’m pausing because every senator makes a huge difference. Regardless of whether you’re male, female, Republican, or Democrat, every Senate vote counts. From that standpoint, it’s not necessarily something that is a gender issue.

Right. So where it matters most, you’re truly equal.

But clearly, though, with the press, they seem to be really interested in the women of the Senate and when we don’t seem to agree on a path. I’m specifically talking about sexual assault in the military. [New York Democratic Sen.] Kirsten Gillibrand and I — and others — have supported a pretty significant change to the Code of Military Justice. [Missouri Democratic Sen.] Claire McCaskill has a different path. But we all agree that sexual assault in the military should be prevented and there should be prosecutions when these crimes occur. But there’s been a lot of press about why it is that we’re not together. I don’t think that’s an issue very much when men disagree.

It’s a very specific example of how the press still looks at our presence in this environment.

Years ago I found a 1950s article at the Library of Congress about [former congresswoman and Title IX author] Patsy Mink. The lede was something like, ‘the cutest politician you ever saw.’ So, on one hand, you think how far we’ve come, but then you still see coverage that references women leaders’ haircuts and outfits.

Or how petite we are. That sort of thing. You notice that a lot more still with women.

Hillary Clinton and Mazie Hirono

You’re a woman in a legislative body full of men, and you’re also the first Asian-American woman in the Senate. Are you treated differently for one more than for the other?

My being the only [Asian-American] woman here and only the second minority woman ever to be elected to the Senate, I think that says we have a ways to go. When I go home, I talk with the kids in Hawaii and I say, ‘Do you know there’s only one person in the Senate who looks like us?’

They must be shocked. [Ed. note: Asians make up 38 percent of the Hawaii population ; 23 percent of the population identifies as two or more races.]

Yeah, when I put it that way. Because they look around and they see the cosmopolitan backgrounds that everybody has. And I say, ‘I am the only person who looks like us.’ And they invariably look at each other. And I say, ‘That’s why we need to do a lot more.’

So what advice do you give to young people — particularly young women — who aspire to public service or elected office?

We need to get everybody in the pipeline in the local races. The local political arena is where it started for me, and I think that is still the case, especially for women. We need to get a lot more women into the pipeline… in the political arena as well as in the private sector.

You see the Fortune 500 companies, you see the boards. [Ed. note: Less than 5 percent of Fortune 500 companies have women CEOs .] They have to pay attention, otherwise they are not going to get the kind of diversity that’s representative of our country.

How do you think women can better support each other? For instance, I’m not aspiring to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, but I still want to see more women in those roles. What can I do?

Well, awareness helps. And to feel that they make a difference.

Women in Hawaii, they need to vote. I definitely think that we can improve the voting rates of women in Hawaii. So, education and awareness.

I think it’s important for women to realize that their daughters, particularly, can aspire to a lot of different things — like robotics. The kids in Hawaii really like it and I’ve talked to kids from elementary school on up.

Especially the elementary and middle-school kids, I ask them, ‘If it weren’t for robotics, would you think about going into engineering?’ And they say no! So a lot of times, kids learn by doing. And then they realize, ‘Oh, I can do this.’ So those kinds of opportunities are really important, particularly for the girls.

This interview was originally published on Medium and is produced as part of The Only Woman in the Room collection by LadyBits .

Folk Singer Turned First Lady: What It Means for China’s First Lady to Be on The Glamorous “Best-Dressed” List

When Xi Jinping assumed the role of President of China in March of 2013, it was amidst a cloud of uncertainty. The Chinese Communist Party was only just recovering from a public scandal involving a high-ranking member of the party, and there were a great deal of questions regarding how Xi planned to implement his goal of curbing corruption within the Party. On Xi’s first trip abroad however, accompanied by his wife, Peng Liyuan, foreign journalists were suddenly struck with another question: What is China’s First Lady wearing?

Peng travels long-haul in style

Dressed in a long, dark, double-breasted trench coat, light blue scarf, black heels, and black leather handbag, her hair perfectly coiffed and in a bun, Peng stepped off the plane and into the limelight. The American press called her the next Michelle Obama, and her sartorial choices whipped fashionistas into a frenzy as they tried to guess the clothing label. The discovery that she’d chosen a domestic Chinese brand, Exception de Mixmind, as opposed to one of the major European fashion houses was hailed as a turning point for Chinese fashion. Vanity Fair included her in their Best-Dressed List of 2013, and domestic sales for Mixmind soared.

First Ladies Angélica Rivera de Peña (Mexico) and Peng Liyuan (China) navigate the stairs in high-heel pumps at a state dinner in Mexico City

From a Western perspective, the concept of a fashionable First Lady is nothing new, with notable examples being Jackie O., Carla Bruni, and, of course, Michelle Obama. But in China, where the First Lady has tended to stay out of the limelight, Peng’s position as a media darling has enormous potential for a government that was somewhat lacking in terms of charismatic international public figures. While no stranger to the role of the public figure – Peng previously garnered popularity within China as a folk singer – her position as the President’s wife has subjected her to a completely different level of exposure.

Peng, performing in Beijing in 2012

(Photo: Imaginechina, via Agence France-Presse — Getty Images via NYT)

Peng’s coming out as China’s first publicly glamorous first lady comes at an interesting juncture in Chinese politics, especially given her husband’s position. Xi has been vocal in denouncing perceived excesses within the Party, and has vowed to crack down on these as a way of reducing corruption and streamlining the bureaucracy by launching a frugality campaign.

In this context, her choice of a homegrown label serves very much to bolster her husband’s position, and sets her apart from the wives of other politicians. In a time fraught with tension brought about by the rapidly increasing gap between rich and poor, as well as a flurry of political scandals involving bribery and corruption, brands like Louis Vuitton and Christian Dior are as much symbols of luxury and status as they are of corruption and excess.

Rivaling Kate Middleton and Michelle Obama

By imbuing the image that has become popularized in the West of what constitutes a “First Lady”, Peng makes herself more amenable to a global audience, which is especially crucial given her current status as a media darling, and her role as the President’s wife and as a face in contemporary Chinese politics. In redefining the roles of fashion within the Communist Party, and particularly in Peng’s choice to wear local Chinese brands, the question of style goes beyond the realm of individualized taste, and takes on a political dimension.

In adapting Western styles to Chinese brands within the current context, it may be possible for figures like Peng to redefine China’s image much like its fashion: as an accepted and legitimate part of the international community that still exists as its own distinctive entity.

All the President’s Women: The Public and Private Lives of Politicians

Political sex scandals are always irresistibly intriguing for exposing the profound darkness and secrecy hidden behind politely smiling professional faces. ABC has been successfully monetizing such fascination with Scandal, inspired by D.C. insider Judy Smith, who represented Monica Lewinsky during the Clinton-era scandal: its Season 3 premier had over 10 million viewers. Therefore, when French President François Hollande and his – not two, as everyone knew, but three – women, appeared on the scene, he also had vastly more than 10 million people watching.

A sex scandal is the last thing Hollande needs since he became the most unpopular French president on record in October 2013, with only a 26% approval rating. He’d lived unmarried with his partner Ségolène Royal, a fellow ambitious Socialist politician, for over 30 years. In June 2005, after Royal’s defeat in the French presidential election, the couple announced their separation. A few months later, a French website exposed details of Hollande’s long affair with journalist Valérie Trierweiler, who confirmed the relationship. In 2012, when Hollande won that year’s presidential election and moved into the Élysée Palace (the official residence of the French President), Trierweiler came along as the “First Girlfriend” and accompanied him to official events.

On January 10, 2014, the tabloid Closer exposed another scandal: the middle-aged French leader photographed riding a scooter with his bodyguard to meet with his gorgeous and supposed paramour, film actress and producer Julie Gayet. The dramatic twist is that Trierweiler was hospitalized several hours after she heard the shocking allegation. When Hollande visited her in the hospital, he neither confirmed nor denied the reports of his affair: his belief was that his personal life should not be scrutinized or judged.

“The secret love of the president”, Closer

The nebulous correlation between personal moral standards and political acumen got me thinking. Mao Zedong had three wives, with rumors of many other women on the side; yet, his accomplishments and contributions to China are not overshadowed at all – his personal life seemed negligible. Even if Mao abandoned his second wife He Zizhen (who accompanied him during the most arduous period of civil war, including the Long March) immediately after victory and married the elegant actress Jiang Qing, his marital status was never a focus of public discussion as Hollande’s is in France.

Compared to China’s strict censorship, which made Mao’s personal life beyond reproach, the French way of elevating such infidelities to an element of romantic style is more transparent. The national spirit to protect a politician’s privacy – think of Mitterrand and his second family – becomes the current politician’s excuse to hide every dirty, little secret, even when the leader of the country is supposed to be trustworthy and responsible.

Royal, Gayet, and Trierweiler

The way of crisis management and the consequences of such sex scandals hugely depend on the cultural background and values of the state. China has never had a “bachelor” leader due to influential and long-standing family values: the family is the fundamental unit of national stability and harmony. France, though, has a longer history of cohabitation and reputation of extramarital/sexual freedom. Despite being an unwed man with four children and a girlfriend acquired under nontraditional circumstances, Hollande was nevertheless elected; as well, his approval rating rose after the news of affair, especially among women. But really, the French has more on their plate than their President’s personal life – like the sluggish economy.

Former President Clinton’s statement, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman”, infuriated many simply because this sworn testimony was perjurious. For me, I believe that when one is telling the truth or what one truly believes in, how the general public understands him or her is no longer his or her fault.

“Ms. Left” Searching for “Mr. Right”

Last week, my friend Candice called me with excitement I could hear right through the phone: she announced a good “peach blossom” (桃花, tao hua) she’d receive in the coming months. I was surprised by her change in attitude: luck in love, in feng shui , is known as “peach blossom luck”, but astrology?! Who would pay for that? Yet, “peach blossom luck” is one of the most desired sign for any woman, especially for those in their mid-to-late 20s, due to their fear of becoming a “Ms. Left”.

A career fair? No – it’s a large-scale blind date! The goal is “No girl left behind!”

In the last couple of decades, the word “Ms. Left” (剩女, sheng nu) has increased in its popularity in Chinese lexicon to describe a growing social group: women who’ve reached the age of 25 and are still single. A Chinese woman’s ideal marriage age, to be considered “normal” and “responsible” by society, is around her mid-20s; therefore, the use of “Ms. Left” is slightly mocking and implies that these “leftover girls” failed to find their “Mr. Rights”. In the past, there was no such word as “Ms. Left”; for thousands of years in a conservative China, young people married under their parents’ or families’ orders, which rarely let daughters be “left behind” without a purpose.

The emergence of “Ms. Left” in popular language would not be possible without China’s fast economic development and cultural opening-up in the 1970s. The new generation, born in the 80s and 90s, was lucky and enjoyed the advantages, compared to their parents. In contrast to 30 years ago when only a limited number of women completed college degrees, today, female Masters and PhDs are ordinary and abundant in China. This is one reason why women today are closer to being “Ms. Lefts”: they’re in school for longer, and once they’ve graduated, in a society where education and economic status are paramount, these women may not want to marry “down”.

Take my friend Candice as an example. After graduating from a prestigious university in China at the age of 22, she came to the U.S. for graduate school. When she completed her Masters education, she was 24 – oops, only a year away from age 25! If she’s still single by then, congratulations, Candice has earned herself, along with her Bachelors and Masters, the title of “Ms. Left”. There are many women in China in the same situation; no wonder, the number of “Ms. Lefts” is increasing dramatically.

Though not favored by young women, the label of “Ms. Left” cheers up other people: the “dating and marriage” business in China is booming. Pressure posed on women by the media’s abuse of “Ms. Lefts” contributes to modern Chinese women’s search of marriageable men before “it’s too late” (a.k.a., before they’re placed in the category of a “Ms. Left”). The other part to this is the young men: they’ve realized that the clock tick-tocks for them as well, and the competition drives the demand on the male side too. (Though, they might be more concerned about running out of other choices besides the “Ms. Lefts” if they don’t hurry.)

Suddenly, reality dating shows are viral on major television channels. One of the most successful shows, “If You are the One” (非诚勿扰, Fei cheng wu rao), imported and tailored to the Chinese market, has earned the highest program ratings since 2010 and represents a cultural trend. (It’s now a classic case study at Harvard Business School!) Admittedly, the program is rather fun to watch, with 24 pretty women standing behind lighted podiums waiting for the male candidates (5 per show) to show up, engage in banter, and swoop them off their feet. The problem is: these TV programs are entertainment, rather than solving one’s real-world relationship urgency. But, not to worry, if you aren’t the star of a popular reality show, there are myriad professional matching websites and dating agents who will fight for your business.

A scene from the Chinese dating show “If You are the One” (非诚勿扰). Ladies, let’s get it started!

Although it’s unclear whether society’s hyperventilating about “Ms. Left” drove Candice to pay a generous amount of cash to a well-known astrologist to analyze her romantic prospects, she became a lot happier and more relaxed after knowing a peach blossom luck blooms in her future.

“Ms. Left” is a unique feature in modern China: in the Western world, many single women in their 30s and 40s are label-free. Instead of judging how Eastern culture imposes pressure on women, the more realistic problem relates to how women view themselves. Surely, 20-somethings have youth on their side, but it doesn’t mean that women in their 30s, 40s, or beyond are “decrepit”: on the contrary, they’re stunning with the sophistication, wisdom, and confidence that younger women do not have. No matter how society changes, it’s the woman’s self-perception that matters.

As women become more confident, I believe that one day “Mr. & Ms. Left” will no longer be a derogatory term, but just another happy couple living next door to “Mr. & Ms. Right”.

The Hanbok as Haute Couture

When I was a little kid, one of my favorite outfits was my hanbok, or traditional Korean clothing. I was enamored with its vibrant colors, asymmetrical bow, and flowing skirt, so on more than a few occasions, I wore it to school and to dinner parties, undeterred by the stares people often gave me.

The author wearing hanbok as a toddler

Their confusion stemmed not only from the contrast between traditional Korean clothing and the typical American outfit of T-shirts and jeans but also from their unfamiliarity with hanboks. Many times, I got asked if I was wearing a cheongsam or a kimono.

We’ve all seen cheongsams or kimonos reinvented and popularized (and sadly, in some cases, exploited) within the fashion world, but there has been relatively little seen of the hanbok. In recent years, however, the hanbok has been entering the runway, presumably due to the growing cultural and economic influence that South Korea has on the international community. This once old-fashioned outfit has been re-defined, transitioning from a relic of the past into a chic item suitable for any catwalk or boutique.

Below are some examples of haute couture hanboks:

Fashion shows featuring modern hanboks, like this one in 2009, occur regularly in Korea.

Although hanbok dresses are what have grown popular in the fashion scene, hanboks worn by men have also undergone reinvention, as seen in the Hanbok Fashion Show in Seoul in October 2011.

Lee Young-hee, a famous hanbok designer, has gained both domestic and international recognition for her unique approaches to traditional Korean dress, holding haute couture fashion shows like this one in Paris in July 2010.

You can see elements of Western and Korean clothing styles combined in these elegant hanbok dresses worn by actress Han Hyo-joo for the September 2012 edition of Vogue Korea.

The hanbok has also appeared in collections by non-Korean fashion designers.

Carolina Herrera based her Spring ready-to-wear 2011 collection on the hanbok and displayed these stunning beauties during New York Fashion Week.

During his time at Dior, John Galliano designed a hanbok-inspired dress for the Christian Dior Spring/Summer 2011 collection.

Miuccia Prada (above) and Giorgio Armani (below)

Renowned designers Miuccia Prada and Giorgio Armani are avid fans of Lee Young-hee’s work and have visited her shop in Korea.

In 2011, Swarovski Elements partnered with Korean designers to incorporate Swarovski crystals into their hanbok designs.

Sandra Oh (of Grey’s Anatomy) wore hanboks made by LA-based designer Kim MeHee (whose hanboks have also been worn by Jessica Alba and Nicky Hilton) for the Spring 2008 cover of NUVO Magazine.

If I were to wear any of the dresses pictured above, I know I’d get stares for all the right reasons: for wearing a hanbok every bit as glamorous and stylish as the little black dress.

The Red Guard and the Landlady

From cultural revolution to rent collection…

It’s always a pleasant surprise when my landlady drops by unannounced at eight in the morning. I’m familiar with the early bird rap tap on my door by now, and the first thing I do before opening the door is put on the kettle. Sometimes she’s there to collect the rent. Sometimes it’s to check the heating came on, or to write down the electricity meter digits, or to switch off the water supply to the roof so it doesn’t freeze in the pipes during winter, twiddling with hidden knobs under the kitchen sink.

This time, rap tap tap, it was just to have a chat. She had ambushed my downstairs neighbor while he was still in bed, to collect rent he hadn’t yet prepared, having just got back from a trip. He said to give him an hour or so to shower and wait for the bank to open. So she came up one floor to pass the time at mine, and have a natter. Sixty-four-year-old Beijing landladies tend to assume that everyone begins their day as early as they do.

I live in a dazayuan, or “miscellaneous courtyard”, in the hutongs, inside one of a myriad of doors tucked away behind the street entrance. Mine is on the third and top floor of a compact new building inside, which was knocked up in the summer of 2012, just before I moved in. I’ve written about my landlady before (Tales from the Hutong) and I like her. She’s friendly, trustworthy, and hasn’t hiked up the rent yet. In that respect, given some horror stories from Cuju bar just down the hutong, I’m lucky. She’s also relatively willing to talk about her life – and I’m by nature nosy.

I was still in my pajamas when she knocked (thick winter cottons, fortunately) and threw on a ratty dressing gown for decency’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette in the narrow stairwell that connects up to the roof, and kicked off her sneakers before coming in. It wouldn’t do to get ash or dirt on her property.

The first thing which happens when my landlady visits, as I am well used to, is a short survey of what I’ve done with the place. A new shelf, a painting on the wall, different fish in the tank – any change is commented on with either “hao” (good) or “bu hao” (not good). No further explanation is offered, and her criteria for judgment are ever a mystery. This time she asked what the contraption behind the sofa was. I said it was a movie projector, and pointed at the blank wall opposite it. After a nerve-racking pause, she said “hao“.

Looking to fill the silence, which she was more comfortable in than I was, I showed her some photos of my family back in Oxford. As usual, we talked about my romantic prospects – she’s keen to see me settle down with a nice Chinese girl, and reminded me with a hand on my shoulder that it’s good to marry early, “or else when you’re old who will you have to give your money to?” I changed the topic and asked after her newest grandson, Chen Jiaming, who will be one next week and to whom I gave an English name (Jamie).

We talked about young Chinese today, something I’m always interested in hearing older generations on. “They haven’t eaten bitterness,” she replied, a familiar refrain. “They just think about eating, drinking, smoking, clothes.” The kids these days – if they weren’t kenlaozu (the “bite the old tribe”, living off their parents) they were yueguangzu, spending all their monthly wages. And then she started talking about her own youth.

A Red Guard, China, circa 1967

Auntie Wang (as she likes me to call her) was born in the spring of 1949, and grew up together with the People’s Republic of China. Her family is from Jiangtai in northeast Beijing, an area which is now home to the fashionable 798 art district and the expensive Lido hotel. Back then, it was mostly farmland, and she helped her parents to plant and harvest wheat each year.

Her memories of those years were of hard times. Her family was very poor, she said, and could not afford enough wool for new clothes. She was pulled out of school during the famine of the Great Leap Forward (Auntie Wang is illiterate, as I had discovered to my embarrassment when we were first looking at our contract), and said she had very little to eat. When I ask further, she simply said, “Let’s not talk about it” (bie tile). As a teen, she joined the Red Guards and cut short her hair, which then reached her waist. She never grew it out again.

I asked Auntie what she did as a Red Guard. She waved vaguely in the direction of the hutongs to the south. “We struggled against landlords.” They would hang heavy wooden signs over the landlords’ necks, denoting them as capitalists, and make them take the “airplane” (feiji) position. That means body bent forwards from the waist at a right angle, arms back stiff and straight behind you, each hand clasping the other. Then… da si tamen. Beat them to death.

It was said in the same tone, with no special weight. If she saw the shock in my eyes, she didn’t let on. Auntie had all but directly admitted participating in murder, but to her it was just another part of the story of her life, told to pass the time while we waited. I didn’t say anything.

So she just went on. She remembered Zhou Enlai’s death, in January 1976, and how everyone cried. She remembered Mao Zedong’s death, nine months later, and how that was not so sad – the people, she said, remembered how poor they had been in those years, how his rule impacted their lives. The Cultural Revolution ended, and in 1978, at the age of 29, she married. She met her husband through a friend’s introduction – he was 35. The space I was living in was his, and when he died four years ago, she inherited it from him.

Now she was old, and forgetting things. The changes of the last decades were fast. Her two comments on China today were how expensive health care is, and that there are too many cars. In the evenings, she said, she couldn’t remember what she did that day. But the more distant past was still clear.

I saw an opening to make the obvious point. “The changes really are big,” I said. “Before, you were struggling against landlords. And now you’re a landlady…”

“No, I’m not,” Auntie said, simply. “I’m not a landlady, I just collect your rent.”

The thought was alien to her, rejected simply and with ease. She was a landlady, of course. I had seen her name on the property deed. But whenever I would hand her a fat envelope of rent cash, I had also felt her unease. I had figured it was because of prejudices against the landlord class ingrained during the Mao years. I had not thought through all that might have entailed.

We chatted some more, and then my neighbour knocked on the door, back from the bank. Auntie Wang put on her sneakers and went downstairs, telling me she would drop in again sometime with the rest of her family, to show me little Jamie. I said I would be sure to be up early, in case.

***

China is, of course, full of stories like this. Everyone over middle age has one. I find it difficult to connect the broader horrors of the Cultural Revolution as we read about it to those people, whether they were victims or perpetrators – and the line between the two, I suspect, is not so clear. I’m also fascinated by the collective amnesia that allows society to put such recent crime behind it and go on.

But the individual acts and their repercussions are still there in living memory. Just the other month, an eighty-year-old woman told me and a friend that she was sent to Sichuan for hard labor for ten years, along with her three sons, all because her husband was from a “bad family background”, with Qing dynasty officials in his bloodline. The author Yu Hua describes, in China in Ten Words, how as a schoolboy he and his vigilante classmates ambushed a young peasant who was illicitly selling food coupons, pushed him to the ground and hit him over the head with bricks until he was bloody.

I have so many questions for my landlady I didn’t ask, from somewhere between shyness and politeness. To face up to a past like that, whether out of trauma or shame or both, surely is unimaginably hard – let alone to a generation who has no understanding of those times, such as your children’s (and you certainly wouldn’t share it with a foreigner). Does her daughter know what she did? Will Jamie?

My distance from it all means there’s little comment I can give. I don’t feel I have the right to judge Auntie Wang, or rather that any sense of disapproval is muted, as if a dull banging behind heavy insulation. I still like her. What I do feel is ever deeper respect for Liu Boqin, a former Red Guard from Shandong province who apologized to his victims in a Chinese magazine last summer. He named nine people in particular, some of whom he has tracked down to apologize to in person. He’s in his early sixties, so like Auntie, he was in his teens during those years. Here’s what he wrote:

“I want to apologize to all victims and their families to obtain psychological relief. An open letter is simple and clear. [...] I was naive, easily bamboozled, and never distinguished good from bad. [...] As I grow older, I have a more profound understanding of the sins of the Cultural Revolution. I cannot forget what I’ve done wrong.”

*

Another, more recent apology from the Cultural Revolution, from someone higher up, here (in NYT, so behind the wall). For a personal perspective of what those early years were like I can’t recommend highly enough Red Guard: The Political Biography of Dai Hsiao-Ai (hat tip to Rana Mitter) as a blow-by-blow account – so to speak – from someone in the thick of it, rather than the broad brush strokes of history books.

This story originally appeared on the Anthill.