Three Reincarnations of Wu Zhao in Popular Culture: Mapping Views on Women from the Ming to Present China

THREE REINCARNATIONS OF WU ZHAO IN POPULAR CULTURE: MAPPING VIEWS ON WOMEN FROM THE MING TO PRESENT CHINA

Kelly CarltonWomen and Gender in China

Contemporary China

9 December 2013

Gender roles a society espouses—whether in organized doctrine or in informal discourse

—are indelibly influenced by the culture and history in which they are fashioned. These roles

are often most explicitly expressed through commentary on social extremes—those who

completely define or wholly defy a period’s set prescriptions. Trends in societal perceptions of

women from the Ming 明 dynasty (1368-1644) to the present may thus be assessed by

considering one of China’s most notorious women. Wu Zhao 武曌 disconcertingly undermined

established patriarchal norms as China’s only female emperor and ruler of her own dynasty, the

Zhou 周 (690-705).1 She is an alluring anomaly that reappears repetitively throughout the years

in both scholarly and popular cultural circles as a comparative basis for promoting desired

female roles. Surveying Wu Zhao’s vivid portrayals in popular culture—from Ming and Qing

dynasty novellas, Republican era movies and plays, Maoist era propagandist operas, and the

broadening array of movies and television shows in the aftermath of Deng Xiaoping’s economic

reforms—provide a focused lens through which wider social perceptions of women in China

may be observed. Wu Zhao’s many reincarnations in popular culture from the Ming to post-

socialist China highlight changing social perceptions of women that culminates in a complex,

contradictory understanding of womanhood in contemporary Chinese society.

1 Women certainly possessed positions of political influence throughout Chinese history; some held indirect sway as influential wives or remonstrating mothers, others were de facto rulers as empress dowagers to infant emperors. Yet only one woman, Wu Zhao, claimed the patriarchal title of emperor and established a dynasty in her own right. For more information on Wu Zhao, see N. Harry Rothschild, Wu Zhao: China’s Only Woman Emperor (New York, NY: Pearson, 2008). R. W. L. Guisso provides an excellent discussion of Wu Zhao’s politics in Wu Tse-T’ien and the Politics of Legitimation in T’ang China (Bellingham, WA: Western Washington Press, 1978). For more information on the Tang 唐 (618-906) cultural period during which Wu Zhao ruled, see S. A. M. Adshead, T’ang China: The Rise of the East in World History (New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), and Mark Lewis Edward, China’s Cosmopolitan Empire: the Tang Dynasty (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009).

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The Importance of a Popular Cultural Perspective

Before delving into social perceptions of women from the Ming to present China, it is

first essential to offer an explanation for a popular cultural perspective. Although scholars often

qualify the difficulty of providing a concrete definition of popular culture, they loosely describe

the ambiguous concept by distinguishing a “common culture…shared, more or less, by all

classes” from “a separate elite culture produced and consumed by the dominant classes in

society.”2 Those, like Holt N. Parker, stress a “quantitatively superior, qualitatively inferior”

mass culture produced by ‘the people.’”3 Popular entertainment is consequently a rich source

from which a period’s views on women may be observed. It is the outward manifestation of

mass culture that underlines a society’s shared pool of opinions, ideals, and biases. Diana Crane

provides a useful observation on the popularity of texts that can be extended to this wider scope

of popular entertainment. As she states, “a popular text reassures the readers that their

worldviews (discourses) are meaningful.”4 Thus, those expressions of entertainment that achieve

popularity must appeal to sentiments that are widely disseminated and maintained throughout

society. Texts, plays, films, and television series exhibit the thoughts, ideas, moral ideals, hopes

and fears of their audience. Mediums of popular entertainment praising or condemning Wu Zhao

therefore offer a useful means of assessing women’s proper roles in a given period.

Condemning Socially Unhealthy Female Influence: Wu Zhao’s First Reincarnation

Negative assessments of Wu Zhao from official historians in the Later Jin 後晉 (936–

946) and Northern Song 北宋 (960–1126) greatly influenced her interpretation in Ming and Qing

2 Dominic Strinati, An Introduction to Theories of Popular Culture (New York: Routledge, 2004), xvii; Carla Preccero, Popular Culture: An Introduction (New York: New York University Press, 1993), 13; Tony Bennett, “Popular Culture: A Teaching Object,” Screen Education 34 (1980), 17-19.3 John Storey, Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: An Introduction, 4th ed. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2006), 10; Holt N. Parker, “Toward a Definition of Popular Culture,” History and Theory 50 (May 2011), 147-170.4 Diana Crane, The Production of Culture: Media and the Urban Arts (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1992), 92.

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popular culture. Liu Xu 劉昫 (887-946) in the Old History of the Tang (Jiu Tang shu 舊唐書)

and Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007-1072) in the New History of the Tang (Xin Tang shu 新唐書),

condemned the supposed murder of her infant daughter, her incestuous influence over Tang

Gaozong 唐高宗 (r. 649-683), the brutality with which she ruled her “imposter” dynasty, and the

uncouthness of keeping several male concubines.5 Even during the Republican era with its

increased importation of Western ideas and fashions, social critiques likened feminine excess to

Wu Zhao’s tainted image. The stigmatized nature of this popular interpretation of Wu Zhao

inversely exhibits the period’s acceptable roles and behaviors for women in society.6 It further

indicates, however, an underlying fascination with the allure of female sexuality and the

otherworldliness of dominant women. These dichotomous sentiments survive in the perplexing

amalgamation of gender perceptions in modern China.

The Seductress

In societies that hold traditional sexual roles at a high premium, women who fail to

adhere to these precepts are often targeted in social critiques. The condemnation of Wu Zhao

during the Ming, Qing, and Republican eras is no exception. By the Ming dynasty, neo-

Confucian principles first espoused during the Song 宋 (960-1279) Confucian revival were well

entrenched in the social conscience. These values, which placed special emphasis on feminine

virtue, had significant residual effects on women in the Qing and Republican eras, as well. The

Ming especially reflected the influence of traditional gender roles by relegating women to the

5 For the basic annals of Wu Zhao’s reign in these official histories, see Liu Xu, 劉昫 Jiu Tang shu 舊唐書 (Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1992), 6.115-134; Ouyang Xiu, 歐陽修 Xin Tang shu 新唐書 (Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1992), 4.81-114, and 76.3474-3485. Despite these disparaging assessments, Liu Xu and Ouyang Xiu nevertheless grudgingly admit admiration for Wu Zhao’s successes. See her biography in Jiu Tang shu, 208-9. 6 Steven Moore, The Novel: An Alternative History, 1600-1800 (New York, NY: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013), 444-445.

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inner sphere (nei 內 ) as emphasis on men’s scholarly refinement (wen 文 ) over martial

masculinity (wu 武) necessitated a more dramatic distinction between the sexes.

Footbinding was a physical alteration that poignantly separated women from men,

fashioning them as inhibited, soft, and sorrowful. As the ideal of three-inch golden lotus spread

as a literal measure of beauty and refinement, mothers forcefully bound their daughters’ feet to

improve their marriageability.7 Apart from the tiny feet’s erotic appeal, the prolonged suffering

inherent in footbinding visibly indicated to potential suitors the extent of a woman’s virtue. The

binding practices facilitated the attainment of silence, persistence, and humility; the smaller a

woman’s feet, the more she had learned to adhere to these Confucian principles. As Ban Zhao

班 昭 (45-116) asserts in Admonitions for Women (Nü jie 女 誡 ), a manual that retained its

popularity through the Ming and Qing, “yin and yang are not of the same nature, so man and

woman have different characteristics. The distinctive quality of yang is rigidity; the function of

yin is yielding.”8 Due to such significance placed on sexual appeal and virtuous worth, women

guarded their bound feet as they would their virginity.9 Society certainly placed considerable

premium on female chastity. Unlike Wu Zhao, who flouted convention to entertain relationships

with several male favorites after Gaozong’s death, widows were expected to avoid further

encounters with men. Steles commemorated women who remained chaste, even at the expense

of mutilating their bodies to ward off persistent suitors.10 Qiu Ying 仇英 (1509-1552) includes 7 Wang Ping, Aching for Beauty: Footbinding in China (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2000), 29-53.8 Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture: Writings from the Pre-Qin Period through the Song Dynasty (USA: Hackett, 2003), 181. Confucian principles of proper behavior for women applauded humility, conscientiousness in behavior, and acquiescence to male figures of authority (to their father, their husband, and lastly their sons). As Ban Zhao asserts, women ought to have four qualifications: “womanly virtue, womanly words, womanly bearing, and womanly work.” For more information on Ban Zhao, see Nancy Lee Swann, Pan Chao: Foremost Woman Scholar of China (New York: Russell & Russell, 1968).9 Wang Ping, Aching for Beauty, 3-28.10 The importance of chastity in the Ming, Qing, and Republican eras find root in discourse from the Tang and Song dynasties. For instance, the Analects for Women, written by Tang scholars Song Ruoxin and Song Ruozhao,

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an illustration in his Ming work, Qiu’s Illustrations of the Biographies of Woman of the widow

Liang dutifully disfiguring her face to avoid remarriage.11

In tandem with the idealized woman came anxiety of its opposite—“the fear that the

woman, her sexuality in particular, might exceed male control.”12 This veneration of the gentle,

virtuous lady (shunü 淑 女 ) and condemnation against the “fox spirited” (hulijing 狐 狸 精 )

seductress gave rise to popular cautionary tales against female allure in the Ming and Qing.13

Popular Ming erotic novellas, particularly those of “erotic realism” that grapple with social

issues outside the bedroom chamber, contain critiques against feminine excess.14 The image

constructed of Wu Zhao from the histories presented a premium character for critique in these

works. The Lord of Perfect Satisfaction (Ruyijun zhuan 如意君傳 ), for instance, satirically

condemns Wu Zhao’s manipulation of the government through seduction. Set during her Zhou

dynasty, Wu Zhao is described as having the strong teeth, lustrous hair, and “ample flesh” of a

contains a section describing the importance of chastity. “Remain firm in your will to preserve your chastity,” the works implores, “in life or in death, it is one life shared.” Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture, 340. For more information on the Analects for Women, see Heying Jenny Zhan and Robert Bradshaw, “The Book of Analects for Women,” Journal of Historical Sociology 9 (1996): 261-268. 11 Chou Ying, “The Chastity of Widow Liang,” in Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture, 338-339.12 Zhu Ling, “A Brave New World? On the Construction of “Masculinity and “Femininity” in The Red Sorghum Family,” in Gender and Sexuality in Twentieth-Century Chinese Literature and Society, ed. Lu Tonglin (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1993), 129.13 Fox spirits or other shape-shifting creatures appear in tales from very early on in Chinese history. In an early Six Dynasties (220-589) tale, for instance, a man falls in love with a mysterious woman and gives her a bell. To his dismay, however, the search for his vanished lover only leads to the discovery that a local farmer’s sow is wearing the same bell. Tsai Chih-chung ed. and illust., “Gold Bell on a Pig’s Foot,” Fantasies of the Six Dynasties, trans. Jenny Lim (Singapore: Asiapac, 1996), 26-29. For more information on fox spirits in East Asia, see T. W. Johnson, “Far Eastern Fox Lore,” Asian Folklore Studies 33, no. 1 (1974): 35-68.14 Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130-1200) metaphysical doctrine, which enjoyed widespread acceptance during the Ming, called for the need of principle (li 禮 ) to provide ethical constriction and structure to a capricious, unmitigated human essence (qi 氣 ). Morality—especially female virtue—was thus held at a high premium. Yet society rebounded against the stringent pressure of moral duty (jiao 教) by indulging in human emotions (qing 情) through subversive entertainment. As the distinction blurred between a progressively “sensualized” emotion and “sentimentalized” pornographic desire (yu 欲 ), erotic novellas became a highly popular form of entertainment. Richard G. Wang, Ming Erotic Novellas: Genre, Consumption, and Religiosity in Cultural Practice (Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2011), 3-5. Brian Bruya, “Qing and Emotion in Early Chinese Thought,” Ming Qing yanjiu (2001): 151-157, 176. Martin Huang, Desire and Fictional Narrative in Late Imperial China (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Asia Center, 2001), 31-56, 75. For more information on erotic realism, see Charles R. Stone, The Fountainhead of Chinese Erotica: The Lord of Perfect Satisfaction (Ruyijun zhuan) (USA: University of Hawai’i Press, 2003), 15-17.

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beautiful young woman, despite being seventy years old.15 She is analogous to a fox spirit that

remains youthful by sapping men of their male essence (yang 陽), leaving them shadows of their

original selves. As she mentions submissively, “Shen Nanqiu…too risked his life to please me,

ejaculating endlessly until he contracted an illness.”16 It is only through her sexual capitulation

to Aocao—the embodiment of male yang—that Wu Zhao is re-subjugated to traditional male-

female sexual roles.

Wu Zhao’s potency further enjoys brief mention in Cao Xueqin’s 曹雪芹 (1715-1763)

Qing classic, The Dream of the Red Chamber (Hong lou men 紅樓夢). Qin Keqing, niece-in-

law of the protagonist, Jia Baoyu 賈寶玉, displayed an array of items in her inner chamber from

women infamous for causing social disorder through sexual misbehavior. Along with a pear

fruit thrown at Yang Guifei 楊玉環 and silk handled by Xi Shi 西施, Keqing owns a mirror once

in Wu Zhao’s possession. When Baoyu gazes upon the mirror, he is temporarily disoriented, his

senses befuddled by the strong sexual potency still lingering from Wu Zhao’s use of the object.17

With its underlying currents of enthusiasm for modernization and western thought, the

1930s Republican era presented the possibility for a more positive sexual redefinition of Wu

Zhao. China’s urban women encountered opportunities for more visibility in the public sphere.

Long, curve-hugging qipao overtook patriotic, androgynous clothing of the early 1900s, allowing

women to fashionably display their sensuality to the public eye. Slits in these new qipao

revealed glimpses of women’s legs, and the silks were beautifully embroidered.18 Female

actresses especially enjoyed increasing fame and financial autonomy with the rise of the Chinese 15 Charles R. Stone, The Fountainhead of Chinese Erotica, 137-139.16 Ibid., 150.17 Cao Xueqin. The Dream of the Red Chamber, trans. H. Joly and John Minford (New York: Tuttle Publishing, 2011), 70; For more information on sexuality and gender in The Dream of the Red Chamber, see Louise P. Edwards, Men and Women in Qing China: Gender in The Red Chamber Dream (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 2001), especially pp. 83-86 for a discussion on the sexual imagery in Keqing’s bedroom.18 Susan Mann, Gender and Sexuality in Modern Chinese History (Cambridge, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 118-119.

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film industry. Nevertheless, the social relevance of traditional female morality maintained

ground. Drawing upon the popular discourse of the Ming and Qing periods, social critiques of

female immorality and material excess often depended on Wu Zhao’s image as an effective

outlet for expression.

In Fang Peilin’s 1939 film, The Empress Wu Tse-t’ien, Wu Zhao is portrayed along these

traditional lines. She possesses astounding beauty; her lilting eyebrows and sensuous

comportment enrapture a portly and foolish Gaozong. But she also harbors a terrifying ambition,

conveyed to the audience with every narrowing of her eyes. In her rise to empress, she frames

other female favorites by planting signs of black magic in their midst and suffocating her own

baby.19 Vicious public criticisms of Republican era film actresses mirrored the condemnation of

Wu Zhao’s supposed sexual licentiousness in The Empress Wu Tse-t’ien. Actresses of the

Republican era enjoyed a certain degree of freedom in the arts and entertainment sphere that was

not condoned by traditional opinion; they wore fashionable qipao or western clothing and

consorted with Guomindang officials and wealthy businessmen. Yellow journalists often used

the press to exacerbate public opinion against these women. Newspaper headlines accused them

of being “More Concupiscent than Wu Tse-ti’en.” Actress Yuan Lingyu was even pushed to

suicide after the negative press she earned from her divorce.20

The Powerful Woman

In addition to her dominant sexuality, works that mention Wu Zhao also condemn her

power in the public sphere. The conception that women should not meddle in public affairs is a

well-established concept explored in canonical classics such as the Book of Rites. The work,

19 Wu Tse-t’ien 武則天 [The Empress Wu Zetian], directed by Fang Peilin (Xinhua Film Company, 1939).20 Roxanne Witke, Comrade Chiang Ch’ing (Boston: Little, Brown, 1977), 137-139.

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compiled in the first century BC, states of idealized antiquity: “the men occupied the exterior; the

women the interior…the men did not enter the interior; the women did not come into the

exterior.”21 The ends of many dynasties in the traditional dynastic cycle were the result of a

lascivious woman who upset this balance and distracted the ruler from his governmental duties.

Baosi and Yang Guifei, for instance, both possessed resounding beauty, but nevertheless

inhibited men from their proper place in the outer sphere (wai 外 ).22 These women failed to

provide a virtuous example to their men, allowing the emperors to become complacent and

neglectful.

The Lord of Perfect Satisfaction likewise describes Wu Zhao’s feminine capriciousness

and jealousy as a poison eating at the foundations of proper governance. Wu Zhao’s anger, for

instance, prompts Gaozong to torture and execute the capable advisor, Chu Suiliang 褚遂良

(597–658), for remonstrating against her promotion to empress.23 Similarly, Feng Menglong’s

馮夢龍 (1574-1646) 1620 version of The Quelling of Demons (Pingyao chuan 平妖傳 ),

mentions Wu Zhao in relation with a millennial cult rebellion in 1047.24 Feng describes Wang

Ze 王則 , a corporal who led the early Ming revolt in Beizhou 貝州 , as a demon spirit reborn

time and again to stage rebellions and wreak havoc. He explains that one of this evil spirit’s past

incarnations was Wu Zhao, who succeeded in overthrowing the Tang dynasty. It was only until

Wen Yanbo 文彥博 (1006-1097)—Wang’s parallel adversarial reincarnate—was reborn as the

Tang prime minister, Zhang Jianzhi 張柬之 (625-706), that Wu Zhao’s devious usurpation was 21 Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture, 57.22 Liu Xiang 流向 (79-8 BC), in his Biographies of Women 烈女轉 , includes a section on “Biographies of the Pernicious and Depraved.” One of the most infamous was Baosi, the capricious consort who caused the downfall of King You (781-771 BC) of the Zhou. Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture, 159-161.23 As the commentator states, “Empress Wu was herself aware that the hearts of the people were rebellious and that her personal conduct was not correct, but she slandered people by accusing them of disloyalty.” Ibid., 135-137.24 There are two additions of the Pingyao zhuan. The first, a 20-chapter version from the early Ming, is attributed to Luo Guanzhong. For more information on Luo Guanzhong’s verson, see Lois Fusek, The Three Sui Quash the Demons’ Revolt: A Comic Novel Attributed to Luo Guanzhong (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’I Press, 2010).

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brought to an end in a coup.25 Similarly, in Li Ruzhen’s 李汝珍 (c. 1763-1830) 1825 novel,

Flowers in the Mirror (Jing huayuan 鏡花緣), the Jade Emperor honors a memorial submitted

by Emperor Yang of the Sui (589-617) to avenge the latter’s usurpation by the Tang Li 李 family. The Jade Emperor orders the fox spirit, Heart-Moon, to be reborn as a female emperor

(Wu Zhao), “thus confounding the principles of yin and yang” and disrupting the Tang on

Emperor Yang’s behalf.26

Rather than an evil reincarnate, Fang Ruhao’s (fl. 1620s-1630s) late Ming novel, Later

Tales of the True Way 禪眞後史 , describes the rebirth of a Buddhist monk, Qu Yan, into Wu

Zhao’s Zhou dynasty to purge the state of evil before attaining nirvana. He acts as a religious

moral conscience and a healer of social decay in a time when an ostensibly lasciviousness and

brutal woman held sway over an otherwise helpless government.27 This theme of governmental

decay is continued in The Empress Wu Tse-t’ien. Wu Zhao removes capable and virtuous

ministers that remonstrate against her, and the flustered Gaozong watches helplessly as she

systematically commandeers the responsibilities of rule. As female emperor, she allows her

emotions to control her decisions, ordering the harsh punishment of her adversaries.28

Underlying this condemnation of female power, however, is a fascination with reversed

gender roles—as long as these abnormalities remain a distant possibility.29 Li Ruzhen’s Flowers

in the Mirror provides several poignant examples. Irresponsibly wielding her power, Wu Zhao

throws the cosmic order out of balance by commanding that all flowers in her garden bloom at 25 Rania Huntington, “The Supernatural,” in The Columbia History of Chinese Literature, ed. Victor H. Mair (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001), 127-128.26 Li Ruzhen 李汝珍 . Jing Huayuan 鏡花緣 [Flowers in the Mirror], trans. and ed. Lin Taiyi (London, Great Britain: P. Owen, 1965), 24.27 Steven Moore, The Novel: An Alternative History, 1600-1800, 444-445; Rania Huntington, “The Supernatural,” in The Columbia History of Chinese Literature, 127-128.28 Fang Peilin, Wu Tse-t’ien.29 For more information on men’s dual fascination and fear with reversed gender roles in kingdoms of women, see Jennifer W. Jay, “Imagining Matriarchy: ‘Kingdoms of Women’ in Tang China,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 116, no. 2. (Apr.–Jun., 1996), 220-229.

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once. The hundred flower spirits that comply are consequently demoted to the human world for

blooming in winter.30 These spirits, reincarnated as talented women, pass a literary civil service

examination Wu Zhao holds exclusively for women. Yet these examinations do not result in

public service, and their talents are only displayed within the proper confines of the inner

quarters.31 Furthermore, the protagonist, Lin Zhiyang, visits a kingdom of women in which he is

made to cross dress and bind his feet. Although this kingdom is more lasting than Wu Zhao’s

interregnum of the Tang, the female power Li depicts is nevertheless an evocation of wonder that

does not threaten status quo.32

Women’s Desexualization and Rising Political Activism: Wu Zhao’s Second Reincarnation

Although perceptions of Wu Zhao during the fall of the Qing dynasty and the height of

the Republican era reveal a persistent sexualized stigma, progressive undercurrents challenging

these conventions nevertheless began to reverberate through society. Movements arose for the

education and equalization of women. The promoters of these movements often championed the

desexualization—and thus de-objectification—of the female body. This transformation

attempted to promote women’s involvement in constructing a modern China as the country

struggled to end almost one hundred years of humiliation in the hands of foreign powers. 33 The 30 Li Ruzhen, Flowers in the Mirror, 26-25.31 Although literarily and artistically accomplished women were celebrated, their talents were often only venerated in the context of their extreme humility. Writing poetry, for instance, was not necessarily wrong. Viewing a woman’s poetry, however, was considered to be an ulterior way of looking at the woman. Thus, virtuous women were described as guarding their artistry as they would their chastity. 32 As Li Wai-yee explains: “Li Ruzhen is aware of social evils and the plight of women, but his attention is intermittent and he does not consistently pursue alternatives; he glorifies talented women but allows them to flourish only in the interregnum of usurpation by Empress Wu; he preserves a haven for female power and public aspirations in the Kingdom of Women, which is nevertheless relegated to the distant periphery of the Central Kingdom.” Ku Wai-yee, “Full-Length Vernacular Fiction,” in The Columbia History of Chinese Literature, ed. Victor H. Mair (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001), 655-656.33 This is not to say that women only began to be considered integral parts of a kingdom’s success in the face of western humiliation. To the contrary, women held considerable economic significance as weavers and moral importance as voices of virtuous remonstrance. These roles, however, indirectly influenced the public sphere through behavior in the inner quarters. The democracy and modernization movements that took root in the Qing differed in their emphasis on the need for women’s direct, outward involvement in national growth. For more information on Chinese women’s role as weavers, see Bret Hinsch, “Textiles and Female Virtue,” Nan nu 5, no. 2

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politicized Wu Zhao reborn in this environment does not necessarily hark equality for women in

contemporary China, but her desexualized, politicized appearance does foreshadow the modern

Chinese woman’s greater involvement in the public sphere.

The Desexualized Political Movement

Chinese efforts to strengthen the country during the Qing dynasty facilitated a

proliferation of progressive thought on the reevaluation of women’s roles in society. A poignant

way in which these young women attempted to champion the establishment of progressive ideas

was by desexualizing their bodies. Power and modernity became inextricably tied to the

adoption of an outer masculinity. Appearances distinguishing gender were especially muted.34

Women of the late Qing, Republican era, and Maoist years adopted androgynous clothing and

cut their hair short to express solidarity in their pursuit of modernity. In the aftermath of the

1925 May Thirtieth Movement, an androgynous qipao became the popular dress of choice for

politically and nationally conscious women. Qiu Jin and Xie Bingying, two outspoken women

activists, even donned male Western suits.35

Political activism continued to provide women with means of asserting themselves in the

Republican era, despite the continued existence of traditional female values. Widespread

disillusionment with the Guomindang’s corrupt government resulted in growing support for

communism. Mao Zedong championed a place for women early in his career with the Chinese

Communist Party, promising women a liberating alternative to society’s feudalistic, oppressive

(2003), 170-202. A famous example of female influential remonstrance is Mengzi’s mother, who consistently steers him toward moral decisions through carefully weighed advice. See Robin R. Wang, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture, 150-155.34 Dress certainly plays a role in the construction of gender. For instance, Xue Xucai in Wu Zao’s (1799-1862) play, Drinking Wine and Reading “Encountering Sorrow”: A Reflection in Disguise, bemoans her unrecognized talent to a self-portrait in which she is dressed as a male scholar. Sophie Volpp, trans., “Drinking Wine and Reading ‘Encountering Sorrow’: A Reflection in Disguise by Wu Zao (1799-1862), in Under Confucian Eyes: Writings on Gender in Confucian History, eds. Susan Mann and Cheng Yuyin (Berkeley: U Cal Press, 2001), 239-248.35 Emily Honig, “Maoist Mappings of Gender: Reassessing the Red Guards,” in Chinese Femininities, Chinese Masculinities: A Reader, eds. Brownell and Wasserstrom (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 255-268.

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status quo.36 It would seem that Wu Zhao would not have been present during the resulting

Maoist years: her past certainly did not complement the anti-feudal, anti-imperial, anti-bourgeois

discourse of the state. Her highly sexual portrayal in past forms of popular entertainment

especially did not align with the new desexualized political discourse of the period. Yet, Wu

Zhao did not disappear. She instead provided leftist authors with a powerful figure through

which they could fashion their political message.

Song Zhidi’s 1937 popular drama, Wu Zetian, was the first to use Wu Zhao in a

communist political context. Song’s portrayal exhibits a crossroad between negative opinions of

the past and a nascent political empowerment being invested in the image of Wu Zhao. She

retains her defining sexuality in this play, but Song transforms her seduction into a vengeful

force against the patriarchal, feudal edifice.37 Her emasculation of the men around her testifies to

the end of a diseased, inept, and obsolete feudal culture. She is as much a pernicious force as in

traditional sources, but this time her destruction brings about the result of a positively

reinterpreted revolution. Nevertheless, Song’s Wu Zhao is far from the desexualized image

propagated during the Maoist years. As Mao commandeered discourse in the social sphere to

construct his utopian vision, Wu Zhao’s reevaluated figure mirrored a parallel politicization of

the female populace.

Mao’s Great Legalist Paradigm

The socially puritanical Maoist years, during which the state apparatus monitored

virtually all facets of life, resulted in the systematic elimination of an organic popular culture.

All mediums of expression, especially those for entertainment, were transformed into tools

36 Mao Zedong, Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-tung, ed. Stuart Schram (Bantam: New York, 1967), 169-171.37 Bruce Gordon Doar, “Images of Women in the Dramas of Guo Morou: The Case of Empress Wu,” in Drama in the People’s Republic of China, ed. Constantine Tung and Colin Mackerras (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1987), 66-68.

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wielded by the Chinese Communist Party. However, popular culture did not necessarily

disappear during this period; it was merely redefined within the constructs allowed in society.38

Wu Zhao was subsequently reinterpreted as a result, advancing beyond Song Zhidi’s political-

yet-sexualized portrayal to achieve a completely desexualized politicization.

Desexualization reached its height during the Maoist years, as physical expressions of

beauty became ostentatious signs of bourgeois culture. The CCP attempted to transfer energy

once used to cultivate bourgeois distinctions between genders to the larger collective cause of the

Party. As Ji Yinhong, a former member of the Red Guard, explains, her girls’ school adopted

masculine clothing well before the Cultural Revolution. “We were extremely self-confident and

believed we could do anything,” she states. “We never felt limited because we were girls, and

insisted we could do everything that boys could do.”39 Propagandist artwork depicted men and

women, alike, with furrowed brows, sturdy jawlines, and taut arms as they thrust their fists

toward the realization of a new, industrialized Chinese identity. Women in these posters were

portrayed in a variety of gender-bending positions, such as factory managers or electricians.

Men and women, alike, were now part of a “sea of blue ants,” their Mao suits lacking distinctive

gender characteristics.40 As the female complement to the hapless communist model of virtue,

Lei Feng, Ding Ling’s Du Wanxiang was a “political transcendence of gender” that subordinated

all other sentiments to a love for the state. The short-cropped hair and virginal glow of Du

38 Qualifying popular culture as specifically “unauthorized culture,” as Holt N. Parker asserts, should be avoided in the working definition employed for the purpose of this paper. While popular culture may be argued as forming organically from “the people,” this organic process is not necessarily free from directed organized interests. The Party may have molded popular culture to a great extent during the Maoist years, but its widespread dissemination and existence in everyday rhetoric nevertheless qualifies it as a legitimate inclusion in a popular cultural study of social views on women. Holt N. Parker, “Toward a Definition of Popular Culture,” History and Theory 50 (May 2011): 147-170.39 Emily Honin, “Maoist Mappings of Gender,” 261-262.40 Susan Mann, Gender and Sexuality in Modern China, 119-120.

Carlton 14

Wanxiang and her fellow Iron Girls exhibited a cheerful, yet aggressive, attitude that placed all

their erstwhile sexual passion in advancing the socialist cause.41

The Wu Zhao of the Maoist years is consequently a politically productive character. No

longer is she condemned for her presence in the public sphere, and her sexuality and bourgeois

beauty is utterly ignored. The Party apparatus reinvents her as a great Legalist ruler and a

champion of the oppressed masses. This reassessment depended indelibly on Mao’s political

interest in her style of rule. Dr. Li Zhisui, Mao’s personal physician, claims Mao greatly

admired Wu Zhao’s methods of rule. He reinterpreted her political assertions over powerful

aristocratic families as promoting “the interests of the medium and small landlords at the expense

of the nobility and the big families.” Her ruthless tactics against dissenters and her complex

system of informants were similarly reassessed to verify Mao’s own political style. “If she had

not been suspicious, if she had not relied on informers,” he rationalizes, “how could she have

discovered the plots the nobles and big families were hatching to overthrow her?”42

Positive political reassessments of Wu Zhao were explicitly incorporated into forms of

popular entertainment during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution.43 In 1974,

the CCP propagated a historical reevaluation of her rule, stating that she justly bestowed rewards

and punishments and was a champion of the common people in her battle against feudal

aristocracy. Her centralization of control against these regional powers certainly complemented

the political discourse of the Party.44 The popular 1959 play, Zetian Huangdi 則天皇帝, by Wu

41 Judith Farquhar, Appetites: Food and Sex in Post-Socialist China (USA: Duke University Press, 2002), 167-174. For more information on Lei Feng, see Farquhar’s “Lei Feng, Tireless Servant of the People,” Appetites: Food and Sex in Post-Socialist China, 38-45; and Jonathan D. Spence, The Search for Modern China: A Documentary Collection (New York: Norton, 1990), 417-421.42 Li Zhisui, The Private Life of Chairman Mao: the Memoirs of Mao’s Personal Physician (New York: Random House, 1994), 123.43 Tom Fisher, “‘The Play’s the Thing,’: Wu Hanchoi and Hai Rui Revisited,” in Using the Past to Serve the Present, ed. Unger (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1993), 32. Witke, Comrade Chiang Chi’ing, 464-466.44 Anita M. Andrew and John. A Rapp, Autocracy and China’s Rebel Founding Emperors: Comparing Chairman Mao and Ming Taizu (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), 26-27.

Carlton 15

Chen and Meng Yundi, propagated this reversed verdict (fan’an 翻 案 ) for the masses in the

midst of the Great Leap Forward.45 Wu and Meng avoided traditional accusations of her

brutality and sexual indiscretion, instead painting her as a democratic leader who was concerned

for the people and who readily listened to remonstrance from upright officials.46 Guo Moruo 郭

沫若 (1892-1978) produced a similar play, Wu Zetian, in 1960 that systematically refutes

slanders against the female empress, redressing what he felt was not enough of a positive

portrayal in Zetian Huangdi. Wu Han, a fellow playwright, applauds Guo’s work for liberating

Wu Zhao from the horrible “mischief-making of feudal teachings,” allowing her to be

appreciated as a progressive thinker.47 Tian Han’s 1961 play, Xie Yaohuan, further attempted to

provide Mao with political support during an increasingly unsuccessful collectivization process.

Wu Zhao and the play’s protagonist, Xie Yaohuan, battle powerful families to elevate a

peasantry oppressed by evil landlords.48

Yet, Mao’s death heralded the end of positive political reevaluations of Wu Zhao in

popular entertainment. In the aftermath of his death, the CCP sacrificed the Gang of Four as

scapegoats for the brutality of the Cultural Revolution. Mao’s wife, Jiang Qing 江青 (1914-

1991), was particularly demonized, and in the raucous backlash society zealously unearthed Wu

Zhao’s traditional negative image. The public compared Jiang to Wu Zhao, stating that both were

45 Verdicts were also reversed on the infamous Cao Cao from the Three Kingdoms period. Mao defended Cao Cao’s decisions in a poem, and the playwright, Guo Moruo, used this reevaluation to shape Cao Cao’s character in his drama, Cai Wenji. Rudolf G. Wagner, The Contemporary Chinese Historical Drama: Four Studies (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 91-92.46 Anita M. Andrew and John. A Rapp, Autocracy and China’s Rebel Founding Emperors: Comparing Chairman Mao and Ming Taizu (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), 26-27.47 Bruce Gordon Doar, “Images of Women in the Dramas of Guo Morou: The Case of Empress Wu,”59-62.48 Tian Han would later be imprisoned as a “weed,” accused of integrating an underlying subversive political message in Xie Yaohuan. Despite CCP attempts to reverse the verdict, it was still common knowledge that Wu Zhao was part of the feudal ruling class. The play can thus be interpreted as an underlying critique of the CCP. Wu Zhao is Mao, the ruler who means well, but who is led astray by evil ministers like Lai Junchen (mirroring the head of special police, Kang Sheng). Witke, Comrade Chiang Ch’ing, 306-307; Wagner, The Contemporary Chinese Historical Drama, 108-109; Yun Song, “T’ien Han’s Hsieh Yao-huan is a Big Poisonous Weed,” Guangming zhibao (Feb. 1, 1966).

Carlton 16

lecherous, ruthless murderers with evil political ambitions. Like Wu Zhao, Jiang was blamed for

waiting impatiently for the death of her husband so she control the nation. She was accused of

sexual promiscuity as an actress during the Republican era, and Hua Guofeng—Mao’s successor

—claimed he was saving the nation from a self-proclaimed empress under communism.49

What, then, can be made of the Maoist years’ impact on social views of women? Popular

entertainment under the Party edifice reinterpreted Wu Zhao in desexualized, politically positive

terms, mirroring attempts to elevate women to an equal productive status in the construction of a

strong, socialist nation. But the speed with which Wu Zhao’s traditional portrayal was brought

back to life begs the question of how much progress was really made during this period. Had

widespread views on women in Chinese society progressed, or were traditional values and

expectations obstinately holding their grip on popular opinion? The economic reforms instituted

by the Deng Xiaoping administration, which opened China to western influences and introduced

capitalist policies, further complicated the issue. The changing environment rapidly presented

new opportunities for women in education and the workforce, while Party encroachment in the

home refashioned the parameters of their domestic roles. The Wu Zhao in popular culture of this

contemporary period is consequently fashioned in a varied and paradoxical manner.

The Complicated Amalgamation of the Modern Woman: Wu Zhao’s Third Reincarnation

The images of Wu Zhao that precede contemporary China represent two quite

dichotomous sides of the spectrum on women’s proper places in society. The first consists of a

negatively sexualized fox spirit who undermines the government due to her blatant disregard for

women’s designated social roles. The second is a more educated and adept ruler, but with the

consequence that she is almost completely desexualized. The synthesis of these two create a

49 Wagner, The Contemporary Chinese Historical Drama, 94-95; Witke, Comrade Chiang Ch’ing, 472-474.

Carlton 17

complicated amalgamation of the modern woman in contemporary China; she is both encouraged

to pursue modernity and inhibited by lingering traditional social values. Popular portrayals of

Wu Zhao in modern entertainment mediums resultantly mirror the paradoxical blending of these

two different expectations placed on women.

Contradictions in the Economic Arena

The Chinese Communist Party certainly played a significant role in increasing women’s

involvement in the economy, pulling women en masse into the workforce. Social expectations

have transformed, as a result, to demand women’s economic independence. The Party’s one-

child policies have inadvertently exacerbated pressure placed on women to perform in the public

arena. Contrary to Fu Xuan’s poem, “Women,” which laments that “no one is glad when a girl is

born” and that “by her the family sets no store,” daughters in one-child families receive

considerable solicitous attention.50 All the expectations and dreams that might have been

dispersed among siblings are placed upon their single daughter’s shoulders. Far from mirroring

the spoiled complacency of their “little emperor” (xiao huangdi 小皇帝) counterparts, these girls

feel an incredible pressure to perform and prove their worth in a society that still prefers boys

over girls. The result is a generation of independent-minded super women that often grossly

outperform their male contemporaries.

Chinese women are especially achieving recognition in the business world. Forbes’ 2013

list of the worlds’ billionaires contains numerous self-made Chinese women. For instance, Wu

Yajun, a former journalist, has accumulated $4.3 billion in real estate, while Soho China founder,

Zhang Xin, has a net worth of $3.6 billion. The latter outflanks the American icon of female

50 Fu Xuan, “Women,” from Arthur Waley, Chinese Poems, (New York: 1946), 84-85, repr in Albert M. Craig, et al, The Heritage of World Civilizations, 2d ed., (New York: Macmillan, 1990), 217.

Carlton 18

success, Oprah Winfrey, by almost a billion dollars.51 Portrayals of Wu Zhao in popular media

have likewise fashioned Wu Zhao as an ancient predecessor to the increasingly independent,

successful, and formidable Chinese businesswoman. The Wu Zhao in the 2010 Detective Dee

and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (Di Renjie zhi tongtian diguo, 狄仁傑之通天帝國 ),

directed by Tsui Hark, is powerful and calculating. She is portrayed as a grand figure that

demands—and earns—the respect of her subjects. Nevertheless, traditional interpretations still

exist. Di Renjie, the film’s Sherlock-esque sleuth hero, undermines a friend’s assassination

attempt on Wu Zhao, arguing the chaos that would ensue after her death would be more harmful

to the innocent than keeping her on the throne. The female emperor, grateful for her rescue,

promises Di that she will rule justly and return power to the rightful Tang male line upon

retirement.52 Perhaps, then, this Wu Zhao represents modern Chinese society’s grudging

acceptance of female empowerment in the economic sphere as a necessary evil in propelling

China’s meteoric development.

Yet, as Susan Mann points out, amidst the increasing educational and economic

opportunities for women, “almost never do we hear a celebration of independent single

womanhood.”53 Underlying these advancements in female autonomy lay persistent patriarchal

sentiments that chip away at the foundation of progress in gender equality. Similar to their

contemporaries in the United States, educated Chinese women now face a glass ceiling.54

Disarticulation of state-owned apparatuses of the Maoist years has consequently undermined

comrade equality in the workforce. With privatization comes capitalist streamlining, which often

51 Luisa Kroll, “The Rarer Sex: The Self-Made Women Billionaires of 2013,” Forbes (2013), (accessed November 16, 2013): http://www.forbes.com/sites/luisakroll/2013/03/06/the-rarer-sex-the-self-made-women-billionaries-of-2013/. 52 Di Renjie zhi tongtian diguo 狄仁傑之通天帝國 [Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame], directed by Tsui Hark (Huayi Brothers, 2010).53 Susan Mann, Gender and Sexuality in Modern Chinese History, 188.54 Pat Ebrey, ed., “Economic Liberalization and New Problems for Women,” in Chinese Civilization: A Sourcebook (New York: Free Press, 1993), 476-487.

Carlton 19

targets the removal of women for being more expensive, and ostensibly less productive, workers.

These women still have the same level of responsibilities within the domestic sphere. Li Jing, a

factory worker complains, “As women, we shoulder the heavy responsibilities of bringing up

children and taking charge of household affairs, and on top of that we must compete with men in

our work. How can it be said that this is competition between equals?” She goes on to ask why

women’s contribution is “not recognized and why, on the contrary, should it be taken as an

excuse to eliminate women in the competition?”55 A survey taken in 2000, for instance, shows

that women’s responsibilities in the household have not dramatically decreased, with women in

more than 85 percent of households taking care of the cleaning, cooking, and washing.56

Contradictions in the Relationship Sphere

Another instance of supposed improved empowerment for women lies in the relationship

sphere. The 1980s Marriage Law expanded upon on the 1950s marriage law—defining marriage

as a monogamous relationship between two consenting adults—to encourage intimacy.57 The

idea of “cultivating feelings” (peiyang ganqing 培養感情) gained popularity in the 1990s, fueled

by growing opportunities for leisure that enabled a dating culture and the portrayal of romantic

love in popular media.58 Wu Zhao makes an appearance in several television dramas that attract

wide viewership due to their storylines of budding romances in which the female protagonists

exercise a level of autonomy. In the 2011 series, The Secret History of Wu Zetian (Wu Zetian

55 Ibid., 484-487.56 Chen Mingxia, “The Marriage Law and the Rights of Chinese Women in Marriage and the Family,” 162.57 Sara L. Friedman, “Women, Marriage, and the State in Contemporary China,” in Chinese Society: Change, Conflict, and Resistance, 3rd ed., eds. Elizabeth J. Perry and Mark Selden (USA: Routledge, 2000), 154. For more information on the 1950s Marriage Law, see Chen Mingxia, “The Marriage Law and the Rights of Chinese Women in Marriage and the Family,” in Holding Up Half the Sky, eds. Tao Jie, Zheng Bijun and Shirley Mow (New York: Feminist Press, 2004): 159-171.58 Sara L. Friedman, “Women, Marriage, and the State in Contemporary China,” 155-156. For more information on dating culture in contemporary China, see William Jankowiak, “Chinese Youth: Hot Romance and Cold Calculation,” in Restless China, eds. Perry Link, Richard P. Madsen, and Paul G. Pickowicz (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2013): 191-212.

Carlton 20

mishi, 武則天祕史), a young Wu Zhao just introduced into Tang Taizong’s harem is terrified on

her wedding night and attempts to resist Taizong’s advances. She is consequently humanized,

evoking viewer sympathy for a girl forced into an unwanted arranged marriage. Far from her

traditional portrayal, the series interprets her relationship with Gaozong as a budding, innocent

romance attempting to defy the suffocating social constructs placed on pure love.59

Here, Wu Zhao’s portrayal in popular entertainment does not align very well with the

reality of women’s experiences. Arranged marriage still persists, though the majority of these

instances are confined to rural regions. A 1994 survey shows that roughly 5% of urban

marriages were arranged, compared to almost a third of those marriages in the countryside. The

increasing gap among men and women—exacerbated by families’ choices to abort or abandon

female infants—has facilitated the kidnapping of women to sell as brides in the countryside.60

The objectification and sexualization of women has thus far from disappeared. Although

concubinage is no longer legal, successful Chinese businessmen often support mistresses—even

second families—as a measure of their wealth.61 Wu Zhao appears in this environment in the

form of a sexualized symbol for the rice liquor (baijiu, 白酒) company, Wu Zetian jiu 武則天酒.

The attractive bottles mimic the shapely curves of a woman’s body and are decorated like the

luxurious gowns of past empresses. Her image in this instance is just as eroticized as in

traditional portrayals, yet this time her sexuality stimulates profit rather than evoking a

condemning social critique.

Conclusion: The Reincarnations of Wu Zhao and the Interpretative Nature of Femininity

59 Wu Zetian mishi 武則天祕史 [The Secret History of Wu Zetian], Hunan TV (First aired May 5, 2011).60 Pat Ebrey, ed., “Economic Liberalization and New Problems for Women,” 487; Chen Mingxia, “The Marriage Law and the Rights of Chinese Women in Marriage and the Family,” 162.61 This phenomenon is referred to as “taking a second wife” (bao ernai 包二奶).

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Judith Butler, in “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution,” provides a theoretical

framework for assessing the construction of gender in a social and cultural context. As she

argues, gender is a fluid concept, both shaping and being shaped by the social values and

circumstances in which it is situated.62 Gender roles for women in China have evolved

throughout the years based on the social and cultural environment of the respective periods.

Both these changes and persistent consistencies can be viewed to a large extent through popular

forms of entertainment. Wu Zhao, with such an anomalous, infamous image, provides a

powerful case study. The Ming’s neo-Confucian emphasis on female virtue, which demonizes

Wu Zhao’s flouting of traditional gender roles, and the desexualized politicization of the Maoist

era, which redefines Wu Zhao as a respectful political figure, combine to influence a convoluted

understanding of femininity in contemporary China. Perhaps in post-socialist China it is no

longer so “sad to be a woman,” as Fu Xuan sympathetically laments. Yet the modern Chinese

woman arguably faces even greater social stresses and dramatically polar expectations than their

predecessors. Female portrayals in popular culture mirror the dizzying amalgamation of

tradition and globalization that shapes what it means to be a woman in contemporary China.

62 Judith Butler, "Performance Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory," Theatre Journal 49, no. 1 (Dec. 1988), 519-531.

Carlton 22

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