Big Breasts and Wide Hips (10 page)

On the following day, my aunt and uncle found my mother in the flour vat, barely alive, her body coated with flour. After clearing the baby's mouth and nose and patting her on the back, my aunt was relieved to hear her little niece cough and begin to cry.

When Lu Xuan'er reached the age of five, her aunt fetched some bamboo strips, a wooden mallet, and some heavy white cloth. “Xuan'er,” she said to her niece, “you're five years old, time to have your feet bound.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“A woman without bound feet cannot find a husband.”

“Why do I have to find a husband?”

“You don't expect me to look after you for the rest of your life, do you?” her aunt replied.

Mother's uncle, Big Paw Yu, was an easygoing gambling man. Fearless and swaggering out in society, at home he was docile as a kitten. He was sitting in front of a fire roasting some tiny fish to go with what he was drinking. His huge hands were not nearly as clumsy as they looked. The tantalizing aroma of the sizzling fish drifted into Xuan'er's nostrils. She was particularly fond of this lazy uncle, because every time her aunt went out to work, he stayed home to eat what and when he wasn't supposed to. Sometimes he'd fry eggs, at other times it was dried meat, but there was always something for Xuan'er, on condition that she didn't say a word to her aunt.

After scaling the little fish with his fingernails, he peeled off a strip, placed it on his tongue, and washed it down with a drink. “Your aunt's right,” he said. “Girls who don't bind their feet grow up to be big-footed spinsters that nobody wants.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

“Xuan'er, do you know why I married your aunt?”

“Because she's a good person.”

“No,” Big Paw Yu said, “it's because she has such tiny feet.”

Xuan'er looked down at her aunt's feet and then her own. “Will my feet look like yours?”

“That depends on you. If you do as I say, yours will be even smaller.”

Every time Mother talked about having her feet bound, it was a mixture of blood-and-tears indictment and personal glory.

She told us that her aunt's steely resolve and dexterity were renowned throughout Northeast Gaomi Township. Everyone knew she was the head of the household, and that Big Paw Yu was good for gambling and bird-hunting only. The fifty acres of land, the two donkeys that worked it, the household chores, and the hiring of workers all fell to Mother's aunt, who was barely five feet tall and never weighed more than ninety pounds. That such a small person could get so much done was a mystery to everyone. When she promised to raise her niece into a fine young lady, she certainly was not about to cut corners on foot binding. First she bent the toes back with bamboo strips and wrapped them tightly, wrenching loud squeals of protest from her niece. Then she wrapped the feet tightly with the alum-treated white cloth, one layer after another. Once that was done, she pounded the toes with her wooden mallet. Mother said the pain was like banging her head against the wall.

“Please, not so tight,” Mother beseeched her aunt.

“It's tight because I love you,” her aunt said with a piercing glare. “If I didn't, I wouldn't care how loose they were. One day, when you have a perfect pair of golden lotuses, you'll thank me.”

“Then I won't get married, all right?” Mother pleaded tearfully. “I'll take care of you and Uncle for the rest of your lives.”

Hearing this, her uncle softened. “Maybe you can loosen them a little, don't you think?”

“Get out of here, you lazy dog!” her aunt said as she picked up a broom and threw it at him.

He jumped to his feet, picked up a string of coins, and ran out of the house.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the Great Qing fell and was replaced by a republic. Xuan'er was now sixteen and the possessor of perfect lotus feet.

Her uncle, who took great pride in Xuan'er's tiny bound feet and viewed his uncommonly beautiful niece as a truly marketable treasure, hung a plaque over the front gate. “Fragrant Lotus Hall,” it read. “Our Xuan'er will marry a
zhuangyuan
, top scholar at the Imperial Examination,” he announced. “Big Paw,” they said, “the Manchu dynasty has fallen. There are no more
zhuangyuan.”
“Then she'll marry a provincial military governor, and if not that, a county magistrate.”

It was the summer of 1917. Upon taking office, the newly appointed magistrate of Gaomi, Niu Tengxiao, banned the smoking of and trade in opium, outlawed gambling, vowed to annihilate bandits, and prohibited foot binding. The sale of opium went underground, gambling continued unabated, and annihilating bandits proved impossible. That left only foot binding, which hardly anyone opposed. So County Magistrate Niu personally went down into the villages to promote the ban, which earned him considerable prestige.

It happened during the seventh month, on one of those rare clear days. An open sedan drove into the town of Dalan. The county magistrate summoned the town head, who summoned the community heads, who summoned the neighborhood heads, who summoned the residents, all of whom were to gather at the threshing ground — men, women, young, and old. Nonattendees would be fined a peck of grain.

As the crowd gathered, Magistrate Niu spotted the plaque above Uncle Big Paw's gate. “I'm surprised to see such sentiments at a peasant's house,” he said. “There is a perfect pair of golden lotuses at that house, Magistrate,” the town head said fawningly. “Depraved tastes have become a national illness. Those so-called fragrant lotuses were once nothing but stinky feet.”

Eventually, the crowd settled down to hear what Magistrate Niu had to say. Mother told us that he was wearing a black high-collar tunic and a brown top hat. He had a dark mustache and wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses. A pocket watch chain dangled in front of his tunic, and he carried a walking stick. His voice was raspy, almost ducklike, but even though she had no idea what he was saying, she was sure he spoke with great eloquence.

Shy and timid, Mother clung to her aunt's clothes. Once the foot binding process had begun, she'd stopped going outside, spending nearly all her time weaving nets or doing embroidery. She had never seen so many people before, and was too frightened to look around. She felt that everyone's eyes were on her tiny bound feet. Mother told us she was wearing a leek green satin jacket, with wide sleeves and borders of fine silk. Her glossy black braid hung down nearly to her knees. Her trousers were cerise, also with hand-sewn borders. On her feet a pair of high-heeled red-embroidered shoes with wooden soles peeked out from beneath her trousers from time to time and clicked on the roadway when she walked. Since she had trouble standing, she had to hold on to her aunt.

During his oration, the magistrate singled out Fragrant Lotus Hall in his exhortation against the evils of foot binding. “It is a poisonous legacy of a feudal system,” he said, “a morbid aspect of life.” Everyone turned to gape at Mother's feet; she didn't dare look up. The magistrate then read the anti-foot binding proclamation, after which he summoned the women he'd brought along to perform the “Natural Foot Olio.” Six young women jumped spryly out of the open car, chattering as they showed off their fine figures. “Fellow villagers and elders, boys and girls, open your eyes wide and watch this!” the magistrate said. Everyone stared at the women, who wore their hair short, with bangs across the forehead, and were dressed in long-sleeved sky blue blouses with turn-down collars over short white skirts that showed a lot of leg. Short white socks and white sneakers completed the outfit.

A breath of fresh air had blown into the bosom of Northeast Gaomi Township.

After lining up and bowing to the crowd, the young women raised their brows and began to recite in unison: “We have natural feet, no abnormal fads, our bodies are precious, they came from moms and dads” — they bounced up and down, raising their feet high in the air to show their natural beauty — “we can run and jump and play in the rain, not like crippled feet that bring so much pain” — more bouncing and running around — “the feudal system is bad for a woman, who is only a toy, but we have natural feet, so take off your wrappings, girls, and share in our joy.”

As the “natural feet” girls hopped and bounced away, their place was taken by an orthopedic surgeon who brought an oversized model of the foot to demonstrate how the broken bones of bound feet forever altered the shape of the foot.

Just before the meeting ended, Magistrate Niu had a brainstorm. He ordered that Northeast Gaomi's number one golden lotus come up and bear witness to how disgusting bound feet can be.

Mother nearly passed out from fright and hid behind her aunt. “The county magistrate's orders are not to be ignored,” the town head said. But Mother wrapped her arms tightly around her aunt's waist and begged her not to make her go up there.

“Go on, Xuan'er,” her aunt coaxed. “Show them your feet. As long as they know what they're looking for, you'll do fine. Don't tell me that golden lotuses I personally created won't compete favorably with the hooves on those six donkeys.”

So her aunt escorted her up front, and then stepped aside. Xuan'er swayed as she walked, like a willow in the wind, and in the eyes of tradition-bound Northeast Gaomi men, that was the mark of true beauty. They stared at her, desperately wishing that by raising their eyelashes they could lift a leg of her trousers for a good view of one of those tiny feet. Like a moth drawn to a flame, the magistrate's gaze flew to that spot beneath her trouser hem, and he just stood there for a moment, mouth agape, before regaining his composure. “Just look,” he announced. “Such a lovely girl turned into a freak incapable of manual labor.”

Unmindful of the consequences, Mother's aunt refuted the magistrate's comment. “A golden lotus girl is meant to be pampered. Manual labor is what servants are for!”

With her aunt's gaze boring into him, the magistrate asked, “Are you the girl's mother?”

“What if I am?”

“Are her bound feet your handiwork?”

“What if they are?”

“Take this shrewish woman into custody,” he ordered, “and keep her there as long as her daughter's feet remain bound.”

“I'd like to see any of you try!” Big Paw Yu thundered as he leaped out from the crowd, fists clenched, to protect his wife.

“Who are you?” the magistrate asked.

“I'm your elder,” he said defiantly.

“Seize him!” the enraged magistrate demanded.

Some of his underlings stepped up warily and reached out to restrain Big Paw, who brushed them aside with a swipe of his arm.

Now the crowd got involved, and amid the flurry of opinions, some people picked up dirt clods and threw them in the direction of the six natural feet girls.

The people of Northeast Gaomi have always been known for their boldness, something the magistrate must have been aware of. “I have important business to take care of today, so I'll let you off this time. But unbinding women's feet is national policy, and anyone who defies that policy can expect to be severely punished.”

The magistrate threaded his way through the crowd and climbed into his car. “Let's go,” he told his chauffeur, who went to the front of the car and turned the crank until the engine started with a loud cough. The natural feet girls and other hangers-on piled in as the chauffeur ran around to the driver's seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and drove off, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

A youngster in the crowd clapped. “Our Big Paw Yu scared off the county magistrate!”

That night, Shangguan Lü, wife of the local blacksmith Shangguan Fulu, presented a bolt of white cloth to a matchmaker called Big Mouth Yuan with a request that she approach the Yu family with a marriage proposal on behalf of her only son, Shangguan Shouxi.

“Elder sister-in-law,” Big Mouth said to Mother's aunt as she tapped her feet with a rush fan, “if the Manchu dynasty hadn't fallen, I wouldn't dare cross your threshold, even if someone shoved a drill up my backside. But we now live in the Republic of China, and girls with bound feet are out of favor. The sons of well-to-do families have taken up new ways of thinking. They wear uniforms, they smoke cigarettes, and they chase after girls educated in foreign schools, girls with big feet, who can run and jump and chat and laugh and giggle when a boy puts his arm around her. I'm afraid your niece is a fallen phoenix, which is worse than a common chicken. The Shangguan family is willing to overlook that, and I think it's time to burn the incense. Shangguan Shouxi is a good-looking, well-mannered boy, and the family owns both a donkey and a mule. Running their own blacksmith shop doesn't make them rich, but they're not badly off. Xuan'er could do worse than a family like that.”

“Have I raised a proper young lady just so she can marry the son of a blacksmith?”

“Haven't you heard that the wife of the Xuantong emperor was sent up to the city of Harbin to polish shoes? Life is unpredictable, elder sister-in-law.”

“Tell the Shangguans to come see me in person.”

On the following morning, Mother peeked through a crack in the door to get her first glimpse of the robust woman who was to be her mother-in-law, Shangguan Lü. She also watched as her aunt and Shangguan Lü argued over the betrothal gifts until they were both red in the face. “Go home and talk it over,” Mother's aunt said. “Either the mule or two acres of arable land. Raising the girl for seventeen years has to be worth something.”

“All right,” Shangguan Lü said. “You win. The mule is yours, and we'll take your wooden-wheeled wagon.”

With a clap of the hands, the deal between the two women was struck. “Xuan'er,” Mother's aunt called to her. “Come out and meet your mother-in-law.”

Three years into her marriage to Shangguan Shouxi, Xuan'er remained childless. Her mother-in-law railed at the family hen, “All you do is eat, and we still haven't seen a single egg.” Her meaning was clear.