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Caught in the Middle, Called a Traitor
Wa****ngton Post[Sunday, April 20, 2008 14:20]
By Grace Wang
I study languages -- Italian, French and German. And this summer --
now that it looks as though I won't be able to go home to China --
I'll take up Arabic. My goal is to master 10 languages, in addition to
Chinese and English, by the time I'm 30.
I want to do this because I believe that language is the bridge to
understanding. Take China and Tibet. If more Chinese learned the
Tibetan language, and if Tibetans learned more about China, I'm
convinced that our two peoples would understand one another better and
we could overcome the current crisis between us peacefully. I feel
that even more strongly after what happened here at Duke University a
little more than a week ago.
Trying to mediate between Chinese and pro-Tibetan campus protesters, I
was caught in the middle and vilified and threatened by the Chinese.
After the protest, the intimidation continued online, and I began
receiving threatening phone calls. Then it got worse -- my parents in
China were also threatened and forced to go into hiding. And I became
persona non grata in my native country.
It has been a frightening and unsettling experience. But I'm
determined to speak out, even in the face of threats and abuse. If I
stay silent, then the same thing will happen to someone else someday.
So here's my story.
When I first arrived at Duke last August, I was afraid I wouldn't like
it. It's in the small town of Durham, N.C., and I'm from Qingdao, a
city of 4.3 million. But I eventually adjusted, and now I really love
it. It's a diverse environment, with people from all over the world.
Over Christmas break, all the American students went home, but that's
too expensive for students from China. Since the dorms and the dining
halls were closed, I was housed off-campus with four Tibetan
classmates for more than three weeks.
I had never really met or talked to a Tibetan before, even though
we're from the same country. Every day we cooked together, ate
together, played chess and cards. And of course, we talked about our
different experiences growing up on opposite sides of the People's
Republic of China. It was eye-opening for me.
I'd long been interested in Tibet and had a romantic vision of the
Land of Snows, but I'd never been there. Now I learned that the
Tibetans have a different way of seeing the world. My classmates were
Buddhist and had a strong faith, which inspired me to reflect on my
own views about the meaning of life. I had been a materialist, as all
Chinese are taught to be, but now I could see that there's something
more, that there's a spiritual side to life.
We talked a lot in those three weeks, and of course we spoke in
Chinese. The Tibetan language isn't the language of instruction in the
better secondary schools there and is in danger of disappearing.
Tibetans must be educated in Mandarin Chinese to succeed in our
extremely capitalistic culture. This made me sad, and made me want to
learn their language as they had learned mine.
I was reminded of all this on the evening of April 9. As I left the
cafeteria planning to head to the library to study, I saw people
holding Tibetan and Chinese flags facing each other in the middle of
the quad. I hadn't heard anything about a protest, so I was curious
and went to have a look. I knew people in both groups, and I went back
and forth between them, asking their views. It seemed silly to me that
they were standing apart, not talking to each other. I know that this
is often due to a language barrier, as many Chinese here are
scientists and engineers and aren't confident of their English.
I thought I'd try to get the two groups together and initiate some
dialogue, try to get everybody thinking from a broader perspective.
That's what Lao Tzu, Sun Tzu and Con****ius remind us to do. And I'd
learned from my dad early on that disagreement is nothing to be afraid
of. Unfortunately, there's a strong Chinese view nowadays that
critical thinking and dissidence create problems, so everyone should
just keep quiet and maintain harmony.
A lot has been made of the fact that I wrote the words "Free Tibet" on
the back of the American organizer of the protest, who was someone I
knew. But I did this at his request, and only after making him promise
that he would talk to the Chinese group. I never dreamed how the
Chinese would seize on this innocent action. The leaders of the two
groups did at one point try to communicate, but the attempt wasn't
very successful.
The Chinese protesters thought that, being Chinese, I should be on
their side. The participants on the Tibet side were mostly Americans,
who really don't have a good understanding of how complex the
situation is. Truthfully, both sides were being quite closed-minded
and refusing to consider the other's perspective. I thought I could
help try to turn a shouting match into an exchange of ideas. So I
stood in the middle and urged both sides to come together in peace and
mutual respect. I believe that they have a lot in common and many more
similarities than differences.
But the Chinese protesters -- who were much more numerous, maybe 100
or more -- got increasingly emotional and vocal and wouldn't let the
other side speak. They pushed the small Tibetan group of just a dozen
or so up against the Duke Chapel doors, yelling "Liars, liars, liars!"
This upset me. It was so aggressive, and all Chinese know the moral
injunction: Junzi dongkou, bu dongshou (The wise person uses his
tongue, not his fists).
I was scared. But I believed that I had to try to promote mutual
understanding. I went back and forth between the two groups, mostly
talking to the Chinese in our language. I kept urging everyone to calm
down, but it only seemed to make them angrier. Some young men in the
Chinese group -- those we call fen qing (angry youth) -- started
yelling and cursing at me.
What a lot of people don't know is that there were many on the Chinese
side who sup****ted me and were saying, "Let her talk." But they were
drowned out by the loud minority who had really lost their cool.
Some people on the Chinese side started to insult me for speaking
English and told me to speak Chinese only. But the Americans didn't
understand Chinese. It's strange to me that some Chinese seem to feel
as though not speaking English is expressing a kind of national pride.
But language is a tool, a way of thinking and communicating.
At the height of the protest, a group of Chinese men surrounded me,
pointed at me and, referring to the young woman who led the 1989
student democracy protests in Tiananmen Square, said, "Remember Chai
Ling? All Chinese want to burn her in oil, and you look like her."
They said that I had mental problems and that I would go to hell. They
asked me where I was from and what school I had attended. I told them.
I had nothing to hide. But then it started to feel as though an angry
mob was about to attack me. Finally, I left the protest with a police
escort.
Back in my dorm room, I logged onto the Duke Chinese Students and
Scholars Association (DCSSA) Web site and listserv to see what people
were saying. Qian Fangzhou, an officer of DCSSA, was gloating, "We
really showed them our colors!"
I posted a letter in response, explaining that I don't sup****t Tibetan
independence, as some accused me of, but that I do sup****t Tibetan
freedom, as well as Chinese freedom. All people should be free and
have their basic rights protected, just as the Chinese constitution
says. I hoped that the letter would spark some substantive discussion.
But people just criticized and ridiculed me more.
The next morning, a storm was raging online. Photographs of me had
been posted on the Internet with the words "Traitor to her country!"
printed across my forehead. Then I saw something really alarming: Both
my parents' citizen ID numbers had been posted. I was shocked, because
this information could only have come from the Chinese police.
I saw detailed directions to my parents' home in China, accompanied by
calls for people to go there and teach "this shameless dog" a lesson.
It was then that I realized how serious this had become. My phone rang
with callers making threats against my life. It was ironic: What I had
tried so hard to prevent was precisely what had come to pass. And I
was the target.
I talked to my mom the next morning, and she said that she and my dad
were going into hiding because they were getting death threats, too.
She told me that I shouldn't call them. Since then, short e-mail
messages have been our only communication. The other day, I saw photos
of our apartment online; a bucket of feces had been emptied on the
doorstep. More recently I've heard that the windows have been smashed
and obscene posters have been hung on the door. Also, I've been told
that after convening an assembly to condemn me, my high school revoked
my diploma and has reinforced patriotic education.
I understand why people are so emotional and angry; the events in
Tibet have been tragic. But this crucifying of me is unacceptable. I
believe that individual Chinese know this. It's when they fire each
other up and act like a mob that things get so dangerous.
Now, Duke is providing me with police protection, and the attacks in
Chinese cyberspace continue. But contrary to my detractors'
expectations, I haven't shriveled up and slunk away. Instead, I've
responded by publicizing this shameful incident, both to protect my
parents and to get people to reflect on their behavior. I'm no longer
afraid, and I'm determined to exercise my right to free speech.
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