Letter from a Chinese "Traitor" -- Caught in the Middle, Called a
Traitor/Grace Wang
-- Micky's humble opinion: Many Chinese "patriotic" hooligans claim that
"Chinese love Tibetan brothers", however, if one asks how many "loving"
Chinese speak the native language of their "beloved "Tibetan brother,
the collective Chinese hypocrisy is glaringly obvious. --
wa****ngtonpost.com
Caught in the Middle, Called a Traitor
By Grace Wang
Sunday, April 20, 2008; B01
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.
Because language is the bridge to understanding.
Grace Wang is a freshman at Duke University. Scott Savitt, a visiting
scholar in Duke's Chinese media studies program, assisted in writing
this article.
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