Our photo theme this week is “Get Physical” — physical education and culture that spans dynasties. Kung fu, qigong, elderly square dancing, and everything in between.
If you’ve been following our photo series this week, you’ll know that we started you off gently on your journey to physical enlightenment. From a basic horse stance, to pregnant yoga, and eventually a heart-pounding Maoist cardio routine. But really, this is what you’ve been training for — straight up kung fu superpowers.
The 72 arts of Shaolin differ depending on who you ask. Different sets have been described in different books, but the standard text in the English-speaking world is from the book Authentic Shaolin Heritage: Training Methods of 72 Arts of Shaolin, written in 1934 with help from the Shaolin Temple’s abbot. The arts themselves range from simple (conditioning exercises to make your fists stronger), to novel (training elasticity in striking by punching out the flame on a candle), to outlandish (exercises that allow you to run across lily pads, or kill someone with an energy punch).
As a young and wide-eyed martial arts nerd in high school, there’s no way I was going to pass up on a literal textbook of ancient kung fu powers. Flick through a couple of these pages, and you’ll get an idea of what the book is like. It really has everything — basic calisthenics, recipes for homemade muscle liniments, even classical Chinese forms of swimming. Consult this training method for Hand of Five Poisons (“many wanderers exercise that kind of gong fu”), which is actual witchcraft:
On the eve of Qing Ming festival, dig out a lower layer of clay weighing 10 kg. The clay should be of light yellow color. Put it into an earthenware vat for drying. During the festival Duan Wu put a red snake, a gecko, a spider, a toad, and scolopendra into clay, that is so called “five poisons”. Pound them together with clay. Add then 5 kilogram of iron shot into clay, 5 kg of vinegar, 2.5 kg of strong spirit, 1 kg of bronze shot. Place the obtained mass on a bench. Strike at it every day in the morning and in the evening. If you train yourself in consecutive order and tirelessly, you will get success in three years. If a man is struck by such an arm, he can perish, therefore such a blow can not be thoughtlessly delivered. To avoid delivering the blow unintentionally, it is better to exercise the left arm. The hands after training must be washed with special solution prepared according to a secret recipe. Otherwise in three days the hand begins to rot and no cure will help.
We’re pretty sure that last part is just in there to scare away those who would use the Hand of Five Poisons for evil (unrelated, we are currently accepting leads on locating a Scolopendra in Shanghai). But we do have to remember that these practices are hundreds of years old, and witchcraft was kind of in vogue all over the world at the time. Nonetheless, some of the methods are pretty clever, and a lot of the exercises seem like they’d be pretty effective. Check out some snapshots from inside the book.
Despite the existence of racism and discrimination in the United States, my education from growing up in Northern Virginia indoctrinated me with the idea that we must avoid making assumptions and judgements simply by the color of someone’s skin or their cultural background. I was taught that the way we identify ourselves is a personal choice, and that we have that as a personally endowed freedom. I was taken aback when it became clear to me that in China, I would be judged and evaluated on a scale I have never experienced before, just because of my identity.
This was the first time in my life where I really felt that because of my cultural background and the way I identify myself, I was being evaluated in a meticulously pessimistic manner. This was the first time in my life where I felt that the people around me and the society I was immersed in genuinely cared about how I personally identified myself.
I was not entirely sure if this was just a particular online reaction, or if this could be considered the regular attitude of most people within China. Despite the hurdles I face, I was asked by several other media companies to come in and discuss possibilities of collaboration.
They said they were impressed with my content and the ability to produce videos completely on my own, considering that I do not have a team of people to help me so all the directing, camera work, video editing, and even subtitles are done by myself. After attracting the attention of a few other major online accounts and companies, I quickly discovered that generally the idea of cooperation would involve me having to identify myself in a way that does not match how I view my own identity.
I have been asked by more than one media agency of some sort to call myself a proud “Chinese.”
I have always felt that it would be inaccurate to describe myself as either plainly Chinese or completely American. If I called myself just an American, that description would ignore my cultural identity and roots. Calling myself Chinese would neglect the fact that I grew up in the United States, its environment, and its educational system.
Even though I felt like I already knew the answer, I still always asked the question: “Why must I specifically call myself Chinese?”
The explanation given to me was short but comprehensive: the ability of the average Chinese audience to digest someone who is ethnically Chinese denying being Chinese is seen as extremely offensive. Regardless of cultural background or what kind of experiences I may have had, the fact that I am ethnically Han will always fix my identity as Chinese to most viewers in China. They will generally see me as a Chinese person with American citizenship. If I do not adhere to this view, then I’m at risk of offending audiences for what they view as “forgetting my roots” (数典忘祖), and for betraying the Chinese race.
To be frank, I was quite tempted to take a few deals with certain companies. I would be offered large-scale support and given decent pay. From a materialistic point of view I’d have a wide array of resources to utilize for my social media platform. Doing media work completely by one’s self is time consuming, inefficient, and difficult. So naturally, I considered making the compromise of simply calling myself “Chinese” to appease mainstream audiences. I figured that perhaps I could morally rationalize this as an avenue to build up my own platforms so that eventually I can use whatever influence I garner to do what I really wish to accomplish later on in my career.
However, after a few moments of reflection, I determined that there was no way I could accept any of these compromises.
These companies and other agencies were sympathetic to my hesitations. When I sat down with them to discuss these possibilities, we agreed that if I were somehow willing to compromise my identity, it would cause two major problems.
First, it would consolidate a certain image for my viewers and it would be hard to separate myself from that personality later on. I did not want to be the Chinese-American who unconditionally praises my Chinese roots and overly exaggerates my sense of being Chinese, which would ultimately move many Chinese viewers since I would appear to be an overseas Chinese person finally realizing the sacrosanct worth of his roots. That kind of “character” would stick with my online platforms and I would not be able to get away from that, especially after I attracted a certain fanbase.
The second and most important reason is simply that I would not be true to myself, and true to what I want to do, if I compromise my identity for the sake of material success.
Since I have chosen to stubbornly maintain my identity and my approach of pursuing media, it has created mixed results. I have received praise for being able to maintain myself and maintain my own character. At the same time, I have been scolded for abandoning my roots (数典忘祖), for being a traitor (卖国贼，叛徒), for eradicating my own sense of filial piety, and for simply not accepting my position as a “Chinese.” My experience of this phenomenon is a product of an environment like contemporary China, where as a result of patriotic education, substantial economic growth, and other complicated political factors, a sense of ethnic pride and fulfillment have visibly and rapidly intensified in recent years.
In the context of my media work, online reactions, in-person reactions, and feedback from colleagues and friends have all implied that the idea of Han exceptionalism is rooted deeply in the minds of people in today’s China. From these reactions alone, it is clear that many people have trouble understanding why I refuse to call myself “Chinese.” They constantly remind me of China’s rise and economic powers, its “five thousand years” of rich history, how Han people are naturally more civilized than the rest of the world, and a whole list of other reasons. They are shocked that I am unable to identify with such a successful, powerful, and prominent group of people in this world.
Since I choose to maintain my identity as a “Chinese-American,” considering the current state of China’s attitude towards nationality and ethnic pride, it will be hard for the majority of people to digest my statements and my own personal identification. Given my own biases, background, and personality, I learned slowly to resign myself to the fact that this is the current situation regarding identification, and that the way I choose to identify myself will continue to impact myself and my work in this way.
What seems to be the big question for many people is: am I a so-called “traitor”? Am I just a Chinese person with American citizenship? Am I just an American? What am I?
In the end, I am just me. I plan to keep being me, and that’s all I want to be.
Our photo theme this week is “Get Physical” — physical education and culture that spans dynasties. Kung fu, qigong, elderly square dancing, and everything in between.
We teased it in our post yesterday, but here it is in all its unbridled glory. Get ripped, get shredded, get jacked — because this is Mao Zedong’s ultimate four minute workout.
The “four minute physical fitness plan” was conceived as a way to get the country into unified, fighting shape as Mao led the charge from a collapsing dynasty to the modern era. We’ll let the party introduce it themselves:
The great leader Chairman Mao teaches us
Promote physical fitness exercises, and improve people’s physical condition
We must always be ready to protect our country
Obviously things were far from peachy during those years, but don’t forget that the whole concept of physical education was pretty new even in the US — for China, this routine was actually way ahead of its time.
In 1973, the kind and benevolent Australian educator Max Howell brought the routine to the English speaking world with a short picture book and accompanying vinyl record, and it’s been used sporadically by theatre groups and summer camps ever since. In today’s world of instant, digital gratification, photo scans and the vinyl are available together on Youtube as a kind of bootleg Communist P90X. Enjoy your newly-achieved peak physical condition.
Two Chinese towers have been in the news recently, for very different reasons. On the more positive tip, a 100-meter-tall structure in the central Chinese city of Xi’an, which was built for the purpose of reducing pollution, has begun showing positive results, according to the leading scientist on the project. SCMP reports:
The head of the research, Cao Junji, said improvements in air quality had been observed over an area of 10 square kilometres (3.86 square miles) in the city over the past few months and the tower has managed to produce more than 10 million cubic metres (353 million cubic feet) of clean air a day since its launch. Cao added that on severely polluted days the tower was able to reduce smog close to moderate levels.
Neat!
In less savory tower news, the Wall Street Journal yesterday published an eyebrow-raising report about the relationship between Jared Kushner, Ivanka Trump, and Wendi Deng Murdoch, a Chinese-American businesswoman who was formerly married to media magnate Rupert Murdoch. The story was interesting for several reasons, but the only bit directly relevant to towers is this:
U.S. officials have also had concerns about a counterintelligence assessment that Ms. Murdoch was lobbying for a high-profile construction project funded by the Chinese government in Washington, D.C., one of these people said.
The project, a planned $100 million Chinese garden at the National Arboretum, was deemed a national-security risk because it included a 70-foot-tall white tower that could potentially be used for surveillance, according to people familiar with the intelligence community’s deliberations over the garden. The garden was planned on one of the higher patches of land near downtown Washington, less than 5 miles from both the Capitol and the White House.
This adequately sums up our thoughts on the matter:
Ok…in order of “hold on-waits…” * WSJ- owned by Trump ally Rupert Murdoch breaks this * Wendy Murdoch- ex-wife of R Murduch & close friend of Ivanka could be working for the Chinese & using her influence om them * giant tower that could be used for surveillance#holdonwaithttps://t.co/s3svEahybI
Our photo theme this week is “Get Physical” — physical education and culture that spans dynasties. Kung fu, qigong, elderly square dancing, and everything in between.
One thing folks don’t totally understand about China is the deeply embedded, inescapable presence of group exercise.
China’s particular history of doing exercise in big groups all lined up in rows spans hundreds of years, from the first Shaolin fighting forms to the early morning tai chi meetups of today. The practice got stamped into the DNA of modern China with Mao’s officially mandated workout routine (but more on that tomorrow).
For now, please enjoy this photo of 505 pregnant women doing yoga in Changsha, beating the Guinness World Record for…biggest group of pregnant women doing yoga. The previous record holder was a group of 423 women in Shenzhen, so if you didn’t believe us about China winning the group exercise game, now you do.
“If China and the United States were to go to war with each other, whose side would you fight on?”
As a Chinese-American, this is a question I am asked frequently by Chinese people of all backgrounds.
Maybe I’m asked these questions as some sort of joke, but this is reflective of certain attitudes and expectations for anyone who is ethnically Chinese. In a culturally homogenous place like China, I am caught in perhaps one of the most awkward places in terms of identity and finding my own place.
I primarily grew up in the Northern Virginia area, but at the same time, I am so fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend parts of my youth in other parts of the globe. My father’s work allowed me to spend time in China and the Philippines during my elementary and middle school years. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to experience life in multiple different places with unique stories and different personalities. As I grew older, I also became more enchanted with my Chinese roots. My studies and family dynamic naturally attracted me to Chinese culture, her history, her languages, and the fact that whenever I felt that I understood China more, it made me feel that I was making strides in understanding my own family and myself.
When I began my undergrad career, I took several opportunities to go back to China to strengthen both my linguistic and cultural fluency. My experiences growing up in multiple environments and my study abroad opportunities in China inspired me to return to the Middle Kingdom for full-time work after graduation, incredibly eager to spend my first year or two out of college in a place that has always meant so much to me.
After graduating from the University of Virginia in 2016 with a double major in History and Chinese, I moved to Beijing to begin working at an educational firm in Beijing. It was later through chance, curiosity, and happenstance that I began getting involved in the world of we-media, or in Chinese; zi mei ti (自媒体).
I have been doing “we-media” (自媒体) for almost a year now. So, what does that mean exactly?
It really depends on the individual, and what that individual chooses to do with their media platforms. For me, it means that I have been involving myself in an odd variety of projects including music videos, social commentaries, and mini-documentaries. I simply began publishing content on Weibo and Bilibili for the sake of sharing what I wanted to share, in the hopes of facilitating meaningful cultural interaction. The goal of my we-media platform is to serve as one of many platforms to follow where subscribers in China can gain a better understanding of the world outside of China through the eyes of a Chinese-American — at the same time, also establishing an avenue that people outside of China can use to procure clearer insight into this country. I simply want people to have an opportunity to strengthen their mutual understanding, and I am always very eager to be a part of that process.
I enjoy the rewards of seeing how Chinese netizens respond to my pieces and sharing of ideas. I felt that with my limited resources of just an online account and some recording equipment, I was prepared to do my best to put my ideas and experiences out there for the whole internet to gaze at.
I would only discover later that this would be the beginning of a complicated struggle to maintain my own character and identity in the face of several obstacles.
The initial realization hit me hardest when I released a video explaining how people react to Huayi, a non-Chinese citizen of Chinese ancestry. The video’s goal was simply to discuss a few basic cultural misunderstandings and quirks that Huayi generally experience in China and abroad.
The reaction to the video was strong, and it was not positive. My Chinese-American identity was frequently attacked. I was accused of coming to China to dredge for money, and was even scolded for being a “traitor.”
It was not only that particular piece that was attacked. Any video, article, or any sort of published content with my appearance always resulted in comments and visible frustrations about my Chinese-American background. My observations were further compounded by many personal interactions and experiences that I’ve had with local people in China.
“You’re Chinese! You can’t be both Chinese and American! That’s like having two wives!” said one person I met at the gym here in Beijing after he heard me introduce myself as a Chinese-American.
Even state-owned media such as the Global Times vaguely threatened me with a lawsuit if I continued to release content regarding Huayi
“How can you call yourself that!” said someone else upon hearing my self-introduction. “Your parents are Chinese! So you are Chinese! Are you trying to make yourself exceptional?”
There are far too many personal anecdotes to share where I have made people upset because of the fact that I am an ethnic Chinese person that does not introduce himself as purely “Chinese”. Even state-owned media such as the Global Times vaguely threatened me with a lawsuit if I continued to release content regarding Huayi.
In one instance, an intern from a popular Weibo account, The Foreigners Research Institute (歪果仁研究协会), found my personal contact information, called me, scolded me for being a “banana” (香蕉人; a derogatory phrase implying that I am overly American on the inside with a Chinese appearance), and pleaded with me to stop my work.
Another independent reporter also asked me to meet for dinner in order to encourage me to stop doing media work in China, telling me that my work is meaningless and ungrounded, though she was kind enough to treat me to that meal. All of these interactions struck me hard, and encouraged me to dig deeper about why there seems to be particularly strong reactions towards Huayi in China.
