A Woman Soldier's Own Story by Bingying Xie

By Bingying Xie

For the 1st time, an entire model of the autobiography of Xie Bingying (1906-2000) offers a desirable portrayal of a girl struggling with to unfastened herself from the restrictions of historical chinese language culture amid the dramatic alterations that shook China in the course of the Twenties, '30s, and '40s.Xie's makes an attempt to develop into trained, her struggles to flee from an prepared marriage, and her luck in tricking her means into army tuition display her persevering and unconventional personality and trace on the prominence she was once later to achieve as a major determine in China's political tradition. even though she was once tortured and imprisoned, she remained dedicated to her convictions. Her own fight to outline herself in the greater context of political switch in China early within the final century is a poignant testomony of choice and a amazing tale of 1 woman's trip from previous China into the recent global.

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I knew that my marriage had been arranged long ago, when I was sucking my mother’s nipple. But I did not really understand what this meant, so when I heard Mother’s words I felt no pain at all. I continued spinning happily. Especially when we sat outside beneath the moon, I really could not have been happier. When we spun inside the house in winter, we suffered several inconveniences, for in order to save oil Mother always refused to light the lamp. So we had to borrow light from the fire in order to spin, and the result was that not only did we end up spinning in darkness anyway, but our backs felt cold.

In summer I caught many lightning bugs and put them inside the glass, and the bugs moved up and down like a golden dragon, flickering. Most intriguing. Father had bought flavorful candy for Grandmother and pretty little round pepper cakes especially for me. Mother was afraid I would take all the cakes and share them with other children, so she always kept them and gave them to me just a few at a time. But she didn’t know about the candy I got from Grandmother, or how I sometimes stole cakes and biscuits that had been prepared for our guests, put them into my pockets, and took them outside to divide among my little friends.

I ran so fast that her little feet could not keep up with me, however hard she tried. ” I ignored her and ran even faster. Suddenly I heard a noise, poo-tunk: Mother had fallen and her two little feet were plunged in a mud field. She could not pull them out for a long while. Pitiful. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I escaped home and cried out for my sister-in-law to save me. But Mother soon returned, locked me in a dark room, and used a thistle stick to beat me. On that night my grandma told me several stories, for I ran to her bed to sleep and nurse my wounds.

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