Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [46]
I fell in and out of sleep throughout that trip back to Beijing. We kept swapping seats so each of us could have a turn leaning against the window, but for the last three hours of the trip I was wide awake. I thought about the year ahead. I was looking forward to facing the challenges. A voice sounded in my ears: “Cunxin, you are privileged. You are lucky. Go forward. Don’t be afraid and don’t look back. There is nothing back there, only your family’s unconditional love that will always propel you forward.”
Now, for the first time, this voice wasn’t my brother’s voice. It wasn’t my dia’s. It wasn’t even my beloved niang’s. This voice was my own.
THIRTEEN
Teacher Xiao’s Words
In the spring of 1974, when I was thirteen, the Beijing Dance Academy was invited to Tiananmen Square to hear our beloved Chairman Mao speak.
This was an opportunity beyond my wildest dreams! I was so excited I didn’t sleep at all the night before. I’d only ever heard Chairman Mao’s voice over a loudspeaker in our commune or on a radio at the academy. I had memorized so many of his sayings from the Little Red Book; his communist theories were the guiding principles of my life. And now I was going to see and hear him in person! I kept repeating in my head the first words I had ever learned at school: “Long, long live Chairman Mao.”
I woke very early on the morning of the rally. It was a brilliant, sunny day. I had extra energy. I wore my best Mao jacket. The bus journey to Tiananmen Square took us nearly an hour. We could hear an extraordinary noise as we got close—loud drums, cymbals, trumpets, instruments of all kinds mixed in with the shouting of propaganda slogans. We waded through a sea of red banners, an ocean of people. It was like an enormous carnival.
The organization must have been meticulous. The police strictly controlled our every movement. Everyone was assigned a location—there was no seating, but packing millions of people into Tiananmen Square took time, so various groups were there to play music and entertain us. The excitement was contagious. Emotions were at fever pitch. This was the happiest day of our lives.
After a few hours of almost unbearable anticipation, Chairman Mao, Madame Mao, and the most powerful members of the Communist Party appeared on the podium of the Gate of Heavenly Peace. Rippling to the distant boundaries of the square, the crowd cheered, clapped, and jumped. The ground vibrated under my feet. Surely the entire world would hear this! Millions of people shouted, “Long, long live Chairman Mao!” Everyone wore red armbands and red scarves. There were thousands of red banners and flags with “Long, long live Chairman Mao” written on them. People sang and danced, eagerly clutching their copies of the Little Red Book in their hands.
I experienced an extraordinary sense of belonging, a sense of being in the presence of some divine being. I was so proud to be a young Guard of Chairman Mao. Tears rolled uncontrollably down my cheeks. I looked around and saw others weeping with joy and pride. It seemed like hours before Chairman Mao gestured for us to sit down and we immediately obeyed.
Mao spoke for no more than half an hour, his familiar voice relayed through the many loudspeakers placed around the square. His speech was constantly interrupted by thunderous applause. We went up and down, down and up like yo-yos, our ovations many times longer than his speech. He spoke with the heavy accent of Hunan, which made it difficult for me to understand him, but I knew that we would study his speech in its entirety over the next few months.
Many hours after his speech we were still in the square, singing and dancing for pure joy.
In the second half of that year the head of the Communist Youth Party at our academy asked me to apply for membership. This was a privilege. Only the most politically devoted students could join. I was flattered and surprised.
I handed in my application and then had private heart-to-heart discussions with three different party leaders.