Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [74]
Teacher Xiao stood up and raised his glass. “I wish to propose two toasts. The first is to all of you for putting up with me for over five and a half years of shouting and carrying on. This may be our last gathering together. I’m proud to be your teacher and I wish you all the best of luck. You’re Chairman and Madame Mao’s last generation of dancers. You have studied under the most strict and disciplined rules imaginable, but this will give you an edge over the others.” Teacher Xiao stopped briefly to calm his emotions. “I’ll boldly make a prediction. Your dancing will proudly stand high in Chinese ballet history.”
He paused again. “My second toast is to Cunxin’s American trip.” He looked at me. “I hope you will respect your past and charge toward the future. Perfect your art form. Make all of China proud. Gan bei!”
This was the very last time our class would ever gather together with Teacher Xiao.
I felt so happy about going back to America but I wished that I could go home to my family before I went. I longed to see my parents and brothers, but I couldn’t take the risk of going to Qingdao. The possibility of the ministers changing their minds was very real. I had to be content with seeing my family in a year’s time.
I visited my adopted family, the Chongs, that Sunday, and afterward at the Beijing Dance Academy, the Bandit, Liu Fengtian, Chong Xiongjun, and some of my classmates organized a farewell party. The mood was happy and warm, but there was also a sense of sadness—no one knew if we would ever gather together like this again.
In November 1979, a month after my original planned date, I left China for the second time.
TWENTY
Return to the Land of Freedom
The plane soared into the air. The past few months had worn me out and up to the last seconds before takeoff I feared that the Chinese government might still change its mind and I would be dragged off the plane.
I so desperately wanted a freedom of expression and thought that I couldn’t have in China, and to conquer the ballet world. And here was my chance. Now I wouldn’t have to dance for Mao’s communist ideals. Now I could dance for myself, my parents, my teachers, and my friends back in China. The communist influence was fading fast.
Janie Parker, one of the principal dancers of the Houston Ballet, picked me up from Houston Airport. She drove me back to Ben’s place through perfect autumn weather. I thought of the filthy, dusty Beijing air and opened the car window to let the fresh, clean Houston air gust against my face. I took a deep breath. My spirit felt free.
I was to stay for twelve months. My beliefs were now completely altered after my experience with the Ministry of Culture and after having the time to think about what I’d seen in the West. I realized that I had been manipulated by Chairman Mao’s communist propaganda for many years.
During my first month back at the Houston Ballet Academy I kept discovering and experimenting with new things. I carried my list of new English words with me everywhere. There were classes and rehearsals during the day and keeping up with Ben’s busy social schedule in the evenings. I tried to record something in my diary at least every other day, first in Chinese—then, as I increased my English vocabulary, my diary became 50 percent Chinese, 30 percent English, and the rest was French ballet terminology.
Ben started rehearsals for Nutcracker soon after I arrived. Ben’s Nutcracker was completely different from the Baryshnikov version, but I immediately fell in love with it. It had the freedom of expression I’d been longing for. I had two solo roles in my first ballet with the company.
It was through Nutcracker that I first noticed Lori Langlinais. She was in her early twenties, a talented dancer, full of life. Her contagious laugh reminded me of my niang’s. We quickly became good friends, she treating me like a little brother while I regarded her