Red Scarf Girl

helped Chairman Mao liberate China fromoppression and defeated the Americans inKorea. And a performer, just like my motherused to be, touring the country, the world, totell everyone about the New China thatChairman Mao had built and how it wasbecoming stronger and stronger.I couldn’t help giving Wang Qi a silly smile.“Mom! Dad! Grandma!” I panted up the steep,dark stairs, in too much of a hurry to turn onthe light, and tripped over some pots stored onthe steps. I couldn’t wait to tell them my news.1 knew they would all be as excited as I was.Our apartment was bright and warm andwelcoming. Burgundy curtains shut thedarkness outside and made the one big roomeven cozier. In front of the tall French windowour square mahogany table was covered withsteaming dishes and surrounded by my family,who were laughing and chattering when I

rushed in. They all looked up expectantly.“Everybody, guess what! Today a LiberationArmy woman came to school and she testedme and she wants me to audition for theCentral Liberation Army Arts Academy. Justthink! I could be in the Liberation Army! And Icould be a performer, too! Isn’t it great?” Ipicked up our cat, Little White, and gave her abig kiss.“It’s lucky I studied martial arts for so long.When the Liberation Army woman saw myback bend, she just loved it.” I twirled aroundon my toes and snapped my heels together ina salute. “Comrade Grandma, Jiang Ji-lireporting!”My younger brother, Ji-yong, jumped upfrom the table and saluted me. My little sister,Ji-yun, started to twirl around as I had done,but she slipped and fell. We jumped to thefloor with her and rolled around together.“Ji-li,” I heard Dad call. I looked up. Momand Dad and Grandma were looking at each

other solemnly. “It might be better not to dothe audition.” Dad spoke slowly, but his tonewas serious, very serious.“What?”“Don’t do the audition, Ji-li.” He lookedstraight at me this time, and sounded muchmore forceful.“Don’t do the audition? Why not?”Dad shook his head.I grabbed Mom’s arm. “Mom, why not?”She squeezed my hand and looked at meworriedly. “Your father means that therecruitment requirements are very strict.”“Wow. You really scared me, Dad.” Ilaughed with relief. “I know that. PrincipalLong told us it would be very competitive. Iknow it’s just an audition, but who knows? Imight be lucky, right?” I picked up a steamedbun and took a bite.“I’m not just talking about talent,” Dad said.“There are more important requirements,

political considerations ”“Oh, Dad, that’s no problem.” I took anotherbig bite of the bun. I was an OutstandingStudent, an Excellent Young Pioneer, and eventhe da-dui-zhang, the student chairman of thewhole school. What more could they want? Mymouth was full, so I stretched out my arm toshow Dad my da-dui-zhang badge, a plastic tagwith three red stripes.I saw a pain in Dad’s eyes that I had neverseen before.“The problem isn’t with you yourself, Ji-li.What I mean is that the political backgroundinvestigations at these academies are verysevere.”“Political background investigation? What’sthat?”“That is an investigation into the class statusof your ancestors and all members of yourfamily.” He leaned back in his chair, and thelampshade put his face in shadow. “Ji-li, thefact is that our family will not be able to pass

these investigations,” he said slowly. “And youwill not be allowed to be a member of aLiberation Army performing troupe.”For a long time I did not speak. “Why?” Iwhispered at last.He started to say something but stopped. Heleaned forward again, and I could see thesorrow on his face. “It’s very complicated, andyou wouldn’t understand it now even if I toldyou. Maybe we should wait until you’re grownup. The point is that I don’t think you’ll beadmitted. So just drop it, all right?”I did not say anything. Putting down thehalf-eaten bun, I walked to the mirror on thebig wardrobe that divided the room andpressed my forehead against its cool surface. Icould not hold back any longer. I burst outcrying.“I want to do it. I want to try. What will Itell Principal Long? And my classmates?” Iwailed.“Maybe we should let her try. She probably

won’t be chosen anyway.” Grandma looked atDad.Dad stood up, heaving a deep sigh. “This isfor her own good. Her classmates and teacherswill just be surprised if she says that her fatherwon’t let her go. But what if she passes theaudition and can’t pass the politicalbackground investigation? Then everybodywill know that the family has a politicalproblem.” Dad’s voice grew louder and louderas he went on.Ji-yong and Ji-yun were looking up at Dad,wide-eyed. I bit my lip to force myself to stopcrying and went to bed without saying anotherword.The hallway outside the principal’s o ce wasvery quiet. It was noon, and nearly everyonewas home for lunch. The big red charactersPRINCIPAL’S OFFICE made me nervous. I put my handon the knob, hesitated, and lowered it. I

walked back to the stairs, trembling andcovered with sweat.I rehearsed the words I was going to say onemore time. Then I rushed back to the o cedoor and pushed it open.Principal Long was reading a newspaper.She raised her head and peered through herglasses to see who had interrupted her.“Principal Long, here is a note from myfather.” Hastily I gave her the note, damp withsweat from my palm. I hurried out of theoffice before she could look at it or ask me anyquestions. I ran down the hallway, collidingwith someone and running blindly on,thinking only that she must be verydisappointed.At one o’clock when the bell nally rang tostart class, I heaved a long sigh and walked outof the library. My best friend, An Yi, and ourhomeroom teacher were standing outside the

main building. As soon as they saw me, An Yishouted, “Where have you been? Aren’t yousupposed to go to the audition at one? Hurryup! You’re going to be late.”I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word.“Why, what’s wrong?” Teacher Gu asked.“I I’m not going.” I bowed my head andtwisted my fingers in my red scarf.“What? Are you crazy? This is the chance ofa lifetime!”I did not raise my head. I didn’t want to seeAn Yi’s face.“Really? Why not?” Teacher Gu soundedconcerned.I tried hard not to cry. “Father wouldn’t letme .”An Yi was about to say something else, butTeacher Gu cut her o . “All right. This is herfamily’s decision. We won’t talk about it anyfurther.” She put her hand on my shoulder andgave me a little squeeze. Then she went away

with An Yi without another word.Across the yard I saw Principal Long, WangQi, and the two boys coming out of the gym. Idodged behind a tree and heard them chattingand laughing as they went by. They were goingto the audition. I could have been going withthem. My eyes blurred with tears.I thought of the way Teacher Gu had lookedat me. There had been a mixture ofdisappointment, doubt, and inquiry in hereyes. I was sure that Principal Long must havelooked the same way after she read Dad’s note.So must Wang Qi, You Xiao-fan, and all myclassmates.I didn’t want to think any longer. I justwished that I could nd a place to hide, so Iwouldn’t have to see their faces.Until that spring I believed that my life andmy family were nearly perfect.My father was a stage actor, six feet tall and

slightly stoop shouldered. Because of his heightand his serious face he usually played thevillain at the children’s theater where heworked. He was the vicious landlord, thefoolish king. But at home he was ourhumorous, kind, and wise Dad. He lovedreading, and he loved including the wholefamily in his discoveries. He demonstrated theexercises of the great acting teacherStanislavsky, he imitated Charlie Chaplin’sfunny walk, and when he was reading aboutcalculus, he explained Zeno’s paradox and thein nite series. We thought Dad kneweverything.Mom had been an actress when she metDad, and she was still as pretty as an actress.When I was little, she stopped acting andworked in a sports-equipment store. Everyevening we eagerly waited for her to comehome from work. We rushed out to greet herand opened her handbag, where there wassure to be a treat for us. Mom spoiled us,

Grandma said.Grandma was truly amazing. She hadgraduated from a modern-style high school in1914, a time when very few girls went toschool at all. After Liberation she had helpedto found Xin Er Primary School—my school—and become its vice-principal. She retired fromteaching when I was born so that she couldtake care of me while Mom worked. Butwhenever we met her old students, now adults,they still bowed respectfully and called herTeacher Cao, which made me so proud.Ji-yong was eleven, one year younger thanme, and Ji-yun was one year younger than Jiyong. Once Mom told me that she had herthree children in three years because shewanted to nish the duty of having babiessooner, so she could devote herselfwholeheartedly to the revolution. While I wastall and thin, like Dad, Ji-yong and Ji-yunwere shorter and plumper, like Mom. Ji-yongwas nicknamed Iron-Ball because he was dark

skinned and sturdy. He liked to play in thealley and paid little attention to his studies. Jiyun had two dimples, which gave her anespecially sweet smile. She was easygoing anddid not always strive to be the best, as I did.But 1 had learned that she could be verystubborn.And then there was Song Po-po. She hadoriginally been our nanny. When we grew up,she stayed and became our housekeeper. Aslong as I could remember, she had been livingin the small room downstairs. She had raisedthe three of us, and we all felt she was likeanother grandmother. She was as dear to us aswe were to her.We lived in a big building in one ofShanghai’s nicer neighborhoods. My FourthAunt, who had been married to Dad’s halfbrother, lived downstairs with her daughter,my cousin You-mei, and You-mei’s daughter, alovely baby called Hua-hua. My uncle had diedin Hong Kong a few years before. You-mei’s

husband had a job in another city and wasallowed to visit Shanghai only twice a year.Song Po-po told us our extended family usedto occupy two whole buildings, ten rooms alltogether. “Then they all moved away, and onlyyour family and your Fourth Aunt’s familywere left. Your family only has one room now.It’s just too bad.” She shook her head sadly.But I didn’t feel that way at all. I loved ourtop- oor room. A huge French window and ahigh ceiling made it bright all year round,warmer during the winter and cooler insummer. The kitchen on the landing outsidethe room was small, but I didn’t mind. Ourroom was ten times as big as many of myclassmates’ homes, and a hundred timesbrighter. Best of all, we had a privatebathroom, a full-size room with a sink, a toilet,and a tub. It was almost as large as somefamilies’ entire homes. Many did not have abathroom at all, or even a flush toilet, and veryfew had a full-size bathroom that they did not

have to share with other families.My family was also special in another way.Sometimes on Saturday evenings some ofDad’s colleagues would visit. They called thesegatherings “Jiang’s salon.” I did not know whatsalon meant, but I loved them; they werewonderful parties. Mom would make herfamous beef soup, and Grandma would makeher steamed buns. We children would helpSong Po-po polish the mahogany table andGrandma’s four prized red-and-gold dowrytrunks until we could see our re ections in thewood and leather. When the guests arrived, wewould greet them as “Uncle” and “Aunt” as asign of respect and bring tea to each of them.Most of them were actors from Dad’s theater,and they were all talented. There was UncleZhu, a young actor who had excellenthandwriting. Every time he came, he wouldtake some time to help me with mycalligraphy. There were Uncle Tian and AuntWu, so young and handsome and well dressed

that the neighbors noticed every time theyrolled up to our building on their newbicycles, and called them the “beautifulcouple.” There was Uncle Fan, who had beenDad’s friend since college. When he arrived,the discussions immediately became moreinteresting. His enthusiasm about whatevermovie or play he had seen recently wascontagious. And there was Uncle Bao, aplaywright, who smoked cigars and let me siton his lap. Although he spoke less than theothers, his comments were always worthwaiting for.Conversation owed, so fascinating that wedid not want to go to bed, no matter how latethey stayed.Until the audition I felt like the luckiest girlin the world.An Yi said that I seemed to have changed intoa di erent person. Between classes I would

avoid my classmates. After school I would stayin the library until it closed, just to elude thefamily’s overconcerned looks.One time our cat, Little White, cut her legdeeply on a piece of glass. We all rushed tond bandages to bind up the wound, but LittleWhite ran into the attic and hid there for days,licking her wounds by herself. Just like LittleWhite, I wanted to be left alone.None of the other three students passed theaudition, but this did not make me feel better.It had not been just an audition for me. I wasafraid that the rest of my life would not bewhat I had imagined.I had had many beautiful dreams. I dreamedo f being a doctor in a white coat, with astethoscope dangling from my neck, savinglives one after another. I dreamed of being anarchitect, designing the most beautiful bridgesin the world. I dreamed of being an actress,holding bunches of owers, bowing again andagain to answer curtain calls. Until now I had

never doubted that I could achieve anything Iwanted. The future had been full of in nitepossibilities. Now I was no longer sure thatwas still true.One afternoon, a week after the audition, Icame home from school and saw a boyblowing big, splendid soap bubbles thatshimmered with colors in the sunlight. One byone they drifted away and burst. In a fewseconds they were all gone.I thought about my beautiful dreams andwondered if they would drift away just likethose lovely soap bubbles.

DESTROY THE FOUR OLDS!Almost every Sunday afternoon Dad wanted totake a long nap in peace, and so he gave usthirty fen to rent picture books. Hand in hand,Ji-yong, Ji-yun, and I would walk down thealley to Grandpa Hong’s bookstall.The alley on which we lived was famous forits handsome buildings, and it was wideenough for two cars to pass abreast. Like a treewith only one trunk, our alley had only oneexit to the busy street. Five smaller alleysbranched o the main alley on both sides, andeach of these small alleys was lined withbrownstone town houses. The houses werethree stories tall and exactly alike, with square,smiling courtyards hidden behind their frontgates, and small kitchen courtyards in the back.Once these had been town houses for wealthy

families. Many of the original inhabitants stilllived there, although now each building wasshared by several families.Grandpa Hong’s bookstall was on the cornerat the entrance of our alley. All the children inthe neighborhood loved the stall and GrandpaHong, with his gray hair and wispy beard. Hewould look at us through his old yellowedglasses and smile. He knew just which bookseach of us liked best and that I would choosefairy tales, Ji-yong would get adventure stories,and Ji-yun would want animal stories. If youread the books at Grandpa Hong’s bookstall,you could rent sixty picture books for thirtyfen. Two books for a fen! What a deal! Afterhelping us with our choices, Grandpa Hongalways gave us each an extra book for free.Against the walls in the place were hardwooden benches that rocked on the unevenmud oor. We would sit in a row on one ofthese benches, each of us with a pile oftwenty-one picture books, and read them, one

after another. Then we would trade piles andread again. This was how I met many belovedfriends: the Monkey King, the River Snail Lady,Snow White, Aladdin, and many others. Insidethe bookstall I traveled to mysterious places tomeet ancient beauties or terrible monsters.Often I forgot where I was. When the sky wasalmost dark, the three of us would havenished all sixty-three books, and Dad wouldhave finished his nap.This Sunday there were no other children atthe stall when we arrived. We had just settleddown to read when An Yi rushed in. An Yi andI had known each other ever since we werebabies. She came to the bookstall quite oftenand knew just where to nd me on a Sundayafternoon.“Come on, you guys!” she wheezed. An Yihad severe asthma. “They’re breaking the signat the Great Prosperity Market!”We dropped our books and rushed out withher. This was our rst chance to watch the

campaign to “Destroy the Four Olds” in action.Our beloved Chairman Mao had started theCultural Revolution in May. Every day sincethen on the radio we heard about the need toend the evil and pernicious in uences of the“Four Olds”: old ideas, old culture, oldcustoms, and old habits. Chairman Mao told uswe would never succeed at building a strongsocialist country until we destroyed the “FourOlds” and established the “Four News.” Thenames of many shops still stank of old culture,so the signs had to be smashed to make wayfor the coming of new ideas.The Great Prosperity Market was on NanjingRoad, Shanghai’s busiest shopping street, onlytwo blocks from our alley. Nanjing Road waslined with big stores, and always bustled withactivity. The street was full of bicycles andpedicabs and trolleys, and the sidewalks wereso crowded with shoppers, they spilled o thesidewalk into the street. We were still quite adistance away when we heard the hubbub and

ran faster.A big crowd had gathered outside the GreatProsperity Market, one of the most successfulfood stores in the city. It was full of goodthings to eat, with rare delicacies from otherprovinces and delicious items like dried duckgizzards strung up in its window. But today thewindow was bare. The store was deserted. Alleyes were riveted on a dense ring of people inthe street. Some young men were cheeringexcitedly for the people inside the circle, buthalf the crowd were merely craning their necksand watching.We wriggled our way between the bodies.Lying on the dirty ground inside the circlewas a huge wooden sign, at least twelve feetlong. It was still impressive, although the largegolden characters GREAT PROSPERITY MARKET had losttheir usual shine and looked dull and lifelesson the red background.Two muscular young men in undershirts,probably salesmen from the store, were

gasping next to it.“Come on. Try again!” shouted the taller ofthe two.He spat into his palms and rubbed themtogether. Then, with the help of the other, helifted the board to shoulder height. “One, two,three!” They threw the board to the groun

RED SCARF GIRL A MEMOIR OF THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION JILI JIANG FOREWORD BY DEVID HENRY HWANG. . With my red scarf, the emblem of the Young Pioneers, tied around my neck, and my heart . my head before she turned back to test Tong Chao. I went back to class, but I could not remember the song we were singing. What didFile Size: 1MBPage Count: 400Explore further[PDF] Red Scarf Girl Book by Ji-li Jiang Free Download .blindhypnosis.comRed Scarf Girl Summary and Study Guide SuperSummarywww.supersummary.comTeaching RED SCARF GIRL - Facing History and Ourselveswww.facinghistory.orgRed Scarf Girl by Ji-li Jiang - Goodreadswww.goodreads.comRecommended to you b