Memories of the Cultural Revolution

It’s the 55th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution, and in my generation, everyone has their own Cultural Revolution.

The land reform came, and even though the family did not employ farmers to cultivate the land, they were rated as “landlords and overseas Chinese capitalists” because they had land, the most “black” family composition.

Her grandmother had been a “landlady” for decades, and when the political movement came, she was unlucky, standing on a high table with a pair of small feet and being criticized.

Her father joined the Kuomintang when he was in college and was a student of the famous sculptor Liu Kaiqu, with whom he made a statue of Chiang Kai-shek, but when the Cultural Revolution came, he was also arrested and imprisoned by the working group. She and her mother were so scared that they built a pot of water in the middle of the night and burned Pan Tianshou’s paintings and Venerable Hong Yi’s calligraphy, and her father came home and could only beat his chest.

So before 1997 arrived, my wife already wanted to run as far away as she could.

My middle school language teacher was a junior cadre of the University Youth League until 1949, but once the working group came, he became so frightened that he threw himself into a well in the teachers’ dormitory.

My father was a Filipino Chinese and my mother was in Hong Kong, and I was discriminated against for a long time because of my overseas connections. Once I sent a letter to my aunt who was working abroad, and I put the stamp upside down, but the design on the stamp was the Great Hall of the People. The revolutionary vigilance of the political work office of my aunt’s school was very high, and as soon as he saw it, he summoned my aunt and told her to open the envelope and take the letter out for his review.

My aunt wrote to me and told me that she was in a cold sweat, afraid that I had written something in my letter that I should not have written, and that she would have a bad time at school.

At that time I received letters from my mother from Hong Kong, and every time the envelopes were sealed with wet paste, and I knew what was going on, but in those days, such things were child’s play.

Recently on the mainland, there was another group of students singing the Red Song, dancing the loyalty dance, people wearing Red Army uniforms, parading through the streets, singing “Without the Communist Party there would be no new China”, and a group of people dancing indoors, singing “Beloved Chairman Mao, the Red Sun in our hearts”. Seeing those people are all “hard-boiled”, I thought, so I love the Cultural Revolution, let you suffer a little bit again, that’s not bad. Old Mao said that the Cultural Revolution will come once in seven or eight years, and his ghost will not disappear, to say that someone has taken over.