Humiliating Past Events

Author: Nanbu Shisi,
June 120, 2015,
first published on this forum

(This is another major revision of "Memoirs of the Five Black Categories" (revised version). Because the original post was too old
to be edited further, it is reposted here with the title changed. I am also very ashamed that I have
never been able to format it according to requirements; I would appreciate the moderator's help. Thank you!)

(Previous quote)

I was born in Tianjin but grew up in Hebei. I have little impression of Tianjin, but my hometown, Hebei, leaves
a deep impression. It is a rare water town in the north, not far from Beijing and Tianjin.

When I was born, my father was thirty-one years old, and my mother was not yet eighteen. Such an age for a mother seems very unusual today
, but it was commonplace in the 1950s.

My father had married in his rural hometown before attending university. After graduating, he stayed in Tianjin to teach,
while my two older sisters lived with their mother in the rural Hebei. Later, my father's student, my
mother, entered his life. My father divorced his first wife and married my mother. That's how I came into this
world.

Disaster finally struck. After the Cultural Revolution began, because of our family background, both my parents were labeled counter-revolutionaries,
their urban household registrations were revoked, and they were sent back to my father's rural hometown with me for supervision and reform. Then,
a series of criticisms and struggle sessions began to befall our family of three.

My father was tall and handsome, but introverted, passive, and timid. He wrote exceptionally well, and his name frequently appeared in
magazines . My mother, on the other hand, was open-minded, calm, and bold. She was open-minded about everything, seemingly
unaffected by any great honor or disgrace. She had experienced heavenly pampering. From elementary school onwards,
she was chauffeured to and from school in a special car. She also suffered inhuman abuse. During the ten years of the Cultural Revolution, she
was violated by countless men. But she remained calm and composed, as if everything that happened to her
was just another experience, like a performance.

My mother was exceptionally beautiful; I even believe that to this day I have never met a woman more beautiful than her. This is not based on
emotion , but purely on her physical appearance.

What impressed me most about my mother was an incident one time when we elementary school students were out of school to glean wheat
. One of the boys accidentally fell into the river while playing there. The women working nearby happened to be members of the commune's women's team. At that time, local
women didn't have the custom of swimming in rivers, so none of them could swim. They were terrified and could only scream .
None of the men who could swim were nearby, and we were all students below the third grade, so we didn't dare to or know
how to go into the water to rescue him. If we went to call for a man who could swim, the child would surely have drowned. Just then,
my mother, who was working with the women, silently ran towards the riverbank. As she ran, she threw off
her coat and shoes. Reaching the riverbank, she leaped in, her slender, beautiful body turning at an angle in the air
before plunging straight into the water. A short while later, the little boy was pulled ashore,
his life saved.

That very night, when everyone in the commune had turned off their lights and gone to sleep, the little boy's
grandmother, in her fifties, and his mother, who was still a Party member, risked greatly from blurring the lines between class lines and secretly slipped into my house
. Without a word, they left a large bag of brown sugar and a basket of eggs, only leaving quietly after my mother agreed to accept them .
From then on, that family, including their seven uncles and brothers—dozens of people in total—
despite being extremely active in the struggle sessions, never again went up to the stage to hit or spit on
my mother when she was being criticized or paraded through the streets. Even

now, I still vividly remember my mother's running figure and the beautiful image of her entering the water . Because in the rural areas of that era, it was unheard of for women to swim, and many didn't even believe that women could swim. Yet my mother not only went into the water, but the scene of her entering was so beautiful, and her swimming technique was so skillful.

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