As Mother’s Day approaches, being in the United States, I cannot help but think of my mother still living in China.
Life in China was never easy for my mother. Her family was branded as being among the five black categories, due to their wealth. In an era when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) was establishing itself, she was suppressed; banned from ever becoming a Party member of the CCP, and her exclusion made her long for the title.
These class labels stuck hard to my family. Since my father was a college graduate, he was categorized as an intellectual, a class labeled as the “Stinking Number Nine,” by the CCP. His brother, meanwhile, was labeled a “Rightist,” for his political beliefs, and because of this he committed suicide when he was still young. The political labels plagued my parents.
I was among my parents’ three daughters. When people saw us with our mother, they would often say, “Feng, you’ve got three flowers!” She was a wonderful cook, and she was a talented seamstress. Since the winters in my hometown are always very cold, each year she would make at least two sets of clothes padded with cotton for every member of my family. I still do not know how late she stayed up each night sewing.
Despite our hardships, my sisters and I were all admitted to universities—a fact I attribute to my father’s influence and intellect, coupled with the loving care of my mother. The success of her three daughters was my mother’s pride and joy.
As we left home one after another, settling into different cities, my parents stayed up in our small hometown. After my sisters and I were all married, my mother would come to help take care of the children.
When my son was born at the end of 1998, my parents moved to Dalian to help. Our joyful and quiet lives were shattered, however, through an unexpected change of fate.
I was imprisoned for my beliefs, and my mother’s joy was shattered.
When the CCP banned Falun Gong (also called Falun Dafa) on July 20, 1999, I went to Beijing to appeal. Speaking out for the practice, rooted in ancient Chinese traditions of meditation and moral integrity, was for me an appeal for the values of my culture. To appeal to the central government amid injustice is also an ancient Chinese tradition, which I would later find had been lost.
My memories of the detention center are very clear. More than 20 people shared a single room. The food was very poor, usually steamed corn bread and cabbage soup, with the occasional sand, leaf, or rotten cabbage. Slave labor from morning till night often consisted of sorting box after box of toothpicks. This was in addition to brainwashing courses meant to force me to give up my beliefs. Amid the hardships I would think of my 10-month-old son, and how my parents back home could bear the situation.
After 40 days of illegal detention I was freed.
When I arrived home, I found that my mother had broken down mentally amid her worry for my safety. At nights she wanted to rush out and search for me at the detention centers. My father mustered all his strength to stop her.
Knowing from experience the authoritarian nature of the CCP, they felt helpless.
My mother has since been in a trance-like state. She once wandered outside during the winter and did not return home for days. The most serious case was when she knocked on the gate of the neighbor’s house with a kitchen knife in hand. She wanted to fight the person who harmed me.
More than 10 years have passed, and the persecution of Falun Gong has not stopped. Likewise, the worries of my family for my safety have not stopped. My father sought medication for my mother, which has caused her hands to shake. Her facial expressions have fallen lifeless.
Now living in America, I’ve escaped the CCP persecution. Yet, as my first Mother’s Day approaches, I long to return home. For my mother, I wish our family could be reunited, but I know that cannot be achieved. The CCP she once longed to join has persecuted her daughter, shattered her happiness, and taken her health.
And on this Mother’s Day, I would like to relay a wish to my mother to know her daughter’s hope to one day see her again.
