• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Category Archives: Feminism

enthralls

09 Thursday Jul 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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conversations with imaginary sisters, enthralls, erotic poetry, make it vulgar, poem, radical change, sex positive feminism, sonnet

After class you lingered, interested if
I’d help with your homework on pro-sex

feminism? –– back home? –– over a spliff
and witch wine? Liberation is complex.

You peeled out of your dress. We fucked; ragdolls
smeared with cum. Sexual freedom is rare ––

but we have choices –– and lust that enthralls;
lust that saves radical change from nightmare.

Affair without nightmare. Broken fuck toys
healing. “No, here,” you say, guiding my cock

to your ass’ gaped O –– “Make it vulgar.”
Vulgar pleases. We make fuck-slushy noise.

We laugh. Others will call this porn and schlock.
This bliss is what others want to censure.

Image

moxie

01 Friday Nov 2019

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atlas, certain physiques, men's myth, moxie, poem, Poetry, sonnet, why I need Feminism

First I drew her muscles. She had obliques
that would make titans sigh. Her broad shoulders

carried the weight. There are certain physiques
only found in men’s myth, though the daughters

of the gods come in all sizes. I drew
her as she held the world aloft. It’s odd

to call Atlas male. The one that I knew
had no machismo … just mortal, no god,

no false ennui. At her feet I drew her
sisters. That’s who she carried this for, with

a horned-moon on her forehead, storms above
her hips. — I’ve never had a big sister

like what I drew; one made not from men’s myth
but her own common muscles, common love.

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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blue-fox acid

03 Tuesday Sep 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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ars poetica, blood of witch and nerd, blue-fox acid, gnostic libation, poem, Poetry, seraphic truth, sonnet

All my sisters are feminists; all my
mothers gods. But, like in Recovery,

there are three passions that I still deny
I do: 1) Of the tricksters, that foxy

blue-fox acid drove all my low gnostic
thoughts. 2) Once cum was our libation;

now it’s sacrifice. 3) I was shaman
for you, infidel. Back when seraphic

truths felt down and dirty, I thought constant
carnal acts could free us, since chastity

was a curse. I was wrong both times, clearly.
Odd. These days there’s no talk of cock or cunt,

and though I have the blood of witch and nerd,
somehow, “lechery,” is just one more word.

fucktard

11 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Poetry, self-portrait, sonnet

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fucktard, poem, Poetry, queer love, sonnet, stay classy, we love, we rise, words always matter

We are swine, wild boars among the bluegrass

and salt-stained rocks. We are bitches, each teat

 

engorged, each rump distended. We are sass

and rage. Each foul word you use to mistreat

 

others — fucktard, ignoramus, nitwit —

that is us, too. Why does liberation

 

for you crave vile behavior? I’m unfit

to judge, clearly. Still, I love my cousin

 

even if my cousin doesn’t love me.

Today’s rebel is tomorrow’s tyrant

 

without this connection, without these ties

to each other that make us family.

 

We own the words that you use: faggot, cunt,

‘tard. So we defy you. We love. We rise.

ch’iu chin: i die unfulfilled

11 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by babylon crashing in Chinese, Feminism, Historic Research, Poetry, Translation

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ch'iu chin, Chinese translation, 秋风秋雨愁煞人, essay, i die unfulfilled, Poetry, Qiu Jin, translation

autumn rain/ autumn wind/ i die unfulfilled

Poetry translation is never an exact science. Taking a concept, rich with metaphors, from one language and somehow then discovering a similar meaning in another has challenges. How does one find that original essence – the core of what the poet was trying to say – in an alien tongue? I have always found translation to be a synthesis of everything that has been done before my attempt and then a smoothing out of all the rough bits into something that sings to me. If there was a philosophy to this it’d go: be illiterate in all languages, just resonate with the soul of what is being said. I suppose that is the difference between professionals and amateurs. I will always be an amateur. To misquote the Japanese haiku poet Issa: “there will always be farmers/ laboring in the fields/ I don’t feel guilty.”

Today I turn my attention to the Chinese radical feminist, revolutionary and martyr, Ch’iu Chin (better known through modern translation as Qiu Jin). If you’ve never heard her name before just know this: she was a lesbian poet who tried to overthrow the Qing dynasty in 1907 and then was executed, beheaded. One day someone will translate all her poetry, essays and speeches into English and that will be a blessing. Just now I am only looking at her last words, her death poem. They’re simple, they look like this:

秋风秋雨愁煞人

Technology fails us. According to Google Translate we get, “Autumn autumn rain sad people.” which are at least English words strung together in some sort of order. And yet they fail to capture any meaning of these words. First let me reprint the best translation that I’ve found:

Autumn rain, autumn wind/ I die of sorrow.
[from the documentary, Autumn Gem]

Now let me tell you why this is so good. Ch’iu Chin’s name literally translates into, “Autumn Gem,” and the ‘autumn’ is the metaphor that works in this poem. By the time of her capture she was burned out, depressed and had realized that her revolutionary goals would never happen. She let herself be captured and executed so that she could become one of the Chinese heroines of myth who rose up to fight for women during times of oppression.

As one says, there are no bad translations, just different interpretations. I point out these simply because they were faithful to the words on the page but the translators did not seem to know why the words were written:

O Autumn Winds chilly, O Autumn Rains chilly, (Why you are spilling)
Frank C Yue

Autumn wind autumn rain makes one gloomy
Lu Yin, from Imagining Sisterhood in Modern Chinese Texts, 1890–1937

For whom does the autumn rain and wind lament?
Sjcma

All of which, out of context, still works. Getting executed would make one gloomy. Then there is the fact that Ch’iu Chin became a symbol for the 1911 Revolution and her words were used to express the woes of other people, and thus we get the royal ‘we’

Autumn wind and rain have brought overwhelming grief to many
Albert Chan

The sorrow of autumn wind and autumn rain kills
China Heritage Quarterly

Again, this is all just a matter of interpretation of what comes before. Like I said, I can’t read Chinese, I can just guesstimate from the works of others. If I’m wrong … then I’m wrong and this was just a curious post won’t mean anything. Still, I love the poetry of Qiu Jin and if I can be part of helping her find an English audience then my day is good. Two translations that I think are kind of marvelous:

Autumn wind and autumn rain often bring forth unbearable sorrow
Alan Cykok

The autumn wind and autumn rain agonize me so much.
Badass Women of Asia

Quote

book review: a history of Armenian women

22 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Feminism, quote unquote

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Anahit Harutyunyan, Anet Shamirian, Armenian feminism, pinkarmenia, reblog, The Century of Outstanding Women

taken from the website, PINKArmenia:

History shows, that Armenian women have long taken part in public life. During different centuries women’s participation in public life was expressed in various ways. Armenian women, indeed, have left their trace on the course of Armenian history, and, despite the statement that Armenian is a revered nation, today we don’t know about the outstanding women of our own history.

Do they do not deserve to be mentioned? Were these women not influential enough? Why don’t we know about them?

For centuries many of our intellectuals have referred to women’s issues, and have followed their political and social activities. The situation differs now. Few of our intellectuals refer to women’s activities, but, nevertheless, there are still those who are trying to revive long-forgotten history of our women intellectuals, politicians and public figures, artists and other influential individuals.

Anahit Harutyunyan had a great contribution in the process of introducing to us our ancestress. She is the author of the book “Century of Outstanding Women”, which covers notable Armenian women’s social activities at 19th and 20th the beginning of centuries.

Based on historical facts, it becomes clear, that men and women were equal in Armenian society. In our history women didn’t have a subordinate position nor did they have the stereotype that a man should rule over his wife. In fact, this model, which dates back centuries, is quite unfounded.

This book creates a clear picture of an old, traditional family. The book describes the role of men and women not only in the family, but also in social and political spheres. It is important to mention that in Europe, until the 20th century, women were fighting for their right to vote, while in Armenia, during the establishment of the First Republic (1918), the question didn’t even arise whether women can vote or not? Armenian women both voted and were elected. In Parliament of First Armenian Republic, there were three women: Katarine Zalyan-Manukyan, Varvara Sahakyan, Perchuhi Partizpanyan-Barseghyan. Throughout the end of the 19th century and the beginning of 20th century women’s issues dominated in Armenian media.

Women’s involvement in social sphere was also great. After working out the struggle of National Liberation, the problem of enlightenment arose, without which it would be impossible to unite the nation. It was decided that women could best solve the issue of education, so, at first, it was determined that women needed to be educated. All Around Eastern and Western Armenia schools for girls were opened. That was a powerful movement which was justified. After leaving schools, girls were founding organizations, 90 percent of which were in charge of educational affairs. These women left a huge trace on the history of education.

“The Century of Outstanding Women” breaks many stereotypes about Armenian women and female-male relationships, which have existed in our society for centuries. It browses dusty pages of our history: we can’t read this history in any textbook and there are few who are able to recount these stories. Unfortunately, we don’t recognize our outstanding women and, as long as we remain uninformed moving forward will be much slower and more difficult. It is time to learn and share the prominent Armenian women’s in history.

In the original Armenian:

Պատմությունը վկայում է, որ հասարակական ակտիվ գործունեություն ծավալելը երբեք էլ օտար չի եղել հայ կանանց համար: Տարբեր դարաշրջաններում կանանց մասնակցությունը հասարակական կյանքին տարբեր ձևերով է արտահայտվել: Հայ կանայք, միանշանակ, իրենց հետքն են թողել հայոց պատմության ընթացքի վրա, և, չնայած այն պնդմանը, որ հայ ազգը կնամեծար է, այսօր մենք չգիտենք մեր իսկ պատմության երևելի կանանց:

Մի՞թե այդ կանայք արժանի չեն հիշատակվելու, մի՞թե այդ կանայք բավականաչափ ազդեցիկ չեն եղել, ինչու՞ մենք չենք ճանաչում նրանց:

Դարեր շարունակ մեր մտավորականներից շատերն են անդրադարձել կանանց հարցին, հետևել կանանց քաղաքական և հասարակական գործունեությանը: Այսօր պատկերն այլ է. մեր մտավորականների շրջանում քչերն են անդրադառնում կանանց գործունեությանը, բայց, այնուամենայնիվ, կան դեռ այնպիսիք, ովքեր փորձում են վերակենդանացնել պատմության էջերում վաղուց մոռացված մեր կին մտավորականներին, քաղաքական և հասարակական գործիչներին, արվեստագետներին և այլ ազդեցիկ դեմքերին:

Անահիտ Հարությունյանը մեծ ներդրում ունի մեր նախամայրերի հետ մեզ ներկայացնելու գործում: Նա «Երևելի տիկնանց դարը» գրքի հեղինակն է, որտեղ լուսաբանում է 19-րդ դարի և 20-րդ դարասկզբի երևելի հայ կանանց հասարակական գործունեությունը:

Պատմական փաստերի հիման վրա պարզ է դառնում, որ հայ հասարկությունում կանայք և տղամարդիկ եղել են հավասար: Մեր պատմությունում կինը ստորադաս դիրք երբևէ չի ունեցել, և այն կարծրատիպացած պնդումը, թե տղամարդը պետք է իշխի կնոջը, և թե այս մոդելը դարերի պատմություն ունի, միանգամայն անհիմն է:

Այս գիրքը հին հայկական ավանդական ընտանիքի հստակ պատկեր է ստեղծում: Գրքում հստակ նկարագրված է կնոջ և տղամարդու դերաբաշխումը ոչ միայն ընտանիքում, այլ նաև քաղաքական և հասարակական ոլորտներում: Հարկ է նշել այն փաստը, որ Եվրոպայում կանայք մինչև 20-րդ դար պայքարել են ընտրական իրավունքի համար, մինչդեռ Հայաստանում առաջին հանրապետության ստեղծման ժամանակ (1918 թ.) նույնիսկ հարց չի ծագել` կանայք ունե՞ն ընտրելու իրավունք, թե՞ ոչ: Հայ կանայք և՛ ընտրել են, և՛ ընտրվել: Հայաստանի առաջին հանրապետության խորհրդարանում 3 կին պատգամավոր կար` Կատարինե Զալյան-Մանուկյան, Վարվառա Սահակյան, Պերճուհի Պարտիզպանյան-Բարսեղյան: Ամբողջ 19-րդ դարի վերջում և 20-րդ դարի սկզբում հայկական մամուլում գերակա էր կանանց հարցը:

Հասարակական ոլորտում կանանց ներգրավվածությունը նույնպես մեծ էր: Ազգային-ազատագրական պայքարի ծրագիրը մշակելուն պես` առաջ եկավ լուսավորության խնդիրը, առանց որի հնարավոր չէր լինի համախմբել ազգը: Որոշվեց, որ կրթության հարցը լավագույնս կարող են լուծել կանայք, ուստի առաջին հերթին որոշում կայացվեց կրթել կանանց: Արևմտյան և Արևելյան Հայաստանի ամբողջ տարածքում սկսեցին բացվել օրիորդաց դպրոցներ: Դա մի հզոր շարժում էր, որն արդարացրեց իրեն: Աղջիկները դպրոցն ավարտելուն պես կազմակերպություններ էին հիմնում, որոնց 90 տոկոսը զբաղվում էր կրթական հարցերով: Այդ կանայք կրթության պատմության մեջ խոր հետք են թողել:

«Երևելի տիկնանց դարը» գիրքը շատ կարծրատիպեր է կոտրում հայ կանանց և կին -տղամարդ հարաբերությունների մասին, որոնք մեր հասարակությունում գոյություն ունեն դարեր շարունակ: Այն թերթում է մեր պատմության փոշոտված էջերը. այս պատմությունը չենք կարող կարդալ ոչ մի դասագրքում, և ոչ ոք մեզ չի պատմի դրա մասին: Ցավոք, մենք չենք ճանաչում մեր կարկառուն կանանց և, քանի դեռ տեղեկացված չենք, առաջ շարժվելը շատ ավելի դանդաղ և դժվար կլինի: Ժամանակն է իմանալ և տարածել երևելի հայ կանանց պատմությունը:

wet charcoal

04 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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crone, don't get cocky, maiden, mother, poem, Poetry, slashed bole, sonnet, wet charcoal

Don’t get cocky — Everything can get blown
apart. There’s no help the way I’m wired.

Vast sky: I am small. Mother, Maiden, Crone:
be with me as I drift — I’m still tired.

My name sounds rough in your tongue. This slashed bole
of a stump means that there’s no way I can

cling tight, I’ll just leave smears like wet charcoal.
I’ve read the Bible, Torah and Koran:

all man-made laws that restrict my sisters
restrict me — When they came for the sissies

and the butches I was high strung enough
to stand my ground, though there are some horrors

you can’t beat — how do I love these slashes
or find a name that doesn’t sound rough —

Quote

quote unquote

17 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Feminism, quote unquote

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Armenian feminists, Clementine von Radics, Gyumri, Kim Kardashian, poem, Poetry, reblog, slut shaming must fall, where I call home

Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.

In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.
Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.
In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.

The third veil drops.

Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep

We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.
The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.

Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.
Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.

Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

seen on rebloggy.com/kim kardashian

(via oduor-oduku)

O hell yes! There is very little
positive representation of Armenian women on the web and in the
media. If you scratch the surface, up and beyond historic poets and
artists, you will read about the ones we’ve lost, like Zaruhi Petrosyan, silenced
through domestic violence; and yet Armenian feminism and LGBT rights are alive and well in Yerevan and Gyumri. 

Always these are who I call
heroes.

check your tongue

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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Adrienne Rich, Anne Sexton, check your tongue, dire verse universe, feminism, poem, Poetry, sonnet, Sylvia Plath

Of my three aunts, Sylvia, Adrienne
and Anne, two killed themselves and one refused

to look at me. I’ve loved them. I’ve loved gin,
static-buzz, bone-fever — all that confused

their words with being something more. “Nomen
est omen:”
call me, “Left Behind.” Call her:

“Matertera.” Without these three women
what am I? Check your tongue about that slur

that I’ve broken my pact made between gods
and their dire verse; as if either pleased.

Tonight I want an aunt’s voice that marauds
through my skull, that translates all that buzzed

into something. Confessions. I love them.
I love their words. Their so-called hate and sin.

huli jing [act i]

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in drama, Feminism, Humor

≈ Comments Off on huli jing [act i]

Tags

9-tailed fox, Act I, androgyny, Chinese mythology, drama, Giraudoux, Huli Jing, Ondine

HULI JING: the 9-tailed fox

[a reworking of Giraudoux’s Ondine]

ACT I

Huli Jing, a 9-tailed fox-spirit.
Jinggu, a Wu-Shaman.
Niu and Qui (Huli Jing’s human parents)

][][

The scene is mythological China.
Nighttime inside a roadside inn.
Outside a forest storm rages.

NIU [at the window]
He’s out there … in the dark.

QUI
Indeed, Niu, dear. In the dark.

NIU [peering]
It’s a very dark night.

QUI
Indeed. If it was lighter it would be daylight.

NIU
Listen! The boy is laughing! No, that’s the wind. That sounded like the wind, didn’t it?

QUI
Well, if it isn’t the wind what else could it be?

NIU [uncomfortable, not wishing to state the obvious]
Shush your mouth. You know that I don’t know.

QUI
So, he’s out among the trees, singing with the wind?

NIU
Don’t laugh at me, old man!

QUI [smiling to himself]
I was merely remembering when I was a boy his age. But we lived in a city and there were no trees.

NIU
City-life would’ve taken the forest out of him. We’re too soft with him, Qui. It isn’t right, a boy running about in the woods at this time of night. I shall have to talk gravely to him when he returns.

QUI
If he returns. But why complain? He helps with the housework around the inn every day, doesn’t he?

NIU
I don’t know. Does he?

QUI
I’m the one in the kitchen. You’re the one seeing to the guests. I’ve yet to hear you complain that we’re serving meals on dirty dishes.

NIU
That’s not the point. Whether he has to wash dishes, cups or tables, it always the same time – I turn my back for a moment and everything is clean and shining.

QUI
Complaining about efficiency is odd, coming from you. Would you rather a layabout and a slob for a son?

NIU [not paying attention]
And then he brings things home. He says that he finds them in the woods. Queer bowls and cups that look like they’re fashioned out of roots. You know what he has been doing today?

QUI
Probably doing what a boy his age does. Do you remember a single day in all these years that we’ve had him that he has done anything expected of him? And yet, somehow, he makes everyone who comes to this inn happy.

NIU
Huh, except for the ones that he spooks away.

[The window suddenly flies open]

NIU [startled]
Whaa!

QUI [getting up and coming over]
Why so jittery? It’s only the wind.

NIU
Wind? It’s him! You know how he loves to play tricks on me. Making all those ghastly faces peer in at the window when my back is turned. That young girl with no eyes gives me the heeby-jeebies.

QUI
I like the old man with the beard, though. Still, if you’re frightened, shut the window.

[There is a flash of lightning, and the face of an young girl with unkempt hair and empty eye-sockets appears in the window.]

YOUNG GIRL WITH NO EYES
Hello, mama-dear!

NIU [shrieks]
Huli Jing, you scalawag!

[She shuts the window. It flies open again. The head of an old man with a long beard appears in another flash.]

OLD MAN [cheerfully]
Good evening, master Qui!

QUI [cheerfully]
Ah! Good evening, sir!

[The Old Man disappears. Qui goes to the door and peers out into the storm.]

QUI [calling]
Huli Jing, come in this minute! Your mother is very angry!

NIU [calling out the window]
Yes, in you come, Huli Jing! I’m going to count up to three, and if you’re not in by then, I’m going to lock the door! [To herself] The boy can sleep outside.

[A flash of lighting and crash of thunder comes as a response.]

QUI
Mother, you don’t mean that!

NIU
You see if I don’t. Huli Jing – one!

[A second roll of thunder.]

QUI
You’re only making the forest angry every time you speak!

NIU
It’s not the forest who is angry, is it? Huli Jing – two!

[A third boom of thunder even louder than the last.]

QUI
This isn’t how one keeps good neighbors —

NIU
“Neighbors,” my foot – three!

[Sudden magical silence falls over the inn. Even the wind cannot be heard.]

QUI [dryly]
Well, somebody heard you.

NIU [getting up and locking the door]
There! The inn is closed for the night, as far as I’m concerned. Now we can go to bed.

[Suddenly the door blows open and with it the sounds of the night. Niu and Qui turn, startled. Silhouetted in the doorway stands Jinggu, a female wu-shaman.]

JINGGU [cheerfully stepping into the room]
The door isn’t locked, I hope?

NIU
O! A guest. [Stepping forward.] Madam, my name is Niu, at your service.

JINGGU
Many thanks. I’ve been walking all day through these woods. Do you think that I might find a room tonight?

NIU
O, please, madam, make yourself at home.

JINGGU [sitting down and shaking rain water from her robes]
Buddha in heaven, what a storm! It’s been pouring down my neck ever since noon. Of course, robes are robes and these deserve to be burned, but there’s not much one can do. The one thing we shamans simply dread, you know, is rain. That, and rat-demons, of course.

NIU
Of course. Er, well, madam, perhaps you could take them off and I could see that they get properly washed?

JINGGU
Take my robes off? Have you ever seen a snail without its shell, Niu? Well, I suppose that would make it a slug, come to think about it. But the analogy still works. A shaman without her robes? A naked wu-shaman? Unthinkable! Well, except for when it comes to the licentiousness, of course. There is an awful lot of that, except in Court these days. It’s that blasted Confucianism that keeps saying that women need to leave their robes on. And now that the Empress is so keen on Confucianism there isn’t much a shaman can do except not take her robes off. You did say your name was Niu, yes?

NIU
Ah, yes, madam, and this is my husband, Qui.

QUI [bowing]
Please excuse us, madam. We rarely get Court shamans in these parts.

JINGGU
O, I’m not a Court shaman, my good man! I’m just a shaman from the Court. It’s the men who are all the ritual bureaucrats and moral metaphysicians these days. Especially now that the Empress is worried that her yin has somehow become polluted.

NIU
Polluted, madam?

JINGGU
I know, sounds crazy, doesn’t it? There’s that damn Confucianism, again. I use to be in charge of purifying mountain demons and now I’m reduced to purifying the Empress’ yin.

NIU
Does that work?

JINGGU
If I do it once a day it keeps her happy. It’s hard work, mind you. She keeps producing so much of it. Copious amounts. But she must be getting very cranky of late, I’ve spent a whole month in this forest, vainly searching for a mother-of-pearl comb belonging to a “hollow-cheeked young moon of springtime’s ebb with plumed clouds canopied about her.” Then it started to rain. Lucky for me I’ve stumbles on Niu’s and Qui’s quaint roadside inn.

QUI
That’s right, madam! Er, I know it’s not proper to ask a guest questions, madam, but may I just ask if you’re hungry?

JINGGU
Food? Food! I should that say I am. I’d be most glad for a meal.

QUI
I’ve got a rabbit in the kitchen. Perhaps you’d care for that?

JINGGU
I most certainly would! I have an unholy passion for rabbit.

QUI
Would you like it boiled, madam, or poached?

JINGGU
Ah, steamy lapin water. Er, no. I prefer fricassee, truth be told.

[Niu and Qui look at each other in dismay.]

QUI
O … fricassee? I usually boil them for twenty or thirty minutes, madam, they’re very nice that way.

JINGGU
But you just asked how I like rabbit, and I like fricassee.

NIU
He poaches them, too, madam.

QUI [sadly]
You would like me to saute and braise the meat, madam?

[In the far distance: thunder and lightning]

JINGGU
I don’t know, I just like the word, “fricassee.” It sounds rather indecent. An indecent rabbit, ha!

NIU [stiffly]
It certainly does, madam.

JINGGU
Then that’s settled then. I want fricassee.

NIU
All right, Qui. Go and … do that thing for the lady.

QUI [in the doorway]
It’s very nice simmered, madam, in a small amount of —

NIU [shooing him away]
Go on, old man.

[Qui goes into the kitchen. Jinggu settles back in her chair.]

JINGGU
You seem quite keen on Court shamans in these parts.

NIU
Well, madam, we prefer them to wild beasts and demons.

JINGGU
I rather like demons, at least the ones from the mountains. Not that I’m a monster or anything, it’s just what I was trained in.

NIU
It’s rare to find a woman with a trade, madam.

JINGGU
Thing is, you see, I like talking. I’ve got a talkative nature, I suppose. With demons there’s always someone to chat with. Most shamans are far from congenial, if you get my drift. Chimei demons are the best, of course, they’re thousands of years old and they’ll tell you their whole life stories. Some people say that their name means “hornless dragon,” which is odd because dragons are, you know, celestial, whereas Chimei aren’t. You’d think that was perfectly obvious. But scholars are a pretty thick lot, especially the Court ones, pfff. You see, the problem is, and I think it is a problem, that I don’t know anything about forest demons, certainly not enough to carry on a conversation. So I’ve spend a month lost in these damned woods, and I’ve yet to exchange a single word with anyone. Even my own echo finds me boring of late, which is a shame since I’ve got so much to say!

NIU
But whoever could have made you come to a dreadful place like this?

JINGGU
Who do you think? A man, of course!

NIU
Ah! Huh, well, I won’t ask you any more, madam.

JINGGU
Ha ha! Yes you will, this very minute! Lord Buddha and the Diamond Sutra, Niu! I haven’t talked about a man for a whole month! You don’t think I’m going to miss the opportunity, now that I’ve got you within earshot!

NIU [clearing uncomfortable about the subject but trying to be polite]
It’s fine, madam, I’ve never found the subject to be all that stimulating —

JINGGU
Come on, now! Hurry up and ask me his name!

NIU
Madam …

JINGGU
Do you want to know his name or not?

NIU [sighing]
What is his name, madam?

JINGGU
His name, good innkeeper, is Tsu Tia-Chua. Isn’t it a manly name!

NIU [dryly]
O … very manly, madam.

JINGGU
Other men are always called Bingwen, Huizhong, or Jianguo – well, I mean, anyone can be called Bingwen, or Huizhong, or Jianguo, but only someone special deserves a name so solemn and deep and thrilling. I expect you want to know if he’s handsome, dear Qui?

QUI [just coming in]
Who is handsome, madam?

NIU
The lady is talking about Tsu Tia-Chua, my dear, Lord Tsu Tia-Chua of the Court.

QUI
Er, yes. Handsome is he? I mean, is he handsome?

JINGGU
Is he handsome! But you’ll see for yourself, my dear friends, because you will both come to my wedding. I invite you here and now! Tsu Tia-Chua promised to marry me on the one condition that I returned from this forest; and if I do return, it will be entirely thanks to you. Well, Qui, my dear, I think you’d better go and fetch that rabbit of mine. We don’t want it over-fricasseed, do we? Wait, is that even possible?

[The door opens, and Huli Jing appears. He stands motionless on the threshold.]

HULI JING [marveling]
O, you’re beautiful!

NIU [standing up]
Why, you moss-tailed miscreant!

HULI JING [coming in, a wild thing from the wild woods]
Isn’t she beautiful?

NIU
Excuse me, madam, this is our son. I’m afraid he doesn’t know much about manners.

HULI JING
It’s just that I’m so happy to know that a mortal woman is as lovely as that. I’m not frightened of them now.

NIU
He’s still a child, madam. Please try to forgive him.

HULI JING
I knew there must be some good reason for deciding on being a boy today!

NIU
Huli Jing, please, you’re annoying the lady.

HULI JING
I’m not, you know. The moment I walked through the door she began to overflow with essence. I could smell it way out in the forest, that’s why I came home early. Look at her face! She’s glowing. What’s your name?

NIU [horrified]
For all that is holy, boy, you can’t address a shaman like that!

HULI JING [coming up to Jinggu]
What’s her name?

JINGGU
Her name is Jinggu.

HULI JING
I should have known. When it’s a dewy morning, and your breath goes out like a cloud, bearing all your sadness with it, you say Jinggu. That’s so pretty! Why have you come? To take me away?

NIU
That’s quite enough from you. Go to your room this minute.

HULI JING
O, take me! Abscond with me!

[Qui returns with the cooked rabbit.]

QUI
Here’s your fricassee, madam. Just you settle down to that. It’ll be better than listening to this mad son of ours.

HULI JING [twirling around in horror]
Did you say fricassee?

JINGGU [eating with gusto]
Yum – it’s magnificent!

HULI JING
Father, did you dare to braise a rabbit?

QUI
Be quiet. It’s done now, anyway.

HULI JING
O, my poor darling rabbit, you’ve slept all winter dreaming under the snow only to end up in a sauce pan!

NIU
Now you’re not going to start making a fuss about a rabbit!

HULI JING
They call themselves my parents … and they took you and threw you cut you up into little pieces and sauteed you!

JINGGU
I asked them to, little boy.

HULI JING
You did? Yes, I should have known that too. I can see, now I look at you closer. You stink of mortality, don’t you?

[Far away, but coming closer: thunder and lightning.]

QUI [bowing]
O, madam, forgive us!

HULI JING
You don’t know anything about anything, do you? You think dream interpretation really works? I’ve seen your “sacrificial rain ceremony,” what a joke! You lot are so eager for your Elixirs of Immortality but the moment something truly awe-inspiring comes by all you want to do is fricassee it!

JINGGU [her mouth full]
Try some, child! It’s delicious!

HULI JING
Well, it won’t be delicious much longer!

[Huli Jing takes the dish and throws the rabbit out of the window.]

HULI JING
Go on and eat it now! Good-bye!

QUI
Huli Jing! Where are you going?

HULI JING
There’s someone out there who hates mortals and wants to tell me all about them. I always refused to listen, because I’ve had my own ideas – but not anymore!

QUI
You’re not going out again, in this weather!

HULI JING
Yes, and in a minute I’ll know everything; what they’re like and what they’re capable of – the thought of what I’m about to hear sets my fur flying.

NIU
Young man, have I got to stop you by force, eh?

[Huli Jing slips away from his mother.]

HULI JING
I already know that mortals are all evil and liars and smell, and the beautiful ones are really grotesque, and the magical ones are plain and repulsive!

JINGGU
Really, child? What if one of them fell in love with you?

[Huli Jing stops, but does not turn round]

HULI JING
What did she say?

JINGGU [looking down at her chop-sticks]
O, nothing. Nothing at all.

HULI JING
Say it again.

JINGGU
Suppose one of them fell in love with you?

[Directly overhead: thunder and lightning. The Inn’s lights all flicker.]

HULI JING
I’d still hate them.

[Huli Jing vanishes into the night.]

[End of Act I]

][][

notes:

I am a firm believer in the Bechdel Test, which is a rating system based on that: (1) the work in question has to have at least two women in it, who (2) who talk to each other, about (3) something besides a man. Even though Jinggu seems to want to do nothing but talk about her man appearances can be deceptive.

At first I had the fox-spirit, Huli Jing, simply female, but then I began to think of the glories of androgyny; why not have a girl play an immortal boy who seduces an “older” mortal woman? It’s fascinating how generations of Western audiences have had no problem with Peter Pan always being played by, clearly, an adult woman, even when “he” is seducing Wendy Darling from the very beginning.

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