The Little Red Guard: A Family Memoir Read Online Free Page A

be a blessing. Grandma and Father were classified as poor peasants, true proletariats, and all the opportunities of the new society were open to them. Father was given a job at a textile factory. In the late 1950s, the government took over Ren’s jewelry stores and he became an employee. He could no longer pay for Grandma’s help, but Father had a stable income and she felt it was time to retire as a maid.
    In 1956, Father married a woman who grew up not far from his native village and had been brought to Xi’an by her aunt. The woman was my mother. Father was twenty-eight then, but Grandma never let go of him. They all lived together inside a tiny two-bedroom house in Ren’s courtyard. When my older sister and I were born, Grandma took it as a sign that the Huang family might again prosper. She took care of us when Mother was away at work.
    Often, to the frustration of Father, Grandma never showed any interest in the revolution that had ended her suffering and the subsequent political campaigns against those who had exploited her. Instead, she always blamed the family’s hardships on her own fate and the vengeful ghost of a former tenant who, she said, had placed a curse on the family.
    In 1966, at the outset of the Cultural Revolution, Red Guards took over Ren’s courtyard house, confiscated all his possessions, and pushed his family into a corner room. The rest of the house was opened up to families of revolutionary activists. Grandma, a member of the oppressed and exploited proletariat, was offered a bigger room in the mansion and was asked to speak against her former boss at public denunciation meetings. Grandma declined both offers and insisted on staying in her little room. The Red Guards didn’t know what to do about this illiterate old lady with bound feet, this ally of the revolution. When Ren was paraded through the streets, Grandma secretly took care of his children. “After all, I had raised them like they were my own,” she said.
    When I was in elementary school, Grandma constantly embarrassed me in front of my friends. My elder sister and I participated in different kinds of after-school music performances and parades to promote the latest Party policies. Grandma would wobble outside and look for us. When we appeared, she let us have it in her richest Henan accent. “You goof off outside after school, doing this revolution and that revolution, but never bother to come home and take care of your brother and sister. What kind of crap is that?” She made such a ruckus that many of our friends had come out to watch and they were all laughing. We were mortified. From then on, classmates would mimic Grandma’s actions and accent to tease us.
    In high school, I was taught that a Communist society meant that there would be fewer differences in wealth, power, and status. Everyone would have all the food and clothing they needed. Nobody would be selfish. We would all want to work hard and help others. When I shared these sentiments with Grandma, she laughed at me and mocked my Communist faith. “That’s the perfect dream for a lazy person like you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just who will provide the food and clothing that everyone needs? They don’t fall from the sky, do they?” Grandma’s sarcasm made me angry, and I told Father what she had said. Father gave me a serious look and said, “Don’t listen to your grandma and don’t tell others what she says. She is illiterate and backward in thinking.” As I left the room, I heard him tell Grandma, “Watch out. He doesn’t know any better and could talk to his friends. If they report us to the authorities, they might think those were my ideas.” It was true. A neighbor’s child shared with his classmates that his grandpa had said that most of the landlords that had been executed by the government were diligent and kindhearted people. A few days later, his father, the personnel director, was under investigation for attacking the government’s