I never expected that the message in Red Azalea would still be significant ten years after its publication. The Communist government of China continues to deny its past. Children today know Mao as a hero instead of the one who should be held responsible for the Cultural Revolution (1964-1976), which brought destruction to every family in the nation and took millions of lives.
In America I have tried to bury my own memories. Yet, I see Little Green’s drowned face in the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Every time I visit the toilet I remember how I used to squat on a thin, wet board over a manure-pit with millions of maggots swimming below me and my fear of falling in. Every time I have loved, I hear the sound of a bullet and am reminded of the price of falling in love at the labor camp and what happened to those who paid for passion.
My young American-born daughter’s dream of becoming the one who would help to discover the cure for cancer reminds me of my own childhood dream of devoting myself to protecting my country. I wanted to tie grenades to my body and become a martyr by blowing up the Vietnam invaders, the Americans.
It saddens me to see that the Chinese historians echo the government’s line, which calls the Cultural Revolution “Mao’s tiny flaw,” in other words, “Not worthy of mentioning.”
I haven’t taken the publication of Red Azalea for granted, because I know that millions of my people did not live to tell their stories.
The record of history is set by the powerful. While I credit the Communist government for China’s economic success, I despise its attitude toward the past. I consider the regime’s new slogan, “Comrades, let’s move on,” which translates as, “Let’s forget about the Cultural Revolution,” an act of betrayal against humanity.
Wrapped in fancy neon lights, our soul’s landscape is a ruin and is infected with disease. We hope that the sickness won’t show and the tumor won’t grow and spread. What could be more frightening? How long will it be until the unlearned lesson repeats itself?
When I wrote Red Azalea I didn’t realize that it not only told a story of a girl named Jade of Peace, Anchee Min, but also the story of China, its yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Anchee Min, 2005