It was not Jiaguo I was scared of. No he left me to myself. At dinner he would eat without a single complaint, and at night we would sleep in the same bed, like brother and sister, not even our ankles touching.
No, Jiaguo I was almost glad of. It was Dou Yan, my mother in law who I feared beyond everything.
My first day as a wife Dou Yan spit at me, saying "Your rice is too salty for my son. Bah--only a peasant would eat this!"
She said this, but I saw many blisters on her hands, blisters that came from working hard in the fields, peasant work. Scars that would never go away. Maybe it was these scars that made her so mean. They made her remember her old life, when she was poor.
Maybe when she was a girl she was always hungry. Maybe she was always blamed for things. Maybe her mother in law would kick her waying that her rice was too salty. Maybe, she too, had a sad marriage. People are not bitter on their own.
These things left scars on her, scars she tried to cover with her new wealth, her new white gloves. Scars she kept trying to heal, but only became deeper and deeper with her cruelty and proudness.
Looking back on it, maybe Dou Yan was good, and only strict. Maybe I saw her as a someone to blame all my problems on. That's the way it was back then. If you are miserable blame your problems on some other woman, but never a man. Because in China it was the women's job to carry the misery.
Dou Yan made me scrub her hard wooden floors until my hands were raw and bled, and only then was I allowed to tend to my own wounds. She would hit me upside the head and call me a stupid girl, and later, when no grandson's came, sh ewould shake me saying that I had too much yang, saying that I wasn't worth her son.
You see, I felt misery then, misery you've never felt. What do you think is misery? Doing bad on homework? Finding a tear in your robes? You are so lucky, Cho, you will never know the sadness I have. So now do you see why it hurts me, when you say that I do not care about you? Because I care so much for you. You are the only thing I have ever loved.
You used to watch a meinlul cartoon, about that pretty girl who sings and animals run to her. You remember that? I was like that girl. She's the one that always cleaned, and got yelled at by her bad family. I was that girl.
Only I didn't have a shoe made out of glass. I didn't have a prince to rescue me. I had to find my freedom on my own.
And that is why I decided to run away.
No, Jiaguo I was almost glad of. It was Dou Yan, my mother in law who I feared beyond everything.
My first day as a wife Dou Yan spit at me, saying "Your rice is too salty for my son. Bah--only a peasant would eat this!"
She said this, but I saw many blisters on her hands, blisters that came from working hard in the fields, peasant work. Scars that would never go away. Maybe it was these scars that made her so mean. They made her remember her old life, when she was poor.
Maybe when she was a girl she was always hungry. Maybe she was always blamed for things. Maybe her mother in law would kick her waying that her rice was too salty. Maybe, she too, had a sad marriage. People are not bitter on their own.
These things left scars on her, scars she tried to cover with her new wealth, her new white gloves. Scars she kept trying to heal, but only became deeper and deeper with her cruelty and proudness.
Looking back on it, maybe Dou Yan was good, and only strict. Maybe I saw her as a someone to blame all my problems on. That's the way it was back then. If you are miserable blame your problems on some other woman, but never a man. Because in China it was the women's job to carry the misery.
Dou Yan made me scrub her hard wooden floors until my hands were raw and bled, and only then was I allowed to tend to my own wounds. She would hit me upside the head and call me a stupid girl, and later, when no grandson's came, sh ewould shake me saying that I had too much yang, saying that I wasn't worth her son.
You see, I felt misery then, misery you've never felt. What do you think is misery? Doing bad on homework? Finding a tear in your robes? You are so lucky, Cho, you will never know the sadness I have. So now do you see why it hurts me, when you say that I do not care about you? Because I care so much for you. You are the only thing I have ever loved.
You used to watch a meinlul cartoon, about that pretty girl who sings and animals run to her. You remember that? I was like that girl. She's the one that always cleaned, and got yelled at by her bad family. I was that girl.
Only I didn't have a shoe made out of glass. I didn't have a prince to rescue me. I had to find my freedom on my own.
And that is why I decided to run away.