I can unabashedly say that my mother came from a family of distinction or at least from a family of affluence or “high society”; I have proof of it—my maternal grandmother lived through her ninety some years of life with foot-binding.
The foot-binding tradition lasted for about one thousand years, you may or may not know it that only the young girls from the family of affluence in the “high society” underwent the cruel and painful foot-binding process that took years to accomplish it, to make a 三吋金蓮 (“three inches golden lotus”, the name of which traced back to the origin of foot-binding.
Legend had it that the foot-binding began with Li Houtsu of Nantang 南唐 (A.D. 937-978). He had a royal women attendant called Yaoniang, who was noted for her slender beauty and dance. She tied her feet with silk and crouch on top of it to suggest the form of a crescent moon and danced on top of the lotus making pirouettes suggesting the clouds. Many young women began to imitate her style, thus the beginning of foot-binding. (I read this from an article by Yu Huai translated into English by Lin Yutang, 林語堂)
It was believed that the foot-binding began after Tang Dynasty (唐朝) which ended about 1,100 years ago. With the exuberance of Tang (唐) poetry singing the praise of women’s beauty, no reference to the foot-binding custom was mentioned, so it is safe to say that it began after Tang Dynasty.
I once went to Taipei with my grandmother and my brother took us to Hotel Guo-Bing (國賓大飯店) at Yang-San (圓山)—the most luxurious hotel in Taiwan then. I vividly recall that many Americans couldn’t take their eyes away from the binding feet of my grandmother; she walked with grace as if she wore high heels with pointed shoes. The foot-binding was obviously a distraction from her beautiful face—one cannot help notice that she was a woman of delicate elegance and beauty even in her advanced age.
She lived with my uncles and would come to live with us for, say, a few days to a week, at a time. The excitement and happiness of her staying with us in those days and moments never faded from my memory. We always called a “taxi” or more precisely, a tricycle (三輪車,see photo), even though our house was only 3 or 4 small blocks away from my uncles’, that was quite a task for one with binding feet.
I always volunteered to go to bring my grandmother to my house, mainly to indulge the joy of riding tricycle with my grandmother through the streets. The delight and thrill is similar to one riding the horse carriage in certain American tourist sites. Joy, we just saw one in the Water Tower area in Chicago this past Christmas; can you imagine riding the horse carriage along the Magnificent Mile?
Watching my grandmother “putting on her shoes” (wrapping her feet with a very, very long silky cloth) every morning is a ritual.
I went away to Chia-yi (嘉義) for middle- and high school and then to Taichung (台中) for medical college and whenever I came home, the first order of business was to go to see my grandmother. Often time it was early evening when I arrived home, I still went to see her; no sooner had I put down my stuff at home, than I would go to my uncle's home to see her. Often time she had already retired to bed, I still went into the “mosquito net” (蚊帳) to chat, I no longer recall what we talked or whether we said anything of substance or interest at all. But, to see and to be with my grandmother was such a joy, a joy that I had to give up when I came to the States 40 some years ago.