Qiu Miaojin - Last Words from Montmartre

Deep inside you I know that you understand what I mean by “staining,” this is one of the most difficult issues for you to face. I suffered the first real breakdown of my life, the first real “staining” of my “pure” self, a violation of a most brutal and violent and lots more grotesque kind, like the violation of a virgin…. So I had a total breakdown. Perhaps my body and soul can be healed through the love of other people and so I can try to come from a place of purity in my conduct toward others and the world, still I know that my “purity” that has been violated and stained, that I am still a girl who’s been violated…. This is my indelible sorrow!

When I lashed out at you in the past, I was filled with fear and a fierce resistance from deep within my heart — an unwillingness to be stained by you! But now it’s too late, now that you’ve already cheerfully violated me, I’ve calmed down. I won’t resist, I won’t struggle, I won’t scream out or curse with rage or cry for help… I won’t cry anymore. I will stop hoping for death in that very instance of violence; I will no longer imagine killing myself far more viciously than you ever could. I wish you no further harm. Like the little girl in Landscape in the Mist who is snatched into a truck and raped, and later awakens from a coma in silence — and slowly begins to grow up and learn how to be a whore for survival, knowing that she’s been forcibly violated though isn’t really impure, only deeply sad… I truly don’t need to lash out at you again. I simply have to endure and endure your existence in the world, and find a way not to be stained by you again.

At a time when I was rather naïve and inexperienced, I wrote a story called “The Red Scorpion” that described a more minor aspect of this grander theme. It never occurred to me that it was actually a prophetic obituary for my own “purity.”… Perhaps what I have been describing is actually the inner world of “The Red Scorpion,” but only now is it possible to really let the boy cry out in pain and lend him his voice. How mysterious is the creation of art. Four years later I experienced the same theme of phenomenon and voice ( le phenomène et la voix ). As for the theme of being “stained” that I experienced through my breakdown, I want to explore it fully by writing a highly symbolic novel like Kobo Abe’s The Face of Another . It would exist as the apex of love you gave to me. Now I understand that my “purity” isn’t only of the flesh (perhaps no one can stain my body) but of something much deeper. My “purity” is comprised of my physical body, my soul, and my whole life, and I’ve never given this “purity”—as unblemished as a piece of white jade — to anyone but you. So you are really the only one who can stain me, which you did, thus driving me toward insanity and death! (I’m trembling now, thinking about it.)

(By now, of course, I realize that I chose the wrong person in this journey called life. And I mistakenly loved you, the woman I chose, too much.) I said I wouldn’t blame you anymore, but if I can’t blame you and I can’t take all the blame myself, I can only blame fate for what’s been prearranged for me. I’ve hardly had a “choice” as from the moment I met you my fate was already sealed. In that split second there was no time for me to “choose.” Such is the recurring theme of fate: When it is sealed, it is sealed, and there’s nothing one can do to escape it (even right now I’m still dealing with this theme, I’m still writing about it, still wrestling with it). But I feel hurt by this “arrangement”… I’ve been hurt ever since I resolved to assume responsibility for the horrendous crime I committed that year against Xuan Xuan; I’m hurt as well by the physical and psychic pain that Xuan Xuan was forced to endure. And then you appeared and without a thought cheerfully stained me (the student outshines the master). I wholly offered you my two pure halves, only for you to trample them! I gave the very essence of these two pure halves to the one for whom I ultimately lost all respect as you turned away and crushed them using some trashy young object as your excuse! In this vicious circle of driving others to despair, I can see no hint of humanity in you. Nor can I see any sign of real resolve in your relations with anyone. I’ve never seen you take any real responsibility for your actions and have only witnessed this lengthy performance of you with your head in the sand and goose bumps on your legs, along with all the chaotic and confused evasion. The crimes I’ve been punished for and the price I’ve paid with body and soul has been in vain, an utterly meaningless sacrifice! How can I not blame fate for arranging this for me?

I have no intention of “judging” you or of accusing you of a crime. No one in such a situation can accuse anyone of a crime, just as Xuan Xuan never accused me of a crime. At best, the only way she can deal with me is by maintaining her silence and distance toward me forever, and likewise, at best, the only way I can deal with you is by making you fully comprehend the kind of “landscape” you have carved into my heart during this time.

Yes: It’s an enormous landscape painting. Each person must take responsibility for their actions. This can only happen within oneself; it has nothing to do with anyone else. That’s what I’ve learned from all this agony. I want to confidently say that from beginning to end I have paid in full for my love for you, and I’ve also assumed full responsibility for my crime of betraying someone else in choosing to love you. As for you, how you take responsibility for my scars is a concern for your innermost self alone. By loving you I will never be able to “judge” you; only you can “judge” yourself.

Concerning the theme of “guilt,” this is all I can tell you.

MAY 4

Since Laurence left this morning I can’t stop weeping. I don’t even know what I’m weeping for. I’ll remember this weeping for the rest of my life. I don’t think I can wait any longer for Xu to call me or send word of some sort; it’s been a week since Bunny died and I still haven’t received the slightest reply from her. My life has been propelled in an entirely new direction. After being tested for three months and thirteen days I have arrived at the present — another test. I think my vision of a future life can now begin to move beyond the vision I’ve held on to for the past two or three years, of Xu….

Last night was the third time I’d gone to one of the center’s dinners for women, and it was my second time attending an administrative committee meeting. I’d never officially paid membership dues, and so for each vote I didn’t dare raise my hand pour ou contre (“for or against”), causing the other members to treat me as an outsider, although for the most part they smiled benignly at me. I felt quite at ease with them and enjoyed the meeting. The center was another home for me in Paris. Before the cocktail party, they invited Geneviève to say a few words. Geneviève was an older lesbian who brought warmth to my heart whenever I saw her. The word “lesbian” is a term that is really only meaningful in political contexts. She was also a political figure and publisher for whom gay rights was a cause. Her press is called Geneviève Pastre and specializes in publishing works related to lesbian and women’s sexuality and is very radicale . In person she is quite soft-spoken and yet sharp and straightforward and very inspiring.

Laurence is one of the head organizers. She spoke forcefully and animatedly; her casual short brown hair made her look so much like a young Shui Yao visiting my place for the first time, that and the green and brown military trousers she wore. She was also about the same height as Shui Yao and Xiao Yong. The cumulative effect recalled my earliest memory of Shui Yao…. Laurence caught my eye immediately. I had been stealing glances at her for the last two meetings, but she never met my eye. During the meeting, she disappeared a few times. She gave the impression of being a little cold and unsociable, but in fact she was very bold. At the first meeting, Laurence proposed that the university screen a certain “lesbian” movie that everyone present would attend, but when no one agreed to an action that would expose their individual identities, she breezily declared, “Fine, no problem, I’ll go by myself.” Yesterday evening as Geneviève spoke, Laurence remained standing and watched her from a distance, occasionally disappearing into the backstage washroom. Maybe she was having a quiet moment with someone else…. I like her style. Her personality was totally different from Shui Yao’s, but contained in Shui Yao’s physical form.