Peking Opera. The Qiao and China's gender relationship (1902-1937)

Author: Huang Yufu / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-04-01
Features: In feudal Chinese society, foot-binding was a great private matter for women and a form of sexual stimulation for men. Therefore, according to feudal moral standards, a proper woman should not expose her feet in front of strange men—whether they were wearing shoes or socks. The sexual connotation of foot-binding was expressed in old Peking opera through the jiao (high-arched platform shoes). Taking the huadan role as an example, the women portrayed by huadan are typically young and lively, less constrained by feudal rituals compared to the idealized qingyi role. This is also evident in their costumes. Hudan often wear short, narrow-sleeved blouses (aozi) without long water sleeves, allowing their hands to be visible. They may wear pants instead of floor-length skirts, thereby exposing their jiao. In huadan performances with long skirts, actors sometimes lift the skirt slightly to reveal the jiao to the audience. In some traditional plays, the jiao was used to depict the joy between young men and women. For example, Xiao Fangniu is a popular song-and-dance drama. Today, the stage version depicts a shepherd boy meeting a village girl, as two innocent youths sing and dance together, departing in good spirits. However, the old performance style contained some flirtatious elements. As mentioned in an article from Drama Weekly in 1925, in Xiao Fangniu, "After singing lines like 'Transform a goldfish in water to hide. Wait for the sister to fetch water, imitate Zhang Sheng and Hongniang,' the dan and chou roles perform a complex and playful dance, moving in and out with precision and balance. The chou role exudes joy, while the dan role appears shy." (Yu, 1925, p. 20). Another example is when the shepherd boy lifts one of the village girl’s feet (jiao) and gently smells it, to which the girl sings, 'Brother loves my feet, come and marry me.' (See photo 13).
One significant change in the early 20th century was the entry of women into the world of Peking opera. Their participation and involvement altered the gender structure of the art form, breaking the century-long monopoly of men in Peking opera. This shift in gender dynamics also affected the use of the jiao on the stage. The change in gender structure first manifested in the entry of large numbers of female actors into Peking opera. Their presence diluted the jiao's importance in displaying gender roles, somewhat suppressing erotic performances in Peking opera while also limiting the full expression of the jiao's role in demonstrating martial prowess. Thus, the emergence and rise of female actors objectively weakened the symbolic function of the jiao. The change in gender structure was also reflected in the formation and growth of a female audience for Peking opera. Women of Beijing, deprived of the right to watch plays for over a century, contributed to the development of dan roles in Peking opera with their distinct interests and aesthetic perspectives. They were less enthusiastic about the jiao than male audiences, and their presence in theaters also moderated erotic performances on stage. In this sense, the female audience also played a role in weakening the symbolic function of the jiao.
In the 1920s and 1930s, male audiences of Peking opera held differing views on the jiao. Some insisted on the importance of its symbolic and technical functions, arguing that it could not be abandoned. Others, influenced by the progress of social civilization, no longer emphasized its symbolic function but focused only on its technical role as an art technique. More radical individuals, meanwhile, advocated that theater had a mission to promote social progress and reform customs, attacking the jiao as equivalent to foot-binding, which had become a target of public criticism.
Please tell me about your experience learning the jiao technique.
Li: I was born in 1923. I started studying in 1931 when I was eight years old and graduated in 1939 after eight years of training. Back then, when you entered the school, you didn’t immediately specialize in a role. After a short period, I studied laodan with Li Jinquan. Generally, a student’s role wasn’t determined immediately; it depended on which role suited them. Early specialization was discouraged because it led to frequent role changes, which was troublesome. I studied laodan under the instruction of Mr. Wen Liangchen, a renowned laodan actor who often performed with Mr. Cheng Yanqiu. He was very disciplined and an excellent teacher.
The National Drama College was different from keshan (apprentice troupes). At that time, Beijing had only one keshan, the Furen Cheng troupe, which was all male. Some schools were exclusively for girls, like the Kuide Society. Our school, however, was coeducational, which was quite progressive for that era, similar to a university. The principal at the time was Jiao Juyin, a graduate of Peking University, who was only 25 years old when he took office. In the coeducational system, there was a rule that girls played female roles and boys played male roles. However, some roles didn’t follow this rule. For example, I initially studied laodan, then xiaosheng and wusheng. After a year or two, this arrangement had its advantages. Girls could study qingyi and huadan, and most roles were open to them. Back then, we didn’t assign the least attractive girls to laodan. Boys played laodan, while girls studied qingyi and huadan. For instance, Zhou Jinlian studied huadan and was basically a comedic huadan. Female students also took wudan. There was a girl named Chen Deying from the "De" class who studied wudan, but she wasn’t suitable. She was too weak, even after binding her jiao, her legs remained weak. Not all girls bound jiao, but qingyi roles didn’t either. However, at that time, both qingyi and huadan students learned to bind jiao.
The jiao could be categorized into different types. Our school focused on hard jiao, which included both literary (wen) and martial (wu) styles. Literary jiao was slightly more upright, while martial jiao was slightly tilted because performers needed to kick, flip, and perform acrobatics while wearing it, with the toes landing flat—not fully flat like natural feet, which would look awkward. So, the jiao was tilted slightly. Later, when students settled into qingyi, such as Zhao Jinrong and Hou Yulan, they no longer bound jiao. However, some plays required it, like Mu Kezhai, Mu Tianwang, Hongni Guan, Dazhao Zan, and Zhan Wan Cheng. The jiao itself involved techniques—lifting it, performing various movements. In general, huadan, xiaoyao, daomazu, and wudan roles bound jiao. A wudan role without jiao wasn’t considered a wudan. Many plays shouldn’t have required jiao, like Shisan Mei (He Yufeng), which was set in the Qing Dynasty and not Han. At that time, foot-binding was becoming less common, but in our school, most students still bound jiao. However, some didn’t, like Wu Suqiu, who performed in Ertong Yingxiong Zuan and didn’t bind jiao. In fact, she could have, but found it more comfortable, and the play was too long, covering everything from Hongliu Cun to Gong Yan Yuan. This also depended on individual conditions. Wang Yaoqing, for example, was tall, and binding jiao would have made him look unbalanced. However, I was shorter, and not binding jiao would have looked awkward. Binding jiao while performing was considered appropriate. But in some plays, it was necessary—audiences would complain if it wasn’t bound.
According to records, binding jiao began in the Qianlong era with a man named Wei Changsheng, who started it as an extension of foot-binding. After the liberation, in 1952, Ma Shaobo advocated for a cleaner stage image, declaring that small feet and long braids were a shame to the Chinese people. Foot-binding was too cruel, and foreigners would associate Chinese people solely with these features. This was largely a product of feudal times, serving both to constrain women and to promote aesthetics. Women in foot-binding walked differently from those with natural feet, like modern fashion models walking in a "catwalk." Binding jiao also required walking in a straight line. If you walked with your feet apart, it would look unnatural.
Foot-binding was indeed cruel, and women suffered greatly. However, as an art form and part of traditional opera, the jiao should still be preserved. Taiwan still practices binding jiao, but the style is different. As I mentioned earlier, there are literary, martial, soft, and improved jiao. Since the Cultural Revolution, jiao has disappeared. Here’s how it should be done (demonstrating the technique): This is a copper ring. This is the heel. The jiao must sit on the heel—not level with it. If it’s level with the heel, it will loosen over time. If it’s inserted too deep into the heel, it will be tight, which is better. Some people extend the jiao outside, but it loosens quickly like a shoe that’s too big. That’s not acceptable. The wooden part of the jiao is about this high (about one inch), and when stood up, it adds about four inches to a person’s height, making a noticeable difference. The straps are like this: they wrap around from here (pointing to the tip of the jiao) and are made of cloth, which would break. So, they’re made of wood, but not entirely—some are split. A copper ring is added to make it round. The cloth starts here (pointing to the tip of the jiao) and shows the copper ring, then comes up. The straps open here (pointing to the top of the foot) and split into two. The part here (pointing to the sock area) must be double-layered cloth. After that, it becomes single-layered, with each side about nine feet long. Then, it’s tied, mainly around the ankle, as binding jiao focuses on the ankle. If the ankle is tied tightly, there won’t be any issues.
Now, generally, only one strap is used, which is incorrect. A single strap would be too loose, even for literary plays. Properly binding jiao requires basic training. As a wudan student, we spent two to three years practicing before we could even stand with it. So, we used a single strap that wrapped from the top of the foot to above the ankle, tied securely. Then, a longer double-layered strap, about two zhang (about 10 feet) long, was tied starting from the toe. After the straps were tied, the jiao shoes were put on, with two small white straps tied to them. Then came the trouser legs, usually black but sometimes embroidered, tied to the lower legs. Finally, we wore colorful pants, which had to be loose enough to hide the heel. The pants also had straps that were tied and then let down to hang.
Xiao Laoban (Xiao Cuixia) had a large jiao, resembling a real small foot. Ours were only about three inches, which is a martial jiao. Xiao Laoban’s jiao was exaggerated, more than three inches, to imitate real feet. Xiao Laoban and I were close friends, and she gave me her jiao. Jiao were generally not given away because each person’s was different. In the old tradition, applying jiao required facing inward, not letting anyone see it—just like how women’s foot-binding was hidden. This was the custom, and it didn’t matter to the stagehands.
Like shoes, jiao had left and right sides, even if they weren’t distinguishable at first. If you’re used to wearing your left foot on the right side, it feels awkward. So, we marked the jiao with "left" and "right" on the back because the copper rings would wear differently over time. If you use one side more, it will naturally lean, just like with shoes. But this thing is very heavy when you first start. It’s almost impossible to walk with it. And the teacher ties it for you. The process is very technical and follows strict rules—you can’t just tie it randomly. The result should be neat, not like a big bun or swollen and puffy.