On New-Wave Asian Feminist Mermaids; The Final Words of Madame Mao

Abstract

Feminist Studies 42, no. 3. © 2016 by Karen An-hwei Lee 741 Karen An-hwei Lee On New-Wave Asian Feminist Mermaids On a new wave, the old white shark fixates on everything with a slit— jade cheomsang or qipau slit on the left side, a mailbox in Hong Kong, a can opener about to spill sardines from the South China Sea, split female consciousness of folklore mermaids sashaying on knives, all-or-nothing vice or virtue lost to a bedrock of lost razor blades of dialogical aqua hearts of a bronze-scaled woman folding her new legs— crossing a split— spit without the l- slit without a pThe Final Words of Madame Mao Mao, the man whom I despaired of meeting, exploded out of the revolution in a nailed crate delivered to my door. I rose to stardom, not elite by birth— call me Jiang Qing or Lan Ping. Chairman’s hands: a bouquet of mudan-hua, odorous peonies. I am, after all, Madame Mao. 742 Karen An-hwei Lee A mail carrier shakes her head. Mail-order groom? I must report you to Zhou Enlai. This is counterrevolutionary. I never ordered a husband in a Mao outfit. Is Mao a four-stroke ideogram brushed in my room while my mother wept as my father beat her with a garden spade? My real name is Mao as in Maoism. This man breathed fire in a thousand miles of revolution, one man to one woman. Please do not say my last words were propaganda— Chairman! I love you! Your comrade and your student is coming to see you! ...