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The Ballad of Mulan (Ballad) has been retold and adapted into many different forms of storytelling throughout the years. Recently, this narrative has been transformed into films in a western context, specifically in the United States through Disney’s films Mulan (1998) and Mulan (2020). It is particularly interesting how the original Ballad was reimagined in an American setting with slight feminist messages to appeal to a contemporary audience. 

Although Lan Dong argues that the Ballad got readapted to give a “false feminist mentality to children” in the U.S, I believe Disney’s 1998 version of Mulan does highlight a slight feminist message to its young audience, despite inaccuracies between the original poem and Disney’s penultimate Mulan film (excluding the sequel to the 1998 feature).¹ More than that, I believe the original Ballad illustrates a feminist message as well. 

Firstly, I would define the term ‘feminism’ (or ‘feminist’) as a movement in which women strive to become equal to men in all aspects of society, politically, economically, and socially. It is the promotion of gender equality. Secondly, I will discuss how the differences between the Ballad and the film and ultimately highlight that both the Ballad and the film do highlight a slight feminist message to its young audience, despite it being limited by its cultural context.

The Ballad depicts the story of Mulan as a filial pious daughter who stepped into a male role (through cross-dressing) to fulfil her duties as a daughter to help her father who could not join the army. The Ballad reaffirms traditional family values and a sense of gender equality because it narrates a story of a woman being celebrated for being dutiful to her emperor and to her father, highlighting Confucian values. At the end of the Ballad, Mulan resumes her duty as a daughter. Although some may argue that this hinders the feminist message, I believe it still portrays a sense of gender equality because the ending shows no-one knew of Mulan’s true identity and she was still celebrated from her “messmates” for being a warrior.² 

Moreover, the movie depicts a similar ending; Mulan joins the war in place of her father after failing to be a dutiful daughter and potential wife. She then goes to fight the war, but her identity is revealed. She goes against leaders and finishes the war, with her true identity as a woman being known, and the emperor accepts this and celebrates her. This difference of Mulan’s identity being shown before she finishes the war is fundamental in highlighting a feminist message to children. Although this does not make sense in the cultural context of the film, this fictional message is important because, in my opinion, it shows children that women can be warriors and can be celebrated for being more than a dutiful daughter or wife. Thus, it is not a “false feminist mentality”, but a heart-warming message to children. 

Therefore, I believe that despite its inaccuracies, the film depicts a subtle feminist message to its audience and tries to pay homage to the original Ballad by depicting the same premise of the Ballad. To emphasise, Disney’s Mulan, as a product of transculturation, does not highlight a “false feminist mentality” (according to Dong), but an aspiring-feminist mentality. Moreover, the Ballad highlights notions of gender equality, which is incredible because of the highly Confucian context where women are deemed as inferior and have no place in wars. Yet, Mulan was celebrated through generations, thus explaining that feminism is apparent in all aspects of society, despite its subtly as Mulan was disguised as a man, and then transformed back into her duties as a daughter.

1. Lan Dong, ‘Prologue’, Mulan’s Legend and Legacy in China and the United States (2011), p. 4. [↩]
2. Robin Wang, ‘The Ballad of Mulan’, Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture: Writings from the Pre-Qin Period Through the Song Dynasty, (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 250-254. [↩]

In the twentieth century, the study of history in China began to move in a new direction. This movement was seen by Chinese historian Liang Qichao, who perceived the spatial change in the world, which was brought up by the arrival of Western powers and the rise of Japan¹. Liang began his change by attacking the traditional style of Chinese historiography, not only because it was an ill-conceived spatial arrangement of the world, in which all continents in the world outside of Asia were ignored, but also because it failed to acknowledge the idea of anachronism – the concept of historical time that differentiated the past and the present, and therefore, the need to update one’s knowledge of history². This post will discuss the idea of the Chinese nationalist historiography, that is, paradoxically, also transnational.  

Liang’s new history would have to address the nationalist concerns of a trans-nationalist age. Liang recognized that his country was, for lack of a better word, weak – or, just as likely, he perceived a weakness in his country in the modern age that needed to be fixed³. While Liang was going to somewhat continue with the ways of traditional historiography, he also needed to update the formula, so to say. This update came in the form of the inclusion of the “other” – that is, other countries that were not a part of Asia, such as the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, and others³. This also extended to Japan, which traditionally had been ignored Chinese historiography. In other words, this new Chinese historiography would have to include ideas and concepts of transnationalism³. This is shown in Liang’s enthusiasm for Western and Japanese historiographical work and techniques, which he incorporated into his own works, before passing those techniques down to his students³.  

Like all forms of nationalist ideologies, Chinese nationalism has some distinctive features that they share with others, while also having some features that are unique to them alone⁴. These features arose due to Chinese national historiography rising at the same time as global capitalism³. Chinese nationalist historiography is characterized by its intense radicalism. It is also colored by Liang’s fondness for Western and Japanese historiography, the techniques of which are spread throughout Liang’s work.  

The primary way in which this is shown is through Liang – and by extension his students like Hu Shi – is through his fascination with looking through Chinese history and tradition for Western scientific practices⁵. This was actually carried out, mostly, by Hu Shi. Hu was inspired by Liang’s work, and while he studied at Cornell, began to delve into furthering Liang’s theories⁵. In Hu’s early life, his education was populated by a study of the Classics, and it was here that he looked for how his theory could be proven. Hu looked throughout Chinese history and tradition for examples of the universality of the scientific method, as per Dewey’s scientific theory, which he believed was transnational⁶.  

What Hu found was nothing short of a confirmation of his beliefs. In 1921, Hu wrote on the evidential scholarship of Qing scholars whilst exposing his belief that the scientific method was not confined to any one nation or region of the world⁷. His study confirmed this belief, thus validating his and, by extension, Liang’s work⁷. By proving that the scientific method was universal and thus, transcended nations, Hu was able to boost the national standing of China, bringing it onto a similar playing field as the West and Japan.  

In conclusion, the revision of Chinese historiography, an effort started by Liang Qichao and carried out by Hu Shi and others, was able to strengthen the national standing of China, as it showed that certain ideals held by civilized society were transnational ideas.  

1. Wang, Edward Q., Inventing China Through History: The May Fourth Approach to Historiography, (2001), p.51 [↩]
2. Wang, Inventing China, pp.51-52 [↩]
3. Ibid, pp.51-52. [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩]
4. Ibid, pp.52-53. [↩]
5. Ibid, pp.52-54. [↩] [↩]
6. Ibid, pp.54-55. [↩]
7. Ibid, pp.55-56. [↩] [↩]

The term barbarian in Chinese history is readily apparent when discussing civilisations that surrounded the empire. This term, however, changes its meaning later in the country’s history. To demonstrate this, I will use excerpts from Sima Qian’s Shiji and Li Jing’s Yunan zhiliie in order to elaborate how this change occurred.

First I will look at Sima Qian’s Shiji 116: ‘The Account of the Southwestern Barbarians’ which talks about states which were invaded during the Han dynasty. In this chapter, Sima Qian mentions a barbarian chief in Julan who is afraid of leaving his territory during a distant expedition. The reason for this is the threat of neighbouring states who would ‘invade his territory and seize the old men and boys who had been left behind. He and his people therefore revolted and killed the Han envoys and governor of Jianwei.’[1] This ending sentence shows the drastic solution that the chief opted for but Sima Qian importantly gives context to why this occurred. Instead of writing of the heinous crimes of these barbarians, he instead writes how this was a compassionate measure taken by the chief due to the need to protect the young boys and old men in his own territory.

This recognition of compassion is certainly not as evident in Li Jing’s Yunan zhiliie. Li Jing was a native of the Hebei province and was said to have written the work in 1301 and then edited it in 1331.[2] The work focuses on territories outside of China in the South-west, specifically Yunan which was a province conquered by Mongol ruled China in 1253.[3] In this province, Li Jing focuses on the customs of various barbarians and I will exclusively focus on an excerpt describing the Luo Luo tribe. He describes the men of the tribe saying, ‘They carry two knives, one at each side, and enjoy fighting and killing. When a disagreement arises among fathers and sons and among brothers, they are known to attack each with military weapons.’[4] When comparing this to Sima Qian’s work, the dichotomy is clear. Li Jing is not appreciative of those outside of the Chinese empire but displays them as something completely ‘other’. By describing the willingness of the barbarians to commit crimes like patricide, it demonstrates an antithesis to the Confucian value of filial piety. The lack of a moral compass and love for violence shows a sharp distinction from civilised values present in China at the time and makes these barbarians seem almost ‘sub-human’.

When contrasted to Sima Qian, who wrote over a thousand years before Li Jing and suggests that the barbarians in the South-west can claim their heritage to ancient Chinese dynasties, there is a noticeable difference.[5] This is further explained when examining why Li Jing wrote Yunan zhiliie. The ethnographical work was written in context of 1274 when the emperor commissioned Sayyid ‘Ajall Shams al-Din to commence on a ‘civilising project’ of Yunan which aimed to assimilate inhabitants into the Chinese empire.[6] By distinguishing barbarians on a scale of civility from ‘raw’ to ‘cooked’, it is clear that by the time of the early 14^th century, civility was a big concern throughout the empire. In contrast to Sima Qian’s description of barbarians that make them similar to many of those in Han China, Li Jing does the opposite with his descriptions of various states. This difference shows a wider change of perspective of barbarians throughout the period of Chinese history as rulers start to separate themselves from surrounding states. What it was to be Han Chinese and to live in Han culture becomes much more defined and this is demonstrated when comparing the differences of barbarian descriptions by Sima Qian and Li Jing.

[1] Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian of China Vol 1, trans WM. Theodore, ed. Burton Watson (Columbia, 1971) pp. 257

[2] Li Jing, ‘The Customs of Various Barbarians’ in Under Confucian Eyes: Writings on Gender in Chinese History, (eds.) Susan Mann and Yu-Yin Cheng (California, 2001) pp. 87

[3] Ibid pp. 86

[4] Ibid pp. 91

[5] Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian, pp. 258

[6] Li Jing, Under Confucian Eyes pp. 86

When reading about the tensions across Eastern Asia concerning historical textbooks and narratives, I was intrigued by how discussing and interpreting what happened in the past is still an incredibly sensitive issue. In Eastern Asia specifically there are many disputes over historical remembrance, with countries unable to reconcile their differing interpretations of the past. Whilst there is acknowledgment of the need for reconciliation in order to resolve disagreements over past historical events, there are fundamental obstacles to achieving a resolution. Within this blogpost I will focus on the central issues of national identity and the impact of nationalistic politics on history writing, which highlights why textbooks are such a fragile issue across Eastern Asia. 

Since history textbooks were created around two centuries ago, they have been shaped to cultivate a sense of national identity and nationalistic sentiment. Therefore, textbooks have become central in battle of historical remembrance, as are historical museums, statues, memorials and military cemeteries. ¹ Peter Duus writes that within East Asian countries it is not administratively achievable to have a common and agreed historical narrative, because “the teaching of history in many East Asian countries is clearly tied to building and strengthening national identity”. ²  This is a central obstacle amongst efforts for reconciliation, as each nation’s perception of the past is embedded in the public’s consciousness, as nations have worked to forge particular historical narratives, and these memories have come to heavily impact national identities. Consequently, there have been issues amongst these nations in their efforts to come to terms with their common histories. These tensions over historical remembrance and the writing of history textbooks highlight an important aspect of modern history writing, as this “underlines how profoundly historical writing and especially writing history texts is affected by nationalistic politics”. ³  Therefore, when discussing the centrality of nationalism to ‘history wars’ in East Asia, it is vital to recognise that history textbooks have come not just to involve the past but also the future, impacting the ability to write a common history.

The heavy involvement of the state within history textbook writing and in deciding the content of textbooks also highlights the issues with reconciliation over historical events. This level of administrative oversight has resulted in textbooks becoming a legitimate source of debate, as the contents are debated amongst the “competing forces within a nation and among nation states”. ⁴ For instance, in Japan, South Korea and China, the Ministry of Education has a direct impact over the writing of textbooks, and have the authority to alter and veto any undesirable elements. In China and Taiwan textbooks must concur with the key policies of the government to reinforce a singular historical narrative, as they must assist particular governmental and pedological aims. ⁵ This state influence is telling of the importance placed on historical narratives, and consequentially history textbooks have easily become diplomatic issues. Daniel Sneider supports this argument, as he argues that “textbooks are imbued with a powerful role, partly symbolic, in creating what some scholars have called the “master narrative” that defines a nation’s identity”. ⁶   

In conclusion, history textbooks have become a contentious issue, with national and nationalistic politics becoming interwoven within the writing of historical narratives. This has hindered the ability of nations to write a common history, as nations are divided in their perceptions of past events and these disagreements have resulted in diplomatic tensions because history textbooks are seen to define and impact national identity. Therefore, the textbook is recognised as heavily influencing which historical events are remembered and how they are remembered, allowing nationalistic politics to dominate and consistently have influence over their writing. 

1. Gi-Wook Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.4 [↩]
2. Peter Duus, “War Stories” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.101 [↩]
3. Gi-Wook Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.7 [↩]
4. Daniel Sneider, “The War Over Words: History Textbooks and International Relations in Northeast Asia” in in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.246-7 [↩]
5. Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation”, p.7 [↩]
6. Daniel Sneider, “The War Over Words: History Textbooks and International Relations in Northeast Asia” in in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.246 [↩]

The Three Kingdoms period of China is one of the most heavily discussed and talked about periods of Chinese history for historians. It is also an area in time in which little accurate historical information exists. The greatest source of information on this period comes from the work Records of the Three Kingdoms by Chen Shou. But how does this source operate? Does the source do a good job in describing the Three Kingdoms period in an accurate and informational manner. This post will look at two things – the first is who Chen Shou was and the second is how Records of the Three Kingdoms tells the story of the Three Kingdoms, before using that to answer the above questions.  

First, who was Chen Shou. Chen Shou was a historian and transcriber during the later period of the Three Kingdoms and then onto the Jin Dynasty that followed. [[ West, Stephen H., and Idema, Wilt L., Records of the Three Kingdoms in Plain Language (Introduction), 2016, p. xv. ]]  He first worked for Shu Han, one faction of the Three Kingdoms period that ruled over the southwest portion of China from its (Shu Han’s) capital of Chengdu. [[ West and Wilt, Records in Plain Language, p.xv. ]] This gave Chen Shou firsthand viewings to the workings of Shu Han and its officers, as well as some information on the other kingdoms of Wei and Wu. After the fall of Shu Han, Chen Shou was able to find work in the kingdom that conquered it – Wei. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] This would give him further information on the officers of Wei. After the collapse and integration of Wu and the deposition of the last Wei Emperor by Sima Yan, Chen Shou found himself working for the newly established Jin Dynasty, and it was during this time that Chen Shou wrote Records of the Three Kingdoms. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Chen Shou died in the year 297. This leads us into the second talking point – how Records of the Three Kingdoms is written.  

Records of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguozhi) is divided into three books and contains sixty-five volumes. The books are called The Book of Wei, The Book of Shu, and The Book of Wu, and each gives information on the various individuals of renown in the style of a biographical text. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Chen Shou also grouped some of the biographies together while writing others on their own. For example, one chapter is the biography of Liu Bei, a major player in the Three Kingdoms period and the founder of Shu Han. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Yet, the biographies of the five generals of Shu – Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Ma Chao, Zhao Yun, and Huang Zhong – are all grouped together. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Chen Shou acquired the information for his work quite easily. For The Book of Shu, due to his role in Shu Han, Chen Shou simply relied on his memory to provide the proper information, and most likely supplemented it with surviving accounts and records. And while he worked for the Jin Dynasty, Chen Shou had access to the records of the Wei and Wu officials from the time period. Now that this has been established, the above asked questions can be answered, with how Records of the Three Kingdoms operates being the first.  

First, some clarification – when thinking of the word ‘operate’ it would be best if, due to the context, one interprets it as ‘how does Chen Shou use his work to inform others of the Three Kingdoms period?’. With that in mind the question ‘how does this source operate?’ can now be answered. Chen Shou’s style of writing – the biographies of the officials of note of the Three Kingdoms period – does not provide a proper narrative structure. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Yet, that was not his intention. Chen Shou’s writing contains sparse language, a prose style that isn’t flowery and wordy, meaning his goal was to deliver information, not tell a story. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Along with that, Chen Shou’s works often have his own moral evaluations of the characters, criticizing or praising them for their deeds. [[ Ibid, p.xv ]] Thus, instead of a narrative, Records of the Three Kingdoms operates as a book on historical figures, imparting their deeds on the next generation, while also giving critics of their moral character, thus operating as a guide on morality.  

With this established, one can finally answer the question ‘does Records of the Three Kingdoms do a good job in describing the Three Kingdoms period in an accurate and informational manner?’. The answer for that is, quite simply, yes, it does. The goal, as derived from Chen Shou’s use of sparse prose and his moral evolutions, was not to tell a grand epic – this would be the Romance of the Three Kingdoms – but rather, to teach. Chen Shou wanted to teach to others about this period, informing them in the simplest of ways about the officials and leaders of this period, while offering his own judgements on their actions and character. While some may claim that his work may contain bias – if not from him working for Shu Han first, then from him working for the Jin Dynasty – it cannot be said that Records of the Three Kingdoms does not deliver information on the Three Kingdoms period in an accurate and informational manner. As such, despite its unusually way of presenting information, Records of the Three Kingdoms does indeed deliver information in a way that is both accurate and informational. This would only grow as, throughout the years, others would make annotations and commentaries on Records of the Three Kingdoms. 

Whilst reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, I was intrigued by his comments linking the ethic of bushidō to the concept of ‘invented tradition’, coined by Eric Hobsbawm. I thought it would be interesting to analyse whether bushido was an ‘invented tradition’ by discussing how bushidō was adopted into nationalistic discourse within Japan, in order to create a sense of national identity. Therefore, I will be discussing the modern rise of bushidō as a Japanese ethic and whether we can approach this ethic as an ‘invented tradition’. 

Firstly, what is bushidō? The popular view across Japan holds that bushidō or ‘the way of the warrior’ was a centuries-old code of conduct and honour embedded in the historical Samurai. However, it came to prominence as an ethic and was well integrated across Japanese society in the modern period. Therefore, Bushidō has become categorised as the “soul” of the Japanese people. ¹ The concept of ‘invented tradition’ on the other hand has roots in the historical works of Eric Hobsbawm, whose works became influential during the 1960’s. He argued that new nations which were forming at the end of the Nineteenth Century partook in the invention or re-appropriation of the past for a variety of end-goals. Hobsbawm argued that the concept of ‘invented tradition’ was a particularly contemporary development, because certain narratives were moulded to form an agenda for national renewal during the rise of the nation state. The notion of the ‘invented tradition’ is clear in the modern development of the nation and nationalism, as these traditions attempted to create a sense of unity by establishing a national identity. Eric Hobsbawm wrote that these traditions which “appear or claim to be old are often quite recent in origin and sometimes invented”. ²

It is interesting to ponder whether bushidō therefore can be recognised as an ‘invented tradition’. The formation of bushidō into a national ethic was a modern phenomenon within Japan, as central symbols were borrowed from the historical samurai in order to forge a distinct national identity based on the reverence of “the way of the warrior”. When reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, the author discusses how bushidō was embraced by Imperialist Japan as a cornerstone of loyalty to the state and was therefore utilised for progressive ends. For instance, it was senior military figures and those within the Japanese governmental sphere in the Twentieth Century who stimulated a form of bushido that emphasised obedience and honour, as it supported their ambitions to assert a more forceful foreign policy. This is evidenced by Oleg Benesch writing that those who created the modern concept of bushidō were “concerned less with Japan’s past than the nation’s future”, as bushidō became a useful tool for inspiring nationalistic devotion. ³ This highlights that bushidō was originally promulgated as a traditional samurai ethic, and only later became a defining trait of Japanese national character. 

The formation of bushidō echoes the idea that “communities often (consciously or unconsciously) partake in the invention and re-appropriation of the past for various ends”. ⁴  Analysing the transformation of bushidō shows that the majority of its legitimacy stems from its alleged historical roots. This is evidenced by the existence of a variety of differing interpretations of bushidō, because “modern theorists often carefully selected aspects of earlier history, philosophy, and legend to support their specific bushidō interpretations”. ⁵ For example, it is widely understood that the Meiji, Taishō and Shōwa governments utilised and modified bushidō as an ideology which helped to redirect devotion from feudal lords back to the emperor. 

However, this ambiguity has meant that bushidō has been endorsed as a timeless ‘way of the warrior’ and, consequently, this tradition is adaptable due to the lack of an exact definition or historic origin. Yet still it is the perceived historical origin of bushidō as a traditional ethic that has bestowed upon bushidō an amalgamation of legitimacy but also suppleness which has allowed it to be adapted and interpreted across a variety of different time periods and situations. In this way, we can understand how bushidō is viewed as an ‘invented tradition’ by historians who argue that the original concept of the ‘way of the warrior’ has been appropriated for Japanese nationalistic ends and to form a cohesive national identity. 

1. Oleg Benesch, Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.1. [↩]
2. Eric Hobsbawm, Terence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, (Cambridge, 1983), p.1. [↩]
3. Oleg Benesch, Bushido: The Creation of Martial Ethic in Late Meiji Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.3. [↩]
4. James Shields, “Review: Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, Internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan”, Journal of Japanese Studies, Vol. 43 (2017), p.448. [↩]
5. Ibid., p.449. [↩]

Within the dramatization of the tale of Mulan by Xu Wei, a Ming Dynasty intellectual, I found the emphasis on Mulan’s bound feet interesting due to the cultural symbols associated with foot-binding. By drawing attention to Mulan unbinding her feet, Xu Wei places Mulan at the centre of the male gaze. The cultural symbolism behind the sensuality of the bound foot is important to comprehend when understanding the references and motives behind Wei’s inclusion of Mulan’s bound feet into the play. Through an analysis of Xu Wei’s play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ we can reflect on its focus on Mulan’s femininity, and on why the inclusion of bound feet is noteworthy within the play. 

“Just-removed, the half-folded Tiny Ripple-Riding Socks bindings… My family has a method for shrinking golden lotuses”

‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’¹

Within China in the Song Dynasty foot-binding became popular amongst the elite class, and by the Qing Dynasty the custom had been more widely adopted. The bound foot became the focus of female sensuality and a key cultural symbol. The play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ includes a scene where Mulan is seen unbinding her feet, and discussing her apprehension concerning the impact of her unbound feet upon her marriage prospects. The text is full of common metaphors, which are utilised to both mystify and eroticise Mulan’s bound feet. ‘Golden lotuses’ is a central metaphor for feet that have been through the process of foot-binding, as it is meant to evoke the idea of “dancing on floating lotuses”, as women who have bound feet walk in mincing dainty steps.² This effect of bound feet was deemed desirable, as it became a standard of beauty to have petite and delicate feet. In this way, the manner Mulan’s bound feet are discussed in highlights how ‘golden lotuses’ were viewed as an intimate part of the female body and a representation of femininity.³ 

So why did Mulan’s feet become erotized in the play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’? There are notable scenes that display the sexualisation of Mulan’s feet. For instance, as the start of the play as Mulan dresses in male clothing to prepare for military service, she unbinds her feet and states her plan to re-bind them upon her return home so she will still be suitable for marriage. The author’s ambition to please his audience also had a role to play, as Xu Wei allowed Mulan’s feet to be unbound and discussed explicitly on stage, thus intensifying a voyeuristic indulgence for the presumably male audience. Howard Levy supports this, arguing that the process of foot-binding was a feminine mystic created for the male gaze, which transforms the bound foot into a critical manifestation of sensuality.⁴ Furthermore, it is important to note that Xu Wei gives Mulan bound feet despite the fact that the story is set in Northern Wei centuries before the tradition of foot-binding became a widespread social custom. The play is full of sexual implications due to its focus on Mulan’s feet which, given the audience was likely the male elite class, would have been considered erotic due to the connotations associated with bound feet particularly for upper-class men. Alongside this, the image of Mulan within the play reinforces her as a virtuous woman in Neo-Confucian times, as foot-binding became a manifestation of Confucian ideals and was deemed to be an essential aspect of being feminine. 

Another unusual aspect is the portrayal of Mulan openly discussing and unbinding her feet, as bound feet were traditionally kept private and never exposed, demonstrated by the fact that even erotic images of Chinese women usually portrayed the women with their feet covered by shoes or bindings. Concealment therefore is central to the mystical nature of bound feet. Which is why the authors decision to show Mulan unbinding her feet is particularly striking, as usually “women attended to their feet in the strictest privacy”.⁵ In this way, we can begin to unravel the reasoning behind the authors decision to give Mulan bound feet, as both a symbol of her feminine identity and in order to please his male audience who would have been shocked yet captivated by the open depiction of Mulan unbinding her feet. 

1. Wang, Zhuoyi, “Cultural “authenticity” as a Conflict-Ridden Hypotext: Muland (1998), Mulan Joins the Army (1939) and a Millennium-Long Intertexual Metamorphosis”, Arts 9 (2020), p.9 [↩]
2. Ibid., p.9 [↩]
3. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labor”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.707 [↩]
4. Levy, Howard, Chinese Footbinding: The History of a Curious Erotic Custom, (London, 1969), p.37 [↩]
5. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labour”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.688 [↩]