by Judy Yung
The world can not move without women's sharing in the movement. China compressed the feet of her women and thereby retarded the steps of her men.
Frances Ellen Harper
Judy Yung
To my mother and in memory of my father
TERMINOLOGY AND TRANSLITERATIONS XI
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS XIII
Introduction I
I Bound Feet: Chinese Women in the Nineteenth Century 15
2 Unbound Feet: Chinese Immigrant Women, 1902-1929 52
3 3 First Steps: The Second Generation, 19zos io6
4 Long Strides: The Great Depression, 1930s 178
5 In Step: The War Years, 1931-1945 223
EPILOGUE 279
APPENDIX 293
NOTES 309
GLOSSARY 359
BIBLIOGRAPHY 365
INDEX 389
For political reasons, I use the term Asian American instead of Oriental and do not hyphenate Chinese American even when used as an adjective. During the zg6os, Chinese and Japanese Americans came to recognize Oriental as a derogatory name that connotes exoticism and inferiority. The term Asian American became the preferred name in recognition of the group's common history of oppression, geographical origins, and political destiny. The hyphen was eliminated because it inferred that Chinese Americans have split identities, that somehow they are not fully American like everyone else. For the same reason and to be consistent, I do not use the hyphen when referring to any ethnic American group.
I call the first generation to come to the United States immigrants and their children who were born in the United States second generation or American-born Chinese. When referring to both groups, I use either Chinese in America or Chinese Americans, especially when I need to differentiate them from Chinese people in China. For example, when comparing women in China and Chinese women in America, I use Chinese women for the former group and Chinese American women for the latter. Overseas Chinese is used instead of Chinese Americans when the reference point is in China.
In regard to racial and ethnic terms, I use what is generally preferred by the groups themselves: black, Asian American, Native American, and Chicano. Depending on the time period under discussion, I use either Mexican or Chicano; racial minority or Third World; minority women or women of color. In a racial context, I generally use white instead of European American. Otherwise, I try to be ethnic specific in identifying the group by using Italian American, German American, Jewish American, etc. The term America should be understood as an abbreviated form of United States of America. To be Americanized is to become acculturated but not necessarily assimilated into American life. To avoid the trap of associating the dominant white group with everything that is American, Western is preferred over American when the reference is to cultural practices; thus, Western dress, not American dress.
Following standard practice, I use the Pinyin romanization system for Chinese proper nouns, except in cases where the names have been commonly spelled in a different romanization system. For common words and phrases in the Cantonese dialect or direct quotes from Cantonesespeaking persons, 1 use the Cantonese spelling.
When using a person's Chinese name, I follow Chinese practice by giving the surname (family name) first, followed by the given name, without an intervening comma. For example, in the name Tom Yip Jing, Tom is the surname, and Yip Jing, the given name. Without meaning to be disrespectful, I generally use the person's given name instead of his or her last name whenever I refer to that individual more than once in the text. Since many Chinese Americans share the same surname, I adopted this practice to avoid confusion. The appearance of Shee in a woman's name indicates that she is married. For example, a woman with the maiden name of Law who married into the Low family would thenceforth be known as Law Shee Low.
Finally, although it is standard practice to indicate spelling and grammatical errors in quoted passages by the use of "[sic]," I chose to forgo doing so in many instances in order to remain faithful to the exact wording and style of speech, and to avoid interrupting the flow of the conversation.
The making of Unbound Feet-from its initial conception as a dissertation topic over ten years ago, through the laborious research, analysis, and writing phases, and finally to completion as a published book-would not have been possible without the generous support and assistance of many individuals and institutions. The research could not have been carried out without the help of Chester Chan, Gordon Chang, Barbara Ige, David W. Lee, Franklin Lee, Sharon Owyang, Col. William Strobridge, Wang Xing Chu, Shelley Wong, Angela Chang of the Gum Moon Women's Residence, Rosemary Chan of the Square and Circle Club, Yeeling Fong of the International Institute of San Francisco, Teresa Wu of the Chinese YWCA, Wei Chi Poon of the Asian American Studies Library at the University of California, Berkeley, Waverly Lowell of the National Archives in San Bruno, and the staffs of the San Francisco Public Library, Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley, the Labor Archives and Research Center, San Francisco State University, Interlibrary Loan Department at McHenry Library at the University of California, Santa Cruz, and the Hoover Institution on War, Revolution, and Peace at Stanford University. Special thanks go to Sucheng Chan for sharing her data from the z goo and 19 r o manuscript censuses; Peggy Pascoe for her copious notes from the case files of Cameron House; Philip P. Choy for his personal copy of the Chinese YWCA board minutes and staff reports; and Him Mark Lai for use of his private collection on Chinese American history.
As oral history forms the core of this study, I am especially grateful to the many Chinese American women who entrusted me with their life stories and the men who provided me with their insights of San Francisco Chinatown: June Chan, Rena Jung Chung, Richard Kock Dare, Marietta Chong Eng, Alice Sue Fun, Maggie Gee, May Lew Gee, Gladys Ng Gin, Penny Chan Huey, Bessie Hung, Ruth Chan Jang, Jew Law Ying, Francis Jong, Florence Chinn Kwan, Clara Lee, Ira Lee, Jane Kwong Lee, Lim P. Lee, Louise Schulze Lee, Lucy Lee, Mickey Lee, Stanley Lee, Sue Ko Lee, Law Shee Low, Eva Lowe, May Mock, Helen Pon Onyett, Edwin Owyang, Fred Schulze, Charlotte Sexton, Martha Taam, Dora Lee Wong, Helen Hong Wong, Wong Shee Chan, Wong Wee Ying, Margaret Woo, Jessie Lee Yip, and Alice Fong Yu.
For their expert and technical assistance, I wish to acknowledge Chris Huie for the photo reproductions, Ellen Yeung for translations from Chinese into English, Wang Xing Chu for typing the Chinese glossary, Gary Kawaguchi for inputting the i 9 zo census data, and the staffs at the Word Processing Center, University of California, Santa Cruz, for setting the statistical tables and at the University of California Press for guiding the publication process.
Many of my colleagues did close readings of early drafts of this study and gave me helpful suggestions for improving the text. I want to thank Tomas Almaguer, Bettina Aptheker, Michael Cowan, John Dizikes, Dana Frank, Marge Frantz, Gail Hershatter, Elaine H. Kim, Ann Lane, Susan Mann, Franklin Ng, Forrest Robinson, Mary P. Ryan, Ronald Takaki, and Ling-chi Wang. The book also benefited from the critical comments of publisher reviewers, including Mari Jo Buhle, Roger Daniels, Ramon Gutierrez, and Valerie Matsumoto. For guiding my thinking and giving me incisive, critical feedback through every stage of this book, I am especially grateful to Him Mark Lai, Ruthanne Lum McCunn, Peggy Pascoe, and William Wei.
Last but not least, my greatest thanks go to Sandy Lee for her sisterly support and encouragement, and to Smokey for being such an affectionate furball throughout this project.
Research for this book was supported by an American Fellowship from the American Association of University Women Educational Foundation, a U.C. Affirmative Action Diss
ertation Year Fellowship from the Graduate Division of the University of California, Berkeley, and faculty research funds granted by the University of California, Santa Cruz.
For years I assumed that my parents were among the first generation to come to the United States-my father in 19zi, and my mother later, in 1941-and that I was a second-generation Chinese American, born and raised in San Francisco. Only after I began researching Chinese American women's history and my own family history did I discover that I was really the third generation on my father's side and the fourth generation on my mother's side. How this came about is a history lesson in itself, a lesson that I believe offers insights into Chinese immigration patterns and the different experiences of Chinese women from those of men.
Political upheavals and conditions of poverty at home drove many young men from the Pearl River delta in Southeast China to immigrate to the United States after gold was discovered in California. Among them were my maternal great-grandfather, Chin Lung (a.k.a. Chin Hong Dai) and my paternal grandfather, Tom Fat Kwong. Both came alone without their families in search of a better livelihood: Chin Lung in 1882, Tom Fat Kwong in 191 Because of cultural restrictions, economic considerations, and immigration laws that specifically excluded them, few Chinese women came to the United States on their own or to join their husbands during these years.
Chin Lung immigrated right before the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which barred the further entry of Chinese laborers. He was hardworking and rather resourceful. Within six years he had learned to speak English and saved enough money-sacking rice at the Sing Kee store in San Francisco Chinatown and, later, engaging in tenant farming with fellow villagers in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Deltato go home and marry.' In this way, he was luckier than most other Chi nese laborers, who never made enough to return home and instead lived a bachelor existence in Chinatown enclaves devoid of traditional family life. There were few Chinese women in America for them to marry, and antimiscegenation laws prohibited intermarriage between whites and Chinese.
In 1888 Great-Grandfather returned to China and married Leong Kum Kew (a.k.a. Leong Shee), but he could not bring her back with him to the United States because the Chinese Exclusion Act also barred wives of Chinese laborers. Only family members of U.S. citizens, merchants, and diplomats were exempt. Upon his return, therefore, Chin Lung invested wisely in the Sing Kee store in order to establish merchant status; he was finally able to send for my great-grandmother in 1893. While he continued to farm in the Sacramento Delta on hundreds of acres of leased land, amassing a fortune growing potatoes with borrowed credit and hired help, Great-Grandmother stayed in San Francisco Chinatown, where she gave birth to five children, two girls and three boys. The oldest child was my grandmother Chin Suey Kum, born in 1894. Even though she had status and the means to live well, GreatGrandmother, who had bound feet, found life in America inconvenient, alienating, and harried. Her domestic life was quite different from her husband's public life. With Chin Lung off pursuing exciting activities such as building a fortune in farming and participating in community politics, she remained sequestered at home, raising their children with the help of a mui tsai (domestic slave girl). So unhappy was she in America that in 1904 she packed up and returned to China with all of her children. Chin Lung chose to remain in the United States and make periodic trips home to visit.
Although their five children were all American-born citizens and had the right to return, only the boys were encouraged to do so. Traditional gender roles and the lack of economic and political power on the part of Chinese women denied both daughters that option. It was considered proper that all of the sons return and establish families in the United States while both daughters be married into wealthy families in China. Grandmother was wed to Jew Hing Gwin, a prominent herb doctor. They had seven children, my mother, Jew Law Ying, being the eldest. Unfortunately, the family hit hard times when Grandfather succumbed to opium and lost the entire family fortune. Grandaunt Chin Suey Ngon's situation was equally tragic, for her husband died only a few months after their wedding. Once married, by U.S. law both Grandmother and Grandaunt forfeited the right to return to the United States. Only with the support of her brother and by lying about her marital status was Grandaunt able to return to America in 192o.2
Great-Grandfather Chin Lung and family in San Francisco, 1903. From left to right: Suey Kum, Suey Ngon, Wing, Leong Shee, Chin Lung, Foo, Wah, and mui tsai Ah Kum. (Judy Yung collection)
Meanwhile, on the paternal side of my family, Grandfather Tom Fat Kwong had managed to be smuggled across the U.S. border sometime before 19 1r . He farmed in Redwood City, California, for a few years and served in World War I. This military duty could have allowed him to legalize his status and send for the wife, daughter, and two sons who he had left behind in China. Before he had a chance to do so, though, he was killed by a car while bicycling home one dark night. His sudden death cut off the only viable source of income for his family in China. So my father, being the eldest son, found another way to immigrate to the United States: in 19zi, with money borrowed from relatives, he purchased the necessary documents and passage to come as Yung Hin Sen, the "paper son" of Yung Ung, an established merchant in Stockton, California.' For the next fifteen years he worked hard as a houseboy, gardener, and cook, finally saving enough money to repay his debts and re turn to China to marry. He was by then thirty-three years old. The marriage to my mother was arranged by Chin Lung himself, at the suggestion of his eldest daughter-in-law, Wong Shee Chan, who had befriended nw father in San Francisco.
My mother told me, "Everyone said coming to Gold Mountain would be like going to heaven."4 But although she was a daughter of a U.S. citizen, immigration as a derivative citizen through the mother was not legally permissible. And so she agreed to marry my father. After they married, my father returned to the United States alone because Chinese laborers still did not have the right to bring their wives into the country. Only after five more years of hard work and saving was he able to buy a few nominal shares in a Chinatown business, establish merchant status, and send for my mother and my eldest sister, Bak Heong, born after he had returned to America.
Just as Great-Grandmother had warned her, however, the promise of Gold Mountain proved elusive for my mother as well. My father remained a laborer all his life, working as a janitor while my mother sewed into the night for garment sweatshops. They had to really struggle to eke out a living and raise us six children. Later, when I compared my mother's life with that of Chin Lung's other grandchildren, who were fortunate to have been born and raised in America, I saw how much harsher her life turned out to be because of the racist and sexist restrictions that were placed on Chinese immigrant women. And I wondered how many other Chinese women suffered similar consequences for no fault of their own?
It was in the quest for answers to my own identity as a Chinese American woman-answers that I could not find in any history textbookthat I felt a need to study Chinese American women's history. How and why did Chinese women come to America? What was their life like in America? How did their experiences compare and contrast to those of Chinese men, European women, and other women of color, and what accounted for the differences? If life in America was as harsh for them as it was for my great-grandmother and mother, how did they cope? What cultural strengths did they draw from, and what strategies did they devise to adapt themselves to this new and often hostile land? Were things easier for their American-born daughters? What difference did their lives make to their families, community, and the larger society?
As I attempted to write a social history of Chinese American women and provide a viable framework by which to understand how gender perceptions, roles, and relationships changed because of these women's work, family, and political lives in America, it became evident to me that current race and feminist theories were inadequate for this purpose, since they generally fail to integrate race, gender, and class as equally important categories of historical analysis. Race theorists tend to e
xplain the Asian American experience in light of race and class oppression, but overlook gender; feminist scholars tend to examine women's subordination in terms of gender and, at times, class, but ignore differences among women based on race.' The growing scholarship on women of color is beginning to correct these incomplete approaches by looking simultaneously at race, class, and gender in explaining women's oppression and diverse life histories, but these studies often focus strictly on black-white race relations, ignoring other racial groups such as Asian American women.' Only Evelyn Nakano Glenn includes Asian American women in any significant way in her analysis of the triple oppression faced by women of color in the labor force.
Nevertheless, the questions that these studies on women of color raise are applicable to my study of Chinese American women: Did immigration, work, and family life in America oppress Chinese women or liberate them? How were Chinese women affected by the racial and sexual division of labor under capitalism? Did the segregation of their paid and unpaid labor to the private (domestic) sphere reinforce their economic dependency on men and consequently their subordinate role within the family? And, in keeping with current scholarship that challenges the notion of homogeneous womanhood,8 how did women respond differently to their allotted role in life? What was the extent of gender conflict within the Chinese American community, and of class and generational differences among Chinese women themselves? By addressing these same questions, I explore the intersection of race, class, and gender in the lives of Chinese American women, but only within a socioeconomic context. As a historian, I need to also ask: What sociohistorical forces were at play that can explain social change for Chinese American women in the first half of the twentieth century?
Analyzing the life stories of Chinese women has led me to conclude that their experiences have been as much a response to economic, social, and political developments in China as in the United States. Faced with discriminatory exclusion from American life throughout most of their history, Chinese Americans remained attached to homeland politics and highly influenced by developments there-including women's emancipation-until the 1194os, when Chinese exclusion ended and diplomatic relations between the United States and China broke off. Without doubt, economic opportunities outside the home, albeit lim ited, during the period under study did give Chinese women, both immigrant and American-born, some economic leverage as well as broadening their social and political consciousness. As they took on jobs in garment factories, sales and clerical work, and defense industries during World War II, they gained a degree of economic independence and social mobility. But of equal importance-and this was particularly true for a significant number of educated, middle-class women-their views on gender roles and relations changed owing to the influences of Chinese nationalism, Christianity, and acculturation into American life. The former two factors had a greater impact on immigrant women. Chinese nationalists who saw modernization as the answer to resisting Western imperialism advocated women's emancipation from footbinding, ignorance, and confinement within the domestic sphere. Protestant missionary women, intent on reforming urban society and "rescuing" female victims of male abuse, advocated the same in Chinatown. The third factor, acculturation, had more of a bearing on American-born women. Through church, school, and the popular media, the second generation was encouraged to challenge traditional gender roles at home and discrimination outside, to shape a new cultural identity and lifestyle for themselves. As will be shown, all three factors, to some degree, influenced Chinese American women to reevaluate their gender roles and relationships, to move into the public sphere and become more involved in labor, social, and political issues in their community. But it was not until World War II, with its labor shortages and China's changing relationship to the United States as an ally, that racial and gender barriers were lowered to allow Chinese American women a degree of socioeconomic and political mobility.
