by Brian Griffith
Everybody knows China is a patriarchal country. As a girl, the great Chinese-American novelist Maxine Hong Kingston heard folk sayings about it: “It is more profitable to raise geese than daughters.” “Feeding girls is feeding cowbirds.” “Girls are maggots in the rice” (Snyder, 1980, xv). In dynasties of the past, nomadic warlords from Inner Asia repeatedly conquered the country, and brought more sayings such as “The wife I marry is like the horse I buy. They are mine to ride and mine to beat” (Chen, 2004, 163). We’ve probably all heard that women in traditional China were mostly powerless, and only with the dawn of Westernization in the 1800s did they start to claim their rights. I mention this to avoid seeming totally oblivious when discussing another side of Chinese culture, where the folklore is rich in goddesses, immortal women, and female heroes. For example, in the Daozang collection of Daoist works, we find this tribute to the Holy Mother of Lao Jun (Lao Chün):
She controls the heavens and the earth
She controls the yin and the yang
Employs wind and rain as her servants
She makes the five planets advance and retreat
And rules over the immortals of the three realms
The life and death of men
The rise and decline of generations
All proceed from her
It is from the Holy Mother of Lao Chün
That heaven, earth, and all beings received life. (cited in Rainey, 1991, 95)
A host of powerful goddesses populate China’s myths of creation and its legends of a lost “Golden Age.” These myths describe the dawn of history as a kind of original paradise. Daoists describe it as an age of wonder, natural beauty, and primitive equality among people. Confucianists say the Golden Age was a time when primordial emperors ruled with compassion and perfect virtue. Later, of course, the Golden Age was lost, and China declined to an age of warlords and military empires.
These legends of the Golden Age have been widely believed throughout Chinese history. Probably most people have recalled the age before empires with a certain reverent nostalgia. Many have believed that the legends indicate an original equality between men and women. Even patriarchal authorities believed this, and criticized their ancestors for it. So, back in the 300s BCE, the philosopher Shang Yang ridiculed the ancients for harboring womanish sentiments: “During the time when heaven and earth were established and the people were produced, people knew their mothers but not their fathers. Their way was to love their relatives and to be fond of what was their own” (cited in Cai, 1995, 36). Other people, especially women, have felt that the legends of primitive equality are a source of inspiration. Building on that folklore, the feminist educator Qiu Yufang gave her own twist to the legend in 1898:
Prior to the period of the Three Dynasties [before 2100 BCE] … in China, there were many rational, educated women. Women had governesses, and these governesses were female teachers. I believe that in ancient times there were also schools for girls. Later, the custom of regarding men as superior to women grew stronger as time went on, and women were not allowed to know the principles and learning of the world. (cited in Xia, 2004, 7)
Naturally, the scripture-like legends left vast scope for clashing opinions. But in recent decades, popular folklore about the Golden Age was supplemented by extensive archeological discoveries. And in the light of accumulating evidence, it grew common for academics to speak of a Neolithic “matriarchal age.” As historian Min Jiayin claimed, “a matriarchal society which may be symbolized by the chalice in the hands of goddesses once existed in prehistoric China, just as it did in Europe.” Min said it was a society where “females enjoyed high status and prestige, and were the masters of society,” while “goddesses were enshrined and worshiped” (1995, 12, 553). The Secretary for the All-China Women’s Federation, Wang Qingshu, felt it was obvious: “After the decline of the matriarchal culture of ancient China, women’s status gave them no rights in public affairs” (Wang, 2004, 92).
There’s a lot of evidence for goddess worship and for primitive equality between men and women in pre-dynastic China. And ever since that age, legends of both goddesses and social equality have filled China’s folklore. Legendary goddesses appear in the oldest creation myths, and new cults of deified women have emerged in every period of recorded history. Unlike in the Western world, the cults of ancient goddesses never died out. They survived, replicated, and evolved down to the present time. The tales, lives, and teachings of holy women have formed a kind of counter-culture to the values of dynastic warlords or lesser patriarchs.
The Galaxy of Immortal Women
As in India, China’s countryside is haunted by thousands of local deities. Some goddesses are primordial powers of nature like Feng Bo Bo, a goddess of winds, storms, and moisture, or Xi Wang Mu (the Queen Mother of the West), who was originally a shamanic tiger woman in charge of death and immortality. There are also goddesses of mountains, rivers, lightning, drought, and smallpox. Some of these deities have a farcical side, because in popular Chinese religion, holiness and comedy tend to mix and match. We have the outhouse goddesses Qi Gu and Zi Gu, who patronize spirit writing from the great beyond, and bestow insightful thoughts in the lavatory. Chuang Mu is the goddess of the bedchamber, who is honored in the traditional Lantern Festival. Her husband, Chuang Kong, is in charge of changing linens and folding sheets. An extraordinarily ugly woman named Momu, who had a hunched back and club-feet, oversaw administration of the Yellow Emperor’s heavenly palace. Her governance was ever proficient, partly because her ugliness drove away evil spirits. To this day villagers keep pictures of Momu, to ward off evil. The goddess of light, Jun Di, has three heads, one of which is a pig head. Her chariot is also pulled by pigs, which are the seven stars of the Great Bear constellation. As for the Great Goddess of Creation, this is how the Huainanzi described the ancient snake-woman creator Nü Wa:
When one considers her achievement, it knows only the bounds of Ninth Heaven above and the limits of the Yellow clod below. She is acclaimed by later generations, and her brilliant glory sweetly suffuses the whole world. She rides in a thunder-carriage driving shaft-steeds of winged dragons and an outer pair of green hornless dragons. She bears the emblem of the Fortune of Life and Death. Her seat is the Visionary Chart. (cited in Birrell, 1993, 71)
But the vast majority of deities in China are just deified people. Because in Chinese religions, there is usually little distinction between a deity and a spiritually realized person. Henri Maspero argued that in China, “every god, great and small, is a man who, after death, was promoted for various reasons to the dignity of a god.” (Maspero, 1981, 86) Maspero’s use of “god” and “man” was generic, since many thousands of the deified people were women. Concerning their immortal status, Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi, d. 1200 CE) explained in a quite secular way, “They distinguished themselves a hundred generations ago, and after a hundred generations, all those who hear of them are inspired” (Neskar, 1996, 300). Sometimes simple goodness was enough for a modest sort of deification. On Zijing Shan [mountain] in Guangxi there is a typical “dead girl’s temple.” This one is devoted to “Grandaunt Lu,” a girl who died young and childless, who did good deeds in her life, but has no ancestors to remember her spirit.
It’s true China has more gods than goddesses, but still, the countryside is teeming with legendary female immortals. When Wang Jianghang compiled his Stories of Immortals Through the Centuries (around 215 BCE) he included tales of 145 deified women. Other sacred books of later times, such as the Records of the Assembled Transcendents of the Fortified Walled City, were devoted entirely to female saints and goddesses. As that book explained, “The ultimate position for men who attain the Way is realized lord, and the ultimate position for women who attain the Way is primal ruler” (cited in Cahill, 1993, 214–215).
Some of the more famous female immortals are Sun Bu-er, a Daoist master of the 1100s CE, and the powerful fighting shamaness Chen Jinggu, with her band of sworn sisters (700s CE). Numerous tales tell of daughters whose “parents could not rob them of their will,” who left their homes to embark on spiritual quests, like the immortals Cai Xun Zhen or Qi Xiao Yao. (Chan, 1990, 49, 52) The legends of these women were commonly embellished with miracles. For example, the Holy Mother of Dongling (300s CE) left only her shoes behind on being transfigured into a goddess. A bird appeared at her consecrated place, who answered all questions about stolen objects by flying to the thief. Soon all people in the region avoided stealing even objects abandoned in the roads. (Cleary, 1989, 11) One obviously historical person who became a goddess is Ti Ying, who dared challenge the Han emperor (in 167 BCE) in an appeal for mercy on prisoners. Her boldness won a legal ban on the worst kinds of torture and mutilation. In recent times the fiery rebel Qiu Jin was executed in 1907 for leading a revolt against Manchu tyranny, and won a goddess-like status in modern China. The process of “deification” might resemble the canonization of saints in Christianity, except that the Chinese usually deified people by popular demand, regardless of approval from any civil or religious authority. Over time the ranks of people recognized this way have grown, till they seem numerous as stars.
The goddess religions of China may form the world’s greatest living link with pre-patriarchal civilization. In the West, of course, female deities are few and far between. Christianity has its thin line of sainted women from the Virgin Mary to Mother Teresa, but any goddess would be an artifact from classical paganism. Islam has its cluster of holy women, especially from the faith’s early days, but a goddess would be a relic from the pre-Islamic “time of ignorance.” Judaism has its half-recalled mother of Israel, the spouse of Yahweh, the Matronit, the Shekhina, the Sophia, or “the Discarded Cornerstone” (Patai, 1990, 128). But the goddesses of China are legion, and their cults remain popular.
The Role of Goddess Religions in China
We may object that despite the legions of “immortal women,” Chinese culture has been among the most male-centered, rigidly hierarchical societies on earth. Male heads of state have commonly claimed to be the central objects of their peoples’ devotion. The all-male Confucian bureaucrats traditionally posed as official spokesmen for their civilization. Chinese religious leaders commonly vied with each other for endorsements from powerful warlords. All this is true. But Chinese religions are comparable to families. In traditional families, the eldest males often claimed to be the family heads, and many people believed them. But each family always includes other important actors, who hold other views and values. And often the values of rulers and patriarchs are not the values closest to most people’s hearts.
Though China’s “official” culture has been among the most patriarchal on earth for at least 2,000 years, popular traditions tend to contradict official standards. Sometimes the most ancient, seemingly conservative customs send a contrary message. For example, during the 1930s, Lin Yutang questioned the assumption that traditional women had no power: “The Chinese woman is, on the whole, a constitutionally sounder animal than her male companion, and we still have plenty of matriarchs even in Confucian households” (1935, 137). Though Lin was known to disparage women as females, a matriarch had his respect. And this power of matriarchs appeared in ways most curious to Westerners. In the mid-1800s, British interpreter Thomas Meadows described a Chinese gentleman introducing a friend to his mother:
The friend introduced [to the mother] … then performs a kow-tow to the lady, i.e., he kneels before her and touches the ground repeatedly with his forehead. The son … returns the salute by kneeling and kow-towing toward his friend. Thus two men, and often, of course, gray bearded men of high stations, will in China be found knocking their heads against the floor in honor of a woman of their own class in society. (cited by Yang, 1992, 19)
Though the power of men over women seemed obvious, Chinese mothers often retained a certain prehistoric majesty. A common term for “home” literally means “my mother’s house.” The residential classification system of the People’s Republic assigns people a social identity based on their mother’s birthplace. The old medieval term for those who have died and “gone to a better world” literally means they are now “in Amah’s [the mother’s] household” (Davis, 1989, 88–89, Jankowiak, 2008, 92–93, Cahill, 1993, 240). Before the Shang Dynasty (of ca. 1700–1050 BCE) rulers in China generally bore their mother’s clan names. The old Chinese word for “family name” (xing or hsing) is a compound of symbols for “woman” and “bear,” suggesting a typical name for a matrilineal totem-clan (Min Jiayin, 1995, 553). Such clues to a non-patriarchal past fill China’s languages and cultures. And then there’s the whole history of women’s religions, which were never effectively banned or suppressed.
Goddess religions, of course, tend to be traditions built by women, for women. They usually grow out of women’s experience, including mothers’ experience, though as David Kinsley said, “Some goddesses have nothing to do with motherhood, fertility, or the earth. Others play traditional male roles and often seem to take delight in violating roles that are associated with women in the cultures where they are revered. Some goddesses … provide paradigms for female subordination to males” (1989, x). Some goddesses such as Guanyin are icons of compassion, like mothers to the whole world. Others are shape-shifting forces of wild nature, like Lo Shen, a ruler of water magic. Many are deified masters of yoga-like spiritual disciplines or the martial arts, like Chen Jinggu and her sworn sisters.
In the West (or should we say the Middle East), the ancient deities were usually portrayed as superhuman kings. Their instructions to mortals were like commands from rulers to subjects, which were given in books of holy law. The main practice of these religions was to fully obey the laws. But most goddesses of China have been saint-like, or guru-like figures. They were “masters” who attained some sort of enlightenment, taught groups of friends, and after death were reported returning in spirit. To their devotees, these women were perfected beings. But since their followers could learn what the teachers taught, most goddesses were examples to be emulated, not eternally superior beings to be obeyed. The lives of most divine women were not just images of perfected womanhood, but biographies of goddesses in the making. In China, the boundaries between “mortal and immortal” or “human and divine” seemed permeable. People seemed to be both mortal and immortal, and both human and divine. In a sense, any person might become a deity. As Judith Simmer-Brown described the dakini goddesses of Tibet, “She may appear in humble or ordinary form as a shopkeeper, a wife or sister, or a decrepit or diseased hag. If she reveals herself, if she is recognized, she has tremendous ability to point out obstacles, reveal new dimensions, or awaken spiritual potential.” (2002, 4) Over the course of Chinese history, such divine women appeared, or did not appear, seemingly at random. The authorities never managed to control who the people considered holy.
Most goddess cults have been local community religions rather than “official” cults endorsed by the central authorities. Even today, goddess traditions seldom count as “organized religions,” but generally fall under the somehow lesser category of “popular religions.” Goddesses are seldom portrayed as high officials in a heavenly government. Female religious leaders are often popular, but rarely control big organizations. In general, their powers come from their personal qualities, not from any position of rank or office.
In many cases, the rulers and state-backed priesthoods have treated goddess cults as illegitimate or subversive. Sometimes the officials tried to discredit female shamans or teachers as “stupid superstitious women.” They did this for roughly the same reasons that priests and pastors tried to silence village wise women in Europe. But in China, the wise women never faced a seriously murderous extermination campaign. They survived, and their traditions have continued down to the present. In many cases the cults of goddesses have proved more popular than the cults of rulers, and the rulers claimed patronage from powerful goddesses.
Though China’s goddesses are roughly as diverse as its human population, their cults tend to share certain values. They generally assume a reverence for life, and for the power to conceive or nurture it. They commonly view this literally female power as the greatest power of all. As the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching) put it, “To beget, to nourish / To beget but not to claim / To achieve but not to cherish / To be leader but not master— / This is called the Mystic Virtue” (Stanza 10, cited in De Bary, 1960, 53). In woman-friendly traditions, people commonly picture their greatest deities as mothers beyond all mothers, rather than kings beyond all kings. The leaders of these cults are more like teachers, parents, or friends, than governors. All this is common to Neolithic cultures around the world. In the first village cultures from Old Europe to China, the artifacts of art, architecture, and myth suggest variations on these themes. Only later did the growing strength of warlords seem to establish a power beyond that of parents and communities. In both Europe and China, the age before warlords and states is sometimes called “the age of the goddess.” This is probably the same period which Chinese legend calls the Golden Age.
From The Chinese Age of the Goddess, by Brian Griffith
(Editor's note: We're playing around with this one at EAP, and very enthusiastic about the subject matter and Brian's signature thorough handling of it. Look for more excerpts as we experiment over the next year, and email any comments to info@exterminatingangel.com.)