Laudable aim to revive tradition

THE qipao or cheongsam, with variations in style, are typically worn during Chinese festivals including Chinese New Year.

For something different this year, however, you might want to consider donning the hanfu instead, to usher in the Year of the Boar.

In 2007, non-governmental organisation Young Malaysians Movement (YMM) Taman Sri Petaling branch in Kuala Lumpur started the Hanfu Movement as they were keen to spread awareness of hanfu, Han etiquette and traditional Chinese culture.

YMM member Sin Chen Yeong said most Chinese in Malaysia are of Han descent and hanfu is the traditional outfit of the Han.

“Pioneer YMM members started the movement with hopes that local Chinese would more learn about Chinese culture.

“Many think the cheongsam is traditional Chinese attire, but it is actually Manchurian.

“The form fitting cheongsam you see today is a modified version of the loose-fitting Manchurian qipao.

“Many Han-Chinese adopted the Manchurian hairstyle and clothing to conform and avoid persecution during the Qing dynasty,” he said of the Manchus who were an ethnic minority in China then.

He stressed that YMM was not against wearing the cheongsam as it was also a variation of a Chinese outfit.

“We have nothing against the cheongsam.

“It is a free country and people can dress as they like as it is a personal choice.

“We just want to raise awareness that the hanfu was around even before the cheongsam came about,” said Sin.

He added that while it was nice to see the Malays and Indians wearing their traditional costumes regularly, it was a pity that the Chinese no longer do so.

“We have received positive feedback from other races who think our hanfu is beautiful. Some of them also enjoy trying it on during our events,” Sin said.

Appreciating the hanfuAccording to Sin, hanfu is a general term referring to the clothing of the Chinese, encompassing its many variations, similar to the baju melayu, a general term for Malay clothing.

“The basic form is the ‘Y’ collar.

“This style has also influenced the Japanese and Koreans as they are part of the Sinosphere (East-Asian cultural sphere).

“The robes of monks also have the same collar,” he said.

The was no obvious difference for men and women in the basic design, but women tend to prefer flowery patterns on their hanfu, said Sin, citing examples of theshuheand ruqun.

“It is important to note that the left lapel is draped over the right as the opposite direction is only used when one is deceased,” he said.

Sin also dispelled several misconceptions about the Han.

“Some think the hanfu originated from the Han dynasty, but this is not so. The hanfu was worn by the Han-Chinese throughout the various dynasties up till the end of the Ming dynasty,” he explained.

“People have this notion that the hanfu is bulky, but there are variations, worn according to the four seasons.

“There are even hanfu designs suitable for our hot climate.

“We can opt for cotton and lightweight materials, and a simpler sleeve design (as opposed to the ones with large sleeves),” he said.

Those interested in getting a hanfu can either get it tailor-made or purchased online, Sin shared.

“Previously, we could only get it from China, but these days, there are local tailors who are able to make the hanfu.

“Most Malaysian tailors are skilled in western cutting for clothes.

“To make a hanfu, you need tailors who know how to follow oriental designs and sew the clothes properly,” said Sin.

He was happy to see more people were embracing the hanfu, and the trend is growing.

“Of late, I have noticed people wearing the hanfu in areas where we have not been to promote them.

“Like in Melaka where I am from, I have noticed people wearing the hanfu.

“Some may think only the older generation are interested in traditional culture, but we were surprised to see youths joining us as they are interested to learn about more Chinese culture too.”

He added, “Ten years ago, you would get stares if you wear a hanfu, but in recent years, there has been more acceptance among the public.

“Some people mistake the hanfu for the traditional Japanese yukata or kimono, or the Korean hanbok,” he said.

He also related an incident where he was once mistaken for a monk in Melaka when wearing a hanfu to a Chinese temple.

“The temple caretaker thought I was a monk and clasped his hands together to greet me!” he laughed.

Traditional greeting stylesAside from clothes, the members also showed several ways of greeting people in the olden days.

The common form is gong shou, whereby one hand is wrapped over the fist, similar to how one would wish gong xi gong xi during Chinese New Year.

For men, the practice is to wrap the left hand over the right while for women, it is the other way round.

Ping yi is another greeting gesture, similar to gong shou except the palms are open and face inwards, not clenched into a fist like the gong shou.

A more formal way is to have your arms stretched further.

YMM Taman Sri Petaling branch chairman Wong Chin Loong said to promote hanfu and Chinese culture, the association organises several activities throughout the year such as etiquette workshops, hanfu tailoring workshops, archery classes and an annual cultural camp.

These activities are usually held in August or September.

The association will have its annual Han Feast in March to raise awareness of Chinese dining etiquette.

The Power, the Intrigue, the Clothes

Now that the awful heat is moderating, it’s time to ask: What was the most popular cultural phenomenon of the summer? Hint: It wasn’t “Crazy Rich Asians,” and it wasn’t the computer-animated “Incredibles 2,” despite its billion-dollar gross. Think bigger: The summer’s hottest property was “Story of Yanxi Palace” — a TV costume drama on a Chinese streaming service, whose tales of scheming empresses and backstabbing concubines in 18th-century Beijing have been watched 17 billion times, according to Maoyan, the Chinese online ticketing and statistics provider, or more than twice for every person on earth. Its ratings crush America’s most viewed shows dozens of times over, and “Story of Yanxi Palace” has had knock-on effects throughout China: for one, it’s filliped attendance at Beijing’s Palace Museum, housed in the Forbidden City where those aristocratic women preened and conspired.

You can stream the 70 episodes of “Story of Yanxi Palace” at your leisure, but you don’t have to go all the way to Beijing to discover the luxe lives of the Qing dynasty’s imperial women. Their gowns, their jewelry, their religious accouterments and the paintings they appreciated can now be found here in Massachusetts, in “Empresses of China’s Forbidden City”: a huge and opulent exhibition at the Peabody Essex Museum that excavates the lives of women behind the Forbidden City walls. The objects here date from the late 17th century to the foundation of the republic in 1912, and almost 200 of them are on loan from the Palace Museum, the bulk never before seen in the United States.

For all its splendor, “Empresses” is a gratifyingly rigorous show. Qing-era historians left only bare-bones outlines of women’s lives, and both the exhibition and a hefty catalog use clothing, paintings and the decorative arts to fill in big gaps in the Chinese historical record. It opens with a grand evocation of an imperial wedding in 1889, when the Guangxu emperor married the young Xiaoding in a midnight ceremony. One of Xiaoding’s silk wedding gowns is here, and its awesome detailing, from the roundels of gold dragons and phoenixes on the body to the groovy multicolored waves on its hem, signify her ascent to mother of the nation. In five paintings on paper, which make use of wonky, half-mastered western perspective, we see Xiaoding borne through the Forbidden City on a palanquin adorned with peacock feathers; courtiers and servants have packed the gardens and pavilions, and everyone is preparing for the court’s new calculus of power and prestige.

Each Qing emperor had several wives, only one of whom would be classed as “empress.” She sat atop a hierarchy of eight levels of imperial women, ranging from beloved consorts to concubines to glorified servants; above the empress herself was her mother-in-law, the dowager empress, who effectively picked her son’s brides. One’s place in the imperial harem was signified by exacting differentials in privileges: how many servants you got, what plates you could eat off and what colors you could wear. Only the empress, the empress dowager, and consorts of the second rank could wear the bright yellow gown here from the later 18th century, made of gleaming satin and bedecked with dragons and clouds of metal-wrapped silk.

The empress and top-tier consorts would also express rank through jewelry, whether ornate jade hairpins or tortoiseshell bangles that clinked on the arms. They also got the best shoes — the Qing elite were Manchus, from the northeast of China, and did not bind women’s feet. One extraordinary pair of pearl-festooned platform boots here, to be worn on horseback, would not have been out of place on “Soul Train.”

Though they sat at the heart of Chinese influence, the women at the Qing court were classified as the emperor’s “inalienable possessions.” Your best bet for moving up the ladder was to bear a son — since the imperial succession was merit-based, and any of the emperor’s boys could be his heir. A scroll painting here from around 1844 depicts the Daoguang emperor sitting beside a woman with a pinched faced and calm smile. Her name was Quan, and she entered the Forbidden City at the bottom of the heap, but was elevated in the imperial harem after giving birth to a boy. Check out the dress: she’s wearing yellow, and therefore has made it to the top.

Some empresses had little to no romantic attachment to the emperor, while others formed deep attachments to the monarch. The Qianlong emperor, one of China’s greatest cultural patrons, married the empress Xiaoxian before he ascended to the throne, and when she died young in 1748 he wrote an aching funeral elegy for her in watery, grief-haunted calligraphy. Yet this exhibition — like the hit soap opera “Story of Yanxi Palace” — is ultimately not about love but about power: how to get power, how to wield power, and how to maintain power in circumstances not propitious for your gender.

No one did it better than Cixi, the dowager empress and de facto ruler of China for much of the later 19th century. She too came up from the lower ranks of consorts after giving birth to a boy, and when her husband died she installed herself as her son’s regent, remaking Chinese politics in the process. Almost all the images of other empresses in this show would not have been seen outside the Forbidden City, but Cixi employed the newly arrived technology of photography to burnish her standing; at the dawn of the new century she posed in a resplendent silk robe, towers of plums by her side, the picture of stability. She also cunningly used religious imagery to solidify her status. One bizarre painting here depicts her as a bodhisattva, riding through the sea on a bed of lotus petals.

Cixi also cultivated foreign supporters, and this show closes with a large, Art Nouveau-ish portrait of Cixi by the American painter Katharine A. Carl, which she commissioned to charm American audiences after the anti-foreign Boxer Rebellion. Deathly two-dimensional, the painting shows Cixi in extreme stillness; pearls cascade down her neckline, and on her hands are green press-on fingernails as long as eagles’ talons. As a work of art, it’s ghastly. As a work of political craftsmanship, it is knavishly impressive.

“Empresses” has been organized by Daisy Yiyou Wang, a curator at the Peabody Essex, and Jan Stuart, a curator at the Freer and Sackler Galleries in Washington, to which this show will travel next year. It runs through February though the Palace Museum’s loan restrictions will require the curators to rotate new objects at the Peabody Essex in November and to send some of its current prizes back home. Whether you catch this cycle or the next, this is a rare glimpse of collections we rarely see in the United States — and as the world’s two superpowers butt heads, collaborations between Chinese and American museums deserve all the support they can get.

Travel Back in Time to China's Glorious Past Dynasties With Han Couture

China, with its 5,000 years of civilization, was once known as “Shen Zhou,” which translates to The Divine Land. It was said that the deities passed down this rich culture from the heavens, including music, medicine, calligraphy, and beautiful attire.

Most people perceive the “qipao” to be the quintessence of traditional Chinese dresses, but in fact, the qipao is the traditional clothing of the Manchus, and not the Han Chinese. Moreover, the modern qipao is very different from the traditional version.

The Han race is the largest ethnic group in China, and the Han have their own traditional clothing called “Hanfu,” or Han couture, which has been around for more than 3,000 years. Han couture almost disappeared following the Manchus taking power over China in 1644, when the Qing Dynasty was established.

Han couture, which includes prominent design styles from the prosperous Song Dynasty (960–1279 C.E.), to the magnificent Tang Dynasty (618–907 C.E.), one can appreciate each dynasty’s spirit embodied within. Han couture took on different styles with each dynasty due to the differences in cultural ideas and values.

Imagine traveling back in time by wearing the traditional clothes from China’s past dynasties? Would we be able to rediscover the nearly lost glorious culture that once flourished in the land of China, as well as the virtues that were prized dynasty after dynasty?

Envision yourself wearing one of the most popular classic dresses of the Tang Dynasty, the “Qi Xiong Ru Qun,” in which the short shirt jacket is tucked inside the high-waisted skirt. The skirt is tied very high up on the chest and under the armpits.

With the big-sleeved shirt, and the skirt that flows gracefully down from the chest, it produces both a majestic and slimming effect, making one look elegant and more slender.

Influenced by Confucian ideas of propriety, the people of the Song Dynasty favored simpler, more reserved, and delicate styles with narrow sleeves.

Picture yourself donning a Song-style Ruqun dress, which consists of a blouse, and a wrap-around skirt, and Beizi, and a knee-length outer jacket with a straight collar.

The pleated skirt looks very feminine, and the soft, delicate pattern exudes a quiet and refined charm.

During the Ming Dynasty (1368 to 1644 C.E.), dignified, subdued fashion was preferred.

Ming Dynasty clothing was influenced by the Mongol-led Yuan Dynasty.

Thus, when putting on the prominent dressing of the Ming Dynasty, the “Ao Qun,” in which a loose and billowing shirt is tucked outside an embroidered skirt with pleats, (unlike previous dynasties), you’ll feel it resembles the Korean Hanbok.

In traditional Chinese men’s attire, hats defined a man’s status, and robes were made for every occasion.

Scholars and officials wore high hats. Also, their sleeves were wider and the “yi” (a narrow-cuffed, knee-length tunic), was fastened with a wide belt adorned with jade ornaments.

The higher the status, the more complex and flamboyant the garments, and the more ornaments they displayed in their attire.

Though each dynasty had its unique styles, its basic style and characteristics remained the same.

Han couture generally includes a jacket for the upper garment and an ankle-length skirt for the lower garment; and the collar was always folded over to the right, implying the harmonizing of Yang (positive force) over Yin (negative force).

Interestingly, each aspect of Han couture has its inner meanings.

According to an NTD video, it states, “The large circular cuffs represents a round heavenly path,” while the straight seam in the middle of the back of the dress signifies “humans walking between heaven and earth” or “righteousness,” and the tied waistband “is a symbol of humans being tied to the heavenly rules.”

As stated in a report by PureInsight.org, the ancient Chinese hung a piece of jade on their belt to remind themselves to behave properly. According to Confucianism, jade represents the virtues of courage, wisdom, modesty, justice and compassion.

You may have already felt so yourself, and that is, an outfit can change a person from the outside in.

There’s no denying that these timeless garments, inspired by the divine, will bring about an air of refinement, graciousness, and dignity in the wearer.

The Manchurian Princess

The princesses of the Manchurian court and maidens of noble families were a signature sight of China’s last dynasty, the Qing (1644-1911 C.E.). These ladies wore elaborate headdresses, elevated shoes, and long qipao gowns with lavish embellishments along with their collars, hems, and slits made of heavy satin or silk. Perhaps for every fashionista, beauty comes at a price, and this was indeed the case for Manchurian women.

Manchurian ladies wore huge fan-shaped headdresses decorated with flowers on the front and back, with two strings of tassels running down each side. What’s more, the ladies’ pedestal shoes had “heels” in the middle of the footwear, which forced them to walk in tiny steps while gently swinging their arms to and fro. Sewn with beautiful floral designs and patterns, the shoes are made and set atop an elevated base creating a flower-pot effect; hence they’re called “flower-pot shoes.”

Now, it’s important we don’t confuse between the Manchurian and Chinese qipaos. These two qipaos have similar designs but are strikingly different in terms of style. The Chinese qipao originated from Shanghai and became popular during the 20th century. They were evening dresses for women and were designed to be sleeveless and tight-fitted. The Manchurian qipao, however, is attire that could be worn in all seasons. Greatly adorned and made with satin or silk, these one-piece dresses ran from the collar down to the ankle, with a small opening down the side of the calves. The dresses are also worn with matching pants, ensuring only the head, hands, and feet are exposed. In the winter, Manchurian qipao also often embeds cotton or fur to keep the ladies warm.

So, what exactly are these ladies called? Their title, “ge-ge,” originated from a Manchurian term meaning “miss” or “lady.” Ge-ge are known, even to this day, for holding themselves with dignified grace and beauty while strolling the halls of the Manchurian court. They presented perfect posture and etiquette, greeting their superiors with a gentle toss of their hand-held silk handkerchief, or curtsying on the side to express respect. In public view, the ge-ge were a symbol of ultimate beauty and elegance, so they always had to be mindful of their every move to stay graceful.

With such high demands, perhaps the happiest time in the day of these ladies was when they took off their flower-pot shoes. Yet, this way of life was also deeply rewarding for themselves and inspiring for those who looked upon them and admired the purity of their beauty.

An Elegant Manchurian Bookmark
What better way to capture the image of Manchurian grace than your favorite page holder? Featuring a beautifully colored silhouette of a Manchurian princess on 24K gold, this ultra-thin and ultra-light bookmark comes with a tassel that will conveniently help you pick up right where you left off. Stylistic and practical, this bookmark will surely be any bookworm’s best friend.

Why a Chinese dress set off a cultural debate about identity and history

Yet again a dress has sparked a furious debate over cultural appropriation in the US, this time after a high school graduate wore a qipao, a Chinese-style dress, to her prom. Twitter-user Jeremy Lam set off the current debate with a tweeted comment after seeing a photo taken at the prom: “My culture is NOT your goddamn prom dress.” Last year it was Karlie Kloss wearing a kimono for a Vogue cover. Only in America.

The responses to Lam’s tweet have included ethnic slurring, calls for tolerance, sympathy for Lam as the oppressed minority, sympathy for the girl in the prom dress, and claims and counter-claims about the status and meaning of the dress in question, the qipao (pronounced “chee-pow”). Is it “a sacred garment” as some have claimed, or, as the girl in the photo responded, is it just “a f***ing dress”?

With thousands of young Chinese-Americans attending high school proms each year, this is unlikely to have been the first time a qipao has served as a prom dress. The problem for Lam and his many “likers” is that in the tweeted photo of a prom in Utah last week, the girl wearing the red embroidered qipao is “white”. Her name is Keziah Daum and she joins venerable company. Among famous qipao-wearers of the Western world are Grace Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Nicole Kidman and Anne Hathaway.

In the course of this brouhaha, some odd statements have been made about the qipao. Lam himself bizarrely describes its origins as lying in a shapeless garment made for Chinese women to wear when they were doing housework. In its more shapely final form, he advises, it was a “symbol of activism” and an expression of “gender equality”.

Amy Qin was not much closer to the mark when she wrote in The New York Times: “In its original form, the dress was worn in a baggy style, mostly by upper-class women in the Qing dynasty, which ruled China for more than 250 years, until 1912.”

There is indeed a view that the qipao (literally “banner gown”) directly evolved from the clothing worn by women of the Qing ruling class, the Manchus, or Banner people. But the relationship is tenuous.

The origins of the dress

The word qipao did not make an appearance until the 20th century and was one of a number of words used to refer to the garment. Among those, the most familiar in the English-speaking world is the Cantonese cheongsam (literally “long garment”). Like many other signs of Cantonese culture in the greater Chinese diaspora, this one is gradually being buried under the weight of Mandarin usage, but it is a reminder that there is more than one way of talking about things in Chinese, and more than one set of attitudes.

It was in Shanghai that the qipao took definitive shape. A browse through fashion features in the Chinese press in the 1920s reveals a mix of elements in various novel designs before the familiar dress appeared. The familiar, figure-hugging dress with its mandarin collar and long side splits finally emerges in the late 1920s. Its status was cemented when the newly established Nationalist government recognised it as formal dress in 1928.

In the longer term, the dress has proved to have an ambivalent position in the Chinese cultural landscape. Historically it was more likely to be worn by a call girl than by an activist. During the Mao years it faded from popularity before disappearing altogether, having become a symbol of bourgeois decadence. In China today it is often worn by the bride to her wedding banquet, but is perhaps most commonly used as a uniform for female staff in stores and big hotels.

As long as champions of the qipao are calling for the importance of understanding its history before putting it on (and Lam does just this), its complex design origins and historical social status are relevant to the debate.
Questions of identity

New and revised values can certainly be attached to cultural objects and from this perspective the debate itself is more interesting than its subject. The twittering started in America, but soon enough embroiled mainland Chinese, Hong Kongers, Taiwanese and Singaporeans. Faultlines emerged between people in these various categories. One mainland Chinese person tweeted, “qipao is not a Chinese ‘traditional’ dress at all. I can’t stand these Americans calling it ‘sacred’ to the Chinese culture. What are you talking about lol.”

The Chinese-Americans have proved themselves not all daunted. They have all studied Identity 101: “It’s an asian-american thing,” tweeted Roses-are-red, “… because we’re specifically taught that we gotta hide our chinese identity and assimilate to white culture and then some white chick with a shallow appreciation of chinese culture gets to wear a qipao and suddenly it’s ~cool and quirky~”

Such visceral reactions from both sides suggest that Chinese-white relations constitute only one of many factors shaping attitudes to Chinese culture in the USA. Chinese migration from the mainland is remaking what it means to be Chinese-American. This latest debate is a sure sign that the process is creating anxieties for many.

An Ancient Secret Society of Possessed Executioners

The Duk Duk is a secret society of the Tolai people in Papua New Guinea. This ancient secret sect has played an important social role for centuries and continues to operate today, although with a very different focus. Members of the Duk Duk played the role of judge, jury, and executioner, though it is believed that they were possessed by spirits while performing these tasks. During the colonial period, efforts were made to stamp out the Duk Duk. Although this secret society stills exists today, it no longer carries out its former function and serves mainly as a tourist attraction.

The name ‘Duk Duk’ is believed to be derived either from the Tolai word ‘dekdek’, meaning ‘strong’, or ‘douk’, meaning ‘cruel’. This secret society is part of the social structure of the Tolai people, the name given to the indigenous people who inhabit the Gazelle Peninsula of New Britain, an island in Papua New Guinea . It may be added that secret societies like the Duk Duk may be found in many other Melanesian societies as well.

A Different Definition of Secret Society

Although considered to be a secret society, the Duk Duk is not such an establishment according to the Western understanding of the term. The Duk Duk is a secret society in the sense that its rituals and ceremonies are known only to its members. On the other hand, the identities of its members are known to the rest of the community, even among the uninitiated. Additionally, the Duk Duk had the task of administering justice in Tolai society, and such actions were done openly rather than in secret, when its members decided that the time was right for them to do so.

One of the most notable features of the Duk Duk is the two types of ceremonial costumes worn by its members, both of which consist of a cone head and a leafy body. The difference between the two costumes lies in the facial features on the cone. One of these is faceless and referred to as a Duk Duk, while the other which has large eyes and a thin crescent-shaped mouth, is called a tubuan. The former is believed to attract male spirits, while the latter female ones. Both costumes, however, were worn by men, as women were prohibited from joining the Duk Duk.

What Are the Ritual Grades?

Those who intend to become members of the Duk Duk are required to progress through a series of ‘ritual grades’. There are five of these in total, the first four of which are aimed at differentiating a male from the females by incorporating him into a male community, while the last one serves to differentiate a male from most other males. The first ‘ritual grade’ involves the taking of a boy to the men’s ground, known as a ‘taraiu’. During the second and third ‘ritual grades’, the boy learns that there is a human being within the costume of the tubuan and the Duk Duk.

During the next ‘ritual grade’, the man is required to purchase a Duk Duk costume which involves the expenditure of a considerable amount of divara (shell money). Most men stop at this stage, though the completion of the final stage is a requirement for those who intend to become ‘big men’. The final ‘ritual grade’ involves the buying of a tubuan costume, which not only includes the costume itself, but also the ritual knowledge needed to construct one. The owner of a tubuan costume has the right to sponsor a mortuary ceremony which would earn him prestige.

Justice Administered

In order to administer justice, members of the Duk Duk would begin by dancing in their costumes. They believed that by doing so, they would be possessed by the spirits of their ancestors. In the meantime, the tribal chiefs would carry out discussions, including the need to punish those who broke the law. After the dance, shamans would confirm that the dancers were indeed possessed, and the secret society would travel across the island to execute the sentences proclaimed by the chiefs. These sentences sometimes involved the death of the wrong-doer. Nevertheless, as the executioner was in theory possessed, he was not responsible for his actions and need not feel guilty for killing another person.

During the colonial period, the Duk Duk was seen as a threat to European authority and measures were taken to eradicate this practice. The Christian missions were especially successful in this, as they converted the Tolai to Christianity, thereby getting rid of these ‘heathen practices’ from their culture. In spite of that, the Duk Duk has survived till this day, though without the same importance that was attached to them before the Tolai converted to Christianity . Today, the dance of the Duk Duk is performed for tourists visiting Papua New Guinea without any ritual significance.