Talent, Virtue, and the Nation:Chinese Nationalisms and Female Subjectivitiesin the Early Twentieth Century

By: Joan Judge

Talent, Virtue, and the Nation:Chinese Nationalisms and Female Subjectivitiesin the Early Twentieth Century 9

LOCKSS system has permission to collect, preserve, and serve this Archival Unit

Content in the History Cooperative database is intended for personal, noncommercial use only. You may not reproduce, publish, distribute, transmit, participate in the transfer or sale of, modify, create derivative works from, display, or in any way exploit the History Cooperative database in whole or in part without the written permission of the copyright holder.

The literature on women and nationalism in diverse historical and geographical contexts generally focuses on one particular paradox: while the figure of Woman has served as a powerful symbol of the modern nation-state, actual women have had to struggle for the right to participate in national political life.¹ By emphasizing the objectification of women in nationalist discourses, these discussions tend to overlook the more intriguing—and unsettling—paradoxes that arise when women use nationalism as their own authorizing discourse. This appropriation of nationalism does enable women to carve out new subjectivities and act on them in society and politics. While it sanctions the development of such subjectivities, however, it also yokes them to the demands of the larger national project. The assumption of a new feminine national identity often requires the repudiation of past cultural identities, for example, depriving the “new woman”—and the national culture she helps create—of a potentially vital source of self-knowledge.² At the same time, the prioritization of the nation as the most meaningful context for feminine self-definition can result in the rejection of crucial social solidarities. Unraveling the complex relationship between nationalisms and female subjectivities in a particular historical context highlights the cultural and social contradictions that underlie specific nationalisms. It also provides insights into the vexed question of how subjectivities are constituted, with what degree of agency and what degree of discursive determination.³	1
I will explore the relationship between nationalisms and female subjectivities by examining the experience and writings of the first Chinese women to address the issue of nationalism directly, a group of overseas students in Japan in the early twentieth century. These students were active at a time when China’s national survival had become a national obsession. As one of them explained in 1903, “for our generation”—the generation that came of age following a half-century of foreign subjugation and domestic unrest—”China’s survival is a matter of life and death.”⁴ While national survival was the most powerful mobilizing idea at this historical juncture, the precise meaning of Chinese nationalism had not yet been overdetermined by an imposing state ideology. The Chinese nation and the Chinese national subject were still in the process of being invented.⁵	2
The figure of Woman and the energies of women were central to this process of national invention. Unlike Western societies, where women’s rights were not fully addressed until almost a century after modern conceptions of the nation were put forward, in early twentieth-century China “the national question” and “the women’s question” were confronted simultaneously.⁶ Notions of nation and Woman were inextricably connected, and divergent prescriptions for China’s national future were reflected in corresponding precepts for female roles. Conservative monarchists who were intent on adopting new national institutions to bolster, rather than replace, the centuries-old imperial order promoted a vision of nationalist patriarchy. In ways characteristic of conservative nationalists, they appealed to the figure of Woman to help conceal the aporia in the national project, using her as a spatial and temporal bridge between home and the world, past national values and an uncertain global future.⁷ Constitutional monarchists who advocated the establishment of a hybrid national regime—a dynastic government limited by parliamentary institutions—promoted a correspondingly ambiguous notion of womanhood. They simultaneously placed women at the margins and at the source of the nationalist project, indirectly linking them to the nation as “mothers of citizens” (guomin zhi mu)—a notion reminiscent of the postrevolutionary French and American ideal of republican motherhood.⁸ Radical nationalists and revolutionaries who called for the end of imperial rule and the establishment of a Chinese republic alone posited a direct link between women and the polity. They considered full female political participation to be crucial to the modern nation and the modern nation to be the key referent in defining new feminine roles. For the Chinese female overseas students who identified with this radical form of nationalism, the national present—rather than the cultural past or the progeny of the future—was the most meaningful context for feminine self-definition.⁹	3
The subjectivities of women and the representations of Woman that emerged out of these various imaginings were not exclusively the product of new nationalist discourses but also of the articulation between these new discourses and existing cultural forms.¹⁰ In the early twentieth century, it was impossible to separate China’s national destiny from its cultural tradition: the struggle for China’s survival was as much a struggle to protect its cultural integrity as it was to defend its territorial integrity. While different degrees of attachment to China’s centuries-old Confucian tradition were implicit in the various formulations for the Chinese nation, these diverse national imaginings were all infused with cultural meaning. This included their gendered dimensions: the figure of Woman central to the conservative vision embodied longstanding cultural norms, and women activists who struggled to realize radical national ideals acquired new cultural—as much as new political—identities. While nationalism enabled women to reposition themselves (or to be repositioned) in preexisting webs of cultural relations, this prior cultural matrix in turn shaped new national feminine identities.	4

In early twentieth-century China, the cultural matrix central to new conceptions of the feminine was the dichotomy between virtue (de) and talent (cai). Dating from antiquity and originally ungendered, this dichotomy expressed the Confucian cultural partiality for sound morality over flashy talent.¹¹ From the late sixteenth century, as increasing numbers of women became literate, however, this fundamental cultural construct was used to define the parameters of respectable womanhood. The saying “A man with virtue is a man of talent, a woman without talent is a woman of virtue” (nanzi youde bian shi cai, nüzi wucai bian shi de) was popularized at this time, defining male talent as the highest form of public service and essential to the reproduction of the political order, while female talent was a distraction from familial service and inimical to the reproduction of the social order.¹² The virtue/talent binary continued to be used to structure disputes over the scope and objectives of women’s learning from the late sixteenth through the early twentieth century, but the terms of the debates shifted over time. Initially, opponents of female education claimed that talent and virtue were mutually exclusive for women. By the eighteenth century, however, the debate was no longer focused on whether or not women should develop their talents but on how publicly they should be displayed.¹³	5
In the context of early twentieth-century nationalism, the public uses of feminine talent continued to be a source of contention. While female talent and virtue were now both understood in relation to the nation, it was the publicness or privateness of this relation that generated the most controversy. At the two poles of the debate were proponents of nationalist patriarchy and radical nationalists. The former indirectly linked women to the nation through their private virtue. Privileging the domestic sphere as the crucial context for feminine self-definition, they represented the woman’s national role in terms of the production of morally upright and biologically fit male offspring. In contrast, radical nationalists directly linked women to the nation through their public talents. Defining the nation as the only meaningful context for the development of new female subjectivities, they valorized the establishment of new public and political feminine roles. The overseas female students rearranged the private/public, virtue/talent nexus and challenged the notion that “only a woman without talent was virtuous” by asserting that a woman’s private virtues could only become nationally relevant through the public expression of her talents. They used new and previously forbidden public forums to assert their new talents, and the very idea of publicness—of making a place for themselves in national history—was essential to their new sense of self.	6
While there was little agreement between conservative and radical nationalists on whether a woman’s talents should be operative in the private or public spheres, there was a general consensus that new female talents had to be cultivated in the age of nationalism. Even conservatives believed that female learning had to be “modernized” if China’s women were to raise a superior citizenry. This politicization of motherhood opened up new educational opportunities for Chinese women. While elite Chinese females had been instructed in the home for centuries, by the late nineteenth century the only formal schools for girls and women in China were run by Western missionaries.¹⁴ In the last years of the century, Chinese reformers became convinced of the need to both mobilize the energies of women to serve the nation and nationalize Chinese female education by wresting the initiative from foreigners. In order to fulfill these two objectives, they began to open their own private women’s schools in the late 1890s and the first years of the twentieth century. These private initiatives forced the Qing government—which had not included female education in its reform of the Chinese educational system initiated in 1901—to overcome its profound trepidation concerning women’s learning. In 1907, for the first time in Chinese history, the government sanctioned the establishment of elementary-level and teachers’ schools for girls and women.¹⁵ The overseas students who are the subject of this article came of age at this critical juncture in Chinese women’s history: the period after female education was recognized as a key component of national strengthening but before the government’s 1907 regulations were either drafted or put into effect. They traveled to Japan to pursue a formal education that was not yet widely available in China.	7
Meiji Japan (1868–1912) became the prime destination for Chinese female overseas students for both cultural and political reasons. A part of the Confucian cultural universe, Japan was also China’s most proximate model of successful nationalism. It had resisted Western aggression in the mid-nineteenth century and overwhelmingly defeated China in 1895 and Russia in 1905. With each of these military victories, the number of male Chinese overseas students traveling to Tokyo to learn the lessons of modern nationalism increased, from 200 in 1898 to 13,000 in 1906. ¹⁶ While Japan became the locus of the Chinese reformist and radical movements in this period—the home not only of overseas students but exiled publicists and revolutionaries—it was also a model for the development of female education. ¹⁷ By 1904, 90 percent of Japanese females were enrolled in school, whereas no more than 2 to 10 percent of Chinese females were considered literate in approximately the same period. ¹⁸ Most important from the perspective of conservative Chinese nationalists, this Japanese success was grounded in a gender ideology, the ideology of good wives and wise mothers (in Japanese, rysai kenbo shugi, in Chinese, liangqi xianmu zhuyi), which merged ancient Chinese female ethical principles with contemporary nationalist concerns. ¹⁹ These supporters of nationalist patriarchy were convinced that China could use the Japanese ideology to both sanction and control the inclusion of women in its own national project, to validate the female contribution to the new global order without tainting the Chinese way of Womanhood with the unnatural behavior of the “modern Western woman.” ²⁰ They traced the rise of Western feminism to the decline of the ideology of good wives and wise mothers in the West following the introduction of John Stuart Mill’s ideas of natural rights and equality of the sexes. As the last bastion of this gender ideology in the world—and a Confucianized version of it at that—Japan presented conservatives with the only appropriate model of feminine modernity for China. ²¹	8
Chinese radical nationalists were, in contrast, highly critical of the Japanese notion of good wives and wise mothers, which perpetuated many of the traditional gender assumptions their own political program sought to overcome, foreclosing the option of direct female political participation by indirectly linking women to the nation through their domestic roles. Because the Japanese ideology integrated domesticity and politics, however, it also marked new possibilities for women by legitimizing the development of female education in the service of national consolidation.²² Ultimately, for even the most radical Chinese female activists, the real opportunities that studying in Tokyo opened up for women more than compensated for the ideological restrictions that the discourse on good wives and wise mothers attempted to impose on them.	9
While Chinese of various political persuasions had practical, political, and cultural reasons for regarding Japan as the critical site for the development of Chinese female education, the Japanese had their own motivations for wanting to help China in this period. The most famous Japanese promoter of female education, Shimoda Utako (1854–1936), was both one of the leading proponents of the ideology of good wives and wise mothers and a pan-Asianist committed to establishing East Asia as a politically and culturally viable counterpart to the modern West. Trained in and devoted to the preservation of Chinese learning, Shimoda was also acutely aware that China’s current state of national weakness could undermine the pan-Asian project.²³ She was determined to make her own contribution to a more unified and fortified China—and East Asia—by extending educational opportunities to Chinese women while preserving the traditional Confucian way of womanhood. Her objective was to train Chinese women to become the private foundation of a newly strengthened Chinese nation, good wives and wise mothers with the practical skills, the moral understanding, and the physical vigor necessary to ensure the revitalization of the Chinese race. Shimoda’s combined commitment to a strengthened China and virtuous womanhood earned her the trust of Chinese educators and politicians who shared her traditional cultural and modern global concerns. Their support made it possible for Shimoda to play the single most important role in educating Chinese female overseas students in Japan.	10
Shimoda and the Chinese authorities who supported her attempted to define both the conceptual and the physical context for female self-definition. They limited the overseas students’ formal education to the private arts of virtuous womanhood, and they attempted to construct the space the students inhabited in Tokyo as private space, insisting they reside either with male relatives or in closely supervised dormitories. Border crossings are always inherently destabilizing, however, and the boundaries between Shimoda’s school and the highly politicized milieu of the overseas student community in Tokyo proved impossible to patrol.²⁴ Beyond the dormitories and the classroom, the Chinese students had access to political experiences and publishing opportunities that made it possible for them to establish a competing context for the enactment of feminine selfhood. Defined by the nation, not the family, this context sanctioned the expression of public talents rather than private virtues and demanded the cultivation of political rather than domestic skills.	11
The struggle between Shimoda and the overseas students to define the appropriate context for female subjective development underlines fundamental tensions between conservative and radical nationalism, and exposes familiar contradictions between constructions of Woman and the aspirations of women. The overseas experience in Tokyo also highlights less-explored paradoxes inherent in female nationalism itself. While the appeal to nationalism creates the conditions of possibility for the unfolding of female subjectivities—allowing women to establish new sites for the development of the feminine self—it also constrains these very conditions of possibility, limiting what women can imagine as individuals and as “feminists,” and marginalizing other possible forms of identity.²⁵ Ultimately, it was not only the conservative discourse on Woman that restricted the emergence of new female subjectivities in early twentieth-century China but the radical nationalist discourse that attempted to de-aestheticize the feminine and efface the individual.	12

Shimoda Utako played a central role in establishing both the discursive and the practical link between female virtue and the nation in early twentieth-century China. She used a number of different strategies to inform the Chinese of the crucial relationship between female education—the modern means of reproducing traditional feminine virtues—and nationalism. In 1901, she founded a publishing house, the Society for Renewal (Zuoxin She) in Shanghai, with the assistance of Ji Yihui, one of China’s first overseas students in Japan.²⁶ Between December 9, 1902, and January 1906, the Society for Renewal published a journal entitled The Continent (Dalu), which was widely read not only in Shanghai but also in the Chinese provinces. The majority of the journal’s staff writers and editors were young Chinese who had been overseas students in Japan and who shared Shimoda’s interest in educational issues. Shimoda herself wrote a number of articles for the journal promoting her pedagogical philosophy.²⁷ The Society for Renewal also published Chinese translations of Japanese books on female education. These included Shimoda’s own Domestic Science (in Japanese, Kasei gaku, in Chinese, Jiazheng xue) and Naruse Jinz‘s (1858–1919) Women’s Education (J., Joshi kyiku, C., Nüzi jiaoyu lun), both of which became foundational texts in Chinese discussions of female education.²⁸	13
Figure 1 : The young Shimoda Utako, founder of the Practical Women’s School. Photograph courtesy of the Practical Women’s University Library, materials related to Shimoda Utako.
Shimoda’s views on female education were also featured in various publications available in China. These included Japanese-owned and operated journals published in Chinese by individuals who shared Shimoda’s commitment to pan-Asianism. The most important of these was the Shuntian Daily (Shuntian shibao), founded in 1901 by Nakajima Masao (1859–1943), a journalist and activist in the East Asia Common Culture Association (T-A Dbunkai). Overseas student journals published in Japan but widely read in China also included discussions of Shimoda’s theoretical views and practical accomplishments, and provided translations of lectures she delivered (via interpreters) to Chinese audiences in Japan. Finally, early twentieth-century Chinese educational journals—all of which closely followed educational developments in Meiji Japan—also played a crucial role in disseminating Shimoda’s ideas. The earliest and most important of these was the Educational World (Jiaoyu shijie), founded in Shanghai in May 1901 by Luo Zhenyu (1866–1940). The Eastern Miscellany (Dongfang zazhi) and the Educational Review (Jiaoyu zazhi), published by the Commercial Press (Shangwu Yinshu Guan) from 1904 and 1909 respectively, also informed Chinese audiences about the Japanese ideology of good wives and wise mothers and of Shimoda’s contributions to the development of female education.²⁹	14
The central idea Shimoda sought to convey to her Chinese audience was that female education was crucial to the survival of both China and East Asia. The level of female education in China would determine the quality of Chinese women’s minds, bodies, and children, and, ultimately, the strength and vitality of China’s citizenry. Shimoda’s discussion of this topic was infused with the Social Darwinian concerns and biological metaphors that characterized contemporary East Asian and Western treatments of the relationship between women and the nation. Shimoda’s formulation of the link between healthy mothers and strong citizens was conceivably derived from the British eugenics movement, which she would have had exposure to during a visit to England in 1893–1895. Social Darwinian ideas were already prevalent in the Japanese social discourse of the time, however. In 1898, for example, Yoshimura Toratar wrote, in an essay entitled “Contemporary Japanese Education,” that for Japan to hope to join the advanced nations of the world without educating the female half of the population was like expecting a “half-paralyzed” invalid to face strong and robust competitors.³⁰	15
Shimoda’s invocation of Social Darwinism made it possible for her to achieve two of her paramount objectives: to tie the fate of China to Japan through a pan-Asian appeal to the survival of the “yellow race” and to link women to the nation indirectly through their biology rather than directly through their intellect. While female education was central to her pan-Asian vision, she did not consider it to be an end in itself but a means of improving the racial stock. In a lecture delivered to a Chinese audience in Tokyo in 1902, Shimoda claimed the “yellow race” was weak because—like all weak nations including Korea, Vietnam, Burma, and Turkey—it had failed to develop education for girls and women. In contrast, because the women of “the white race of Europe and America” were well educated and strong, their sons were knowledgeable and their race powerful. Shimoda encouraged the members of her (male) Chinese audience to “return home and promote female education as the basis of male education. This will not only enrich your nation,” she explained, “it will ensure that our Asia and our yellow race will flourish. Then we will be able to compete with the white race.”³¹	16
Shimoda put forward a number of proposals for strengthening the Chinese nation and, ultimately, the yellow race. In the inaugural issue of The Continent in December 1902, she advocated the establishment of study societies, journals, and schools for girls and women on the Chinese mainland.³² Generally, she placed more emphasis on strengthening the bodies than on improving the minds of Chinese women, however, asserting that physical education and the abolition of footbinding were imperative if Chinese women were to fulfill their role as mothers of citizens.³³ In an essay published in an overseas student journal, she appealed to the authority of Napoleon to make her argument for female physical education. “In order to strengthen the nation,” she quoted the French emperor as saying, “one must first strengthen the mothers in the nation.” Shimoda concluded her discussion by remarking that, unlike the Japanese, the Chinese had not yet realized that the lack of women’s physical education was the source of male weakness in China.³⁴	17
Although Chinese women were, according to Shimoda, physically feeble and intellectually deficient, they did possess one feminine quality that would help ensure the survival of China: moral strength. Shimoda invoked one of the most powerful images used to connect Woman to the nation—rape—to demonstrate this feminine moral power. In 1900, following the anti-foreign Boxer Uprising, the Joint Expeditionary Forces of the Western powers attacked Beijing, allegedly raping over 1,000 women. While the male residents of the city quickly surrendered following the attack, the women committed suicide. Rather than interpret this incident on the symbolic level as a violation of the Chinese national essence, Shimoda read it as a vindication of timeless Chinese values that were latent with patriotic potential. If the profound sense of personal pride these violated women exhibited could be transmuted into national pride, Shimoda claimed, if they could learn to “love their nation as they loved their own bodies,” they would become exemplary patriotic subjects.³⁵	18

Shimoda’s dual objective of preserving longstanding feminine virtues while transforming them into a nationally useful commodity earned her the respect of a wide range of Chinese educational and political authorities from the most conservative to the revolutionary. The former included the high officials Rong-qing (1854–1912), Zhang Baixi (1847–1907), and Zhang Zhidong (1837–1909), who drafted the first official Chinese document on formal education for girls and women. These officials were particularly concerned with limiting the degrading influence of Western feminism and upholding traditional Chinese values. They believed that it was too early for China to establish formal schooling for girls and women, warning against (unarticulated) dangers involved in allowing young girls to enter schools, walk freely on the streets, and read Western books. Instead, they proposed that female education be subsumed under the category of education in the family (jiating jiaoyu). In their memorial, they cited Shimoda as the only foreign authority whose work was “compatible with the Chinese way of womanhood.” They even suggested including portions of her Domestic Science in a textbook that would principally be a compilation of excerpts from traditional Chinese female didactic works.³⁶ The dowager empress, Cixi (1835–1908), who shared their views concerning schooling for girls and only reluctantly sanctioned the drafting of official regulations on female education in 1906, also had great respect for Shimoda. Although Cixi died before the two women were able to meet, she had expressed the hope that Shimoda would establish a girls’ school in the Summer Palace outside of Beijing.³⁷	19
Shimoda was also highly regarded by less conservative individuals involved in private efforts to promote female education in China. Wu Huaijiu sought her advice when he founded one of the first private schools for girls and women, the Wuben Women’s School (Wuben Nüshu), in Shanghai in 1901. Wu’s objective in founding the school was to Asianize Chinese women’s education by reducing the preponderant Western missionary role in this area. Wu modeled the Wuben curriculum on the Japanese elementary school curriculum, and, on Shimoda’s recommendation, he hired one of her disciples, Kawahara Misako (1875–1945), in 1902 as the lone female among the school’s nine teachers.³⁸ Women reformers in China also held Shimoda up as a model. In a speech given at the founding meeting of an anti-footbinding association in Hangzhou in 1903, for example, one of the association’s leaders used Shimoda’s accomplishments to justify the aims of the association. She credited Shimoda with educating all Japanese women and with making the crucial link between female education and the nation.³⁹ Shimoda’s reputation as an able educator even extended to the Chinese revolutionaries who were ideologically opposed to the representation of women as “good wives and wise mothers.” Sun Yat-sen (1866–1925), the founder of the early twentieth-century revolutionary movement, wrote to Shimoda requesting that she admit a patriotic young woman by the name of Fu Wenyu into her school.⁴⁰	20
This reputation among official and unofficial, male and female, conservative and radical Chinese reformers enabled Shimoda to play the single most important Japanese role in educating young Chinese women in the early twentieth century. In addition to advocating female education in Chinese-language journals, overseeing the translation into Chinese of key Japanese works on women’s education, and training female teachers to work in China, Shimoda was instrumental in establishing the Chinese female overseas study movement in Japan. In the first years of the twentieth century, she convinced the Chinese ambassador to Japan, Yang Shu (1844–1917), of the need to send overseas female students to Japan, thus helping to consolidate Chinese government support for this initiative.⁴¹ She was also personally responsible for the education of hundreds of Chinese female students—both private and government-sponsored—at the Practical Women’s School (Jissen Jogakk), which she founded in Tokyo in 1899.⁴²	21
As the school’s name indicates, Shimoda’s pedagogical philosophy emphasized the development of practical domestic virtues rather than intellectual talents. Shimoda was convinced these more practical objectives were particularly well suited to the needs of her Chinese students. “These women have traveled a great distance,” she explained, “and cannot be given a frivolous education.”⁴³ The curriculum she devised for the young Chinese women, therefore, emphasized the cultivation of moral virtues and concrete skills over the ability to read books and recite texts. Shimoda personally taught all classes in moral instruction, using a textbook she had written herself, Lectures on Ethics for Chinese Overseas Students (Shina rygakusei no tame no shshin kwa). This text expounded on lofty issues such as loyalty and filiality—the foundations of Chinese and Japanese conceptions of morality—and explained practical, quotidian matters such as health maintenance.⁴⁴	22
The original school curriculum included three programs: a basic two-year course and two special one-year short-term courses, one in teacher training, the other in handiwork. The basic program taught fundamental literacy skills, the teachers’ classes focused on family education as the basis of school education, while handiwork classes taught the Confucian value of women’s work. Each of these three programs included Japanese language instruction and classes in physical education. Graduates of the school would thus become able-bodied wise mothers and good wives, or teachers capable of maintaining the livelihood of their families and ensuring the health of the nation’s future citizens. Many of the students did not expect much more out of their course of study themselves, realizing that there could be “little progress in terms of overall knowledge after one year” in Japan. What they could expect was to improve their conduct by becoming self-conscious of bad habits and learning to eliminate them. They would also broaden their experience of the world.⁴⁵	23
Japanization was central to this globalizing experience for Chinese women at the Practical Women’s School. While the school taught fundamental Confucian feminine virtues, these Chinese virtues were mediated by the Japanese ideology of good wives and wise mothers. And although Shimoda linked this ideology to contemporary nationalism, the sense of nation she hoped to instill in her Chinese students was one that would bolster, rather than undermine, the Japanese vision of a pan-Asian order. These pan-Asian ideals were integrated into the minutest details of the daily lives of the Chinese students. They were required to put up their hair in the Japanese style and to wear kimonos: a number of them were even photographed, awkwardly posed, in Japanese dress. Most important, however, these young Chinese women were expected to gain a certain degree of proficiency in the Japanese language.⁴⁶	24
Figure 2 : Zhu Jingyi, one of thirteen students from Hunan to enter the teacher’s program at the Practical Women’s School in 1905, age seventeen. Photograph courtesy of the Practical Women’s University Library, materials related to Shimoda Utako, file 1132. Figure 3 : Zhu Xiusong, one of thirteen students from Hunan to enter the teacher’s program at the Practical Women’s School in 1905, age twenty-five. Photograph courtesy of the Practical Women’s University Library, materials related to Shimoda Utako, file 1132.
The school’s first student, Qian Fengbao, had already been in Japan with her father and brother for over a year when she entered the school in 1901, and she knew Japanese well enough to take courses with the Japanese students. The next year, when four students who did not know Japanese wanted to enroll, however, language became the school’s first priority. By 1904, students who entered the school were required to have a certain level of competence in Japanese. Shimoda also demanded that a number of teachers at the school, including Sakaki Mitoko, Matsumoto Haruko, and Kimura Yoshiko, learn Chinese so that they would be better able to teach the students Japanese. Sakaki and Matsumoto both lived with the students in the dormitories where they continued instruction in Japanese after school hours.⁴⁷	25
There were sound practical reasons for requiring the Chinese students to learn Japanese. From a pedagogical perspective, it was cumbersome to use interpreters in the classroom, and from a social perspective, it was important to have a common language shared among teachers, dormitory heads, and even Chinese students, who often spoke mutually unintelligible dialects.⁴⁸ And these young women were, after all, living in Japan, even if they were expected to lead relatively sequestered lives in school dormitories or in private residences headed by senior male relatives. Beyond these reasons, however, Japanese language instruction was also a way for Shimoda and her teachers to nativize the Chinese students. Shimoda’s disciple, Kawahara Misako, wrote of her experience teaching young Chinese: “as the little girls sang songs from the standard Japanese songbook and became proficient in speaking Japanese, I naturally felt increasing affection for them and more and more enthusiastic about my work.”⁴⁹ This is the same kind of pride Shimoda felt when Chen Yan’an, one of the first two Chinese women to graduate from the school in 1904, gave a speech at her graduation ceremony in fluent (in fact, highly literary) Japanese. It is perhaps not surprising that Chen would remain loyal to Shimoda until the latter’s death in 1936—corresponding with her and visiting her in later years—and that she would marry a man who would become a pro-Japanese Chinese official in the Republican period.⁵⁰	26
The women who attended Shimoda’s school, particularly in the early years, would have had little concern for what we may now view as insidious cultural imperialism, however, grateful as they were finally to have access to the formal education that had been denied them in China. The number of Chinese students at the Practical Women’s School continued to increase, from 1901 when Qian Fengbao enrolled, through 1904 when Qian and Chen Yan’an became the school’s first graduates; in July of 1905, Shimoda opened a special branch school for the Chinese students.⁵¹ In April 1908, with the number of Chinese female overseas students traveling to Japan rising even higher and the Chinese student community—including females—becoming increasingly radicalized, Shimoda revised the school’s curriculum and imposed stricter school regulations. This did not deter further enrollments, however. In 1907, there were close to 100 female overseas students in Japan, most at Shimoda’s school; in 1908, 126; in 1909, 149; and in 1910, a slight drop to 125. In 1909 and 1910, considered the peak years for Chinese overseas students in Japan, 67 Chinese students graduated from the Practical School, 40 in 1909, and 27 in 1910. By 1911, out of 116 Chinese graduates from the five main schools for females in Japan, 94 were from the Practical Women’s School.⁵²	27

The relative smallness of these numbers belies the disproportionate role these women would play in the early twentieth-century Chinese nationalist and women’s movements. The overwhelming majority of Chinese women who would become publicly and politically engaged in this period had studied in Japan, most in the classrooms of Shimoda’s school.⁵³ A number of them became leading figures in the late Qing (1895–1911) revolutionary movement that brought an end to dynastic rule in 1911. They included the revolutionary martyr Qiu Jin (1875–1907), perhaps Shimoda’s most famous student, and He Xiangning (1872–1972), the first woman to join Sun Yat-sen’s Revolutionary Alliance (Tongmeng Hui) in 1905 and a close collaborator of Sun’s through the 1920s.⁵⁴ Others—Lin Zongsu, Tang Qunying, Zhang Hanying, and Wang Changguo—were at the forefront of the nascent women’s movement in the early Republican period following the 1911 Revolution.⁵⁵	28
These women had arrived in Tokyo via one of three trajectories: as companions to male family members, as envoys of their provincial governments, or as independent, self-supporting students. Some were predisposed to radical politics before coming to Japan; most were transformed by their experience there. All came from elite Chinese families. This was indicated by a 1905 set of guidelines that instructed overseas female students to limit the number of their suitcases, to wear simple clothing and no make-up, and to leave their maids at home.⁵⁶	29
The young women who accompanied male family members to Japan were among the earliest female overseas students. They generally came from wealthy families and had already received some education at home in China. They became temporary students while their husbands, brothers, or fathers—who were all involved in politics as either government officials or, more commonly, radical reformers—studied.⁵⁷ He Xiangning was married to Sun Yat-sen’s close collaborator Liao Zhongkai; Lin Zongsu, the future head of the Women’s Suffrage Alliance, was the sister of the Fujianese revolutionary Lin Baishui; Chen Xiefen, the editor of one of the first women’s journals, was the daughter of Jiangsu Journal (Subao) editor Chen Fan; and Fang Junying was the older sister of Revolutionary Alliance member Fang Shengtong. Students who were related or married to officials in the late Qing or early Republican governments included Cao Liyun (Rujin), younger sister of Cao Rulin, famed for his diplomacy with Japan in the 1910s; and Chen Yan’an, one of the first graduates of Shimoda’s school (noted above for her linguistic abilities), and future wife of Zhang Zhongxiang (Zhonghe), a graduate of Tokyo University Law Faculty, a future cabinet minister in the Republican government, and, from August 1916, China’s ambassador to Japan.⁵⁸	30
Women began to travel unaccompanied by spouses or relatives to study in Japan from 1903. In 1904, when the first students graduated from the Practical Women’s School, a number of Chinese educators approached Shimoda about taking on officially sponsored students. This new trend of government-sponsored overseas study was initiated in November 1904 when Hunan province, through the intermediacy of the (male) overseas student Fan Yuanlian, requested that the Practical Women’s School accept twenty young Hunanese women, prompting Shimoda to establish the Chinese branch of her school. In the second half of 1905, the Chinese government formally approved the female overseas study initiative, and in late July of that year the twenty Hunanese students—including Wang Changguo and Zhang Hanying—enrolled in Shimoda’s school. Liaoning, Jiangxi, and Jiangsu provinces also began to send government-sponsored female students to Japan at approximately this time.⁵⁹ Both provincial and central officials had begun to recognize the need to train China’s own female teachers, a need that would become even more pressing after the publication of the 1907 regulations for schools for girls and women, which stipulated that men could not serve as teachers in female schools.	31
Among women in the third group, those who traveled to Japan on their own, Qiu Jin is the best known, and her experience is perhaps the most extraordinary. In 1903, she left her husband and two children, and, encouraged by Hattori Shigeko, the wife of a prominent Japanese professor teaching in Beijing, traveled to Japan to pursue her own education.⁶⁰ Other women who went to Japan on their own included Tang Qunying and Wang Lian, whose writings and organizational activities were central to the female nationalist movement in Japan and later in China.⁶¹	32
Figure 4 : Qiu Jin, revolutionary martyr and student at the Practical Women’s School. Photograph taken in 1904 in Japan.
Each of the three trajectories that led these women to Tokyo would have brought them into contact with the highly contested issue of Chinese nationalism. Those who lived with male relatives entered a milieu charged with debates over the most effective way to ensure China’s national survival. Envoys of provincial governments were made to understand that their education abroad was one component in a larger nation-building project. And independent female students who sought a sense of community in native place organizations and student clubs in Tokyo found themselves at the epicenter of the radical Chinese nationalist movement.⁶² This exposure to the Chinese nationalist movement in Japan convinced the female overseas students of the need for their contribution to the national struggle. Sharing Shimoda’s conviction that there was an intimate connection between women and the nation, they nonetheless developed a radically different view of the terms and the meaning of that connection. Whereas Shimoda drew an indirect link between female virtue and the nation, privileging the domestic sphere as the prime context for feminine self-definition, the overseas students posited a direct relation between female talent and the nation, embracing nationalism as the only meaningful context for the development of female subjectivity. Ironically, it was the students’ lived experience in Japan that convinced them Chinese women had to do more than cultivate their private skills if they were to fulfill their national roles. In order to become effective national actors, they also had to develop their public abilities as organizers, orators, educators, and writers.⁶³	33
The students legitimized the cultivation of these new public talents by repudiating the longstanding Chinese notion on which Shimoda’s ideology was implicitly based: “only a woman without talent is virtuous.” Every essay, speech, or poem these women produced addressed this statement, either to disprove its premises, explain the circumstances that had led to its popularization, or describe how it had limited the development of other female subjectivities. Wang Lian, a student at the Practical Women’s School, attributed the debasement of women’s rights to the belief that only a woman without talent was virtuous. When this belief was shattered, she declared, then would “the seeds of enlightenment” be scattered and the women of China awakened to the possibility of freedom.⁶⁴ Another female overseas writer equated the devastating impact this longstanding maxim had on the development of female subjectivity with the most violent act of cultural annihilation in Chinese history: the burning of the books and the burying alive of Confucian scholars by the despotic Qin emperor in the third century bce.⁶⁵	34
While these women vehemently rejected the notion that female talent and virtue were mutually exclusive, they did not necessarily deny that there was a link between feminine virtue and the modern nation. A number of them argued that the Chinese woman’s devotion to her family was a form of national service, and even Qiu Jin, who had abandoned her own husband and children, affirmed the national relevance of the woman’s roles as wife and mother.⁶⁶ However, the overseas students went significantly beyond Shimoda’s position, which linked women to the nation exclusively through their virtue in arguing that private feminine virtue could only become relevant to the nation through the public expression of female talent. In their view, it was possible for the female national subject to be both virtuous Woman and public woman: to mobilize the timeless qualities of female virtue in order to actualize her role in the national future. In order for this to happen, however, it was necessary that women be recognized as members of humankind worthy of the same rights and capable of assuming the same duties as men: rights to develop their talents through education and duties to use those talents to serve the nation.⁶⁷	35
The education that the overseas students claimed Chinese women had a right to differed from the kind of education Shimoda offered at the Practical Women’s School. According to the overseas female nationalists, female learning would not be merely for the nation, as Shimoda Utako maintained, but of the nation. It was not a necessary precondition for the education of China’s future male citizens but a means of empowering women to participate personally in the national struggle.	36
This new nationalist epistemology required a radical reorientation of past Chinese traditions of women’s learning, which Shimoda sought, in part, to perpetuate. As the overseas writer Yi Qin explained, “the world today is very different from the world of ancient times . . . Therefore contemporary learning cannot resemble past learning but must import the ideas which are the newest and the most enlightened.” Whereas ancient texts such as the “Domestic Regulations” (Neize), which described the woman’s practical and ritual responsibilities in the home, were traditionally used to instruct women, the first objective of this contemporary learning was to provide women with knowledge of the outside world.⁶⁸ “Women are ignorant,” Chen Yan’an wrote, “because they are isolated in the inner chambers. Just as one cannot realize the height of Mount Tai without first climbing a mountain, or the depth of the sea without physically going to the ocean, without exposure to the world and education women have no way of knowing how strong the foreign nations are and how weak China is.”⁶⁹ For Chen and the other female overseas students, their experience in Japan provided the first valuable lesson in national and global politics. Wang Lian described how her life in Tokyo had opened her eyes to the meaning of nationalism and the inextricable link between women and the nation. Back in China, Wang wrote, “I did not understand what a nation was or what the importance of female education was. Then when I came to Japan, I often heard people talk about the nation. After asking several questions I finally began to understand . . . when people unite they form a family, when families unite they form a nation. All people belong to a nation, and all must make the nation their own.” If women don’t understand national matters, Wang asserted, “they must study books and read newspapers. If their bodies are weak they must unbind their feet and become active. If women become stronger and more intelligent, then the nation will become more powerful and more advanced.”⁷⁰	37
Physical education, as Wang suggested, was crucial to both the new female education and the national program. Again, there was apparent convergence but actual divergence between the students’ and Shimoda’s views on this subject. Both Shimoda and members of the overseas female student community agreed that there was a fundamental connection between the female and national bodies. The demands of nationalism no longer made it possible to uphold the traditional Chinese practices of feminine virtue that restricted, mutilated, and even effaced the body.⁷¹ At Shimoda’s school, young female students were encouraged to unbind their feet, strengthen their bodies through physical education courses, and learn about health and hygiene. Shimoda nonetheless considered female physical education to be an extension of feminine virtue, a means of preparing young women to serve the nation indirectly as mothers of citizens. In contrast, the overseas students linked physical education to the cultivation of new female talents that would enable them to function as thinking national subjects. They drew a direct connection between the physical practices Chinese women engaged in, such as footbinding and ear piercing, and female ignorance, representing the illiterate female as a dolled-up toy with bound feet and pierced ears. These women juxtaposed footbinding and education as the defining experiences in the lives of young girls and boys respectively, explaining that boys enrolled in school, embarking on their intellectual and public careers, at the same age as girls bound their feet in a symbolic retreat from public life.⁷² Chen Yan’an explained that, while it was the norm for “young boys to be educated even if they were poor,” females of all social classes were expected to “pierce their ears, bind their feet, and make up their faces to look like playthings.”⁷³ Wang Lian identified pierced ears and bound feet as the prime impediments to female education, forms of physical mutilation that were like “torture meted out to criminals,” debilitating women to the point that they lacked the energy and the will to study.⁷⁴	38
The overseas women writers exposed not only what they described as the cruelty of the practice of footbinding but, for the first time in Chinese history, the physical reality of the practice itself. Wang Lian provided what is at once a personal, physical, and an objective, scientific account of the actual process involved in unbinding her feet. She explained how the school’s doctor who was called in to help her used carbolic acid and warm water to wash the unbearably tender and swollen feet three times every day before wrapping them in cotton. After several days of this treatment, Wang’s toes gradually relaxed. Reconnected with her own physicality, she was then able to pursue learning for the nation. Wearing Western socks and leather shoes, she was finally able to walk “the twelve or thirteen li [about four miles] to and from school a day with no trouble at all.”⁷⁵	39
Students like Wang who had enjoyed the benefits of unbound feet and physical education in Tokyo would attempt to integrate these new physical practices into the education of girls and women in China. The overseas female students were avid promoters of female education, and one of their primary collective objectives was to establish educational facilities for girls and women in all provinces of China. Shimoda’s Practical Women’s School, despite its emphasis on family-oriented manual labor, provided the initial context for the development of this new objective. Shimoda recognized that female teachers were needed to disseminate the principle of domestic virtue, and so she included a teacher-training program in her school curriculum. While the classes offered in this program were originally at the elementary level and focused on family education and the formation of wise mothers, they did sanction teaching as a respectable profession for Chinese women. This helped to nationalize female education in China by preparing overseas students to assume the responsibilities of school teachers, founders, or principals upon their return to the mainland. Whereas, until the early twentieth century, missionaries and other foreigners had been solely responsible for the education of girls and women in China (in 1909, there were still twenty-three Japanese women teachers in China, for example), by 1912, returning female students had become prominent in the fields of elementary or middle school education, with some of them specializing in physical education. Of the twenty students from Hunan who were accepted into Shimoda’s Practical Women’s School in 1905, three of the nine who returned directly to China after graduating founded their own schools.⁷⁶	40
While Shimoda played an instrumental role in providing these teachers with fundamental pedagogical skills, she was unable to control the ideological ends to which these skills would be put. Qiu Jin, for example, not only taught Japanese language, science, and hygiene at the Xunqi Girls’ School in Nanxun, northern Zhejiang, shortly after her return to China in 1906, she also founded a physical education school for women in Shaoxing in February 1907 (later known as the Datong Physical Education School), where her primary objective was to train future female revolutionaries in the military arts.⁷⁷ Later that year, Qiu would be arrested and beheaded for her own role in a revolutionary conspiracy to overthrow the Qing government.	41
As Qiu Jin’s example demonstrates, the implications of Shimoda’s and the overseas students’ differing views on the purpose of female education were ultimately political: whereas, for Shimoda, female learning was indirectly related to the nation, for the overseas students it was directly tied to political action. According to these women, new national knowledge implied new female responsibilities. It was not enough for Chinese women to acquire a passive understanding of political affairs, they also had to put their new knowledge into practice as active citizens. The statutes of one of the most important Chinese female organizations in Japan, the Humanitarian Association (Gongai Hui), explained that its objective was to educate women so that they would be capable of assuming their national responsibilities.⁷⁸ Hu Binxia, one of the founders of the association and a student at the Practical Women’s School, pleaded with her Chinese sisters to devote mind, soul, and body to the national cause. After apprehending the gravity of the national situation, they must internalize it, making “China’s suffering their own personal suffering,” she declared. Finally, they must act before “the land of our ancestors is divided like a melon and its people enslaved.”⁷⁹ The overseas activists were convinced that, given the opportunity, women would prove themselves to be the equals of men in their “ambition and their ardor,” and in their ability to “bear daggers to defend the nation.”⁸⁰	42
While the female overseas writers frequently represented their new national responsibility as equal to men’s, implicit in many of their writings was the suggestion that it was now time for Chinese women to secure China’s future themselves and overcome the past errors of male civilization. As Qiu Jin explained, “we all know the nation is about to perish, and men are incapable of saving it. Can we still think of relying on them?”⁸¹ Wang Lian warned that, if women passed responsibility for the nation off on their male compatriots, this would be the beginning of national disaster. These men would in turn pass responsibility off on the emperor, and the emperor on the officials, who would be forced to exploit the people. Only women had the power to prevent the further deterioration of the social and political situation.⁸² In order to fulfill this national obligation, the overseas students developed new political talents, which included public speaking, debating, petitioning, and organizing. They did not learn these skills in the classrooms of the Practical Women’s School but in the student clubhouses and political meetings of the overseas community in Tokyo. Qiu Jin, who frequently delivered lectures at the weekend discussion sessions of the Chinese Students’ Clubhouse in Tokyo, was the most skilled female orator and one of the more effective speakers—male or female—in the revolutionary movement. She was also a great promoter and theorist of the power of oratory. In 1904, she wrote an essay entitled “The Advantages of Public Speaking” (Yanshuo de haochu) and, shortly thereafter, founded a public-speaking training society.⁸³ Other overseas students, including Wang Lian and Tang Qunying, also made noted public addresses to male and female student audiences in Japan.⁸⁴	43
It was important for women like Wang, Tang, and Qiu to establish their voices within the broader overseas student community in Japan. What was most crucial to fostering their communal sense of identity as female nationalists, however, was their participation in politically focused women’s organizations. The Humanitarian Association, which played a central role in promoting female solidarity and patriotism within and beyond the overseas community in Japan, served as an important nexus for the female overseas students’ involvement in nationalist issues. On April 29, 1903, for example, when male students opposed to the Russian advance in Manchuria announced the founding of the Volunteer Corps to Resist Russia (Ju-E Yiyong Dui) at a general meeting of overseas students, members of the Humanitarian Association responded with a call to organize a parallel women’s organization. Hu Binxia, the association’s founder, first took the podium, followed by eight other students—Chen Yan’an, Wang Lian, Qian Fengbao, Lin Zongsu, Cao Rujin, Fang Junji, Hua Gui, and Gong Yuanchen—all of whom pleaded “with tears in their eyes” for their female compatriots to devote themselves to the national struggle against Russia. Together with four other women, these nine joined a wing of the Japanese Red Cross, the Association of Determined Nurses (Tokushi Kangofu Kai). Highly self-conscious of their new identity as an independent political constituency, these women worked to transform their tiny grouping in Japan into a broader national movement. They attempted to mobilize women in China by sending a telegram to students of the Shanghai School for Girls and Women that proclaimed, “women are also a part of the nation, members of the universe.”⁸⁵ They also remonstrated with the central Chinese authorities by sending a petition to one of the Manchu imperial princes, Zai-zhen, imploring him to support the establishment of a Red Cross Society in China. The petition criticized China for being the one country in the world not to have joined the International Red Cross, a sign, the drafters of the petition claimed, that the Chinese were only interested in destroying life, not sustaining it.⁸⁶	44
Members of the Humanitarian Association became increasingly radicalized the following year, perhaps out of frustration over the ineffectiveness of these more conventional political tools such as the petition and the telegram. In 1904, Qiu Jin became the head of the association, which she renamed the Humanitarian Association for Practical Action (Shixing Gongai Hui) to emphasize its new, more activist stance. Chen Xiefen served as director. The society called for Chinese women to come to Japan both to study and to participate in the growing Chinese revolutionary movement. A number of association members were already involved in radical activities. He Xiangning assisted in making preparations for uprisings in China, and association members Qiu Jin, Chen Xiefen, and Lin Zongsu received training at a weapons factory in Yokohama.⁸⁷	45
As the association members became increasingly militant, their radical nationalism targeted not only the moribund Manchu government and distant foreign powers, it also came into direct confrontation with the Japanese authorities. During the fall of 1905, these female students participated in protests against the Japanese government’s November 2, 1905, “Restriction Regulations,” which the Chinese student community interpreted as a paternalistic attempt to control the activities of Chinese students in Tokyo. Qiu Jin, who was appointed as the female student representative for the protest, together with other women at the Practical School, called for a general student strike, and female students at a number of other women’s schools in Tokyo immediately responded to their call. On December 8, a young Chinese male student and renowned revolutionary activist, Chen Tianhua, threw himself into the sea, expressing the despair of the overseas student community at having been humiliated not only by the Japanese government but by the Japanese press. Following Chen’s highly publicized suicide, some 2,000 Chinese students left Japan, including thirty women led by Qiu Jin. In 1906, following Qiu’s departure, the Humanitarian Association disbanded.⁸⁸ A number of fledging groups succeeded the Humanitarian Association and attempted to fulfill its mandate to unite overseas female students in a struggle for national salvation and women’s education. In the months leading up to the 1911 Revolution, when being a radical Chinese nationalist came to mean becoming a violent revolutionary, the students took part in increasingly militant activities.⁸⁹	46
The involvement of overseas female students in these various organizations helped establish a new relationship between gender and the nation and a new context for the development of female subjectivities. It not only likened women to men in their mode of national service, but it distinguished women from Woman. Whereas the idealized Woman served the nation indirectly and discreetly, reproducing sons and timeless moral virtues, the overseas students fought for the nation directly and publicly, playing an active role in the unfolding of China’s national history. The disparity between these two versions of the relationship between women and the nation brought the overseas students into their most direct conflict with Shimoda. In 1903, when members of the Humanitarian Association supported the movement to resist Russia by joining the Japanese Red Cross, Shimoda did everything in her power to stop them. Although these young women were expanding rather than defying the codes of female virtue by assuming distinctly feminine roles as nurses—”the responsibility of women under Heaven,” in their words—Shimoda was outraged to see so many of her students engaged in the first broad-based movement of overseas students in Japan. She reacted even more unfavorably when young women at her school challenged her vision of pan-Asian harmony by joining the student strike against the Japanese government in 1905, and she announced that any of her students who participated in the strike would have to leave the Practical School. Qiu Jin and seventeen others immediately moved out of the dormitory.⁹⁰ Increasingly frustrated in her efforts to control the activities of her Chinese students, Shimoda enacted stricter school regulations in 1908. All applicants were now required to have the support of a Japanese guarantor and an introduction from the embassy, and student activities outside of the school were more closely controlled.⁹¹ Shimoda also extended the length of the various programs offered at the Practical School, following a general trend in Japanese schools aimed at deterring would-be Chinese revolutionaries from applying. Shimoda would do everything in her power to ensure that her pupils were passively and privately nation-minded, not nationalist activists.	47

The explicit and implicit tensions between Shimoda’s objectives and the students’ aspirations provide insights into how these first female Chinese nationalists struggled to establish their own context for the development of feminine selfhood. Their new subjectivities were most directly constituted, however, through the act of writing.⁹² It was in their essays and poems that the overseas students defined themselves in relation to their Others, both abhorrent and desirable, and asserted their new sense of self. It was also in these writings that the paradoxes within radical female nationalism were most sharply revealed.	48
The overseas students considered writing—the most highly esteemed of Chinese cultural practices—to be an essential talent of the new Chinese women. By inscribing their nationalist aspirations on the written page, they subverted the longstanding notion that a woman of virtue must only use her hands to serve her family. And they challenged the traditional construction of public writing as exclusively masculine by using the printed word to constitute new feminine subjectivities. Members of the Humanitarian Association lamented how the traditional privileging of manual over intellectual feminine labor had deprived Chinese women of the power of self-expression. “Chinese emphasize the importance of women learning handicrafts and deemphasize the importance of knowledge,” they wrote. As a result, their own generation of women had been left voiceless. “Although we have the ambition to write, we have great difficulty making our brushes express our meaning,” they mourned. “And although we have the ambition to lecture, our mouths are incapable of uttering what is at the bottom of our hearts.”⁹³ In order to overcome this legacy and develop the writing skills appropriate to their new nationalist purpose (skills that Shimoda’s Practical School would not teach them), these women formed their own study groups and became active participants in the writing and reading community of radical overseas nationalists.	49
These students were not the first women in Chinese history to defy the injunction “against words from the inner quarters reaching the outside world” (neiyan buchu)—women had been writing and even publishing in China for centuries.⁹⁴ They were, however, the first to establish their own political journals, a new print genre that they used even more effectively than their male counterparts. Whereas there was only one female overseas student to every forty males in Japan, there was one women’s journal to every ten men’s journals. Convinced of the power and influence of this new medium, the Humanitarian Association required that four of its members publish one or two essays every month to encourage all of the women of China to join in the national struggle.⁹⁵	50
The first of these women’s journals was Chen Xiefen’s Journal of Women’s Studies (Nüxue bao), which appeared from February to November 1903. Chen’s journal, which was originally published in Shanghai as a supplement to her father Chen Fan’s newspaper, Jiangsu Journal, was printed in Tokyo from the fourth issue in October 1903, following Chen Fan’s exile to Japan.⁹⁶ A number of other journals followed, all published in Tokyo and most edited by women. They include Qiu Jin’s Vernacular Journal (Baihua bao), a monthly published from August 1904 to 1905 for six issues; the Feminine Soul (Nüzi hun), a monthly edited by Pan Po in 1904; Chinese Women of the Twentieth Century (Ershi shiji zhi Zhonguo nüzi), whose editor used the pen name Henhai (Sea of Regret), from 1907; the Chinese Women’s Magazine (Zhongguo funü jie zazhi), edited by the Tokyo Society for the Chinese Women’s Magazine in 1907 and 1908; the Magazine of the New Chinese Women (Zhongguo xin nüjie zazhi), a monthly published between February 1907 and July 1909 for six issues and run almost single-handedly by a female medical student at Waseda University, Yan Bin; Women’s Journal (Nübao), edited by Chen Yiyi, a close male friend of Qiu Jin’s, for one issue in 1909; and the Magazine for Female Overseas Students in Japan (Liu-Ri nüxuehui zazhi), founded as a quarterly by Tang Qunying with only one issue published in May 1911.⁹⁷ These journals were generally both socially and politically radical, and their relatively short runs were due, in part, to Japanese censorship. After Yan Bin’s journal published an article urging women to become involved in assassination plots, for example, the Japanese authorities forced its closure.⁹⁸	51
In addition to publishing their own journals, female overseas students in Japan also contributed articles to the main overseas student organs. These included the following, all monthlies and all published in Tokyo: Hubei Students (Hubei xuesheng jie), founded by overseas students from Hubei province in January 1903, with a run of eight issues (the name of the journal was changed to Voice of the Han [Hansheng] from the sixth issue); Tides of Zhejiang (Zhejiang chao), published for ten issues between February and December 1903; and Jiangsu, which appeared from April 27, 1903, to May 15, 1904, for twelve issues. Jiangsu ultimately became the most important platform for female overseas students, in part because the Humanitarian Association used it as their forum.⁹⁹ When the overseas female students wrote for those journals that were run and edited by men, they used a number of strategies to mark their gender. Because Chinese names do not necessarily indicate maleness or femaleness, they inserted the characters signifying a woman or a woman of learning (nüshi) between their surname and given name, following the practice of women writers or men posing as women writers in the past. They also tended to group their writings together in journals under gender-explicit headings. Finally, and most innovatively, they often used characters denoting femaleness as pseudonyms.¹⁰⁰	52
The overseas female students mostly wrote essays but also some poems. They composed competently in the classical style but were also among the earliest and most effective practitioners of the vernacular (baihua). In some instances, they combined the classical and vernacular languages, though generally their choice of style depended on their projected audience. In their efforts to communicate with their fellow elites, particularly when they were writing in the male overseas journals, they used literary Chinese. In articles aimed at informing their less literate compatriots—the Humanitarian Association’s announcement of its objectives, for example—or in journals written to uplift poorly educated women in China—Qiu Jin’s Vernacular Journal, for instance—they used the demotic language.¹⁰¹	53
The students used these journals publicly to constitute a new identity for themselves as committed female activists. They invoked nationalism as both the objective of their activism and the source of legitimation for their new identity. Allowing and even demanding the cultivation of subjectivities commensurate with this new political and cultural role, this appeal to nationalism also bound these new subjectivities to the demands of the larger national project. As a close reading of the overseas students’ writings demonstrates, radical nationalism limited what these women could imagine as individuals and as feminists, forcing them to reject other possible forms of identity and denigrate potential sources of social solidarity.	54
The overseas students self-consciously subordinated their appeals for women’s rights to the goals of the nationalist project. They did not call for an end to the oppression of women because it was an evil in itself but because it was one of the sources of national decline. “The Chinese race has been weakened,” one woman wrote, because of the perpetuation of such sayings as “the husband regulates the wife” and by the continuation of such practices as women taking their husbands’ surnames. The social fabric of a country in which “men are their wives’ representatives, and wives their husbands’ appendages” would, she argued, inevitably be weak.¹⁰² The overseas writers further contended that the promotion of women’s rights—in particular, the right to education—would directly benefit the nation. If parochial, uneducated, and dependent women represent half of the nation’s population, Chen Yan’an asked, “how can the country but perish? . . . The relationship between female education and national survival is crucial.”¹⁰³	55
All of these women were circumspect in their criticism of patriarchal institutions and masculine culture. They realized that they could not afford to offend male activists if they wanted to be recognized as national actors, and they understood that transgender alliances were crucial to national salvation. Even women writers who were so bold as to criticize men for their tendencies to “enslave women” and “hinder their aspirations” enlisted male support in restoring women’s rights and, ultimately, China’s greatness.¹⁰⁴ Qiu Jin did not vilify men for their oppression of women; rather, she blamed women for having allowed this oppression to continue. She appealed to her female compatriots to liberate themselves from male dependency not for their own sake but for the sake of the nation. “If we do not rouse ourselves,” she declared, “once the nation is lost it will be too late.”¹⁰⁵	56
Despite any implicit criticism of masculine culture in these writings, the overseas students’ greatest aspiration was to make a place for themselves in male national history. All the exemplars they held up as desirable role models had earned historical recognition for their intellectual abilities or political talents. While a few of these exemplars were Chinese, the vast majority were Western. The overseas students celebrated this heroic foreign Other for talents rooted in historicity, marking her as the foil of the archetypal Chinese Woman heralded for virtues grounded in timelessness. The revered foreign Woman did not embody essentialized, self-contained feminine qualities; instead, she represented the projection of the feminine self into the narrative of national history.	57
The few Chinese exemplars whom the overseas writers invoked were not unqualified heroines. While they did possess a certain greatness, this greatness had yet to be “nationalized” and historicized. Yi Qin explained what would be required for two of the most renowned women in Chinese history—Ban Zhao (ca. 48–ca. 120) and Ti Ying (ca. 167 bce)—to qualify as heroines in the age of nationalism. In order for Ban Zhao—a famous literata who had served the emperor by completing her father and brother’s work, Han History (Han shu)—to be celebrated today, Yi Qin wrote, “she would have to transfer her love of the sovereign to love of the nation.” And if Ti Ying—a devoted daughter who had saved her father from a cruel punishment by offering her services to the Han emperor—were to come to life again, she would have to “transmute her love of her father into love of her compatriots.”¹⁰⁶ The Chinese woman who came the closest to being a national heroine was Hua Mulan (ca. 500 ce), a legendary warrior first celebrated in a sixth-century Chinese poem. Mulan had disguised herself as a man and fought for twelve years in her father’s place. Despite her exemplary courage and ability to operate within male martial culture, however, she did not qualify as a true heroine precisely because she had not been recognized as such. The overseas writers lamented that Mulan’s valiant spirit, which was celebrated in songs and poems, “had not been accorded a place among China’s national heroes.” Unrecognized in national time, her power had “vanished into the great void.”¹⁰⁷ Radical nationalists such as Chen Yiyi attempted to recover this power from oblivion and grant Mulan the status of national heroine in order to discredit Shimoda’s model of female national service. Chen questioned why women should only be indirectly linked to the nation through their private virtue when there were women like Hua Mulan in China’s past who had fought as bravely, and as publicly, as men.¹⁰⁸	58
In contrast to these Chinese women who were either unrecognized in national history or insufficiently nation-minded, a number of Western women had, according to the overseas writers, left an indelible mark in the chronicles of the modern world. Hu Binxia, like many, praised generic “Western women” for their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the nation and shed blood for the people, thus “leaving their trace in history.”¹⁰⁹ Others focused on specific historical figures, most consistently citing Madame Roland as the ideal Woman. He Xiangning glorified Roland for her devotion to the nation, which had made her a “great figure in history,” Wang Lian poetically celebrated the flowing of her “crimson blood in the revolution,” and Chen Yan’an praised her as a woman whose achievements had surpassed those of men.¹¹⁰ A number of American women were also singled out. Wang Lian praised Harriet Beecher Stowe, excessively perhaps, for changing the course of history by freeing the slaves.¹¹¹ Yearning for this same historical visibility and social recognition, the overseas students implored their female compatriots to learn from the West. “In the future, education for East Asian females will hasten to follow the ways of Europe and America,” members of the Humanitarian Association wrote. “Only then will we be able to release a resplendent light throughout the world.”¹¹²	59
Emulation was thus crucial to the constitution of new female subjectivities in the early twentieth century. But so was exclusion. The overseas students’ new sense of self emerged not only from the attempted mirroring of the foreign Other but also from an almost violent confrontation with the cultural self.¹¹³ The abhorrent Other against whom the overseas students defined themselves was the Other within themselves: the talented woman of China’s cultural past and the ignorant plaything of its conflicted present. Rather than attempt to redeem the lives of these Chinese women, past and present, in the name of a “feminist” project, the overseas women denigrated all alternative forms of Chinese femininity in the service of the national project.	60
The students’ commitment to uplifting their less fortunate sisters was apparent in their efforts to write in the vernacular language and promote female education in China. While their nationalist rhetoric proclaimed their commitment to the exploited and illiterate women of China, their first priority was to establish themselves as national subjects who were as ardent and as worthy as men. This required distancing themselves from their less privileged female compatriots, whom they dismissed as perversely feminine and politically ignorant—”dolled-up toys with pierced ears and bound feet.” Hu Binxia held these “maimed, useless, foolish, and ignorant” women responsible for China’s current state of weakness because they contributed nothing to the nation. Given their selfishness, dullness, and vanity, “it was not at all strange that they were considered to be inferior beings.”¹¹⁴ He Xiangning invoked the same incident Shimoda had made reference to in one of her speeches—the suicide of over 1,000 Chinese women after they were raped by Western soldiers in 1901—to demonstrate the Chinese woman’s repugnant lack of nation-mindedness. Whereas Shimoda used this incident as an illustration of the profound sense of honor that Chinese women only had to channel toward the nation, He held it up as damning evidence of their extreme selfishness. According to He, her female compatriots were incapable of responding to national tragedy unless it touched their own bodies.¹¹⁵	61
The overseas writers frequently critiqued the sorry state of Chinese womanhood by unfavorably comparing Chinese women not only to famous Western heroines but to Japanese women they observed in Tokyo as well. Chen Yan’an contrasted Chinese women, who, she claimed, were indifferent to foreign affairs, apathetic about study, dependent on others, and ignorant of their own national responsibilities, with highly literate Japanese women who devoted themselves to the pursuit of specialized education and professional careers.¹¹⁶ A certain Tai Gong, writing in the Tides of Zhejiang, expressed admiration for the ease with which Japanese women were integrated into public society. Tai asked how Japanese female students who walked on the streets of Tokyo “holding book bags” could “be compared to females in our country who doll themselves up in the inner chambers, and wriggle about all their days like playthings on exhibit in a zoo?”¹¹⁷	62
The overseas students’ harshest criticism was reserved not for benighted women of the present, however, but for talented women (cainü) of the past. Because women had been excluded from studying for the civil service examinations, which had defined Chinese political culture from the seventh century, women’s writing had developed as an emotional alternative to rigid and often formulaic male scholarly prose.¹¹⁸ This coding of female talent as self-consciously emotional and purposefully apolitical posed a direct threat to the students’ efforts to construct their own public talents as nationally beneficial and politically legitimate. As they struggled to establish their own authority as writing subjects, these radical nationalists self-consciously disassociated themselves from the legacy of past women writers, deriding their literary forbearers as selfish traitors to the pursuit of a collective good. In constituting their own national subjectivity, they rejected the language—the “feeling and flowery diction”—that had been the medium for female subjectivity in the past. Claiming that the sentimental and solipsistic cainü was personally responsible for the longstanding belief that only untalented women were virtuous, they made her a metonym for all that was weak and degraded within the Chinese cultural tradition.¹¹⁹	63
He Xiangning denounced literate women of the past for indulging their emotions rather than serving the nation. “Upper-class women would wallow in their own compositions of sentimental prose-poems set to music [ci] and descriptive prose interspersed with verse [fu],” and the sound of lamentation would fill the inner chambers. While their poems on the spring flowers and the fall moon yielded nothing but confusion, “these women did not know what the nation was.”¹²⁰ Literate women of the past with poetic sensibilities were, according to the overseas women writers, no different from the illiterate. Historically, Chinese women were either unlettered and as “stupid as beans,” the members of the Humanitarian Association wrote, or literate and capable of nothing more than “discoursing on the spring flowers and the autumn moon, chanting poems in a sing-song voice and writing poetry in order to express and find comfort in their own feelings.”¹²¹ Women who had devoted their talents to the non-lyrical tradition were considered to be equally ridiculous and irresponsible. Wang Lian described how motivated women of the past “read the classics when they were young and perused novels or Tang poetry when they were older,” and were thus deemed to be exceptional individuals. But such learning lacked all relevance. “In these Chinese classics, and novels,” Wang asked, “besides the depiction of loyal subjects, filial sons, hated husbands, and spurned wives, where is there any discussion of patriotism? What is the value of a literary tradition that only offered rejected and tragic figures as models, like the character Cui Yingying from a Tang tale of marvels or Lin Daiyu of the Dream of the Red Chambers? If these are literate women, how can China claim it has ever had any kind of female education?” In the end, Wang maintained, “our literate sisters are the same or even worse than illiterate ones.” This had given rise to the common saying that “only a woman without talent is blessed.”¹²²	64

The overseas students’ efforts to dictate the acceptable parameters for the expression of female talent signify the many paradoxes latent in the relationship between nationalisms and subjectivities. While nationalism provides a social, political, and cultural context beyond the self within which subjectivities can develop, it also constrains the conditions of possibility for subjective development. This paradox is particularly marked in the case of female subjectivities. Because of the historically unstable nature of the relationship between women and the nation, the link between women and nationalism has either been overdetermined by the objectification of Woman as national symbol, which leaves no room for feminine subjecthood, or underdetermined by ambiguous formulations like Republican Motherhood or good wives and wise mothers, which tie the feminine self directly to the domestic and only indirectly to the national sphere. In modern China, this unstable relationship was further compounded by the historical confluence of the national and women’s questions and the prevailing sense of national crisis, which both demanded and restricted a new role for women in political life. The experience of the Chinese female overseas students thus exemplifies many aspects of these broader paradoxes. While these women were able to liberate themselves from conservative nationalism, they remained constrained by radical nationalism. Repudiating the relationship between Woman and the nation that Shimoda and the Chinese authorities promoted, they ultimately replaced nationalist patriarchy with an equally confining patriotic femininity. Opening up new physical spaces where female subjectivities could develop—from the printed page to the public meetinghouse—they nonetheless sharply limited the conceptual sphere within which new female subjectivities could unfold.	65
This analysis of Chinese radical female nationalism also sheds light on the question of how subjectivities are constituted, autonomously from within or discursively from without. The obsession with national survival in early twentieth-century China made it possible for the female overseas students to use nationalism as the authorizing discourse that would allow them to enact new modes of feminine selfhood. These women were not purely autonomous agents, instrumentally appropriating nationalist rhetoric to promote their own personal or feminist agendas, however.¹²³ This is evident in their insistence on subordinating their own individual or collective ambitions to the struggle for national survival. At the same time, their actions were not completely conditioned by a nationalist discourse that left them without agency or intentionality. The distinctly new and feminine identities the students assumed as patriotic nurses, impassioned orators, and physical education instructors merged personal and national meanings. More than just another position in language, their subjectivities were structured by the symbolic codes of existing narratives but not determined by them.¹²⁴	66
These structuring narratives were cultural as well as nationalist. Despite the overseas students’ commitment to a project that was premised on a profound cultural rupture, their national and personal imaginings were anchored in cultural continuities. Their efforts to mark a new path for Chinese women in history and in the footsteps of Western heroines were shaped by many of the same forces that defined the trajectory of the vilified talented women of the past. Both the early twentieth-century activists and their literate predecessors invoked the dominant discourse of the time—nationalism and Confucianism, respectively—as the source of moral authority that would legitimize the pursuit of their own talents. And in both cases, their talents were in turn limited by the terms of these discourses. While the parameters circumscribing the acceptable sphere of female utterances had shifted from the family to the nation in the early twentieth century, the cultural value that set these parameters—feminine service—remained constant. The realm of possibility for the development of female subjectivity was consistently defined in relational rather than individual terms: while a virtuous Confucian woman would only use her talents to benefit her family, an early twentieth-century female patriot would exclusively use hers to benefit the nation.¹²⁵	67
The overseas students did rearrange the existing cultural matrix and infuse it with significant new meanings. They did not, however, challenge its premises. Rather than overturn the age-old dichotomy between talent and virtue, they merely recast it in a new nationalist idiom, replacing the already discredited maxim that “only a woman without talent is virtuous” with the unspoken dictum that only a woman who did not indulge her private talents was patriotic. This would lead to the ultimate paradox within radical Chinese female nationalism in the early twentieth century. While the students’ deepest desire was to leave their own mark in national history, they would become complicit in efforts to erase the feminine aesthetic from national culture. Leftist critics in the 1920s and 1930s and Communists in the following decades would follow their lead in condemning the woman of talent as a source of China’s degradation. Associating national weakness with the literary woman’s excessive individualism, lack of social commitment, realism, and patriotic fervor, these later critics would base their own visions of a revitalized Chinese polity on the elimination of her lyrical traces.¹²⁶ Ironically, the overseas students whose formative experience abroad resulted from efforts to expand the sphere of female talent in the early twentieth century were the first to subject China’s “new woman” to a moralistic regime of patriotic virtue. Having found their own voice within the multiple registers of early Chinese nationalism, they became the unwitting forebears of an increasingly unified cultural critique that would attempt to silence all future expressions of the feminine.	68
Joan Judge is an associate professor of history at the University of California, Santa Barbara. She is the author of Print and Politics: ‘Shibao’ and the Culture of Reform in Late Qing China (1996). Her major research interest lies in the relationship between reading culture and political and social change in late nineteenth and early twentieth-century China. Her current book project focuses on the gendered dimensions of this relationship, examining the intersections among female literacy, nationalism, and modernity. Judge has a number of related articles published or forthcoming on conceptions and practices of female literacy, women and citizenship, and the uses of history in the promotion of a new normative femininity. Notes This article was first presented at UCLA in October 1997 as “Knowledge for the Nation or of the Nation: Meiji Japan and the Changing Meaning of Female Literacy in the Late Qing.” I would like to thank the following individuals for their comments on that first and the many subsequent presentations and drafts: Prasenjit Duara, Benjamin Elman, John Fitzgerald, Joshua Fogel, Dorothy Ko, Wendy Larson, Hu Ying, Peter Zarrow, and the members of the “Gender History Brown Bag Series” at the University of California, Santa Barbara, particularly Stephan Meisher, Alice O’Connor, and Erika Rappaport. Finally, and with the most gratitude, special thanks to the two anonymous reviewers for the American Historical Review for their invaluable insights. Much of the article was written during the tenure of an ACLS/SSRC International Postdoctoral Fellowship in 1998–1999.¹ Anne McClintock describes women as symbolic bearers of the nation who are nonetheless denied direct relation to national agency, “‘No Longer in Future Heaven’: Gender, Race and Nationalism,” in McClintock, Aamir Mufti, and Ella Shohat, eds., Dangerous Liaisons: Gender, Nation and Postcolonial Perspectives (Minneapolis, 1997), 90. In the introduction to the “Special Issue on Gender, Nationalisms and National Identities,” Gender and History 5 (Summer 1993), the editors, Catherine Hall, Jane Lewis, Keith McClelland, and Jane Rendall, note (p. 162): “Women were more frequently the subjected territory across which the boundaries of nationhood were marked than active participants in the construction of nations.” A number of the essays in this special issue deal with various aspects of this paradox. For example, Beth Baron describes how women are symbols for the nation but not imagined as part of the nation, in “The Construction of National Honor in Egypt,” 252; and Joanna de Groot describes the simultaneous centrality and marginality of gender-in-politics, in “The Dialectics of Gender: Women, Men and Political Discourses in Iran c. 1890–1930,” 266. On this paradox, see also Prasenjit Duara, “The Regime of Authenticity: Timelessness, Gender, and National History in Modern China,” History and Theory: Studies in the Philosophy of History 37, no. 3 (1998): 297; Deniz Kandiyoti, “Identity and Its Discontents: Women and the Nation,” in Colonial Discourses and Post-Colonial Theory, Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman, eds. (New York, 1994), 388. The distinction between Woman and women that I will use throughout this article is explained by Chandra Mohanty as the difference between “Woman” as a “cultural and ideological composite Other constructed through diverse representational discourses” and “women as real material subjects of their collective histories.” Chandra Talpade Mohanty, “Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses,” in Mohanty, Anne Russo, and Lourdes Torres, eds., Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism (Bloomington, Ind., 1991), 53. Rosi Braidotti claims that the elaboration of a feminist political subjectivity requires the recognition of the distance between “Woman” and real women, representation and experience. Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory (New York, 1994), 164.² In his analysis of Walter Benjamin’s ideas on art and politics, Richard Wolin writes that, “as history has demonstrated only too brutally in recent times, the political instrumentalization of the aesthetic faculty has deprived many ‘successful’ revolutions of a vital source of self-knowledge whose existence might have somewhat mitigated their Thermidorian proclivity to devour their own children.” Wolin, Walter Benjamin: An Aesthetic of Redemption (Berkeley, Calif., 1994), 134. This observation is pertinent to the denial of the cultural self on the part of radical Chinese female nationlists discussed in this article.³ On the constitution of female subjectivities, see the exchange among Seyla Benhabib, Judith Butler, Drucilla Cornell, and Nancy Fraser in Feminist Contentions: A Philosophical Exchange (New York, 1995). A longer version of Benhabib’s intervention is published as “Feminism and the Question of Postmodernism,” in her Situating the Self: Gender, Community and Postmodernism in Contemporary Ethics (New York, 1992), 203–41. See also Julia Kristeva, “A Question of Subjectivity: An Interview,” Women’s Review 12 (October 1986): 19–21, for a discussion of the fluidity of subjectivities, or, in Kristeva’s terms, “the subject in process.”⁴ Hu Binxia, “Hu Nüshi Binxia yanci (yuzuo)” [Ms. Hu Binxia’s speech (to the left)], Jiangsu 2 (May 27, 1903): 149 [rpt. p. 0381].⁵ Nationalism is defined here as the movement by which national identity is politicized. National identity only becomes available as a salient cultural concept at certain historical conjunctures—such as the early twentieth century in China—characterized by a widespread perception that not everyone in the country embodies its national virtues. See Mary Poovey, “Curing the ‘Social Body’ in 1832: James Phillips Kay and the Irish in Manchester,” in “Special Issue on Gender, Nationalisms and National Identities,” 196. On conceptions of Chinese nationalism in this period, see Prasenjit Duara, Rescuing History from the Nation (Chicago, 1995); Jonathan Unger, ed., Chinese Nationalism (Armonk, N.Y., 1996), in particular the essays by Duara, “De-constructing the Chinese Nation,” 31–55, and John Fitzgerald, “The Nationless State: The Search for a Nation in Modern Chinese Nationalism,” 56–85; Stein Tønnesson and Hans Antlöv, “Asia in Theories of Nationalism and National Identity,” in Tønnesson and Antlöv, eds., Asian Forms of the Nation (Richmond, Surrey, 1996); Torbjörn Lodén, “Nationalism Transcending the State: Changing Conceptions of Chinese Identity,” in Asian Forms of the Nation, 270–96.⁶ The nature of the relationship between women and the state remained largely unexamined in the main texts of the Enlightenment in France, England, and their colonies. Linda Kerber, “The Republican Mother: Women and the Enlightenment—An American Perspective,” in Toward an Intellectual History of Women: Essays by Linda Kerber (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1997), 42. In the case of France, it was not until the Republic that officials confronted the contradiction between the universal equality of individuals and the exclusion of women from citizenship. In 1870, Jules Ferry made a passionate plea for girls’ education, and it was not until 1880 that the Camille Sée law regarding girls’ high schools was passed. Mona Ozouf, Women’s Words: Essay on French Singularity (Chicago, 1997), 260–61. The situation in China was different largely because the Chinese imported the entire trajectory of Western thinking on rights at once and at a time of profound national crisis. In the anti-colonial context, feminist programs were generally deferred, often permanently, by the cause of national liberation. Andrew Parker, Mary Russo, Doris Sommer, and Patricia Yaeger, eds., Nationalisms and Sexualities (New York, 1992), 7.⁷ Duara describes nationalist patriarchy as the ideology that made it possible for elites to modernize China while conserving the truth of their regime in the bodies of women. “Regime of Authenticity,” 298–99. In spatial terms, women were represented in certain modern nationalist discourses as signifiers of interiority. This made it possible for Indian nationalists, for example, selectively to assimilate elements from the West without damaging the Indian “inner” self. Partha Chatterjee, The Nation and Its Fragments: Colonial and Postcolonical Histories (Princeton, N.J., 1993), 116–57; and Chatterjee, “The Nationalist Resolution of the Women’s Question,” in Kumkum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid, eds., Recasting Women: Essays in Indian Colonial History (New Brunswick, N.J., 1990), 238–39. In temporal terms, Woman became the site of the unchanging essence and purity of the nation in the face of an uncertain future, making it possible for nationalist elites to manage nationalism’s anomalous relation to time as a natural relation to gender. McClintock, “No Longer,” 92; Duara, “Regime of Authenticity,” 289–96. These uses of the figure of Woman reflected a common tension between modernist and anti-modernist aims in nationalist projects. Kandiyoti, “Identity and Its Discontents,” 379.⁸ At the core of the ideal of republican motherhood was the notion articulated by Mary Wollstonecraft in A Vindication of the Rights of Women, 1792: “If children are to be educated to understand the true principle of patriotism, their mother must be a patriot.” Joan B. Landes, Women and the Public Sphere in the Age of the French Revolution (Ithaca, N.Y., 1988), 129. On the meaning of republican motherhood in France, see Landes, 129–38; Lynn Hunt, The Family Romance of the French Revolution (Berkeley, Calif., 1992), 122–23. For the United States, see Kerber, “Republican Mother,” 41–64, 94. On political constructions of motherhood in England, see Anna Davin, “Imperialism and Motherhood,” History Workshop 5 (Spring 1978): 9–65. On the more general connection between motherhood and the nation, see Nira Yuval-Davis and Flora Anthias, “Introduction,” in Yuval-Davis and Anthias, eds., Women–Nation–State (New York, 1989), 7–9. On the notion of guomin zhi mu, see Joan Judge, “Citizens or Mothers of Citizens? Gender and the Meaning of Modern Chinese Citizenship,” in Elizabeth Perry and Merle Goldman, eds., Changing Meanings of Citizenship in Modern China (Cambridge, Mass., forthcoming).⁹ Poovey, “Curing the ‘Social Body,'” 196, discusses how differentiation within the nation is a process by which individuals embrace the nation as the most meaningful context for self-definition.¹⁰ The relationship between nationalism and culture has been well established. As Benedict Anderson has pointed out, there is not one “nationalism” but a plurality of conceptions of the nation. It is therefore more like a religion than an ism. See Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York, 1983), 15. Parker, Nationalisms, 5, describes nationalism as a “variable cultural artifact that is neither reactionary nor progressive in itself.”¹¹ According to Confucius, “A man of virtue is sure to be a man of words, but a man of words is not necessarily virtuous.” D. C. Lau, trans., The Analects (New York, 1979), Bk. 14: 124. Quoted in Kang-i Sun Chang, “Ming-Qing Women Poets and the Notions of ‘Talent’ and ‘Morality,'” in Theodore Huters, R. Bin Wong, and Pauline Yu, eds., Culture and State in Chinese History: Conventions, Accommodations, Critiques (Stanford, Calif., 1997), 240.¹² Chang, “Ming-Qing Women Poets,” 239.¹³ Proponents of women’s learning in these early debates did not consider talent and virtue to be mutually exclusive but did consider talent to be the highest female virtue. On views from the mid to late seventeenth century and the early eighteenth, see Clara Wing-Chung Ho, “The Cultivation of Female Talent: Views on Women’s Education in China during the Early and High Qing Periods,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 38 (May 1995): 191–223; Liu Yongcong [Clara Wing-Chung Ho], “Qingchu sichao nüxing cai ming guan guankui” [A glance at views on women’s talent and fate during four Qing dynasty reigns], in Bao Jialin, Zhongguo funü shi lunji sanji [Materials on the history of Chinese women, vol. 3] (Taipei, 1988), 121–62. On the eighteenth century, see Susan Mann, Precious Records: Women in China’s Long Eighteenth Century (Stanford, Calif., 1997), esp. 76–120. Wendy Larson explores the continued relevance of this dichotomy to definitions of women’s writing in twentieth-century Chinese culture; Women and Writing in Modern China (Stanford, 1998).¹⁴ On the education of women in elite families in the tenth to thirteenth centuries, see Patricia Ebrey, The Inner Quarters: Marriage and the Lives of Chinese Women in the Song Period (Berkeley, Calif., 1993), 120–24; on the seventeenth century, see Dorothy Ko, Teachers of the Inner Chambers: Women and Culture in Seventeenth-Century China (Stanford, Calif., 1994); on the eighteenth, see Mann, Precious Records, 79–120. For an overview of the history of missionary schools for girls and women in China, see Luo Suwen, Nüxing yu jindai Zhongguo shehui [Women and modern Chinese society] (Shanghai, 1996), 113–67.¹⁵ As part of a program of “New Policy” reforms designed to strengthen the nation, the Qing government began restructuring the educational system in 1901, abolishing the centuries-old civil service examination system in 1905. On developments in female education at this time, see Liao Xiuzhen, “Qingmo nüxue zai xuezhi shang de yanjin ji nüzi xiaoxue jiaoyu de fazhan, 1897–1911” [Late Qing women’s education in the context of the evolution of the educational system and the development of women’s elementary education, 1897–1911], in Li Yu-ning and Chang Yü-fa, eds., Zhongguo funü shilun wenji [Historical essays on Chinese women’s history] (Taipei, 1992), 2: 224–27. On the importance of the regulations of 1907, see Taga Akigor, comp., Kindai Chgoku kyiku shi shiry—Shinmatsu hen [Historical materials for modern Chinese education—late Qing] (Tokyo, 1972), 73. For the regulations themselves, see “Xuebu zouding nüzi shifan xuetang zhangcheng zhe” [The Ministry of Education’s memorial on the enactment of regulations for women’s normal schools], Da-Qing Guangxu xinfaling, dishisance [New laws under Emperor Guangxu of the Great Qing Dynasty], vol. 13, 1907 3.8: 35–40, rpt. in Zhongguo jindai xuezhi shiliao [Historical materials on the modern Chinese educational system], hereafter, XZSL, in Jiaoyu kexue congshu (Shanghai, 1989), 2: 668.¹⁶ The phenomenon of male overseas study in Japan has already been well studied. See Sanet Keish, Chgokujin Nihon rygaku shi zho [A history of Chinese students in Japan, enlarged edn.] (Tokyo, 1970); Huang Fu-ch’ing, Qingmo liu-Ri xuesheng [Chinese students in Japan in the late Qing period] (Taipei, 1975), also transl. by Katherine P. K. Whitaker as Chinese Students in Japan in the Late Qing Period (Tokyo, 1982); Paula Harrell, Sowing the Seeds of Change: Chinese Students, Japanese Teachers, 1895–1905 (Stanford, Calif., 1992).¹⁷ On the Chinese revolutionaries in Japan, see Marius Jansen, “Japan and the Revolution of 1911,” in The Cambridge History of China, Vol. 11: Late Ch’ing, 1800–1911, part 2, John K. Fairbank and Kwang-ching Liu, eds. (Cambridge, 1980), 339–74; and Jansen, The Japanese and Sun Yat-sen (Cambridge, Mass., 1954). On the reform press in exile, see, for example, Joan Judge, Print and Politics: ‘Shibao’ and the Culture of Reform in Late Qing China (Stanford, Calif., 1996), 24–27.¹⁸ From 1872, female Japanese students attended coeducational and compulsory elementary schools, and in 1899 it was mandated by law that at least one higher school for women be opened in every prefecture. Sharon H. Nolte and Sally Ann Hastings, “The Meiji State’s Policy toward Women,” in Recreating Japanese Women, 1600–1945, Gail Lee Bernstein, ed. (Berkeley, Calif., 1991), 151–74. On female literacy in Japan, see Katayama Seiichi, “Meiji shoki no joshi kyiku ron” [The discussion of female education in the early Meiji period], Mejiro gakuen joshi tanki daigaku kenkyu kiy 4 (December 1967): 94; for China, see Evelyn Rawski, Education and Popular Literacy in Ch’ing China (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1989), 140.¹⁹ The ideology of good wives and wise mothers represented the official Japanese position on women from the early 1890s. On the history of the ideology, see Katayama Seiichi, “Meiji 40 nendai no joshi kyiku ron 1″ [The discussion of female education in the period of the Meiji 40s, part 1], Mejiro gakuen joshi tanki daigaku kenky kiy 12 (December 1975): 1–12; Kathleen S. Uno, “The Origins of ‘Good Wife, Wise Mother’ in Modern Japan,” in Erich Pauer and Regine Mathias, eds., Japanische Frauengeschichte(n) (Marburg, 1995), 31–46; Sechiyama Kaku and Kihara Yko, “Higashi Ajia ni okeru rysai kenbo shugi” [The ideology of good wives and wise mothers in modern East Asia], Chgoku shakai to bunka 4 (June 1989): 277–93; Takamure Itsue, Josei no rekishi 2 [The history of women, vol. 2] (Tokyo, 1966), 555. I would like to thank Kazuki Sat and Barbara Sat for bringing a number of these sources to my attention. For an analysis of the ideology and its relevance to China, see Joan Judge, “The Ideology of ‘Good Wives and Wise Mothers’: Meiji Japan and the Formulation of Feminine Modernity in Late Qing China,” in Joshua A. Fogel, ed., Sagacious Monks and Bloodthirsty Warriors: Chinese Views of Japan in the Ming-Qing Period (Armonk, N.Y., forthcoming).²⁰ For an example of the negative view of American women who had supposedly completely lost their “original female nature,” see Jia Fengzhen, “Ailiwote duiyu Riben jiaoyu zhi yijian” [(The president of Harvard University Charles) Elliot’s opinion on Japanese education], Jiaoyu zazhi 4, no. 10 (January 1913): 60–61.²¹ “Lun nüxue yi xianding jiaoke zongzhi” [Female education should first set its course objectives], Dongfang zazhi 4, no. 7 (July 1907): 131–32.²² Kerber, “Republican Mother,” 41–62, discusses how the similar ideology of republican motherhood both expanded and constrained possibilities for women.²³ On pan-Asianism, see Prasenjit Duara, “The Discourse of Civilization and Pan-Asianism,” Journal of World History 12 (Spring 2001): 99–130. Duara describes how certain Japanese pan-Asianists believed that because “it ‘belonged’ to Asia, the Japanese nation could bring to modernity the timeless sacrality of Asia, and because it had mastered Western Civilization, it could bring material modernity to Asia” (p. 110). It was precisely these kinds of convictions that animated Shimoda’s project. On Japanese fears that the disintegration of China would lead to Japan’s own vulnerability vis-à-vis the West, see Hosono Kji, “Shinmatsu Chgoku ni okeru ‘Tbun Gakud‘ to sono shhen: Meijimatsu Nihon no kyikuken shdatsu no ronri o meguru soby” [“Japanese Schools” in late Qing China and their environment: A sketch of late Meiji Japanese arguments to usurp educational rights in China], in Abe Hiroshi, ed., Nit-Ch kyiku bunka kry to masatsu: Senzen Nihon no zai-Ka kyiku jigy [Sino-Japanese educational and cultural exchange and conflict: Japanese educational activities in pre-war China] (Tokyo, 1983), 53–54.²⁴ On border crossing and the reconfiguring of the inner and outer spheres, see Hu Ying, “Re-configuring Nei/Wai: Writing the Woman Traveller in the Late Qing,” Late Imperial China 18 (June 1997): 72–99.²⁵ Judith Butler describes how the category of woman is produced and restrained through the very structures of power through which emancipation is sought. Gender Trouble: Feminism and Subversion of Identity (New York, 1990), 2. When I use the term “feminist” in referring to the Chinese female activists, I am using it literally as “of or pertaining to women,” not in the sense of modern Western feminism. In Kandiyoti’s words (“Identity and Its Discontents,” 378), women participate in, and become hostages to, national projects. Poovey (“Curing the ‘Social Body,'” 196) discusses how the embrace of the nation as the most meaningful context for self-definition results in the marginalization of other rubrics that could potentially provide a sense of identity.²⁶ Ji Yihui was also Shimoda’s teacher of modern Chinese. Liu Mei Ching, Forerunners of Chinese Feminism in Japan: Students Fighting for Freedom in Japan (Leiden, 1988), 154.²⁷ The Continent (Dalu), which ran for forty-seven issues, was distributed in Sichuan, Hubei, Hunan, Guangdong, and Fujian provinces. Jissen joshi gakuen hachij nenshi hensan iinkai, ed., Jissen joshi gakuen hachij nenshi [The eighty-year history of the Practical Women’s School] (Tokyo, 1981), 101; Ko Shimoda kch sensei denki hensanjo, ed., Shimoda Utako sensei den [Biography of Professor Shimoda Utako] (Tokyo, 1943), 428. Huang Mo, “Dalu” [The continent], in Xinhai geming shiqi qikan jieshao 1 [An introduction to periodicals from the period of the 1911 Revolution], hereafter, QKJS, Ding Shouhe, ed. (Beijing, 1982), 2: 115–44. Huang does not mention that this journal was founded by Japanese.²⁸ Between 1894 and 1911, at least 512 books and textbooks were translated into Chinese from Japanese, 81 of them related to education, and a small number of these focused on women’s education. Naruse’s text, which was written in 1896, was translated into Chinese in 1901 by Yang Tingdong and Zhou Zupei. Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai kyiku to Meiji Nihon [Modern Chinese education and Meiji Japan] (Tokyo, 1990), 67.²⁹ On Nakajima and the Shuntian shibao, see Iigura Shhei, “Pekin shh to Junten jih” [Peking Weekly and Shuntian Daily], in Kindai Nihon to Chugoku 1 [Modern Japan and China, vol. 1], Takeuchi Yoshimi and Hashikawa Bunz, eds. (Tokyo, 1974), 342. The various overseas student journals are discussed more fully in the second part of this article. The Educational World appeared twice each month until 1908, with 166 issues in all. The more important essays and translations were collected annually and reprinted in the Educational Miscellany [Jiaoyu congshu]. Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai, 46–49; Xu Wanmin, Jiaoyu shijie [Educational World], in QKJS, 1: 114–40. The Commercial Press, which was founded in 1897, became tied into the world of Japanese education from 1902. On the Eastern Miscellany, see Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku kindai gakk shi kenky [Studies in the history of modern Chinese schools] (Tokyo, 1993), 333–77; He Bingran, “Dongfang zazhi, 1904–1911” [Eastern Miscellany, 1904–1911], in QKJS, 3: 178–219. On the Educational Review, see Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku kindai gakk, 379–95.³⁰ Yoshimura Toratar, “Riben xianshi jiaoyu” [Contemporary Japanese education], Luo Zhenchang, trans., Jiaoyu congshu 3 (1903): 19. There were, however, important differences in the ways the eugenics movement was used in Britain and Japan. Whereas in Britain, feminists claimed that women’s racial responsibilities authorized their equality in the public sphere, Shimoda and others in Japan and China used racial arguments to emphasize the importance of women’s domestic roles. On the British case, see Antoinette Burton, Burdens of History: British Feminists, Indian Women, and Imperial Culture, 1865–1915 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1994), 49.³¹ “Huazu nüxuexiao xuejian Xiatian Gezi lun xing Zhongguo nüxue shi” [The dean of the school for female nobles, Shimoda Utako, discusses the matter of promoting female education in China], orally translated by Zhang Yingxu, transcribed by Yang Du, Hunan youxue yibian 1 (1902), rpt. in Li Yu-ning and Chang Yü-fa, eds., Jindai Zhongguo nüquan yundong shiliao: 1842–1911 [Historical materials on the early modern Chinese women’s rights movement: 1842–1911], hereafter, NQYDSL (Taipei, 1975), 1: 567–68.³² Jissen joshi gakuen, 101.³³ “Riben Dongya nüxuexiao fushu Zhongguo nüzi liuxuesheng sucheng shifan xuetang zhangcheng” [Regulations for the Chinese female overseas students’ short-term normal school, a branch of the Japanese East Asian Female School], Dongfang zazhi 2: 6, rpt. in NQYDSL, 2: 1266.³⁴ Shimoda Utako, “Ou-Mi zhuguo nüzi zhi tiyu” [Female physical education in the nations of Europe and America], Jiangsu 1 (April 27, 1903): 90–92 [1016–18].³⁵ “Huazu nüxuexiao xuejian Xiatian Gezi,” 568–69. He Xiangning cites a Japanese source entitled “Hoku-Shin kansen ki,” which recorded the suicide of 1,100 women in eastern Beijing alone after they were raped by Joint Expeditionary Force soldiers. He Xiangning, “Jinggao wo tongbao jiemei” [A warning for my sister compatriots], Jiangsu 4 (June 25, 1903): 144 [0762]. In China, the image of a woman raped by foreigners has otherwise been used to symbolize national purity defiled; see Duara, “Regime of Authenticity,” 297. In late nineteenth-century Egyptian writings, the defense of national honor was depicted as the defense of female purity; see Baron, “Construction of National Honor,” 246–47. And in early twentieth-century Iran, the nation was often depicted as a beautiful woman raped by foreigners; see de Groot, “Dialectics of Gender,” 262.³⁶ Rong-qing, Zhang Baixi, and Zhang Zhidong, “Zouding mengyang yuan zhangcheng ji jiating jiaoyu fa zhangcheng” [Memorial on regulations for early training schools and for education on household matters] (January 13, 1904), in Chen Yuanhui, ed., Xuezhi yanbian [The evolution of the educational system], in the series Zhongguo jindai jiaoyushi ziliao huibian [Compendium of sources on the history of Chinese modern education] (Shanghai, 1991), 393–96.³⁷ Hattori Unokichi, who was well placed in Chinese official circles and a friend of Shimoda’s, recorded these details about the dowager empress’s interest in Shimoda. It was Hattori’s private hope that the two women would meet, and he even encouraged his wife Shigeko to learn Chinese so that she could serve as translator at the prospective meeting of the two “heroic women.” Ko Shimoda, Shimoda Utako, 415–16.³⁸ On Wuben Nüshu, see Wu Xin, “Wuben Nüxue shilüe” [Outline of the history of the Wuben Women’s School], rpt. in XZSL, 2: 2: 589–90; Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai kyiku, 192.³⁹ “Zhang gongsi diyisi Fangzu hui yanshuo” [The first meeting of the Anti-footbinding Association at the Zhang clan temple], Zhejiang chao 2 (March 18, 1903): 177–78.⁴⁰ Sun made contact with Shimoda via Seit Kshichir‘s sister, Seit Akiko; see Ko Shimoda, Shimoda Utako, 418–20.⁴¹ Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai nüzi liuxue shi [The history of overseas study by Chinese women] (Beijing, 1995), 97–98. Shimoda was not the only Japanese educator encouraging Chinese female overseas study. The head of the Maeyama Yjogakk, Mochizuki Yosabur, for example, encouraged Wu Rulun, head teacher at the Chinese Imperial University (Jingshi Daxue Tang) who visited Japan in 1902, to send young Chinese women to Japan to study. Guo Changying and Su Xiaohuan, “Jindai Zhonguo nüzi liuxue tanxi” [An analysis of modern Chinese overseas study], Shixue yuekan 3 (1991): 59.⁴² According to Sechiyama Kaku and Kihara Yko, “Higashi Ajia,” 281, Shimoda educated more than 210 Chinese female students between 1901 and 1905. This number includes many students who left the program before graduating, since we know there were only 94 graduates of the Practical School between 1904 and 1911. Because the years 1901–1905 were the years with the least graduates (2 in 1904 versus 40 in 1909, for example), we can conclude that at least twice Sechiyama and Kihara’s figure of 210 students attended the Practical School over the ten-year period from 1901 to 1911. The figure of 92 graduates from 1904–1911 is given in Jissen joshi gakuen, 118–19, but Zhou Yichuan and others make a strong case for 94 graduates. See Zhou, “Shinmatsu-Minkoku shonen ni okeru Nihon rygaku Chgokujin joshi gakusei z no hensen” [Changes in the pattern of Chinese female overseas study in Japan in the late Qing–early Republican period], Ochanomizu joshi daigaku ningen bunka kenky nenp 19 (1995): 2–67.⁴³ “Shu jiaoyu Zhongguo funü shi” [Description of Chinese female education (in Japan)], Shuntian shibao (January 12, 1906), rpt. in NQYDSL, 2: 1270.⁴⁴ Jissen joshi daigaku toshokan, Shimoda Utako kankei shiry [Practical Women’s University Library materials related to Shimoda Utako], file no. 181.⁴⁵ “Gongai hui tongren quan liuxue qi” [Members of the Humanitarian Association encourage overseas study], Jiangsu 6 (September 1903): 161. The Practical Women’s School curriculum was outlined in regulations published in 1905, which were translated into Chinese in “Riben Dongya nüxuexiao.” On the content of the various programs, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 104, 113–16. The Practical School’s educational aims were no different from most women’s schools in Tokyo at this time, few of which provided instruction in the methods of seeking pure knowledge. Takamure Itsue, Josei no rekishi, 554.⁴⁶ Instruction in the Japanese language became more thorough after 1908, when the length of the various programs was extended. Jissen joshi gakuen, 113–16.⁴⁷ On Japanese language training as a priority at Shimoda’s school, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 97; Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei ki no ry-Nichi joshi gakusei” [Female overseas students in Japan at the time of the 1911 Revolution], Shiron 36 (1983): 32, 35. Qiu Jin, the famous revolutionary martyr, was accepted into the Practical Women’s School in 1904 but was required to return to the Japanese language training center established by the Surugadai Overseas Student Hall (Surugadai Rygakusei Kaikan) for more language instruction before she could start classes in 1905. Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo liu-Ri xuesheng zhong de nüxing” [Females among late Qing overseas students to Japan], Lishi yanjiu 6, no. 102 (1989): 55; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 81–82. On the Japanese teachers, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 97, 102.⁴⁸ Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 34. For the first eight months after twenty government students from Hunan entered the school in 1905, the lectures were translated from Japanese by Chinese interpreters, including Fan Yuanlian. Jissen joshi gakuen, 102; Ishii Yko, 35.⁴⁹ Kawahara Misako, Karachin hi to watakushi [The queen of Karachin and I] (Tokyo, 1969), 31–32. I would like to thank Paula Harrell for bringing this quotation to my attention.⁵⁰ On Chen’s speech, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 101; Ko Shimoda, Shimoda Utako, 401. For evidence of her continued relationship with Shimoda, see Jissen joshi daigaku, file no. 743 (letter from Chen Yan’an to Shimoda Utako), file no. 753 (interview with Chen Yan’an).⁵¹ The branch school was established in the Akasaka section of Tokyo. Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 67; Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai kyiku, 100–01.⁵² Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 99–101. Of the 1909 graduates, twenty were from the handicrafts course, fourteen from the teacher’s course, and six from the middle school. Of the 1910 graduates, thirteen were from the teacher’s course, four from the middle school, six from the handicrafts course, and four from the short-term nursemaid course. On other schools that had special programs for Chinese students, see Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 38–40; Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo,” 55; Sun Shiyue, 98, 101; Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai kyiku, 105.⁵³ Future female activists who were not educated at the Practical Women’s School include He Xiangning, who enrolled in the Meijiro Girl’s School (Meijiro Joshi Daigaku) in early 1903, and Chen Xiefen, who studied at the Yokohama Christian United Women’s School (Yokohama Kurisutoky Kyritsu Gakk), also from 1903.⁵⁴ On Qiu Jin, see Taijun Takeda, Shf Shu hito o shsatsu su [Autumn gales, autumn rains, anguish overwhelming mankind] (Tokyo, 1968); Bao Jialin, “Qiu Jin yu Qingmo funü yundong” [Qiu Jin and the late Qing women’s movement], in Bao Jialin, ed., Zhongguo funüshi lunji sanji [Materials on the history of Chinese women, vol. 3] (Taipei, 1997), 346–82; Mary Backus Rankin, “The Emergence of Women at the End of the Ch’ing: The Case of Ch’iu Chin,” in Margery Wolf and Roxane Witke, eds., Women in Chinese Society (Stanford, Calif., 1975), 39–66. On He, see Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 62, 75–78, 118–19; Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo,” 50, 62; Christina Kelly Gilmartin, Engendering the Chinese Revolution: Radical Women, Communist Politics, and Mass Movements in the 1920s (Berkeley, Calif., 1995), 222–23.⁵⁵ Lin headed the Women’s Suffrage Alliance (Funü Canzheng Tongmeng Hui) founded in March 1912. Tang Qunying established a national association for women’s participation in politics, the Female Suffrage Alliance (Nüzi Canzheng Tongmeng Hui). Zhang Hanying became the head of the Nanjing branch of this organization in 1914. Wang Changguo reaped the benefits of this movement and became a deputy to the Hunan Provincial Assembly in the early Republican period. On Tang, Zhang, and Wang, see Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo,” 63; on Tang, see Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 83–85, 111, 119–21.⁵⁶ “Nüzi youxue xuzhi” [What female students should know concerning overseas study], Dongfang zazhi, quoted in Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 71–72.⁵⁷ On the early overseas students, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 100–01; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 62, 71; Xie Zhangfa, “Qingmo de liu-Ri nüxuesheng” [Overseas female students in Japan in the late Qing], Jindaishi yanjiu 2, no. 86 (1995): 273. Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 41; Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo,” 51.⁵⁸ Other women related to future revolutionaries included Li Ziping, the wife of the future famous historian of the 1911 Revolution, Feng Ziyou; Wang Zhenhan, the wife of the revolutionary martyr Xu Xilin; Chen Xiangfen, the concubine of Chen Fan; Liao Yongyun, younger sister of Liao Zhongkai; Wang Ying, wife of Revolutionary Alliance member Fang Shengtong; Hu Lingyuan, younger sister of revolutionary Hu Hanmin; and Chen Bijun, wife of the revolutionary Wang Jingwei. Others related or married to officials in the late Qing or early Republican governments include the official Yang Du’s daughter, Yang Zhuang. Xie Zhangfa, “Qingmo de liu-Ri,” 276; Zhou Yichuan, “Qingmo,” 63. On Chen Yan’an and Zhang, see Jissen joshi gakuen, 101; Ko Shimoda, Shimoda Utako, 432. On Zhang himself, see Joshua Fogel, Nakae Ushikichi in China: The Mourning of Spirit (Cambridge, Mass., 1989), 22–41.⁵⁹ On the Chinese government approval for the overseas initiative, see Xie Zhangfa, “Qingmo de liu-Ri,” 274. On the Hunanese students, who ranged in age from fourteen to fifty-three, see Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 67; Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai, 100–01. On students sent by the other provinces, see Sun Shiyue, 99–101, 66–71.⁶⁰ Abe Hiroshi, Chgoku no kindai, 103.⁶¹ Tang went to Japan as an independent student in 1904 but was sponsored by the Hunan provincial government from 1906. Wang Lian arrived in Japan from Hubei in September 1902.⁶² On Japan as a key center of the Chinese nationalist movement, see Sanet Keish, Chgokujin Nihon; Huang Fu-ch’ing, Qingmo; Harrell, Sowing the Seeds.⁶³ I associate talent with subjectivity in my analysis because it was through the expression of their new talents, from public speaking to writing, that the overseas students were able to constitute their new subjectivities. This is subjectivity in the sense of historical agency and political and social entitlement. See, for example, Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects, 416.⁶⁴ Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou” [Random thoughts, seven verses], Hubei xuesheng jie 1 (January 29, 1903): 105 [0116].⁶⁵ Chubei Yingci, “Zhina nüquan fenyan” [Indignation at the state of women’s rights in China], Hubei xuesheng jie 2 (February 27, 1903): 95 [0268].⁶⁶ This merging of radicalism and traditional female roles is not unique to China. Lynn Hunt, Family Romance, 123, points out that even the most militant women at the time of the French Revolution subscribed to the ideal of republican motherhood. For examples of Chinese overseas writers who linked devotion to family and nation, see Cao Rujin, “Aiguo ziai” [Love of nation and love of self], Jiangsu 3 (June 25, 1903): 158 [0588]. According to Qiu Jin, women must encourage their husbands to benefit the community, their sons to study abroad, and their sons and daughters to get an education. “Jinggao Zhongguo erwanwan nü tongbao” [Advice for the two hundred million women of China], rpt. in Qiu Jin xianlie wenji [The writings of the national martyr Qiu Jin] (Taipei, 1982), 134–35. These links between distinctively feminine qualities and patriotism are made even more forcefully in an essay entitled “Zhina nüzi zhi aiguo xin” [The patriotic spirit of Chinese women], Hubei xuesheng jie 3 (March 29, 1903): 65–67 [0383–85], but the article is anonymous and thus probably written by a man.⁶⁷ On the argument of females being members of humankind, see, for example, Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi liuxue shuo” [Exhortation for female overseas study], Jiangsu 3 (June 1903): 155 [0585]; He Xiangning, “Jinggao wo tongbao jiemei,” 144 [0762]; Gong Yuanchang, “Nannü pingquan shuo” [On equal rights for men and women], Jiangsu 4 (June 25, 1903): 145 [0763].⁶⁸ Yi Qin, “Lun Zhongguo nüzi zhi qiantu, xu” [The future of Chinese females, continued], Jiangsu 5 (August 23, 1903): 130 [0940]. The “Domestic Regulations” is a chapter of one of the five Confucian classics, the Record of Rites (Liji).⁶⁹ Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi,” 155 [0585].⁷⁰ Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 115.⁷¹ Wendy Larson discusses how virtue had traditionally been a physical, self-sacrificing trial for women; Women and Writing, 2, 43, 65.⁷² See Ko, Teachers, 149; Larson, Women and Writing, 77.⁷³ Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi,” 155 [0585].⁷⁴ Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 114.⁷⁵ Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 115. On the hiddenness of the act of footbinding, see Dorothy Ko, “The Body as Attire: The Shifting Meanings of Footbinding in Seventeenth-Century China,” Journal of Women’s History 8 (Winter 1997): 8–27; Larson, Women and Writing, 119–20.⁷⁶ On the role of foreign teachers in China, see Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 323–26; Guo and Su, “Jindai Zhonguo,” 63. On the participation of the overseas students in education in various parts of China, see Luo Suwen, Nüxing yu jindai, 141–42; Guo and Su, 63; NQYDSL, 2: 1127, 1151; “Riben liuxue nüxuesheng Gongai hui zhangcheng” [Regulations for the female overseas students’ Humanitarian Association in Japan], Jiangsu 2 (May 27, 1903): 155–56 [0387–88]. A returned student named Tang Linren became a teacher at the School of Physical Education for Girls and Women (Nüzu Ticao Xuexiao), which was founded in Shanghai in 1908. Luo Suwen, 153. On the returned Hunanese students, see Ko Shimoda, Shimoda Utako, 405. One of these was Li Qiaosong, a graduate of the Practical School’s Normal Program. Li later became the principal of a private women’s school in Pingjiang county, the Enlightenment Girl’s School (Qimeng Nüxuetang). Ko Shimoda, 431.⁷⁷ Bao Jialin, Zhongguo funü, 371–73. Qiu also served as principal of the Mingdao Girls’ School, which was close to the Datong School. Rankin, “Emergence of Women,” 55, 59; Larson, Women and Writing, 112.⁷⁸ “Riben liuxue nüxuesheng,” 155 [0387]. The Humanitarian Association’s objectives (published in the sixth issue of Jiangsu) included destroying longstanding gender assumptions, recovering women’s rights, and teaching women to assert their national duties. “Zhu Gongai hui zhi qiantu” [Celebration of the future of the Humanitarian Association], Jiangsu 6 (September 1903): 162–63 [1150–51]; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 107–08; Xie Zhangfa, “Qingmo de liu-Ri,” 273.⁷⁹ Hu had arrived in Japan in June 1902 from Jiangsu province at the age of fourteen. Hu Binxia, “Lun Zhongguo zhi shuairuo nüzi bude ci qi zui” [Concerning the weakness of China, women must not dismiss its suffering], Jiangsu 3 (June 25, 1903): 157 [0587]; “Hu Binxia yanci,” 148–49 [0380–81].⁸⁰ Yi Qin, “Lun Zhongguo, xu,” 130 [0940].⁸¹ Qiu Jin, “Jinggao Zhongguo,” 134–35.⁸² Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 115.⁸³ Qiu Jin, “Yanshuo de haochu,” in Qiu Jin xianlie, 141–42. On female orators in this period, Qiu and Tang Qunying in particular, see David Strand, “Citizens in the Audience: Politics at the Podium in Early Twentieth Century China,” in Perry and Goldman, Changing Meanings of Citizenship in Modern China (forthcoming).⁸⁴ The transcript of a speech Wang Lian gave to a native place association in Tokyo was published in “Tongxiang hui jishi: Hubei zhi bu” [Record of same-place association meeting, section on Hubei], Hubei xuesheng jie 2 (February 1903): 115. Tang Qunying would go on to develop her oratory skills, giving an impassioned speech before the parliament in Nanjing shortly after the founding of the Republic in 1912. Strand, “Citizens in the Audience,” 23.⁸⁵ “Liuxue jilu” [Record of overseas students’ activities], Hubei xuesheng jie 4 (April 27, 1903): 125 [0575].⁸⁶ “Nüxuesheng shangzhen beizi shu” [Female students offer a petition to a Manchu noble], Hubei xuesheng jie 5 (May 27, 1903): 136–38 [728–30]; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 114–15.⁸⁷ Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 108, 116–19; Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 41–44.⁸⁸ On Chen’s suicide, see Huang Fu-ch’ing, in Whitaker, Chinese Students in Japan, 235. On the departure of the female students after this incident, see Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 108, 116–19; Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 41–44.⁸⁹ Groups that succeeded the Humanitarian Association included the Association of Chinese Female Overseas Students in Japan (Zhongguo Liu-Ri Nüxuesheng Hui), founded in September 1906 (Yan Bin, Tang Qunying, and Wang Changguo, among others, were members); and the Association of Female Overseas Students in Japan (Liu-Ri Nüxuesheng Hui), founded in 1910. Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 108–10, 119–20; Xie Zhangfa, “Qingmo de liu-Ri,” 273, 278; Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 42–45. There were militant and even violent women’s organizations formed earlier, most associated with the anarchist movement. They included the Association to Recover Women’s Rights (Nüzi Fuquan Hui), founded in 1907, linked to the anarchist journal Natural Justice (Tianyi) and committed to the use of violence. Concerning militant female activities just prior to the 1911 Revolution, in 1910 Fang Junji, who had been in Tokyo from September 1902, originally as a student at the Practical Women’s School, traveled to Hong Kong, where she joined a women’s organization set up to smuggle arms into China. After the Wuchang Uprising on October 10, which marked the beginning of the 1911 Revolution, eight females in Japan including Tang Qunying organized a Women’s Red Cross Army. On October 19, 1911, they left Japan, and joined forces with the Cantonese woman doctor and revolutionary Zhang Zhujun to form the Shanghai Red Cross Society. A number of women also joined non–gender specific groups active at the time of the 1911 Revolution. Lin Zongsu, Cao Rujin, Chen Yan’an, Hu Binxia, Fang Junying, and Qian Fengbao—almost all Practical Women’s School students—for example, joined the Student Army (Xuesheng Jun). Sun Shiyue, 108–10, 119–120; Xie, 273, 278; Ishii, 42–45.⁹⁰ Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 108, 116–19; Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 41–44.⁹¹ Jissen joshi gakuen, 104–06; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 100–01.⁹² The act of writing and the use of language more generally have been recognized as crucial to the formation of subjectivities. In the words of the linguist Emile Benveniste, “It is in and through language that man constitutes himself as a subject.” Problems in General Linguistics, Mary Elizabeth Meek, trans. (Coral Gables, Fla., 1971), 224. For a discussion of writing and subjectivity in the modern Chinese context, see Lydia Liu, Translingual Practice: Literature, National Culture, and Translated Modernity; China, 1900–1937 (Stanford, Calif., 1995), esp. 150–79.⁹³ “Zhu Gongai hui,” 162.⁹⁴ Chang, “Ming-Qing Women Poets,” 239. On women writers in earlier periods, see, for example, Ebrey, Inner Quarters, 120–24; Ko, Teachers; Mann, Precious Records, 79–120.⁹⁵ Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 43. On the number of female journals, see 46.⁹⁶ The Journal of Women’s Studies was originally published under the title Women’s Journal (Nübao). From 1903, it was independently printed and renamed Journal of Women’s Studies. Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 110; Charlotte L. Beahan, “Feminism and Nationalism in the Chinese Women’s Press, 1902–1911,” Modern China 1 (October 1975): 389–90.⁹⁷ Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 45–49; Sun Shiyue, Zhongguo Jindai, 11–12; Jacqueline Nivard, “Bibliographie de la presse féminine chinoise, 1898–1949,” Etudes chinoises 5 (Spring–Autumn 1986): 185–236. Chen Yiyi is misrepresented in some secondary writings as a female (for example, Nivard, 222). I thank Amy Dooling for first questioning my assumption that Chen was female. Natural Justice, a bimonthly that appeared in 1907–1908, was also edited by a woman, the female anarchist He Zhen. I am not including an analysis of its contents here as it was more of an anarchist’s than a woman’s magazine. On Tianyi, see Ono Kazuko, Chinese Women in a Century of Revolution, 1850–1950, Joshua Fogel, ed. (Stanford, Calif., 1989), 66–69; Peter Zarrow, “He Zhen and Anarcho-Feminism in China,” Journal of Asian Studies 47 (November 1988): 796–813.⁹⁸ Liu Mei Ching, Forerunners, 299.⁹⁹ Ishii Yko, “Shingai kakumei,” 43.¹⁰⁰ The grouping of women’s writings was not new (although they were now being grouped in a new print medium, the political journal), since anthologies of women’s writings were published in the past. The practice of using pseudonyms with gender explicit characters is, to my knowledge, new in this period, however. The pseudonym Chubei yingci (“A Heroine from Northern Chu”) is an example of this last strategy. The author created a new two-character compound signifying heroine by replacing the masculine second character of the commonly used compound for hero with one that was distinctly feminine (yingci instead of yingxiong, with the ci of yingci denoting female birds or animals). In the essay itself, “Zhina nüquan fenyan,” the author laments the way language coded females as weak and subservient; p. 95 [0268]. See Liu Mei Ching, Forerunners, 240, for a discussion of this essay.¹⁰¹ Qiu Jin published another vernacular journal in China in 1907, the Chinese Women’s Journal (Zhongguo nübao). Qiu explicitly explained that her objective in using the vernacular in this particular journal was to make her message more accessible to a broader segment of the female population. “Jinggao jiemeimen” [Advice for my sisters], Zhongguo nübao 1, rpt. in Qiu Jin wenji, 144. Hu Shi, who is recognized as the founder of the vernacular movement in China, received his training in writing in the vernacular during 1906–1908 at a school that Qiu Jin helped establish in Shanghai, the Zhongguo Gongxue. Liu Mei Ching, Forerunners, 298.¹⁰² Chubei Yingci, “Zhina nüquan fenyan,” 96 [270].¹⁰³ Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi,” 156 [0586].¹⁰⁴ Yi Qin, “Lun Zhongguo nüzi zhi qiantu” [The future of Chinese females], Jiangsu 4 (June 25, 1903): 141–46 [0759–64].¹⁰⁵ Qiu Jin, “Jinggao Zhongguo,” 135.¹⁰⁶ Yi Qin, “Lun Zhongguo, xu,” 130 [0940].¹⁰⁷ “Zhina nüzi,” 66 [0384]; Yi Qin, “Lun Zhongguo,” 142 [760]. These women had no way of knowing that Mulan would finally make her mark in global culture in the late twentieth century. In 1998, Disney produced a Hollywood animated movie for children, celebrating her story.¹⁰⁸ Chen Yiyi, “Nanzun nübei yu xianmu liangqi” [The view that males are superior to females and “good wives and wise mothers”], Nübao 1, no. 2 [1909], rpt. in XZSL, 2: 2: 681.¹⁰⁹ Hu Binxia, “Lun Zhongguo,” 156 [0586].¹¹⁰ He Xiangning, “Jinggao,” 144 [0762]; Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 106 [0116]; Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi,” 155 [0585]. For a detailed description of the place of Madame Roland in the late Qing cultural imaginary, see Hu Ying, Tales of Translation: Composing the New Woman in China, 1898–1918 (Stanford, Calif., 2000), 153–96.¹¹¹ Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 106 [0116].¹¹² “Zhu Gongai hui,” 162.¹¹³ Judith Butler argues that “subjects are constituted through exclusion, that is through the creation of a domain of deauthorized subjects, presubjects, figures of abjection, populations erased from view.” “Contingent Foundations: Feminism and the Question of Postmodernism,” in Feminist Contentions, 47.¹¹⁴ Hu Binxia, “Lun Zhongguo,” 156 [0586].¹¹⁵ He Xiangning, “Jinggao,” 144 [0762]. See n. 35 on the account of the rape.¹¹⁶ Chen Yan’an, “Quan nüzi,” 155–56 [0585–86].¹¹⁷ Tai Gong, “Dongjing zashi shi” [Poems on various topics concerning Tokyo], Zhejiang chao, 2 (March 18, 1903): 162.¹¹⁸ Susan Mann, “The Feminist Turn in Confucian History,” paper for the colloquium “Rethinking Chinese Women’s History” (UCLA, November 1993), 15; Dorothy Ko, “Pursuing Talent and Virtue: Education and Women’s Culture in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century China,” Late Imperial China 13 (June 1992): 21.¹¹⁹ This phenomenon of female activists critiquing other women for engaging in frivolous pursuits is not unique to China. Mary Wollstonecraft criticized women writers of her day for their false enthrallment and vanity; Landes, Women and the Public Sphere, 130–33. Perhaps because the political stakes were higher in China, however, the critique was more virulent. For a discussion of the disparagement of the cainü in the writings of an influential male publicist of this period, Liang Qichao, see Hu Ying, Tales of Translation, 6–8.¹²⁰ He Xiangning, “Jinggao,” 144 [0762].¹²¹ “Gongai hui tongren,” 160.¹²² Wang Lian, “Zagan qishou,” 114.¹²³ This is very different from the situation in Britain, for example, where Burton, Burdens of History, 210, describes female political engagement being as much about the public exercise of women’s moral and cultural authority as it was about nationalism.¹²⁴ For a fuller articulation of this understanding of subjectivity, see Benhabib, “Feminism and the Question of Postmodernism,” 203–41.¹²⁵ On the requirement that women in the eighteenth century only put their learning to use in order to better perform their family duties, see Mann, Precious Records, 17.¹²⁶ On the leftist critique of the 1920s and 1930s, see Larson, Women and Writing, 140–46, 165, 170–72.