Below is an excerpt from a fascinating article from Kung Fu Tea, which has to do with women in martial arts and the origin of Southern White Crane Boxing. The full post may be read here.
The
historical records produced during the Ming and Qing dynasties contain a
number of references to female martial artists. These sources clearly
indicate that they were massively outnumbered by their male brethren,
but as a category they were never entirely absent either. Of course “martial arts” as a conceptual category
is a comparatively recent invention. Most of these individuals were
identified and discussed using different professional markers. They
were remembered as entertainers, vagabonds, criminals, healers, mystics,
saints and in one memorable case even a rebel general. The fighting arts (and their related body of traditional physical culture) might play a role in each of these professions.
There are
far fewer cases in which a woman was explicitly identified as a full
time martial arts instructor with a large number of students. And I am
aware of only a single a instance in which a historical woman was
acknowledged by later male writers as the founder of area’s martial
tradition.
But before we can explore further we need to know something
about the sorts of resources that are available to students of Chinese
martial history.
“Gazetteers”
are a fascinating historical resource for anyone interested in life in
late imperial China.
These records were by their nature both
geographically bounded and technical. They might focus on a region, a
province, a county, a city, a temple or even an important waterway. The
ostensible point of a gazetteer was to gather the information that a
busy outside government official or visitor might need to get up to
speed on a new posting or assignment. As such these books are a
valuable historical resource which provide maps, community histories,
economic discussions, biographies of notable citizens and local color.
Members
of the gentry were usually tasked with writing and editing the
gazetteers. This was considered a prestigious assignment as the editor
of such a volume had the ability to shape the local social and
historical record. A review of these books shows that the families of
the editors were inevitably remembered as “illustrious scholars” and
“paragons of virtue.” It is important to take the social history that
one finds in these books with a grain of salt, but they remain a vital
resource for understanding local history in China.
The editors of these volumes usually went to some effort to put their
best foot forward and appear as orthodox and socially respectable as
possible. As a result gazettes often omit the sort of information that
might be most useful to the historian of the martial arts.
Douglas Wile discovered a classic case of this while researching his landmark volume on the early Taiji literature (1996). The Wu brothers,
who had important careers as high ranking public servants, were also
gifted literary scholars. They put these skills to good use by editing
the local county gazetteer after retiring from public office, as well as
discovering, editing and preserving the oldest still existing
manuscript tradition of what we now call the “Taiji Classics.”
In fact,
all three brothers were deeply involved with and committed to, the
practice of Taiji. It is thus odd that the historical volume that they
edited contains no references to Taiji, or to the brothers other very
substantial military exploits. Wile debates how we should interpret
this silence. Was it some hint of sedition? Possibly. But a simpler
explanation would be that a public airing of such an eccentric interest
in a “dignified” source would bring embarrassment to the Wu family.
Marnix Wells has fared better with the use of gazetteers in his research. The county records that he dealt with in his investigation of Chang Naizhou
not only preserved his memory, but it went into detail on the
biographies of a number of other martial artists in the region. This is
really about the best scenario that you can hope for. Yet in many
cases these records simply pass over the martial arts in silence, not
because they were actually absent, but rather because they were viewed
as undignified or unorthodox by the volume’s editor.
The other
difficult thing about gazetteers is finding and translating them.
Localities were supposed to update these records regularly. Some did,
while others were pretty lax. Nor is there a central clearing house for
this information today. A few of these volumes (generally the ones for
the more important areas) have been republished, but most of this
information is still sitting in library stacks and private book
collections in China. Actually getting ahold of all of the information
that you would like to see, and successfully translating it, can be a
major feat of scholarship in itself.
Luckily for us the editors of the late 17th
century gazetteer for Yongchun County, Fujian Province, had no moral
objections to the martial arts. We are also fortunate in that what he
had to say was deemed important enough to warrant subsequent
republishing and discussion, first by scholars in China, then by Stanley
Henning in the United States.
Very
often information about important martial artists (if any is included)
will be found in the section on local biographies of noteworthy private
citizens that most county gazetteers seem to have included. The brief
account quoted by Henning and others states that during the Kangxi era
(1662-1735) a woman named Ding Number Seven moved to Yongchun with her
husband. Together they taught a number of individuals including 24
disciples. The most important of these was an individual named Zheng
Li.
Zheng
warranted his own entry in the volume. It focused on his immense
strength and boxing skills.
The discussions of his feats included a
stereotyped defeat of a water buffalo (which he pulled the horns off of)
and a shaolin monk (who later became a friend and teacher). Zheng was
taught by Woman Ding, and he in turn provided instruction to most of the
lineages that were still operating in the area at the time that the
account was written.
So when
does this account date to? We do not have an exact date, but we do have
some clues. The list of southern gazetteers provided by James Tong
indicates that Yongchun County did not update their records frequently (Disorder Under Heaven, 1992).
As such it looks like this account might date to the 1684 edition of
the local gazetteer. If these dates are correct than Ding Number Seven
would have been active sometime between 1660 and 1680. Given that the
account indicates as least two generations of instruction have passed,
this would indicate that she was probably teaching in the 1660s.
Of course
this account is also interesting for what is left out. We hear very
little of her husband and his accomplishments. One wonders if perhaps
she was included because she was both a martial artist and a “virtuous
widow,” a group that always enjoyed recognition in these lists (see the
discussion in Victoria Cass, 1999).
Nor do we
know the name of the style that she taught. Today she is revered as
the ancestor of Yongchun White Crane Boxing. Yet neither avian nor
geographic nomenclature are mentioned in the account of her teaching,
just the size of her school. Readers are also never told where she
learned her art. Was it from her husband? Or possibly her father?
While the
biographical account of Zheng Li is full of exaggeration and folklore
(the defeat of a bull-type creature is one of the classic markers of a
martial arts legend, as is a confrontation with a Shaolin monk) his
teacher’s life lacks any fantastic elements. The account is all
business, possibly too much so.
Subsequent
versions of her story were more expansive and attempted to fill in
these blanks. Perhaps the best-preserved account from this era is found
in the Bubishi.
This enigmatic work represents a Fujianese martial arts manuscript
tradition dating from the last half of the 19th century. The
manuscripts in question were preserved in Okinawa (hence the Japanese
title), and went on to influence the development of that island’s
indigenous fighting traditions.
The manuscripts included in the Bubishi
are written in Chinese and include discussions of martial arts history,
ethics, White Crane and Monk Fist styles, vital point strikes and
traditional Chinese herbal medicines. The manuscripts are sometimes
heavily illustrated and often appear without any specific order. An
almost identical work entitled the Secret Shaolin Bronze Man Book
was preserved by the Liu family in Fuzhou leading to the conclusion
that the work was originally composed in China rather than Okinawa.
The volume begins its discussion of White Crane Kung Fu with the following story:
“In
spite of his fighting skills in Monk Fist Boxing, Fang Zhonggong was no
match for the scoundrels from a neighboring village who deceived and
then viciously beat him while vying for control of his village. The
injuries Fang sustained during the altercation were so severe that he
was unable to fully recuperate and fell gravely ill. Attending to by
his loving daughter and personal disciple, Fang Qiniang, his condition
gradually deteriorated. No longer even able to eat, he finally died.
Deeply
troubled by the loathsome circumstances of her beloved father’s death,
Fang Qiniang vowed to take revenge. Although just a country girl from
the rural village of Yongchun, Fang Qiniang was nevertheless a promising
and spirited young woman. She longed to vindicate her family name, but
she had not yet mastered the fighting skills her father was teaching
her. She deeply pondered upon how she might find the power and strength
to overcome such adversaries.
One
day, not long after the tragedy, Fang was sobbing over the memory of
her loss when suddenly she heard some strange noises coming from the
bamboo grove just outside her home. Looking out the window to see what
was making such a racket, she saw two beautiful cranes fighting. She
noticed how the magnificent creatures strategically maneuvered
themselves away from each others fierce attacks with remarkable
precision. In the midst of piercing screams, the vigorous and lethal
pecking was well concealed.
Deciding
to frighten off the creatures, Fang went outside and grabbed the long
bamboo pole she used for hanging clothes to dry. As she approached the
cranes, Fang swung the pole but was unable to get close. Each time she
attempted to swing or poke with the pole, they sensed her proximity,
and, before the pole could reach its intended target, the birds
instinctively evaded her every effort and finally just flew off.
Reflecting
deeply upon this incident, Fang concluded that it was a revelation and
soon set about evaluating the white cranes’ instinctive combat methods.
If someone could fight the way the white cranes had, that person would
be unbeatable. After considerable time and study, Fang finally came to
understand the central principles of hard and soft and yielding to
power. Fusing the central elements of Monk Fist gongfu with her own
interpretation of the birds innate defensive movements she created a new
style.
After
three years of relentless training, Fang developed into an unusually
skillful fighter. Capable of remarkable feats of strength and power,
Fang Qiniang was no longer the weak and frail girl she once was. Her
skills and determination finally gained her a notable reputation.
Undefeated in those three years, Fang’s innovative style ultimately
became one of the most popular civil self-defense traditions in and
around Fujian Province, and became known as Yongchun White Crane
Boxing.”
The Bubishi
demonstrates that within two centuries the creator of Yongchun Boxing
had evolved from a historical person with a number of personal students
to a full blown initiatory figure with a martial arts mythology of her
own. A comparison of the early account of “Ding” to the later stories
of the woman “Fang” provides an excellent illustration of how it is that
myths emerge and crystallize around the barest historical details.
Note also how the questions posed by the short biographical sketch are
systematically answered throughout the later extended story.
Rather
than coming to the county with her paradoxically quiet husband, she is
now attached to a father capable to teaching her Monk Fist Style. This
certainly explains where Feng learned her art.
Yet she did not teach
Monk Fist to her students? Instead her father conveniently dies at the
hands of bandits and she is forced to innovate to avenge the family
name.
While the
theme is a common one in martial arts legends, it still serves to
introduce the vision of the fighting cranes that has been central to the
development of martial arts in the Yongchun region.
Further, Feng’s
encounter with fighting cranes at her moment of greatest loss and
despair shows an uncanny resemblance to Ng Mui’s later epiphany in the
aftermath of the destruction of the Shaolin Temple.
Of course
this new account raises its own set of questions. Did Feng use her new
found martial prowess to carry out an act of bloody revenge? And what
of the missing husband? Did she ever go on to marry? If not, why?
Lastly, who was Feng Zhonggong? Given the abrupt start of the story it
would appear that the Bubishi is only presenting a tantalizing fragment of what was once a longer narrative.
Current
folklore, still in circulation among modern martial artists, has taken
up each of these questions in turn. It takes no great leap of
imagination to see Fang Zhonggong as an escapee from the ruins of
Shaolin. This conclusion may even be implied in the 19th century
fragment of the story that we still poses. He is obviously not a monk
as he has married and has a daughter. Still, many lay Buddhists studied
martial arts at Shaolin in both legend and fact. This would certainly
seem to explain how he learned Monk Fist style in the first place.
His
daughter’s use of the long pole in her attempt to scare off the noisy
cranes is highly suggestive of the historic Shaolin pole fighting
style. Lastly, the Bubishi claims that Feng always taught that
it was only through the cultivation of inner peace and harmony that true
martial mastery could be achieved. It also states that her ideas about
this were handed down from the ancient past through her father and were
not native to Fuzhou.
Modern
readers have accepted this implied Shaolin connection without
hesitation. Ng Ho reports that in some versions of the story Feng
Qiniang refuses to marry, becomes a Buddhist nun herself, and changes
her name to Yongchun (Wing Chun in Cantonese). In the end he concludes
that from a folklore perspective “It is impossible to ascertain whether
Fang Yongchun, Fang Qiniang and the nun Yongchun were one and the same
person or three distinct individuals.” I agree with this basic
conclusion that the myth takes a single identity and reworks it into
multiple stories. To this list of overlapping stories we can also add
the Abbess Ng Mui.
Historically
speaking, the faded memory of Ding, a real martial arts instructor in
Yongchun Village, has inspired the foundation myths of both Wing Chun
and White Crane, as well as the individual legends of the Yim Wing Chun,
Fang Yongchun, Fang Qiniang, and most recently the Nun Yongchun or Ng
Mui. All four of these individuals probably represent different aspects
of the same legendary figure.
