From amorous histories to sexual histories: rethinking male love narrative in Ming and Qing dynasties and the discourse on homosexuality in modern China

ABSTRACT“Amorous histories” represent an unofficial historical tradition that once served as a legitimate mechanism for narrating same-sex desire in Chinese culture. This tradition not only celebrated love (qing) but also explored obsession (pi) within the Chinese context. This article reexamines the erotic arts, including notes and erotic fictions, that constituted the narrative mechanism of amorous histories to rethink the intricate stance of both praise and critique towards male love during the Ming and Qing dynasties. The analysis reveals how these texts repeatedly employed a narrative tactic of combining enticement and moral suasion to represent male love. While legitimizing male love, these representations were simultaneously regulated by the moral norms of official histories. However, during the late Qing and early Republican era, the tradition of amorous histories began to wane and eventually gave way to the emergence of pathological narratives under the guise of “sexual histories” in modern China. Within the discourse of sexual histories, the tradition of praising qing and pi was substituted by Western-influenced “the science of sexuality,” which pathologized same-sex desire. This article traces the changes in the meaning of “pi,” which underwent a phase of non-pathologized development in Ming and Qing dynasties, before being pathologized by May 4th literati. Finally, this article analyses the impact of the replacement of amorous histories with pathologized sexual histories on the debates over homosexuality between Hu Qiuyuan and Yang Youtian in modern China. It shows how changes in historical narratives influenced early twentieth century perceptions of same-sex desire.KEYWORDS: Yanshi (amorous histories)xingshi (sexual histories)Taohua yanshiBian er chaipi (obsession)Zhang Dainanse (male love)homosexuality AcknowledgementsThank you to the two anonymous reviewers for their evaluation and provided revision suggestions. Special thanks go to the editors of this journal for their support and, ultimately, for approving this article. I would also like to express my gratitude to the Center for Chinese Studies, Taiwan and the generous support from the Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica, Taiwan which enabled me to utilize the rich collections of the Academia Sinica Library, National Central Library and other libraries to complete the revisions for this article. This article was invited to be presented at “The China Academic Network on Gender (CHANGE) Biennial Conference: Re-Envisioning Gender in China” organized by The Universite libre de Bruxelles, Belgium, Europe. I would also like to thank Professor Stephanie Hemelryk Donald and other reviewers for their constructive feedback on earlier drafts of this article. Lastly, I would like to extend my gratitude to Meng Jiajie for the assistance provided in gathering data.Special termsTableDownload CSVDisplay TableNotes1 Although Zhang Jingsheng was active in Republican China and Liu Dalin in contemporary China, the two figures share many things in common aside from their similar views on sex. For example, they both taught at universities and were known as Chinese sexological experts. Zhang was a professor in the philosophy department of Peking University, while Liu was a professor in the sociology department of Shanghai University. They both edited works of sexual history aimed at the mass popular book marketplace. Although these works are not of great academic value, they sold very well and have had a lasting influence on the Chinese-speaking world.2 For more analysis on Zhang’s Xingshi, see Hee (Citation2013, 235–266).3 Li Xiaorong uses an important term that parallels yanshi, namely, xiangyan, “fragrant and bedazzling.” Her study isolates the poetics and politics of sensuality from the prevalent Confucian exegetical tradition and offers a history of how “fragrant and bedazzling” became a guiding aesthetic of counter cultural movements from the late-Ming period to the early-Republican era.(Li Citation2019, 10).4 The Kangxi zidian also lists some positive uses of the word pi, but they are not related to the body, instead referring to a passion for literature.5 However, pleasure was indeed a key element in the techniques known as the “arts of the bedroom” or fangzhong shu. Many thanks to the reviewer for this insight. Unfortunately, the majority of these fangzhong shu were banned by the state. This greatly limited their circulation in public spaces in ancient China.6 The main sources Vitiello focuses on are Chinese erotic fiction dating from roughly the mid-sixteenth to the mid-nineteenth centuries, and not the Ming/Qing legal system and historical cases. Therefore, his argument may not fully reflect the complexities of the historical context.7 For more on male brothels as a place of entertainment in the late Qing, see Yao (Citation2008, 157–207).8 For more on Republican-era tabloid criticism of Puyi, the eunuchs, Kun Cao, and Yanqing Li, see Kang (Citation2009, 96–101).9 Hu Qiuyuan (1910–2004) took part in the debate over literary freedom in 1932. He argued that art and literature must earn its place in history through free creation. After 1949, he moved to Taiwan. He wrote prolifically, and worked as a professor at Taiwan Normal University while also being a researcher at Academia Sinica. See Hu Qiuyuan (Citation1994, 1–27) for more on his life and ideas.10 Kang Wen-qing (Citation2009, 43) describes the magazine that Yang Youtian published his article in as being Xinnüxing. I argue that it was in fact Beixin, based on the fact that Hu Qiuyuan identifies the magazine as Beixin. See Hu Qiuyuan (Citation1930, 49). I also double checked issues of Beixin and Xinnüxing to confirm that the article was indeed published in Beixin. See Yang (Citation1929, 403–439).11 Hu had translated Edward Carpenter’s work “The Homogenic Attachment,” which was published in Xinnüxing. See Hee (Citation2013, 261–262) for more analysis. In 1925, Hu was studying at Wuchang University. Influenced by his close friend and schoolmate Yan Dazhu, he attended the Communist Youth group, and held revolutionary ideals. At the end of 1927, Yan and Hu became suspected of being Communists by the Wuhan city government. Yan was executed, while Hu was spared. In 1928, he escaped to Shanghai, where he studied at Fudan University. At the beginning of 1930 he was admitted to Waseda University in Tokyo. During his time in Shanghai, Hu began to translate Carpenter’s works out of pain at the lost of his dear friend Yan. It was also during this time that he began his article in response to Youtian Yang. However, the publishing house burned down, and he had to rewrite the article from memory in Tokyo. In his youth, Hu described himself as a “liberal Marxist” (Hu Citation1994, 12). The link he felt with Edward Carpenter was no coincidence. Carpenter was also a socialist, whose homosexual identity was connected to his politics: his homosexuality, though part of his essence, was by no means the sole reason for his becoming a Socialist, but in him Socialism and sex reform were closely interrelated, and from these, he felt, would arise a new sentiment of humanity. (Tsuzuki Citation2005, 199)Hu Qiuyuan clearly drew inspiration in the areas of socialism and sex reform from Carpenter’s works. Hu was skeptical of the party-state system, and wrote passionately from the middle ground, attacking both CCP and KMT ideologies. Hu later married and had children in Taiwan, and became an important KMT member. Despite this, in 1988 he ignored strong KMT opposition and flew to Mainland China to meet the senior Communist Party member Deng Yingchao to discuss the possibilities for peace. This led to him being celebrated as one of the first people to break the ice between Taiwan and China. He was dismissed from the KMT on his return to Taiwan, but remained steadfast in his commitment to a third way in between the Communist and Nationalist parties.12 For example, Kuo Mo-jo’s classical-style poetry and prose essays. For analysis of these see Hee (Citation2014, 51–106).13 The classic example of “soft film” is the 1936 film Huashen guniang (Tomboy), which contains depictions of a woman cross-dressing. For more on Tomboy and “soft films” see Zhang Zhen (Citation2005, 284–288).14 For example, Pai Hsien-yung, Chu T’ien-wen, Lin Chunying, Lin Yuyi and Li Tian-bao. Most of these are from Taiwan, or are American or Malaysian Chinese. For more on Eileen Chang’s homosexual writings and her connections with writers who followed her style see Hee (Citation2012, 685–708).Additional informationNotes on contributorsWai-Siam HeeWai-Siam HEE is Associate Professor at the School of Humanities at Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He has authored four scholarly monographs and co-edited five volumes. His recent published monograph is Remapping the Sinophone: The Cultural Production of Chinese-Language Cinema in Singapore and Malaya Before and During the Cold War. He has written extensively on gender and cinematic issues, with articles in the Cultural Critique, Interventions: International Journal of Postcolonial Studies, Modern Chinese Literature and Culture, Journal of Chinese Cinemas and Frontiers of Literary Studies in China.