Ribbons

“There was nothing like dance when everything went right—and nothing quite like it when everything went wrong. But at the moment, all was right in the world. I could have stood there forever, but the needle kept on its inexorable march, and the next dancers swept out.”

Here, Robin exults in the euphoria of dance. However, just as quickly as the applause erupts, so too does it die down, as the performance moves on and Robin is ushered off stage. As Robin learns, this feeling of euphoria can only ever be fleeting. This moment, though brief, sets the stage for the main conflict of the novel, when Robin realizes again just how quickly dance can be taken away.

“I shook my head, still in a daze. ‘Madame said something about my leaving school.’ Leah clutched at the neck of her coat, which she had thrown on over her costume. ‘What? You’re not going to break up the gang…,’ she protested.”

When Robin mentions to her friends, Amy, Leah, and Thomas, that she’ll likely be quitting lessons, her friends are understandably distressed. Tellingly, Leah regrets that Robin might “break up the gang,” emphasizing that ballet lessons, in addition to teaching technical skills, also provide a social outlet for Robin. Dance is more than just an art form: It encourages a sense of community.

“As we stopped at a traffic light, Ian brought me out of my reverie. ‘Did you hear me clap, Robin?’ He reminded me that just when I began to think Ian was the worst brat in the world, he would do things like that. ‘Thank you. I certainly did.’”

This quote helps characterize Robin and Ian’s relationship. Before, as they met outside the auditorium, Robin had smeared makeup on Ian’s cheek, eager to embarrass him. However, here, they quickly repair their relationship and slip back into an affectionate dynamic, suggesting that like most siblings, their conflicts are hardly major. This example of conflict resolution appears later in the novel, too: Though Robin and Ian vie for Grandmother’s affections, eventually, they make up and end the novel happily.

“Mom eyed Dad warningly. ‘You knew when you married me, Gil, that I came as a package with my whole family.’ Dad was the first to give in. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I just didn’t realize how big a package.’”

To Mom, family is of the utmost importance, and it’s impossible to separate family from her sense of self. Dad, however, resents that it should so crucially affect their lives. In this argument, Yep highlights just one of the many differences between American and traditional Chinese cultures: Americans seek to live independently, while Chinese people champion a sense of responsibility to one’s family.

“‘You understand, don’t you, Robin, darling? We owe everything to Grandmother.’ A widow, she had brought her family over from Hong Kong when the Communists had taken over China. It was impossible to argue with The Debt. It was the ultimate trump card.”

Here, Yep introduces “The Debt,” referring to Grandmother’s heroic escape from Communist China. The Debt, and the sense of obligation it encourages, is omnipresent in the novel and informs its theme of Sacrificing for a Greater Good. Furthermore, in stylizing this sacrifice as “The Debt,” in capitals, Yep heightens its profundity.

“Mrs. Brown was a doctor. She had divorced Leah’s father long ago and had bought their house. As sweet and kind as Mrs. Brown was, she could be tough as leather. Leah’s mother had been one of the first African-Americans to move onto the block, and she had managed to outlast the cold shoulders and hostile stares. And Leah could be just as tough as her mother.”

Though the novel mostly focuses on the Chinese American experience, Robin also considers the African American perspective. Leah and her mother, Dr. Brown, develop a hard exterior, enabling them to better withstand their neighbors’ racism. In providing this insight, Yep suggests that adverse circumstances can meaningfully shape personality; perhaps Leah and Dr. Brown would carry themselves differently if they lived in a more welcoming neighborhood.

“Taping their card to the wall, I popped their gift into my old cassette player. The speakers were really too small, so the music sounded a little tinny, but I shut my eyes, remembering what it was like to step into the light. To be something beautiful.”

Without access to Madame’s studio, Robin is forced to adapt, and she practices in the building garage with a cheap speaker. However, though the circumstances are far from ideal, Robin is determined to succeed, and her imagination convinces her she’s on stage. In addition to highlighting Responding Creatively to Limitations, this moment also emphasizes the imaginative potential of dance and music; with just a little concentration, Robin can be anywhere.

“Mom dumped the box into the cart, closing her eyes in embarrassment. ‘Please, Robin, darling. For once act normal.’ ‘Can’t you stop?’ Ian complained. ‘You’re giving me a headache.’ I was not about to let them forget. ‘Dance is my life,’ I said, and to demonstrate I pirouetted down an aisle.”

Robin, determined to keep her skills sharp, dances anywhere and everywhere, even in a grocery store. Though dance is typically performed in a studio, with hardwood floors and a proper barre, Robin’s ingenuity suggests that dance, like other art forms, is adaptable to different settings. Mom and Ian’s judgmental reactions, however, reveal their inability to relate to Robin and appreciate her passion: Whereas Robin thinks of ballet as a calling, to her family, it’s merely an inconvenience.

“The car door opened, and Grandmother slid across the back seat…She was a small woman in a silk padded jacket and black slacks. On her small feet, she wore a pair of quilted cotton slippers shaped like boots, with furred tops that hid her ankles. Resting across her knees were a pair of carved black canes.”

This marks the first physical description of Grandmother, newly arrived from Hong Kong. Robin, understandably, is curious, as she’s been anticipating this moment for months. Yep’s description lingers on Grandmother’s feet, slippers, and black canes, which especially catch Robin’s attention. This emphasis foreshadows the role of footbinding in the novel.

“I wanted to be good. I really did. But when I went into my room and saw the strange pictures on the wall and the pills and bottles on the bureau top, it didn’t seem like my room anymore. It didn’t smell like my room either…Then, when I realized that I would have to live out of cardboard boxes, I felt…well…homeless. It was about that time that I really began to resent Grandmother.”

As Grandmother settles into the household, Robin struggles to adapt, especially as she’s forced out of her room to make way for Grandmother’s belongings. The word “homeless” here is telling, provoking an interesting consideration of the value of home and its changing definition. For instance, Grandmother has known many homes throughout her life: China, Hong Kong, and now San Francisco. She, too, is no stranger to displacement and has probably weathered similar feelings of loss. Perhaps if Robin were more mature, this shared sense of rootlessness could unite her with Grandmother, instead of forcing them asunder. 

“Ian was like a puppy. He would keep eating if there was something in front of him. And then he would be so surprised and indignant when he got a stomachache. ‘What are you eating?’ I demanded. ‘Candy.’ Tilting back his head and opening his mouth, he stuck out his tongue. The candy looked like a huge shapeless white mass on a pink carpet.”

Robin is surprised to realize that Grandmother has plied Ian with candy, so that he might watch her shows without complaint. Candy—sweet and decadent—is a symbol of indulgence, or the polar opposite of sacrifice. In this light, as he eats candy after candy, Ian seems to flout the expectation of sacrifice that has haunted Robin. It’s a double standard, favoring men, that will recur frequently, as Grandmother initially pays special attention to Ian and exempts him from any criticism.

“I didn’t feel any pleasure, though, just great emptiness—and an aching in my feet. Amy leaned her head to the side as she stared down at my legs. ‘You winced a couple of times. Did you pull a muscle?’ ‘It’s just a little ache in the toes,’ I said. When I felt the sharp, stabbing pain, I did my best to control it.”

This is one of the first indications of Robin’s condition, later diagnosed as hammer toes. Though her pain is obvious to Amy, Robin does her best to hide it. Indeed, she even hesitates to admit the pain to herself, instead controlling it so that she can keep dancing. Robin’s drive to dance, even amid extreme pain, is the source of her major conflict with Mom toward the novel’s end, when an operation threatens her future in ballet.

“Holding up shoes and the ribbons, I rose on pointe to illustrate. ‘This is ballet.’ By now I felt a sharp pain whenever I did that, but I had learned to ignore it. Sometimes adhesive tape over my shoes helped. Grandmother gazed in horror at my feet—as if I had turned into a vampire. ‘No,’ she said, and thumped a cane. ‘You mustn’t do that.’”

Horrified to discover that Robin’s toes have begun to curl downward, Grandmother objects vehemently to Robin’s dancing. Fittingly, Grandmother uses her cane—necessary because of her disability—to emphasize her concern. However, at this point, Robin is unaware of Grandmother’s history with footbinding, and she predictably interprets Grandmother’s objection as malicious. Tellingly, Robin uses the word “vampire,” characterizing Grandmother as a villain who seeks to sap her enjoyment. Only after Robin learns of Grandmother’s condition will her perspective shift, Bridging Generational Divides through Empathy.

“She worked the shoes and ribbons away from my stunned fingers. And I felt almost as if she had cut off my feet.”

Encouraged by Grandmother’s concern, Mom confiscates Robin’s pointe shoes, preventing her from dancing. Robin feels the loss acutely, as though Mom had “cut off [her] feet.” Though hyperbolic, this expression suggests that, to Robin, her pointe shoes are an extension of her body, functioning as a second pair of feet. Dance truly is a part of Robin, inseparable from her sense of self.

“Hastily I backed out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me. However, I could still see her mangled feet. Even when I shut my eyes, I could still see them. Every tortured curve and twist of her feet had been chiseled into my memory.”

After glimpsing Grandmother’s bare feet, Robin quickly exits the bathroom. However, the damage has already been done, and the word “chiseled” emphasizes this sense of permanence: Like an etched stone, Robin’s memory will always carry the image of Grandmother’s feet. And indeed, going forward, this marks a point of no return for Robin, altering her worldview forever.

“Her mother and father thought it would make their little girl so beautiful that she could marry a rich man. They were still doing it in some of the back areas of China long after it was outlawed in the rest of the country.”

In explaining the origins of footbinding, Mom reveals that young girls’ families were often complicit in their disfigurement. To Robin, it’s a stunning example of betrayal, and she is surprised to learn that families could be so cruel. Before, Robin has often felt betrayed by her own family, as they deny her the chance to dance. However, confronted with this new, more extreme example, Robin can put her own problems into perspective and appreciate Grandmother’s unique suffering.

“It was as if a bomb had gone off in the room. I sat like a shell-shocked survivor. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse with Mom and Dad. And it was all my fault.”

When Dad insists on watching his recording of Robin’s dance recital, his relationship with Mom noticeably worsens. Robin, uniquely perceptive, uses war-like metaphors—such as “bomb” and “shell-shocked survivor”—to emphasize the seriousness of her parents’ conflict. Robin, too, is quick to blame herself, as she worries that her passion for dance will inevitably force her parents apart. This self-accusation, though baseless, is an example of Robin’s real concern for her family.

“‘All right, chips,’ she snapped impatiently, and grabbed it as soon as it was close enough. ‘I love chips,’ she said as she crammed it into her mouth. ‘These are very good chips,’ she said, emphasizing that last word again.”

As they bond over an American soap opera, Grandmother and Robin argue about the correct term for their favorite snack: Robin favors the American “chips,” while Grandmother uses the British term “crisps.” In this quote, Grandmother has clearly converted to American slang. Earlier in the novel, Mom had promised Robin that Grandmother would soon adapt to their American lifestyle, and here, it seems like their faith has paid off.

“‘You’re the dancers,’ she said with delight. ‘I saw you on television.’ It made them semicelebrities in her eyes, and my three friends were pleased.”

In this quote, Grandmother meets Amy, Thomas, and Leah, recognizing them from the videotape of their recital performance. In approaching them as “semicelebrities,” Grandmother affords dancers and their work a kind of reverence, suggesting that she’s beginning to understand Robin’s passion. In this light, this moment emphasizes Bridging Generational Divides through Empathy.

“‘Once in Swan Lake, I landed the wrong way. My foot started hurting, but I finished. Later, when they x-rayed my foot, they found it was broken in three places.’ Grandmother smiled as if she had just found a kindred spirit. ‘Then you understand. When you have something, you finish it, no matter what.’”

Here, Madame recalls a grueling performance of Swan Lake, and Grandmother is clearly impressed with her story. As she bonds with Madame, Grandmother offers insight into her life’s philosophy, suggesting that she values determination above all else, emphasizing Responding Creatively with Limitations. This character trait explains why she’s eventually willing to encourage Robin to pursue dance at all costs: With Grandmother, there are no half measures.

“I could feel my cheeks burning. ‘It’s really all right Paw-paw.’ I wouldn’t have said that when I first met her, but now I had come to love her. However, my grandmother stamped her canes against the concrete. ‘No, it’s not all right. I see I have some things to straighten out.’”

This quote truly emphasizes the breadth of Robin’s character evolution: Earlier in the novel, she cringed from Sacrificing for a Greater Good, but here, she’s more than willing to forego dance, in the interest of protecting Grandmother. Grandmother, however, resolves to take charge. Though her promise here is vague, she ultimately precipitates the resolution of the novel, weighing in on Mom and Robin’s behalf.

“I set the phone down beside her and put her treasures on the floor. When I opened the drawer, I could smell the bars of fragrant sandalwood soap she kept among her clothes to keep them smelling nice.”

Here, Robin helps Grandmother set up the phone, as she prepares to make a local call. As Robin smells the soap in Grandmother’s drawers, she parallels an earlier moment in the novel: When Grandmother first arrives, Robin lingers around her belongings, particularly noting their unfamiliar scent. In repeating such a gesture, Yep emphasizes just how significantly Robin and Grandmother’s relationship has evolved: Unlike earlier, Grandmother’s scent now carries all the warmth of home.

“Grandmother gripped my hand with renewed energy. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’”

The costs associated with Grandmother’s immigration had discouraged Robin from asking Mom for new shoes, causing her to develop hammer toes. When Grandmother realizes, she’s quick to blame herself, regretting that she might have hurt Robin inadvertently. In this way, Robin and Grandmother are notably alike: Robin, like Grandmother, loves her family fiercely, and she often blames herself for family conflicts.