University of Iowa

Iowa Research Online Theses and Dissertations

Summer 2012

The tactic of the Weak : a critical analysis of feminine persuasion in Taiwan Hsin-I Yueh University of Iowa

Copyright 2012 Hsin-I Yueh This dissertation is available at Iowa Research Online: http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd/3415 Recommended Citation Yueh, Hsin-I. "The tactic of the Weak : a critical analysis of feminine persuasion in Taiwan." PhD (Doctor of Philosophy) thesis, University of Iowa, 2012. http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd/3415.

Follow this and additional works at: http://ir.uiowa.edu/etd Part of the Communication Commons

THE TACTIC OF THE WEAK: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF FEMININE PERSUASION IN TAIWAN

by Hsin-I Yueh

An Abstract Of a thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Philosophy degree in Communication Studies in the Graduate College of The University of Iowa

July 2012

Thesis Supervisor: Professor Kristine L. Muñoz

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This dissertation connects the study of media discourses of gender in East Asia with the impact of globalization on popular culture. It explores the ways in which femininity is framed in different layers of discourse through a speech act called “sajiao,” a native term in Mandarin for persuasive talk that generally means to talk or behave like a child for persuasive purposes. This ethnographic study of feminine persuasion includes data from everyday communication and from interactions among online communities. The media texts and fieldwork data are compared to reveal how the dominant ideology that women should express femininity in the form of babyish cuteness influences native speakers’ understanding of the speech act among Mandarin speakers in Taiwan. This dissertation introduces the issues of sajiao and the relation to gender, culture, and communication. I analyze the sajiao performance conducted by female entertainers in Taiwan, the sajiao discourse in the newspaper, and the discussion about sajiao on TV. These data are compared with the daily practice of sajiao. I describe who does sajiao, how people sajiao, when sajiao happens, and why people sajiao. By detailing the sequential procedure of sajiao, I explore the persuasive dimensions and its cultural implications in the Taiwanese context. In addition, a comparison of sajiao practices between Taipei and Shanghai is offered. In conclusion, I explain why this project is critical and how it contributes to both the interpretive and the cultural studies traditions. Some limitations of this research and its potential development for communication studies in general are discussed. Abstract Approved: _________________________________ Thesis Supervisor _________________________________ Title and Department _________________________________ Date

THE TACTIC OF THE WEAK: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF FEMININE PERSUASION IN TAIWAN

by Hsin-I Yueh

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Philosophy degree in Communication Studies in the Graduate College of The University of Iowa

July 2012

Thesis Supervisor: Professor Kristine L. Muñoz

Copyright by HSIN-I YUEH 2012 All Rights Reserved

Graduate College The University of Iowa Iowa City, Iowa

CERTIFICATE OF APPROVAL ______________________ PH.D. THESIS ______________ This is to certify that the Ph.D. thesis of

Hsin-I Yueh has been approved by the Examining Committee for the thesis requirement for the Doctor of Philosophy degree in Communication Studies at the July 2012 graduation.

Thesis Committee: ____________________________________ Kristine L. Muñoz, Thesis Supervisor ____________________________________ Kembrew McLeod ____________________________________ Isaac West ____________________________________ Jiyeon Kang ____________________________________ Jennifer Feeley

ABSTRACT

This dissertation connects the study of media discourses of gender in East Asia with how globalization influences consumption of popular culture. It explores the ways in which femininity is framed in different layers of discourse through a speech act called “sajiao,” a native term in Mandarin for persuasive talk that generally means to talk or behave like a child for persuasive purposes. This ethnographic study of feminine persuasion includes data from everyday communication and from interactions among online communities. The media texts and fieldwork data are compared to reveal how the dominant ideology that all women have to express femininity in the form of babyish cuteness influences native speakers’ understanding of the speech act among Mandarin speakers in Taiwan. This dissertation introduces the issues of sajiao and the relation to gender, culture, and communication. I analyze the sajiao performance conducted by female entertainers in Taiwan, the sajiao discourse in the newspaper, and the discussion about sajiao on TV. These data are compared with the daily practice of sajiao. I describe who does sajiao, how people sajiao, when sajiao happens, and why people sajiao. By detailing the sequential procedure of sajiao, I explore the persuasive dimensions and its cultural implications in the Taiwanese context. In addition, a comparison of sajiao practices between Taipei and Shanghai is offered. In conclusion, I explain why this project is critical and how it contributes to both the interpretive and the cultural studies traditions. Some limitations of this research and its potential development for communication studies in general are discussed.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES

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CHAPTER I. SAJIAO—A CULTURALLY SITUATED PERSAUSIVE PERFORMANCE “People Sajiao All the Time” The Study of Gender Feminism and Gender Studies Gender as Performance Gender and Language/Communication Gender and Mandarin Language Sajiao as a Speech Act Speech Acts and Ethnography of Communication Brief History of Sajiao Issues in Sajiao Overview of Chapters II. METHODS

1 1 2 2 6 9 12 15 15 18 25 31 33

Ethnography of Communication History of Ethnography The Linguistic Turn Ethnography of Communication in the Qualitative Research Tradition The Path toward Data Analysis in Ethnographic Method Fieldwork Inductive Analysis Coding Interpretation Evaluation Data Collection Online Databases Television Shows (Talk Shows) Fieldwork (Taipei and Shanghai) Data Analysis Framework Transcription Findings III. CONSTRUCTING FEMININITY WITH SAJIAO The Changing Ideal Female Image The Cute Master The Beautiful and Submissive Women Female Image: The Reflection of Confusing Identities What is Cute? Politics of Identities The Importance of Going Feminine Sajiao to Be Cute: The Interpretation of Feminine Desire Feminine Desires and Feminist Voices The Influence of Japanese Kawaii Culture Localizing Cuteness

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33 33 36 39 41 43 44 45 47 48 49 49 52 53 55 55 58 61 63 63 63 67 70 77 79 83 83 86 89

Being a “Taiwanese” Girl How the Media Constructs Sajiao Female Idols’ Performance An Analysis of Newspaper Language Stories and Reflections Gender Experts’ Advice Implicit Words about Sajiao An Analysis of Talk Show Language Conclusion IV. SAJIAO IN EVERYDAY LIFE

92 97 98 102 103 104 107 112 121 125

Who Does Sajiao? Men Women Children Sales Persons How Do People Sajiao? Verbal Features Greeting Apologizing Complaining Refusing or Rejecting Giving an Order Negotiating Asking for Help or a Favor Agreeing Informing or Suggesting Nonverbal Features Physical Appearance Gesture and Movement Facial and Eye Behavior Verbal Behavior Territory and Touch Environment When Sajiao Happens Public/Private Divide The Hair Salon The Department Store Other Examples in Taipei A Brief Comparison: Shanghai Summary V. WHY DO PEOPLE SAJIAO?

126 127 134 145 152 157 157 158 160 164 167 170 172 175 176 178 181 181 182 184 185 186 187 189 190 192 197 205 214 219 221

Culture as a Persuasive Force The Tactic of the Weak Sajiao in the Intercultural Setting Sajiao and Identity Performance The Island of Sajiao Limitations and Further Research

222 225 229 233 235 238

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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LIST OF TABLES

Table 1. The Application of Hymes’ SPEAKING Framework

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2. Symbols used in Mandarin Chinese to Indicate Different Tones

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3. Conventional Forms of Address vs. Sajiao Forms of Address

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CHAPTER I SAJIAO—A CULTURALLY SITUATED PERSUASIVE PERFORMANCE

“People Sajiao All the Time” Little Yu, a one-year-and-seven-month-old boy, always waited for his five-yearold sister to come back home from pre-school. When she came home, he followed her everywhere, going to the bathroom, playing with the same toy, hugging her, touching her, until his sister blew up. Seeing his sister crying, Little Yu hugged her, patted her head to show he was sorry, and ran away. Little Yu’s mother said, “He is sajiaoing to his sister” (Melon). In the popular Taiwanese television talk show Come Here (kang xi lai le), 1 a female celebrity shared her experience of dealing with her husband’s jealousy of their sick child because she was too busy taking care of the child, He said that he was also sick and wanted me to check if he had a fever. You know, he was in fact sajiaoing. Because he is a doctor, he is able to diagnose himself. So you know he is doing sajiao. You just do whatever he wishes at this moment. (May 12 2011) Her story gained resonance among the other four married female guests, who were invited to discuss the topic of how to maintain a “sweet” married life. The native term for talk, sajiao, is widely used in various contexts in the Mandarin speaking community of Taiwan. The term includes verbal and nonverbal communication cues related to a babyish demand for attention or material goods. I share the above two stories to give some background for both native and non-native Mandarin speakers into the rationale for this project. The acts of both Little Yu and the celebrity’s

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I choose the mostly circulated pinyin system to transcribe Chinese characters into Roman alphabet. However, if people or artifacts mentioned in this dissertation have already had an English name, a nickname, or a preferred name known to the public, I will use it.

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husband are identified by an onlooker (Little Yu’s mother) or a target of the demand (the wife) as sajiao. However, there are not many similarities between the two cases, which raises several questions: Why do people sajiao? What effect do they want to achieve after doing sajiao? What is the importance of sajiao in everyday communication in Taiwan? Sajiao has been studied among scholars as part of gender performance. Although there are a plethora of research studies of gender performance in Taiwan, these studies have left us with a very narrow picture of what sajiao is and its cultural and social meaning in the given context. In this dissertation, I present sajiao to highlight that the culturally situated communication constructs the understandings of gender and gender performance. Sajiao has different meanings when it happens between parents and children, between intimate partners, and in the public setting. In order to understand the role of sajiao in communication, it is essential to understand what sajiao is in terms of how native speakers describe the act, how native speakers practice it, and how the discursive construction of the act influences the cultural understandings of femininity. In this chapter, I will first review the debate on the concepts of woman, women, and gender in feminist scholarship in order to argue for a study of femininity situated in cultural systems of meaning. Second, I will explore concerns that culturally situated studies of femininity raise. Third, I will review current topics of concern in the study of gender and language use in everyday settings. Fourth, I will provide a short history of and current research regarding sajiao. Finally, I will propose a different way of studying the speech act focused on communication and culture rather than on gendered bodies. The Study of Gender Feminism and Gender Studies In this section I focus on how Western feminism and its historical development influence the study of gender. In the long history of Western feminism, there are roughly four stages: (1) First Wave feminism (1900s-1920s), (2) Second Wave feminism (1960s-),

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(3) Third Wave feminism (1990s-present), and (4) Post-Feminism (1990s-present). The main achievement of the first stage was women’s political suffrage. Second Wave feminism aimed at greater gender equality in education, workplace, and at home. Because of its lack of attention to the differences among women due to race, ethnicity, class, nationality, religion, and sexuality, Third Wave feminism emphasizes identity as a site of gender struggle. One of the developments of Third Wave feminism is poststructuralist feminism, claiming that “woman” is a problematic category and should be deconstructed and reconstructed before researchers do a further gender analysis. Meanwhile, PostFeminism serves as a critique to the current hidden patriarchy under a paradoxical feminist discourse in the media. This re-examination of the feminist role after the 1990s is the response to what Douglas (2010) calls enlightened sexism: gender discrimination in a more subtle and insidious way (p. 10). It addresses an urgent issue: if most women are satisfied with their current situation, the gender equality on the surface, what and how should the scholarship of feminism position itself? Does it matter? Although there are four stages, it does not mean that this is a linear process. There are feminists who stick to the goal of Second Wave feminism nowadays while others consider that the mission of Second Wave feminism has already been fulfilled. These different views within feminist scholarship contradict each other and strew the field with various proposals and directions. The significant figure of Second Wave feminism is Simone de Beauvoir. For a long time, gender accrued little attention in the classic social theories. Male scholars tend to “consider women’s subordinate social role as a natural ‘given’” (Holmes, 2007, p. 3). It was not until Simone de Beauvoir wrote The Second Sex in the year of 1949 that the discussions of gender differences have gradually become an important area of study. As a book of feminist philosophy, The Second Sex reflects on the author’s own experience as a woman and questions the patriarchal exploitation of women through the essentialist view of the sexes. One of Beauvoir’s (1989) significant statements is to make a distinction

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between sex and gender. “One is not born but becomes a woman” (p. 267). According to Beauvoir, gender is the origin of social injustice, inequality, and oppression. Being a woman is never the subject with a concrete identity. Thus, women remain as the ambiguous other of men. The concept of the Other which Beauvoir uses to describe women’s social situation as a marginalized group becomes the foundation of later feminist critique. Simone de Beauvoir’s claim that one is not born, but rather becomes, a woman offers the reason why we need to study gender in the field of social science. In her view, biology determines our sex, while culture and society determine our gender. In other words, gender identity is culturally and socially constructed. Such a distinction between sex and gender has influenced social theories. For example, Tyson (2006) gives this definition: Feminism distinguishes between the word sex, which refers to our biological constitution as female or male, and the word gender, which refers to our cultural programming as feminine or masculine, which are categories created by society rather than by nature. (p. 86) Studying gender is then to study social expectations of a given culture. Like class and race, gender is a fundamental category that frames our understanding of who we are and where we are in society. In response to the neglect of gender in the male-dominant social science tradition, putting women at the center and bringing gender into various issues manifest the ultimate goal of the Second-Wave feminism: ending women’s oppression. Thus gender becomes the central topic of feminism. Since feminist beliefs and movements aim to let women’s voice heard, earlier gender studies emphasized the experience of only one gender, women. How to distinguish men and women in terms of gender difference is still a popular theme in current feminist scholarship. For example, Hoffort (2003) argues that understanding gender and the role it plays in society will help

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us to appreciate what men and women experience in everyday life differently. Similar comments are also found in Greer (1989) and Basow (1992). They believe that human beings are social creatures. Culture, rather than nature, makes men and women different. The frequent use of the word “difference” in feminist literature shows their deliberate efforts to get rid of the old word “(male) superiority” when studying gender. While gender identity has been studied as one of the fundamental factors in social issues, feminism has been attacked from within exactly because of this focus. Critics say that feminist analysis has often failed to recognize the diversity of women such as ethnicity, ideology, race, class, and sexuality. Some people find it difficult to ally themselves with feminism because their racial and class concerns have been ignored by the mainstream feminist movement. Thus, they propose that feminism should become feminisms, and these diverse groups are marked by their specific concerns. Black feminism, working class feminism, Third World feminism, Marxist and socialist feminism, sex-radical feminism, lesbian feminism, and poststructuralist feminism are a few responses to the monolithic concept of women. They do not agree with each other, and gender is not the only concern in these camps. Accordingly, what it means to be a feminist also becomes an issue. Is a researcher a feminist when s/he does gender studies? The cacophonic voices in feminism embody the original spirit of feminism: to challenge the universal patriarchal dominant norms. But on the other hand, those contradictory positions and proposals make many feminists re-examine the term critically or even reject to being labeled as a feminist. Humm (1995) joins other gender studies scholars in rejecting a global definition of feminists: [L]ike feminism, there is not, nor could be, a single definition of feminist, since feminists have many differing affinities—of sexual preference, class, and race. In short, a feminist is a woman who recognizes herself, and is recognized by others, as a feminist. (p. 95)

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Humm questions a totalizing definition of “feminist” but at the same time proposes a common base that binds feminists: “All feminists share a commitment to, and enjoyment of, a woman-centered perspective” (p. 95). Humm’s definition has an important point: the feminist identity is not only avowed but also ascribed. In response to the declining number of women who actively identify themselves as feminists, Rexroat (2010) suggests that de facto feminism include women who reject feminist identification while in fact they adopt feminist views and objectives. De facto feminism can be strategically employed by the mainstream women’s movement as a tactic that opens up an examination across race and class lines of how all women of various race and class combinations (white middle-class women, middle-class women of color, low-income white women, and low-income women of color) are part of the broader, mainstream feminist movement. This is an attempt to seek possible affinities and cooperation among different groups. Also, feminist identity is not the only admission ticket to practicing feminist beliefs or fulfilling shared goals for all women. Gender as Performance Because of these diverse historical, cultural, and political forces, Western feminist gender studies range from research on the traditional essentialist white middle-class women to women with multi-identities for their own differently prioritized agendas. On the other hand, post-structuralism also influences feminist scholarship. According to poststructuralism, there is no underlying “truth” behind appearances. Therefore, what matters is the analysis of the appearances. Poststructuralists treat social phenomena as texts, interested in how knowledge is produced through language and circulated with power. Foucault’s (1972) analysis of discourses leads us to see how meaning is created and exerted upon human bodies. In other words, individuals may be the authors of their discourses and therefore have some power to affect and resist the status quo. Although poststructuralist feminism at first sight is similar to social constructionist feminism, the major difference between the two is that poststructuralist

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feminism suggests that femininity and masculinity do not stick to a correspondent body so as to be universal and eternal categories. The belief of the close connection between women and femininity or men and masculinity is discursive constructions so they are “constantly open to redefinition” (Weedon, 1987, p. 137). In other words, any absolute meaning of femininity and masculinity is constantly deferred in an ongoing process. This view is especially useful to study the speech act sajiao because this taken-for-granted women’s communication style is, in my analysis, an example of the complicated discursive construction of femininity. According to poststructuralist feminism, gender is essentially a performance. Butler (1990) states that gender constitutes the identity it is purported to be. In other words, to perform gender is to do gender. Focusing only on the appearance and the discourse forces, Butler argues, “there is no gender identity behind the expressions of gender; that identity is performatively constituted by the very ‘expressions’ that are said to be its results” (p. 25). Therefore, it is the performance of gender, the doingness and beingness, that conforms to the roles, constraints and socially regulated boundaries that embody a particular gender. Butler’s assertion is significant to the present study in that it informs not only why femininity is reproduced in certain ways, but also why females make a conscious or unconscious decision to perform it in a particular way. While the act of performing gender is informed by history and sanctioned by context, it is also a way of doing an identity that has already proven successful to some degree. For the dominant society, this success can be perceived as the ideal that one should strive for should one want to be counted among the “real women.” What matters in poststructuralist feminism is the expression of gender, the doing, instead of seeking something essential below the surface of performance. The focus on the discursive construction is exactly the target to be attacked by other feminist camps that see many women’s groups in the world still suffer from male oppression and lack of

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basic human rights. Moreover, for many, the battle of gender equality has not ended yet. For example, Douglas’ (2002) lament on the formation of a more delicate patriarchal web through the power of mass media shows that the world has changed little compared with fifty years ago: Women still depend on beauty, not brain, to “succeed.” If there are no “women” at the center of feminism, they reason, what do they fight for? However, the discursive practices have material consequences. The usefulness of the poststructuralist view is in the recognition of a discursive production of gender that surrounds the specific type of self-presentation of gender. That is, our behavior is intertwined in the web of cultural scripts. How to be a “woman” is still a relevant question in poststructuralist feminism, but the focus is on how the discursive forces, such as media messages and cultural norms, shape the understanding of gender. My project is thus still aligned with the concern of “women’s” issues, but the focus is on the process of constructing, deconstructing, and reconstructing discourse of femininity. So far, I have briefly introduced the development of Western feminist theories of gender in order to situate the current project within this area. Also, I have illuminated where I position myself as a gender studies scholar. I started my introduction from Simone de Beauvoir, which narrows my discussion starting from the Second Wave feminist development. This is the moment when women were still treated as a monolithic entity fighting together against gender oppression. Because of the definite shared enemy—the patriarchal system—gender studies were equal to women studies. This is also the moment when Western feminist theories and feminist movements became influential throughout the world. Substantial achievements were accompanied by internal conflicts and contradictions, and led to separation within feminism. For example, Taiwan’s women’s movements were deeply influenced by the Western, especially the U.S., feminists. By using the framework of the Three Waves to examine Taiwan’s women’s movements, we can see the similar development from women’s political rights, women’s self-consciousness, to the transcendent identity politics of gender, sex, race, and

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culture. However, the time difference between the second and the third wave is not distinctive in Taiwan because these ideas were introduced to Taiwan almost at the same time. More details of feminist movements in Taiwan will be discussed in Chapter Three, which is contextualized with Taiwan’s history, politics, and other socio-cultural developments. Studying gender, one needs to consider other factors that make a group underprivileged, marginalized, or powerless, such as race, religion, class, sexuality, nationality, etc. Besides, although it is controversial, some claim that women are not the only focus of feminism, due to the influence of post-structuralism. Thus, in the next section, I will situate the previous research on sajiao, especially in the field of gender and language, and I will explain why viewing gender as performance functions best to examine the speech act sajiao. Gender and Language/Communication I am interested in the speech act sajiao because I find not only in Mandarin, but also in many East Asian languages, there is a specific phrase or word that includes a set of infantile behavior or ways of talking, yet it is not easy to find an equivalent word in English. Sajiao involves the imitation of a child’s gestures and ways of speaking. The purpose of this speech act is to persuade others by arousing their love and attention. People usually take a lower position if they practice sajiao. They perform weakness to make their audience give in. This is a speech act that depends heavily on power relations. However, sajiao is more commonly constructed as a woman’s standard, preferred communication style, especially in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan. As the two examples at the beginning of this chapter show, sajiao is not a women’s-only speech act because men and children practice it as well. It intrigues me to explore what previous research says about sajiao, and how sajiao is understood in terms of communication. Most studies are found in the field of gender and language, a division

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of socio-linguistics; therefore, I will give an overview of the current issues in gender and language and later focus on the study of Mandarin specifically. In the field of socio-linguistics, Lakoff’s (1975) Language and Women’s Place is viewed as the pioneering text in discussing gender and language. It generated numerous studies on the existence and characteristics of gendered language, such as the studies on the features of gender differences in men’s talk and women’s talk, the studies on the account for gender differences, and the studies on how language encodes a sexist reality. Focusing on how men and women talk differently, Lakoff claimed that there is a distinct “women’s language,” which is a set of speech styles that women use to mark their relatively powerless and weak position in a male-dominated society. Following her theory, for example, researchers started to test whether or not women talk in a more highpitched voice, or use more tag questions than men. Genderlect is a popular theme in such research, used to determine the phonological variability of male and female linguistic differences. Erickson, Lind, Johnson & O’Barr (1978) argue that gendered linguistic devices, intensifiers (e.g. so, very), hedges (I think, kinda), hesitations (uh, well), etc. are generally more used by women or lower class people to secure their social position (p. 267). One debate that emerged is whether gender and power are inseparable. According to the more recent published essay, Lakoff (2003) still firmly supports the position that these two are closely related to each other. Just like what happened in the field of feminism, the study of gender and language has also experienced the change from viewing gender as a property of individuals to adopting the notion of construction and performance. Throughout the 1990s, researchers began to challenge the focus on difference in the language and gender literature. Crawford (1995) proposed that researchers adopt a constructionist framework and ask different questions about the relations between language and gender. In other words, the classic questions focusing on “difference” or “dominance” as distinguishing men from women in speech styles have gradually been replaced by questions more

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related to social production of gendered language and discursive construction. Although this strand of work is named “social constructionist” in the field of gender and language, it draws heavily on the poststructuralist view of language of discourse and performativity proposed by Foucault and Butler. The shift from the “essentialist” view to the “social constructionist” analysis is seen in the change of research themes. The latter research focuses on the process of gendering, the ongoing accomplishment of gender, and the dynamism and fluidity of the process. This shift raises three issues for gender and language researchers. First, gender should not be treated as a presupposed factor. Rather than the genesis of all the other social and cultural factors, gender is one of them. Second, research questions should shift away from correcting linguistic variables with demographic variables. The questions based on this view focus on how people construct and use gender identities in talk, what is the relationship between gender, discourse and sexuality, and how gendered speech communities are constructed within the contexts of their social engagement. However, as Stokoe (2005) argues, even if scholars claim to be constructionist, or to be looking at gender as performance, it is difficult for them to make a conclusion apart from the “gender difference” claim that women perform femininities and men perform masculinities. So the third issue is how to represent and talk about gender and language properly. To sum up, in the field of gender and language, we see two main approaches to gender issues: sex/gender difference, and socio-constructionist analysis. The former focuses on the linguistic features of men’s talk and women’s talk, while the latter views gender as constructed and performative. My study on sajiao follows the second trend to study gender and questions the problem of categorization. As Jefferson (2004 a) notes, the issue for the constructionist is not whether gender is actually “real” or “true,” but that when researchers use the category of gender, they should analyze the workings of those

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categories, not merely use them as they are used in the world (p. 117). Stokoe (2005) adds, For language and gender researchers, the best way forward is to work towards understanding members’ own ‘reality-analysis’ with regards to gender and how, in everyday talk and text, they constitute the world, themselves, and other people, as recognizably, take-for-grantedly, gendered. (p. 126) Moreover, even when evidence of gender is revealed in communication, researchers should be cautious claiming the significance of gender to the case because this may not be the most salient or relevant category. Gender and Mandarin Language In the research on gender and Mandarin language, how gender is placed in relation to language use seems not to have such a clear transition from the essentialist view to a poststructuralist approach as it shows in research on gender and English. Chan (1998) summarizes some earlier and recent findings in studies on “sex-based differences” in the Chinese language. Studies can be roughly divided into mainly three categories: gender differences in phonetics and phonology, in lexicon, and in syntax and pragmatics. In the first category, researchers study the differences in pitch of voice between Chinese men and women, the ability to master the standard pronunciation, and what accounts for feminine accent in women’s talk. In the second category, researchers focus on the differential usage of vocabulary. Unlike Japanese, Mandarin does not have a clear gendered vocabulary specific for men and women, but it still expects women to be polite and to refrain from profanity. Other projects include the studies of forms of address, pronoun, and sentence-final particles. Finally, the study on gender difference in syntax and pragmatics is limited because it is difficult to define the syntactic unit that “varies.” Most of these studies are conducted in China, and some are about Cantonese rather than Mandarin. In Chan’s (1998) summary, research based on Taiwan includes Shih’s (1984) analysis of female news broadcasters and Farris’ (1995) observation on

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sajiao style. The sajiao style has been mentioned in other projects as well. For example, Ho (1989) mentions children’s sajiao as the negative feature in the process of Chinese socialization. Goodwin (2008) explores children’s peer negotiations through sajiao. Studies on children’s education often mentions sajiao as a typical children’s communication to plead things, but this feature seems to be neglected in the literature of gender and language. Farris is the first person who studies specifically and thoroughly the semantic meaning of sajiao. In Farris’ (1995) observational study, sajiao has several linguistic features, and she views the set of behavior as a gender mark. However, in her earlier research on how pre-school children interact with each other, she mentions several features beyond the gender category. For example, she notes the power relations between preschool teachers and children, and the code-switching practiced by the teachers, between baby-talk and voice of authority (1992). Similarly, Su (2009) also identifies sajiao as a code-switching example in managing a face-threatening situation. It shows that sajiao is performed by different roles in various situations. Chao’s (2001) study of the interactions in Taipei’s lesbian bars manifests the necessity to study sajiao in terms of power relations. Although Chao’s focus is not entirely on sajiao, she observes that the hostess usually imitates the heterosexual interactions to serve the customer, and one of the tactics is to sajiao. A service person in the lesbian bars will “sit on the T-patron’s laps, 2 play with her ties, lean on her shoulders, and sajiao all the time” (p. 195). Chao defines sajiao as “exaggerated feminine acts characterized by playful submissiveness in flirtatious undertones,” and she compares these features with “female infantalization” in Allison’s (1994) observation of heterosexual women’s behavior in Tokyo’s hostess clubs. Chao’s article leads us away

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T (for tomboy) and Po (for wife) are the colloquial naming of a lesbian couple in Mandarin. There are Ts and T-Po couples, but rarely Pos couples.

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from the binary categorization and to the performativity of the act in the sense that at least one audience member is required. In her dissertation on Chinese politeness, Lin (2005) analyzes the persuasive discourse, mainly the exchange between sales and customers in Taiwan, by applying Brown and Levinson’s theory of politeness. Again, this is another sociolinguistic study on how the socio-cultural contexts influence utterance. Lin’s data collection is rich, but her focus is not on sajiao. In all the data about one-on-one persuasion in business settings, Lin claims that only two cases reveal the sajiao tone (p. 119-120). However, some of her cases are ambivalent in interpretation. They could be polite, and also could be sajiao. In other words, politeness and sajiao are not contradictory, and I even argue that the sajiao style is increasingly adopted or more widely accepted as the conventional form of greeting in business settings in Taiwan. In my fieldwork in Taiwan, I found that sajiao is quite often used in business settings, such as department stores, street food stalls, hair salons, and telephone customer service. While the sajiao styles of greeting are common in Taiwan, these are different from many people’s shopping experience in China, where most salespersons were not as friendly or approachable as Lin described. Intriguingly, people may find similar sajiao style in Japan’s department stores, and South Korean business districts. So Lin’s phrase “Chinese politeness” needs to be modified, because her fieldwork in Taiwan does not fully reflect the situation in China. My project aims to study sajiao not only as a linguistic feature, but also as a communication style in a Mandarin speech community. Language, including words, sentence structure, grammar, etc. is still central in the field of sociolinguistics. Performativity of bodies, such as nonverbal hand movement, personal space, gesture, clothes, and other cultural factors, is not the focus of the research mentioned above. Schechner (2002) suggests that performativity be a method of constructing reality because it characterizes the practice of recycling behaviors in everyday life. Therefore,

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performances are essentially communicative in nature. In the field of communication, performance is viewed as an act, not merely a movement, because it is believed that an act contains meaning, and an act implies an audience. Goffman (1959) has used dramatic metaphor to elaborate that all human communication is an act of performance. Individuals are always going through some kind of image management in order to communicate an identity that will be acceptable. What follows is based on sajiao as a performance in the perspective of communication. I will first introduce how sajiao is understood in the Mandarin speech community and some cultural, social, and power issues concerning sajiao. Sajiao as a Speech Act Speech Acts and Ethnography of Communication In this section, I want to elaborate how the concept of speech act in the frame of ethnography of communication can help understand sajiao as a performance with social and cultural meanings. The theory of speech acts was popularized by Searle (1969) in his book Speech Acts, in which he expanded the theories of the British philosopher J.L. Austin. Austin (1962) divides speech acts into two kinds: constative and performative. The difference between the two is that the former is involved in true or false report. Furthermore, the act of making an utterance can be divided into three categories: illocution, locution, and perlocution. Illocution serves as the communicative function of an utterance, containing the speakers’ intention, such as stating, inquiring, requesting, commanding, or inviting. Locution is the mere act of speaking. Perlocution is a speech act viewed in terms of the speaker. All these categories aim to understand what the person is doing by saying or using a verb. Based on Austin’s original model, Searle (1969) divided speech acts into five categories: representatives, directives, commissives, expressives, and declarations. Representatives are mostly composed with the verb “be.” “It’s hot.” “He was late.” They are a statement of a state, evaluated as true or false. Directives are orders: verbs such as

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to demand, to suggest, to request, to beg, and to ask are in this category. Commissives involve verbs that commit a future promise; examples include the acts to threaten, to promise, to offer and to expect something. The fourth category is expressives, which are related to emotional expression, such as apologizing, shouting, crying, and so on. Declaratives are often used in ritual moments. “I announce…,” “I hereby certify…,” are examples. Searle’s typology is widely used in sociolinguistics. Useful as it is, speech act theory has long been criticized for focusing on isolated utterances. In Searle’s frame, a speech act is a single utterance, and one speech act has only one function. This flaw can be solved by studying speech acts in another frame, which is offered by the ethnography of communication tradition. One of the features of ethnography of communication is to collect data in natural settings. Speech act in the natural settings is hardly a single utterance. It contains longer units of talk and more than merely verbal communication. In the natural settings, speech act also serves multiple functions. A criticism in a conversation may both express the speaker’s negative feelings and direct the listener’s reaction. Studying speech act in the frame of ethnography of communication, we will have a richer understanding of what people do and what the words and the actions mean. The ethnography of communication, or originally ethnography of speaking, is an approach to the study of communication that entails specific assumptions about the relationship between speech and culture. This approach uses ethnographic method in order to gain a cultural understanding of the ways in which individuals communicate and the implications of that communication on social life. The ethnography of communication, as the name implies, encompasses nonverbal communication in addition to verbal speech. Besides the advantages mentioned above, it is a method that shows the meaning of a speech act is not universal but community-exclusive. Details of this method will be elaborated in the next chapter. In this part, I will focus on how the concept of speech act is helpful in studying sajiao.

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Speech acts are meaningful in the speech community where they are created. A speech community is a range where people speak the same language, understand the nuances of certain vocabulary, and share the culture. The word “communicating” in the U.S. culture is, for example, a speech act with a specific meaning. People use this term to refer to a serious, deep, and emotional exchange with each other in contrast to a casual greeting or a small talk. However, this expression is not found in the Israeli speech community (Katriel & Philipsen, 1981). Speech acts are a medium to distinguish one speech community from another. Last but not least, although there are “standard” forms of a speech act, people will understand the message even if it is not delivered by the standard form. For example, an apology can be expressed in various forms. People do not need to hear “I am sorry” to make sure that the message they receive is an apology. On the other hand, saying “I am sorry” does not always mean an apology. The distinction between the two requires the consideration of context and the knowledge of the members of the speech community. Many speech acts, such as advising, reproaching, gossiping, and so on, can be found across communities, but they sometimes take distinctive shapes within different communities. For example, Goldsmith (1989) studies the speech act gossip in five different communities, and compares their different identity-building process through gossiping. Although each community uses a different word, such as commess in St. Vincent and talanoa in Bhatgaon, the general characteristics and meaning of the act are consistent across them. By contrast, the speech act, sajiao, cannot be identified in many linguistic systems as a distinctive word or phrase. I roughly translate the term as “acting like a spoiled child” in English, but it is not the best translation. However, it is commonly understood in the East Asian region. For example, native speakers of Japanese can immediately tell me a synonym, “amae,” in Japanese. In Korean, “aekyo purida” is the phrase used to describe the act of a spoiled child. Language is a symbolic system, so in

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these languages, where there is such a term referring to a set of infantile baby-like gesture and way of speaking, this fact reveals something significant about their cultures. What is the significant meaning of sajiao in Taiwan? Before discussing the contemporary practice of the speech act in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan, I trace back the early record of how the term was used and display the evolution of the meanings of the term. This is a journey across both time and geographic boundary (from China to Taiwan). The following is a brief history of the phrase sajiao used in Chinese classic literary works. My purpose is to show how sajiao has been transformed into a comparatively positive term from a negative term in describing women’s speech and actions. Brief History of Sajiao Mandarin is the sole official language in Taiwan. In formal education, Mandarin is commonly used in classroom. In urban public settings as well as in the TV news reporting, Mandarin is the most frequently used language for people to communicate. However, the majority of people in Taiwan are bilingual (Mandarin and Taiwanese), and the popularity of speaking Mandarin is a comparatively recent phenomenon (Sandel, 2003, p. 528-29). From 1540 to 1682, Taiwan was a battlefield among the aboriginal people, the Han, the Dutch, the Spanish, and pirates for its abundant natural resources. It is not until Zheng Chengguo 3 (1624-1662), an arch commander of the collapsed Ming Empire, chose Taiwan as the military base to defeat Manchu’s Qing Empire that the traditional Han custom and culture started to be systematically established in Taiwan. In 1683, the Zheng regime was surrendered to the Qing Empire, and became under the jurisdiction of Fujian province. Later, however, Taiwan was ceded to the Empire of Japan in 1895 due to the Qing Empire’s failure in the First Sino-Japanese War. It was colonized

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This dissertation follows the Asian convention that family names precede given names. However, the names of the Asian authors of English language works follow the English convention of the personal name preceding the family name.

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by Japan for fifty years, and Japanese language became the official language that everyone was required to learn. Then, it became the temporary base for Chiang KaiShek’s Republic of China (ROC) after the Kuomingtang (KMT) party was defeated by the Communist Party of China in 1945. Although the official language of the Qing Empire was Mandarin, people in Taiwan communicated mostly in Taiwanese or Hakka. It was not until the KMT government enforced its strict Mandarin Language Policy (1966-1987) in schools throughout Taiwan that Mandarin took its dominant position. Since the KMT government escaped to Taiwan, the communication between Taiwan and China was strictly forbidden by both governments for almost forty years. In these forty years, Taiwan has been developed in a different route from China in many respects, including language usage, such as vocabulary, accent, and tone. Sandel (2003) argues that Taiwan has been and continues to be the site of linguistic struggle. The dominant position of Mandarin in Taiwan oppresses people who cannot speak the “standard” national language. Built on Sandel’s analysis of the ability to speak standard Mandarin as a cultural capital, this project will argue that the sajiao act performed in Mandarin has a more prestigious implication in the Taiwanese society than when it is performed by other dialects. However, the Mandarin accent used in sajiao form in this speech community is a mixture of many cultural forces both from domestic and other parts of the East Asian region, instead of being defined as merely part of Chinese culture. In other words, the fact that Mandarin can be understood across the Taiwan Strait does not mean that people speak the same “language.” As I mentioned above, I examine the sajiao phenomenon in terms of language (the descriptive text), actual practice, and discursive construction. The first data can be divided into three kinds: 1) the works containing the phrase sajiao written in Imperial China, 2) the texts after the KMT government retreated to Taiwan (1949-1989), and 3) the texts after 1990. The first category mainly includes popular novels, dramas, and unofficial histories. The second and third categories are materials from newspapers,

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popular TV shows, and popular blogs. One of the most obvious changes in the connotation of sajiao throughout time is the decrease of the stigma on women. The phrase sajiao first appeared in the piece of chuanqi (Chinese Southern dramas), The Tale of Two Martyrs (雙烈記) written by the Chinese playwright, Zhang Siwei (張四維). 4 No definite publishing date was found, but Chinese drama specialists speculate that it might have been written in the early Ming Empire (1368-1644). Chinese Southern dramas were a popular dramatic form, consisting of dance, folk songs, and clown performance to present stories of historical heroes. The Tale of Two Martyrs was about the story of the couple, General Han Shizhong (韓世忠) and General Liang Hongyu (梁紅玉), who fought against the Jurchens together. The wife Liang was said to be a strong woman. She was born in a military family and was taught martial skills. At some point she was forced to be a prostitute, and she met Soldier Han at a banquet. Liang showed interest in joining the army. After they became married, Liang followed Han to fight against the Jurchens and earned several victories. Based on the lives of the two historical figures, The Tale of Two Martyrs added many details to recount their romantic encounter. In the third scene of the drama, Liang was introduced by the procuress to the audience. The procuress boasted of Liang as a famously beautiful and talented lady, but she was worried that Liang kept refusing to receive any guests and wore only old and plain clothes. The procuress complained, “All she does is sajiao and get into a temper. She never cares about my heavy debts and the risk of family collapse” (專會撒嬌使性, 哪管我債重家傾). Literally, sa (撒) refers to a hand movement, and jiao (嬌) is an adjective about femininity. The phrase can be

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The term “sajiao” first appears in Zhang Siwei’s The Tale of Two Martyrs; however, the term “sajiao sachi” (撒嬌撒痴) appears even earlier. It can be traced back to the classical novel Outlaws of the Marsh (水滸傳) by Shi Nai-An (probably written during 1330 and 1400). “Sajiao sachi” emphasizes the action of crying, shouting, and pretending to be ignorant. It is a similar phrase to the modern usage of sajiao.

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translated as “to let go one’s feminine prettiness.” In this particular text, however, sajiao is not connected to the feminine attractiveness, but to a rebelling way to challenge the norm. Liang’s sajiao was not applauded, because she did not obey her “mama,” did not listen to others’ advice, and was hard to deal with. In another Chinese classical novel entitled The Story of a Marital Fate to Awaken the World (醒世姻緣傳), a woman was described negatively as practicing sajiao in order to attract the attentions of noble men and princes. “[She] wears an extremely gorgeous outfit, dressing up like a sweet pretty girl, sajiao maichiao in front of noble men and princes” (穿了極華麗的衣裳, 打扮得嬌滴滴的, 在那公子王孫面前撒嬌賣俏). The phrase sajiao maiqiao emphasizes the womanly behavior in the specific context, describing females’ effort to draw men’s attention in order to find someone whom they could rely on. The emphasis of the term was not only one’s appearance, but also her communication skills. Selling one’s good looks (maiqiao) was one of the tactics of showing attractiveness. Besides an extremely gorgeous outfit, ogling and smiling are typical for a woman who practices maiqiao. It was a dangerous game, for in traditional China, this kind of behavior at best would lead the woman to become a concubine in a wealthy family, not a fair lady as the wife in a household. In the texts I collected, the phrase sajiao appeared mostly in popular literature, and often connected with another phrase, sachi, to describe the gesture and way of talking of prostitutes, hostesses, and lower-class women. Sometimes, the phrase was also used to describe men’s improper behavior such as drunkenness, but the phrase was mostly used negatively to describe women. For example, Stories of the Past and Present (今古奇觀), an anthology of short stories in the late Ming Empire, records a marriage of a young woman and an old man, [The young woman] often sajiao sachi to the old man; she asks one gift and gets it, and then wants another. The old man has to spend a lot of money to please her… The woman behaves like a

22 prostitute, and one cannot see any clues of her virtue and refinedness (這女子嬌模嬌樣好像妓女全沒有良家體段). The tone of the story reveals the disapproval of this marriage, and criticizes the young wife’s greed, “without virtue and refinedness to be a wife.” It is difficult to find an entry that identifies a “good” woman’s behavior as sajiao. Under the influence of the Confucian value system, the standard of being a good woman includes several virtues: obedience, chasteness, and decorum. Women were expected to be quiet and demure, and to seldom express their opinion. In other word, sajiao was a stigmatized action and the actor was treated negatively. Besides, in modern Mandarin Chinese dictionaries, sajiao was defined as “shiai zuotai” (恃愛作態). The best English translation of these four words is as follows, “to deliberately act like a spoiled child in front of someone because of the awareness of the other person’s affection.” The first phrase, “shiai,” means to rely on love, and the second phrase, “zuotai,” means to perform a pretentious gesture. It seems that sajiao takes place under the condition of love, between two parties in many kinds of relationships. To sum up, it emphasizes that sajiao involves the imitation of a child’s gesture or body movement, and that the purpose of doing it is to arouse people’s love or attention. Among the similar dictionary definitions, one entry was worth mentioning. In The Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Chinese Language (1966), sajiao was “shiai zuotai, mostly seen in children to parents, concubines to husbands or masters (姬妾對夫主).” The interesting point was the word choice in the entry. Concubines, not wives, practiced sajiao to husbands or masters. People often misunderstood the marriage system in traditional China, and claimed that Chinese men had several wives. However, only one woman at a time was able to take the position of the legitimate wife in a household and be recognized by the society and the family. Other women in the household were all considered concubines once the male master slept with them. These women were either brought from the wife’s original family as servants and gifts to the husband’s family or

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purchased from a poor family, brothel, and peddler. Even though the wife died, the concubines could not become the wife in most cases. The husband’s family would find another woman from an equal family background to be the second wife. Thus, concubines were treated like objects, serving to play love games with men, and their social status was unable to change. This also indicated that a woman from a decent family for whom a matching marriage was arranged by her parents had no need to practice sajiao, because this was not the role a wife, her expected social role, should play. It might explain why the phrase sajiao is not easily found in old Chinese books related to women’s proper behavior, though the character “jiao” has a female radical. Women from Chinese gentry’s class were educated in their inner chambers, and the curriculum was as varied as the interest and abilities of the mother and her own inclination (Ko, 1994, p. 23). The purpose of education was intellectual, for women to learn poetry-writing, music, chess, or painting. Besides a pair of bound feet, a woman’s virtue was also judged by her intellectual talent in terms of a good wife. In traditional China, any acts not decorous, poised, and gentle were lowly valued and hindered women’s way to marriage, to a secured future. In summary of the usage of the word “sajiao” in the old texts, one can find that the actors take a lower position to request, refuse, demand, or change the other party’s acts or beliefs. Most of the actors who play sajiao in the data are women. Although most of the records might be fictional, these women’s fate was miserable; most of them were killed or deserted by men. Sajiao was viewed negatively and the capacity of playing sajiao was something a “good” woman should avoid learning. These cases reveal different relationships, gender, and purpose, but they represent a bad role model. The moral of these old stories is clear; practicing persuasion in the name of love might temporarily work and get what the woman wants, but in the long run, sajiao brings her no good.

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Compared with the historical record of sajiao in Imperial China, the newspaper texts after 1949 in Taiwan provide a different picture. There are more entries about the interaction between parents and children. For example, the newspaper notes that a child does sajiao to his mother in request of a new pair of shoes by saying, “I don’t want tennis shoes. I want leather shoes!” (Ling, October 13 1953). In newspaper serial stories, sajiao is also a common scene between lovers. In the story Flowing Water in the High Mountains, a woman talks to her lover. “‘Don’t say it,’ she says in a sajiao way, ‘otherwise I will die.’ …. They embrace each other, and vow their love” (Wang, January 16 1953). Besides, sajiao is still associated with immoral women in describing the trouble they make in the social news section. “A female was caught stealing six turkeys from Yeh Chun-Rong’s house…. She sajiao to the policeman in attempt to escape, but in vain” (United Daily News, May 9 1960). Nevertheless, the connotation of sajiao seems to gradually get rid of the stigma throughout time. After the 1990s in Taiwan, sajiao became a preferred form of femininity circulating in people’s lives, and many articles and TV programs provide information to tell the audience how to sajiao. A woman who is good at sajiao might not be despised but highly praised. Men want to find a spouse who knows how to sajiao. A woman who does not know how to sajiao would risk her marriage. The urban horrible story goes: a husband blames his betrayal and extramarital affair on the wife’s lack of sajiao ability (D. Wu, March 11 2011). The popular columnist repeatedly warns: “sajiao in the wrong way ruins your social and intimate relationship!” (R. Wu, March 25 2011). How to do sajiao correctly and effectively becomes an urgent topic circulating in the media. The moral issue of sajiao is not worth discussing anymore. Now the concept that women sajiao has become an unquestionable truth. This project thus aims to focus on the phenomenon after the 1990s in Taiwan to explore the following questions: How is sajiao understood and how does it shape identities in this Mandarin speech community? What makes it different from other communities? What can we learn about femininity in this culture?

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Issues in Sajiao The study of sajiao is a rich topic involved in the constant debate on gender, language, and communication; however, there are unanswered or unsolved questions as well as new issues related to this sajiao phenomenon in Taiwan. In the previous section, in order to illustrate what sajiao is, I not only offer dictionary definitions, but also display a variety of examples. In these cases, one will find that the participant, the situation, the act, and the form are diverse. People do sajiao in different relationships, in different occasions, and in different ways. Women are commonly the actors of sajiao, but men and children do it as well. The following questions summarize what I find unsatisfied in the previous research on sajiao, and I attempt to answer them in this project. First, is sajiao a gendered performance? Sajiao has been studied as a special style of women’s speech, a distinct gender marker, and a persuasive weapon for women, but that is easily challenged by the above examples. While I agree that this is a gendered performance, I view it as a performance of femininity, instead of a “women’s” performance. As Butler (1990) argues, people do gender instead of being a gender. This assertion characterizes the performative nature of gender. To study sajiao in terms of femininity rather than women is an attempt that obviates viewing it narrowly as an essential characteristic possessed solely by women. This poststructuralist view challenges the seemingly close relationship between “women” and “femininity,” and broadens our thinking of who can do sajiao. However, it does not mean that any actor has total control over decisions affecting their gender performance; it is actually influenced and scripted by performances that exist in history. If sajiao were a woman’s specific gender performance, we would not see many wives talk about how their husband sajiao in the private sphere. The acceptance of husbands’ sajiao in a private place is the restriction of gender performativity described by Butler. When a person decides to perform like a spoiled child in front of his/her spouse or lover, this person is not alone. This person has acted in accord with socially sanctioned

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behaviors for the role, whether it is that of a husband, of a wife, of a boyfriend, or of a girlfriend. This behavior has probably been exemplified for the person, or at least, the person has been told this behavior is just what “this role can do.” Thus the question is, in what situation can the display of this specific femininity be enacted? Butler’s assertion is significant to this project in that it informs why femininity is not only reproduced in certain ways, but also why people make a conscious or unconscious decision to perform it in particular way. While the act of performing gender is informed by history and sanctioned by context, it is also a way of doing an identity that has already “proven” successful to some degree. Even though I agree that most actors of sajiao are women, I am more interested in when and where the gender performance appears, and why it is the “feminine” thing to show intimacy and affection. Second, is sajiao a well-structured speech act? In the previous research, scholars have already provided many detailed features to identify sajiao. For example, after conducting fieldwork in Taiwan, Farris (1995) identifies several characteristics of sajiao: 1) the speaker refers to the self by saying renjia (other) instead of wo (I); 2) the use of the sentence final particle ma; 3) accompanying facial kinesics such as eye-rolling, rapid blinking and extended, pouting lips; and 4) it should be a very nasal style (p.16). Besides, Shih’s (1984) article gives many other concrete examples to expand the understanding of sajiao. More words are used in sajiao besides ma: ya, ne, la, and ye as sentence final particles; ai-yo and ai-ya as interjections. Both Farris and Shih indicate that the phrase taoyan (annoying) is often used by a sajiaoer to refuse someone or disapprove something indirectly. They also agree that these distinct features of sajiao strengthen the division of men and women in society. Basically, the majority of the research focuses on the gender division of linguistic characteristics. In a more recent research on sajiao, the cultural anthropologist Chuang (2005) argues that sajiao is the performative action of cuteness, and this action was not only a habitus that women sometimes unconsciously adopt as a communicative means, but also

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a strategy used intentionally to release tensions in the workplace. According to her observation in Taipei, there are other apparent features of sajiao: 1) the sentence final particle oh is frequently used in different intonations, 2) people pretend to be angry, stomp and pout, and 3) the replication of monosyllabic words is often adopted in sajiao form, such as saying “chi fanfan” (eat rice rice) instead of “chi fan” (eat rice) (p. 22). The replication of monosyllabic words is said to create a sense of cuteness, making the speaker more adorable and sexually desirable. The list of sajiao features can be longer, and more can be added to the list. The framework I use to examine sajiao comes from the ethnographic tradition, which studies how communication is used in everyday life. In my preliminary research on sajiao, I adopt Carbaugh’s (1989) framework to study sajiao as a cultural term for talk. In this framework, Carbaugh compares various ethnographic works of communication and the cultural terms for talk within these cultural groups. He notices that cultural terms for talk can refer to things individuals do with words, to moments of speech and coparticipation, and to general cultural standards that are used to evaluate communication enactment. The framework provides a way to decode sajiao’s messages about communication, sociality, and personhood. According to Carbaugh (1989), the messages about communication include directness/indirectness, the degree of structuring, the tone, and the efficaciousness of communication as an action. The messages about society are the indication of the term about the relations among each other, and the institutions where people find themselves and through which they speak. When people label their speech, they invoke conceptions about personhood, and this delivers the messages about their sense of communication acts, events, and styles. In my preliminary analysis, sajiao is defined as an indirect form of persuasion, with informal, playful, but definite structure. I also find the inconsistency between people’s imaginary sajiao behavior and the real practices they identify as sajiao in

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everyday life. With data collected in my fieldwork and in the media texts, I think a more comprehensive framework is necessary to include all the examples in order fully to understand sajiao. In this project, Dell Hymes’ model of SPEAKING will be applied to see how sajiao can be analyzed in terms of situation, participants, ends, forms, nonverbal cues, channels, norms, and genres at the first stage. Besides, this dissertation studies the historicity of sajiao within a context of transnational influences. A more comprehensive analysis of sajiao will be given in Chapter Three and Chapter Four. Third, what is sajiao’s purpose? The previous research focuses on its function of gender division, or the empowerment of women, but it is not clear why people do sajiao. Chuang (2005) interviews a Taiwanese woman about why and when she will use sajiao. Ms. Lu, 26 years-old, who is a sales representative in a medical care products company, gives the following account, “It is like a lubricant. It helps us get along with people better and make things easier” (p. 24). But Lu complained that some of her new female colleagues, who just graduated from college, did not know where the limit of sajiao is. “It is as if they confuse daily life with work. I mean, it is fine that they act a little petty and spoiled at home, but not at work. They need to learn the correct work attitude” (p. 24). Chuang analyzes Lu’s account and explains further, In her opinion, a woman who does not know how to sajiao or act cute would be disadvantaged at work, because people would think that she has a personality problem. She said that in a work place like hers where the majority of employees are male, women are obliged to soften up the atmosphere by releasing some girlish charm. She modified this point by saying that there is however, a limit in being cute and girlish; that is, inasmuch as she must nevertheless be responsible and dedicated to work…. On the one hand, it shows that she accepts girlish behaviors as women’s attitude in daily life; on the other, it implies that even the “correct work attitude” for women must consist of a cute façade. (p. 24) This article gives a general account of what femininity means in the current Taiwanese society, and confirms that sajiao is not a negative term anymore. This article also shows how females in Taiwan views sajiao as the necessary equipment for them to succeed in

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the workplace. Ms. Lu’s account even creates a discourse that sajiao is a war among women. Her complaint about new female colleagues, who are probably younger than her, expresses that she might feel threatened because the young females possess more compatible physical characteristics than her to perform this speech act. Nevertheless, when we have already determined sajiao as a women’s speech act, the explanation of the purpose of sajiao becomes limited. Instead of thinking of sajiao as the display of gender role, I propose to classify it into several different levels: between parents and children, between intimate partners, and in the formal business settings. The classification is based on my ethnographic notes. Before I entered the field, I defined sajiao as a form of persuasion. The purpose of this speech act was to persuade others by arousing their love and attention. People who practiced sajiao usually took a lower position in the given relationship. They performed as the weak to make their audience give in. To sum up, sajiao depended heavily on power relations. After the fieldwork, I felt it necessary to either complicate the concept of persuasion or offer more analytical frames to approach sajiao. According to different situations and people, sajiao is a way of begging, displaying affection, persuading, showing politeness, etc. Are all these speech acts included in the tent of Persuasion? Is the display of cuteness to arouse people’s affection a form of persuasion? Is being polite a form of persuasion? Fitch’s (2003) cultural persuadables offer the framework to answer this question. Fourth, if sajiao is considered a feminine speech act, what kind of femininity is legitimate to play sajiao? In some Chinese-English dictionaries, sajiao is also translated as “throwing a tantrum, or acting coquettishly.” Although “coquettish” is not a commonly used word in contemporary daily conversation, the connotation of the word about femininity is quite different from that of sajiao. The requisite of sajiao is cute, not sexy, and that engages the discussion of femininity in the East Asian context more fully in the constant debate of masculinity and femininity in Western culture.

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Fifth, what is the influence of different media in shaping the understanding of sajiao? Sajiao is an interpersonal interaction, but it is also a performance that involves not only the direct addressee, but also other audience members. The media texts about sajiao make the meaning of sajiao more complicated. I will introduce how critical cultural studies framework is useful in studying sajiao and why it is necessary to talk about the political, economic, and cultural flows in East Asia in examining various dimensions of sajiao. I will answer what sajiao tell us about culture. The following example will give the reader a quick glance to see the necessity of re-examining sajiao beyond its interpersonal interactions, and further understand the cultural implications of this specific communication pattern in Taiwan. In 2010, a Taiwanese professor of law wrote to a newspaper about a controversial event caused by a Taiwanese male public figure. By commenting on this event, the law professor mentioned a frequent communication feature used by most of Taiwanese celebrities, which is called “哽咽 genye” (choke with sobs). In his words, Genye seems to become the innate ability for Taiwan’s public figures. Politicians, officials, political talk show guests, or entertaining celebrities know how to genye every time they have to face the camera to apologize for their misdeeds…. From unknown local political figures to our President Ma, they all play genye well and make it the necessary gadget in press conference. (Huang, November 13 2010) According to him, genye creates the sense of compassion and makes general audiences forgive the wrongdoings the public figures have done. The tears, whether they are “real” or “fake,” transform the guilty into a hero. Such a genye culture among political figures described by Huang is a variation of sajiao because the performance of choking with sobs expresses the vulnerability and helplessness of the public figure, and evokes the audience’s emotion. In this sense, genye shares the spirit and skills of sajiao, and these cry-baby politicians gain the public’s attention. Given that Taiwan’s current President Ma has been caught by the news media

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more than once using genye when talking about Taiwan’s diplomatic hardships (Apple Daily, August 16 & 17 2011) — apologizing for the government’s slow responses to the typhoon disaster, (Apple Daily, August 19 2009), or appreciating the humanistic donations from foreign countries to help Taiwan (Apple Daily, September 8 2009) —how should we interpret the message? Why do public figures in Taiwan need tears, sobs, and sometimes wails to make their message heard? Taiwan is an island of sajiao. This metaphor serves to highlight the prevalent sajiao culture in Taiwan, practiced by all kinds of people for various purposes. This metaphor also hints that the common display of the feminine communication form in both public and private spaces to a certain degree reflects the collective response to the position of Taiwan in the world. Whether the actors do it deliberately or unintentionally, sajiao is a common symbol used in the given society. By offering an extensive picture of what sajiao means, this dissertation aims to dig into its meanings from an unexplored perspective and connect it to the discursive identity construction in Taiwan. Overview of Chapters This project is divided into five chapters. The first chapter introduces the issues of sajiao and its relation to gender, culture, and communication. It also offers an overview of each chapter. In Chapter Two, I describe the ethnographic tradition in which this study was grounded, and how I follow the method to collect, classify and analyze different data. Chapter Three gives the background of the location where the research has been conducted. It connects the project to critical cultural studies by explaining why this project is critical and how it contributes to the cultural studies tradition. I analyze the sajiao performance conducted by female entertainers in Taiwan, the sajiao discourse in the newspaper, and the discussion about sajiao on TV, thus providing a useful comparison to understand the daily practice of sajiao described in Chapter Four. I display and analyze my fieldnotes in Chapter Four. I describe who does sajiao, how people sajiao, and when sajiao happens. By detailing the sequential procedure of sajiao, I

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explore its persuasive dimensions and its cultural implications in the Taiwanese context. In addition, a comparison of sajiao practices between Taipei and Shanghai will be offered. In Chapter Five, I summarize patterns of sajiao in Taiwan’s Mandarin speech community and their functions as discussed in the previous chapters, as well as explore the layered cultural implications in Taiwan. I offer two answers in explaining why people do sajiao. One is related to culture, and the other is power. Finally, some limitations of this research and its potential development for communication studies in general will be discussed.

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CHAPTER II METHODS

Ethnography of Communication This project is grounded in the ethnographic tradition of communication. In this chapter, I will first briefly introduce the history of ethnography in general and the ethnography of communication specifically. Second, I will describe the process of data collection and data analysis in the ethnographic tradition and how it is useful to this project. Third, I will demonstrate how I apply the method to collect and analyze data. History of Ethnography Ethnography is a method that researchers use to describe everyday human behavior based on participant-observation in natural settings. How to conduct fieldwork is as important a training for ethnographers as the ability to interpret data. Anthropology is considered the field in which ethnography was primarily developed, and participantobservation was practiced and became the standard method when one conducted an ethnographic research. However, tracing back the history of anthropology (formally established during the mid-1800s), we discover that this standard method was not fully established until the 1930s (Clifford, 1983). A current practitioner of ethnographic method might be surprised at the way their precursors conducted research because in the past scholars 1) did not go to the site, 2) did not directly correspond with local people, 3) did not speak the language commonly used in their research area, and 4) did not emphasize the ability of observation. During the early period of time, research, which was still often labeled by the early term “ethnology,” was conducted by two groups: scholars staying at home, and those who were working at the site as explorers, missionaries, colonists, traders, etc. Scholars depended on questionnaires or surveys sent out to those working abroad as their primary method of data gathering (Leeds-Hurwitz, 2005). Later, local people were

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included in the inquiry of different cultures. Translators played an important role in gathering the “authentic” information from the locals. This early data collection was soon found to be full of flaws. Lacking academic training, people on the spot did not know what information would prove useful to the scholars. Moreover, the information gathered from the locals had to be translated and transcribed several times before reaching the hands of the researcher; the long process might weaken the validity of the information. Therefore, it gradually occurred to researchers that scholars should be sent into the field to collect their own data. The psychologist William Halse Rivers Rivers (1864-1922) was one of the significant figures in turning the ethnographic data collection process to a more organized direction. Rivers participated in the 1889 Cambridge University Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, and proposed that genealogy and local language training were necessary to correctly understand the life and thought of a people. He also suggested that anthropologists go and stay at the site for a certain period of time, studying one culture at a time (Leeds-Hurwitz, 2005, p. 333). The zoologist Alfred C. Haddon (1855-1940), who participated in the same expedition, also made some important points in changing how an ethnographic research study should be done. Stocking (1983, p.80) credits Haddon with inventing the term “fieldwork” in contrast to the “armchair” anthropology. By the early 1990s, the “armchair” method, such as the corresponding survey, was still used to collect data, but going out and observing firsthand has been gradually considered to be a hallmark of ethnographic research. Franz Boas (1858-1942) is generally acknowledged as the founder of American anthropology. He was trained in collecting data with first-hand field observations (Darnell, 1998). In 1883, Boas started a one-year-long fieldwork in Ballin Island. He was the first to record substantial amounts of ethnographic data in the native language (Goldman, 1980). Also, the concept of culture was emphasized as an important analytical term in ethnographic study. Another significant scholar in the history of ethnography is

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the Polish anthropologist, Bronislaw Kasper Malinowski (1884-1942). In the trend of developing a new methodology in conducting ethnographic research, Malinowski was the first to explicitly stress the importance of participant-observation. Rather than relying on questionnaires or intermediaries, Malinowski (1922) insists that ethnographers should never lose sight to “grasp the native’s point of view, his relation to life, to realize his vision of this world” (p.25). Malinowski also addresses the issue of analysis, [T]he Ethnographer has to construct the picture of the big institution, very much as the physicist constructs his theory from the experimental data, which always have been within reach of everybody, but needed a consistent interpretation. (p.84) Thus, although Malinowski highlights the significance of the native’s point of view, there is a clear distinction between description and analysis, between informants and researchers. As the brief summary shows, it took about fifty years to set up a standardized method to conduct ethnographic research. According to Leeds-Hurwitz (2005), ethnography has several goals: 1) to describe naturally occurring human behavior, 2) to analyze the data, and 3) to compare the data and better understand the human behavior. Thanks to the contributions of the abovementioned scholars, researchers nowadays are able to follow a more organized guideline to reach these goals. In general, ethnographers do participant-observation as their major method to collect data with a variety of other records (such as open-ended interview, tape recording). When writing about the culture under study, anthropologists often take a holistic approach incorporating study of multiple systems within a single culture. Since the study of human behavior cannot be separated from the cultural context, researchers need to document the worldview, values, and norms of the culture, to record the language and ways of communication, etc. Because of this encompassing goal, it is easy to find authors’ different emphases on the same culture. Thus, how to “write culture,” how to “represent” the result of fieldwork, or

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how to establish the author’s authority in the text becomes the next heated debate in the field of ethnography. For example, during the early 1980s, the controversy between two works of Samoan culture written by Margaret Mead and Derek Freeman respectively revealed the rising attention to the rhetoric of ethnographic accounts. Five years after Mead had died, Freeman challenged Mead’s findings about sexuality in Samoan society for wrongly representing Samoans. According to Clifford (1986), however, the lesson of the controversy is not which work is more scientifically valid (which is the underlying argument of Freeman’s critique), but rather, how to recognize the allegory in writing ethnographies while systematically constructing others and ourselves through others. “Ethnographic writing is allegorical at the level both of its content (what it says about cultures and their histories) and of its form (what is implied by its mode of textualization)” (p. 98). Clifford’s comment shows a gradual awareness of the ethnographer’s role in shaping their own writing. The Linguistic Turn Clifford’s view reflects the trend of ethnographers’ self-critique in documenting fieldwork. In the 1980s, some anthropologists began to debate about whether an ethnography is a work of social sciences or of humanities (Clifford & Marcus, 1986). These scholars argue that ethnographers not only observe culture but also make culture (Tedlock & Mannheim 1995). Clifford and Marcus challenge the idea that ethnography is the “scientific” writing and to illuminate the politics of representing “truth.” In other words, they believe that there is not truth but the representation of the facts through the anthropologist’s observation, which is situated in a powerful position. Thus, the work reflects “partial truth,” not an unproblematic presentation. Various experimental ethnographic writings were published during that time, and several old works were reevaluated as the pioneering treatises of this trend, such as works of Bowen (1954), Briggs (1970), and Rabinow (1977). These works emphasize the author’s reflexivity and writing

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strategies. How to tell stories seemed to be as important an issue as how to make sense of the actual fieldwork findings in writing ethnographies. In response to the reflexive trend, some authors’ solution to the double identities as both a researcher and a participant is writing two books: one is the conventional work geared to the academic tradition, and the other the experimental writing on the reflection on the same fieldwork. The linguistic turn is labeled as postmodern ethnography. However, after Clifford and Marcus published their influential Writing Culture (1986), a group of feminist ethnographers attacked their neglect of feminist contribution to the intellectual debate. Feminist ethnography shares the same concerns in writing and presenting culture. However, to identify oneself as a feminist ethnographer or a postmodern feminist ethnographer is a direct protest against Clifford and Marcus’s exclusion of the credit of feminist writing in this experimental turn. While these male ethnographers did not consider feminist writing relevant to their postmodern writing movement, feminist ethnographers argue that many female ethnographers have been working on the reflexivity in writing and have treated the issue of politics in representation seriously (Behar & Golden, 1995). The term “feminist ethnography” thus is used to credit women academic authors’ contribution in reflecting and experimenting on the politics of writing culture. Abu-Lughod (1993) claims that feminist scholarship contributes two important concepts in writing culture: the awareness of the charged nature of claims to objectivity, and the situatedness of all knowledge. Feminist ethnography can be a writing experiment in various forms and address issues that the authors study in the field (Wolf, 1992; AbuLughod, 1993; Behar, 1993). The concepts of positionality and self-reflexivity are useful in studying gender and communication. 5

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While one might argue that these concepts can be found in the postmodern camp discussing writing and representation, choosing the name of feminist instead of postmodern, for me, is a political statement in academia.

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Positionality aims to promote the way researchers write their works by making the production of positional knowledge visible. Reflexivity is similar to positionality, but it is more related to issues of power, privilege, and authorship in research practices. It is a radical consciousness of self in facing the political dimensions of fieldwork and construction of knowledge. Feminist ethnographers use storytelling as a strategy in response to the inevitable power issue in writing. Telling stories is a way to write strategically, according to Abu-Lughod and Behar. Both of them mention Walter Benjamin as their inspiration on writing. Benjamin is the storyteller. He writes, The historian is bound to explain in one way or another the happenings with which he deals; under no circumstances can he content himself with displaying them as models of the course of the world…. Its place is taken by interpretation, which is not concerned with an accurate concatenation of definite events, but with the way these are embedded in the great inscrutable course of the world. (1936, p. 7-8) Benjamin’s view of historical writing reveals the similar concerns, that is, no fixed truth can be recorded by a historian’s pen, but all is interpretation. Stories have the power to explain the inscrutable course of the world, and it is a writing strategy to challenge the concept of “authentic representation.” Built on Benjamin’s view, Behar (1993) argues that calling a life history a (written) text is already a colonization of the act of (oral) storytelling. Yet the border between the “spoken” and the “written” is a fluid one. Behar intends to blur the boundary between storyteller and writer, shortening the distance between informant and researcher. Similarly, Abu-Lughod (1993) composes her book Writing Women’s Worlds with multiple voices and various genres, deliberately minimizing her presence in narration, which is another way of reflecting on the author’s power and respecting her informants.

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To sum up, the linguistic turn in questioning ethnography leads scholars to rethinking the method and proposing a more detailed description of how to conduct the research. Good ethnography therefore should not only ring true and be internally consistent, but would also bring new insight to readers’ understanding of what it is to be human and the various ways people go about their lives. In my project, although experimental writing will not be the way I choose to represent the data, I am aware of the politics in my writing. Besides presenting and explaining what sajiao is, this project also expresses my position as an author in academia and inevitably presents a partial truth of the phenomenon. The self-reflexive critique of “partial truth” in this kind of positional revelation should not be viewed as weakening the objectivity; this is an open gesture welcoming competing narratives, analysis, and interpretations, to enrich the concept of identity, communication, and culture under study. Ethnography of Communication In the Qualitative Research Tradition Ethnography of communication was born to fill the gap between two academic fields. Anthropologists examined real interaction, but they generally ignored language patterns, leaving this part to the discipline of linguistics. However, linguists were more interested in the language structure (langue), the sample sentences isolated from the daily conversation, so they did not pay attention to the variety of actual utterances (parole). In the early 1960s, Hymes (1962) called for new research on language use: “The ethnography of speaking is concerned with all the situations and uses, the patterns and functions, of speaking as an activity in its own right” (p. 16). Sharing the same goals with ethnography, ethnography of communication aims to observe naturally occurring behavior, ask questions, and compare communication in various cultures. The difference is that ethnography of communication is more interested in people’s communication patterns instead of all the aspects of human activities in a given community.

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Hymes’ anthropology and linguistics background drew the first practitioners of the ethnography of communication mostly from sociolinguistics. Thus, analytical methods such as pragmatics and conversation analysis are commonly integrated into ethnography of communication. However, ethnography of communication is not merely about verbal communication. Hymes’ original model is actually useful in studying a wide range of communicative acts. Hymes (1962) initially named his method the ethnography of speaking, and then two years later, he referred to it as “the ethnography of communication” (Philipsen & Coutu, 2005). The original name aims to encompass all the elements in communication. Each letter of the word “speaking” represents one feature of language use. “S” means setting and scene, referring to the time and place of a speech act. “P” refers to participants, including both speaker and audience. “E” means purpose, goals, and outcomes. “A” is act sequence of a speech act, that is, how the sequence is structured by the participants. “K” refers to the nonverbal cues. In Hymes’ definition, it includes “tone, manner, or spirit.” As for the letter “I,” Hymes defines it as instrumentalities, which means forms and styles of speech, such as a formal speech, a dialect conversation, and so forth. “N” is norms, referring to social rules governing the event and the participants’ actions and reaction. Finally, “G” is genre, determining the kind of speech act or event. In this model, one can find that not only verbal communication, but also non-verbal, context, and genre are included. This framework is useful to examine the data of sajiao, and reveals a different picture about sajiao from the previous research. An example will be offered in the data analysis section of this chapter. Since ethnography of communication is interested in communication patterns in natural settings, the range of data collection can be very diverse. In the field, ethnographers document what occurs through various ways: taking fieldnotes, taking pictures, tape recording, video recording, etc. Researchers can also tape record radio programs, television shows, or other media texts as their research data. As social media

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have become a rising phenomenon and a new communication platform, conducting online ethnography requires similar documentation (Markham, 1998; Hine, 2000; Kozinets, 2002, 2006). Online ethnography can be an independent study on communication within a certain group of people, or it can be one of the texts supplemental to a larger project. My sajiao project is the latter. I document a wide variety of texts (conversation, narratives, TV shows, performance, blogs, and news reports, etc.) In the following section, I will describe the actual process of developing my project based on the ethnographic method. The Path toward Data Analysis In Ethnographic Method I first conceived the sajiao project while I was collecting native terms of persuasion for my advisor. In Mandarin, the verb “quan” (勸) is equivalent of “to persuade” in English. In my report, I summarized the usage of “quan” in Taiwan, and gave examples of how a conversation is understood as to “persuade” others. I listed three categories to illustrate how people persuade others in different contexts: 1) the conventional persuasion, 2) the challenge persuasion, and 3) the feminine persuasion. As a Mandarin native speaker, I intuitively identified the native term sajiao as a form of feminine persuasion. Moreover, examining the examples I offered in that report, I found that I tended to use “a woman” as the subject in my instances. For example, I wrote, ‘It’s so hard, I can’t do it’ is one of the expressions of sajiao, if a woman 6 says it to a man with a super sweet voice. This implies that the woman wants the help from the man, but she says it indirectly and hopes to reach her purpose by her feminine charm. In other words, my initial report on sajiao shows that I have not realized the influence of the dominant ideology on me in viewing sajiao as a woman’s communicative act. 6

Originally, I did not underline the word in my report. For the purpose of emphasizing how the dominant discourse of sajiao influences me as a native speaker of Mandarin, I underline the word here.

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When I became interested in developing sajiao as my research topic, however, I was eager to approach it with a new framework. It seems that sajiao is more than merely a gender marker for women, since stories of sajiao circulating among people and in the media display a variety of patterns. Thus, I started to collect data on how the phrase sajiao is used in the media texts, which I view as a natural setting, and on the other hand, I began to observe how people do sajiao in everyday life and perform it for a variety of purposes. The above brief paragraph serves as the reflection on my research journey. I use the word “journey” to emphasize the experience of uncertainty and confusion at the very beginning stage of the research as if a traveler enters a foreign land. Everything looks marvelous, but it takes time to understand the reasons behind the scene. However, the initial confusion seems to be a valuable step to develop my research. Under a “foreign” eye, researchers are able to see the “strangeness” of the taken-for-granted behavior in the given culture. Based on the findings, researchers then gradually build up the theory. Next, I will describe the general process of conducting ethnographic research and how I benefit from this process. I adopt the method of the ethnography tradition in communication studies to collect the data. Ethnography of communication is a dialectical method with an open and flexible structure. Unlike the strictly-designed social science research, good ethnography is contingent upon and continuous with ordinary life. The advantage of ethnography of communication to this project is that I am able to take time finding the patterns in everyday talk instead of coming up with a hypothesis immediately. And this comparatively slow process helps me see the unnoticed part in most of the sajiao research. Researchers participate in the activities with those studied, and carefully arrange their presence without interrupting or disturbing the ongoing activities. The aim is to observe people’s behavior as if the researchers were not there or as if the researchers did not play the role of researchers but merely participants. Ethnographers believe this way they can catch the cultural meaning of an activity from the local people’s perspective.

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These skills of participant-observation have become the standard for ethnographers to conduct fieldwork. Moreover, one of the features of the ethnographic method is to continue developing categories of analysis until the data collecting is saturated (Strauss & Corbin, 1998). Thus, it is fine if it is not clear to the researchers at the very beginning of the project how to analyze data and which part of the phenomenon the researchers want to explore further. As the researchers collect a rich number of materials, the analytical framework will gradually become clear. Fieldwork What makes the ethnographic method different from other research methods is the requirement of data collecting in the natural settings, which is called fieldwork. For example, communication scholars use the ethnographic method to study people’s communication, the use of language, nonverbal cues, and ritual by participantobservation, open-ended interview, and/or online interaction. A variety of communication media, genres, and contexts are studied, such as manly speech (Philipsen, 1975), straight talk (dugri) (Katriel, 1986), leaving-taking ritual (Fitch, 1991), television talk shows (Carbaugh, 1993), etc. These studies are labeled as ethnographic research because these researchers all observe the group under study, collect their data, and take notes in a specific site for a certain period of time. In the past, the observation of people’s interactions was conducted in a face-to-face fashion. As the computer-mediated communication has become a popular way for people to interact, more and more ethnographic works are involved in online communities. As these examples demonstrate, the ethnographic method in communication can be used to observe people’s everyday communication, people’s interactions in television talk shows, radio, and online communities. The data can be recorded by fieldnotes, tape, digital camera, or copy and paste from the computer screen. As I conducted my own fieldwork, I experienced exploring different dimensions of sajiao. I found many sajiao cases at places beyond my first expectations. For example, when I ran errands in a bank, I

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overheard a conversation full of sajiao elements between a cashier and a customer. In order to record their conversation, I wrote it down as quickly as possible on the back of a receipt with the pen on the bank counter. Once I even changed my original plan to follow a young couple who started quarreling (with sajiao features) while walking in the street, and silently memorized their conversation. I also encountered people who are interested in my project when they realized that I am a graduate student doing fieldwork research about sajiao. Almost all people could immediately give me an example of sajiao with a judgmental comment to show whether they approve or disapprove of the sajiao behavior they just described. Some of them also offered valuable information concerning where I could observe more sajiao cases. The Hello Kitty Sweets (a theme restaurant) in Taipei is a place I visited because an informant told me that I should go after realizing my research topic was sajiao. Da Jiao Tong (Big Foot Barrel) Juice Booth at Shi Da Night Market in Taipei is another place recommended by an informant where I found the sales girls use an apparently sajiao tone in greeting customers. Inductive Analysis Since I started collecting data about sajiao, I have been coding and analyzing the data simultaneously, and have been asking various questions based on my data. This practice is what qualitative researchers call the inductive analysis, because qualitative data analysis is not a one-stage process, but rather a continual recycling through the data (Emerson, Frez & Shaw, 1995). Ethnography of communication falls in this research tradition, and thus shares the view of how to manage data, reduce data, and develop conceptual frameworks (Lindlof & Taylor, 2002, p. 211). Conducting an inductive analysis takes the following steps: early analysis, coding and categorization, interpretation, and evaluation. I will briefly describe the steps in a linear order, though researchers in the field might need to repeat coming back and forth in the process if needed.

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Informal data analysis starts at the moment when the researcher creates fieldnotes, interview transcriptions, or TV program transcriptions. At this stage, the researcher is encouraged to leave commentaries on the notes because this kind of brief, reflexive analytic writing will benefit researchers to “clarify, explain, interpret, or raise questions about some specific happening” (Emerson et al. 1995, p. 101). What I did was to write a short summary or my random thoughts after a period of observation. After collecting a certain amount of data, the researcher creates categories and a coding scheme to manage the data. Depending on the research questions, categories can be standard demographics (e.g., sex, race, age, occupation, and hometown), institutional labels, or other topics (Lindolf & Taylor, 2002, p. 215). In the case of my sajiao research, I first used the standard demographic categories such as sex, age, occupation, occasion, etc. Then, I decided to focus on the relationship in which the conversational partners are involved, such as parent-child, intimate couples, friends, siblings, sales person-customer, senior employee-junior employee, host-guest, etc. Once the categories are created, the researcher starts to mark the units of text to relate them to a meaningful category. The process is called coding, which links the categories and data. It might be a repeating process. There are at least three coding practices when one conducts qualitative research: open coding, axial coding, and selective coding. Coding Open coding is a process of identifying categories and assigning data to those categories at the beginning of data collection. Lindolf and Taylor (2002) describe the open coding process as follows: The analyst usually goes through the texts (fieldnotes, transcriptions, documents) line by line and marks those chunks of text that suggest a category. In fact, it is through the process of open coding that categories are built, are named, and have attributes ascribed to them. This stage of coding is “unrestricted” because the analyst has not yet decided the range of categories or

46 how the categories are defined, and has also not yet unitized the coding procedure. (p. 219) Open coding involves a simultaneous process of creating categories and coding data into those categories. With the constant close reading and comparison, each new instance of data for a category is compared with previous instances coded to that category and to other categories to ensure that instances in a category are homogenous. The goal of open coding is to open up the inquiry. The open coding process in my sajiao study expanded the initial categories designed for sajiao data. Originally, my categories were based only on the features of the sajiaoer. With increasingly accumulated data, I turned to create categories based on relationship between the sajiaoer and the sajiaoee to place the unclassified data into a more appropriate category. That is, many data concerning “women’s sajiao” can be divided into different categories, such as “daughter sajiao to mother,” “daughter sajiao to father,” “actress sajiao to mediator,” “wife sajiao to husband,” “girlfriend sajiao to boyfriend,” “cosmetic product clerks sajiao to customer,” “beauty salon assistant sajiao to customer,” “sister sajiao to sister,” student sajiao to teacher,” “female idol sajiao to the audience,” etc. 7 In the next stage of coding, analysts start to reshape the categories and produce deeper meanings for them. This process is called axial coding. Instead of expanding categories, axial coding aims to reduce categories created at the open coding stage into a smaller number of broader categories. Two approaches help analysts do the axial coding: integration and dimensionalization. Integration changes the nature of numerous original categories from mere collections of events into theoretical constructions. The categories

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The usage of the term “idol” sometimes puzzles American readers because TV talents, movie stars, and celebrities in the U.S. are not categorized this way. Aidoru (idol) in Japanese and ouxiang (idol) in Mandarin refer to a group of entertainers who appear mainly on television with certain personal charm, such as cuteness, loveliness, childlikeness, and prettiness.

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under axial coding also become more abstract. Dimensionalization is the final coding categorization. According to Spiggle (1994), [D]imensionalization involves identifying properties of categories and constructs…. Once a category has been defined, the analyst may explore its attributes or characteristics along continua or dimensions. (p. 494) After narrowing down the original categories into several broader categories, the analysts can employ selective coding, a systematic process of searching for subordinate categories of each core category and identifying relationships between subordinate categories and the core category (Strauss, 1988). To sum up, this process is a continuous operation of contextualization, de-contextualization, and re-contextualization. At this stage, I started to rebuild my categorization. The big movement is that I was confident enough to go beyond the categorization based on gender, especially in coding who does sajiao. Next, I combined several categories based on the sajiao occasions, mainly as the public and the private. In terms of the features of sajiao, I created two categories as verbal and nonverbal cues. These categories later become the outline of my project as I analyze different dimensions of sajiao; who does sajiao, how people sajiao, when sajiao happens, and why people sajiao. Interpretation After coding and categorization, the data will be placed under a more systematic order. At this moment, the researcher’s job is to interpret the data. Interpretation means to translate an object of analysis from one frame of meaning into another. Therefore, what they are looking at are the symbolic links or tropes that tie the everyday patterns and cultural concepts. Geertz’s (1973) Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture demonstrates how to decipher a code and find its cultural meaning. When describing two boys contracting the eyelids of their right eyes, Geertz compares different winks by explaining and enacting the cultural code (p. 6). The success of interpretation

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lies in the differentiation between two or more similar communicative acts. However, it is also important to match seemingly different actions in the same domain. One valuable finding when I adopt the framework of ethnography of communication is that I notice that sajiao is involved in power. It is a form of persuasion conducted by people who take the subordinate position at the moment to the powerful. For example, a student would sajiao to the professor when he or she needs an extra point in their participation scores to get an A. Although the professor’s response to the student’s sajiao might vary, the power relation between a professor and a student sets up the sajiao tone. Due to the condition, the student communicates with the professor in the sajiao form, but the student would not use sajiao to talk to the professor all the time. On the other hand, although I propose to examine sajiao in terms of power, I cannot deny that gender still plays a significant role in shaping the speech act. I collected more sajiao data whose actors are females than men’s sajiao. Newspapers and television talk shows in Taiwan kept reinforcing the idea that women should learn how to sajiao. In a society where the laws and custom still protect men’s rights more than women’s in terms of marriage, property, and family heritage, it is not surprising that many women apply sajiao as their daily communication tactic due to their general lower social status. But if sajiao is the expression of the powerless groups, gender should not be viewed as the only determinative element. Evaluation Qualitative researchers seek to produce and demonstrate credible data. They want to inspire confidence in readers that they have achieved a right interpretation, rather than the right interpretation. An indefinite number of interpretations could be constructed from any research experience, but usually the ones that researchers choose to develop are those that they find most plausible, insightful, and/or useful. In qualitative inquiry, validation can be achieved by evaluating multiple forms of evidence (triangulation and disjuncture) and by cycling some of the accounts back through the participants.

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Triangulation involves the comparison of two or more forms of evidence with respect to an object of research interest. Underlying most uses of triangulation is the goal of seeking convergence of meaning from more than one direction. If data from two or more methods seem to converge on a common explanation, the biases of the individual methods are thought to “cancel out” and validation of the claim is enhanced. In triangulation, multiple sources, methods, or researchers are used to dispel doubts about the reality of a finding. Disjuncture refers to the differences in perspective produced by various data sources and methods. Verbal data can take the form of “overgeneralizations,” such as statements of a cultural ideal, that may not be confirmed in ethnographic observations. Multiple data sources, methods, and researchers can serve the purpose of validating a claim on the basis of source-method-researcher agreement, which is triangulation in the classic sense, or they can validate a claim of disjuncture. In this dissertation, the reader will find that the interpretation and the analysis of sajiao are based on multiple sources. I compare written texts, audio-visual texts, and fieldnotes to validate my argument. A comparison between two fieldwork sites, Taipei and Shanghai, is another triangulation in order to bind my finding to a solid explanation. The prevalent sajiao performance in Taiwan is deeply situated in the specific culture, and my analysis aims to make this connection visible. Data Collection My data is collected mainly through three resources: 1) online newspaper databases and personal blogs, 2) Taiwanese television shows, and 3) fieldwork in Taipei and Shanghai. Online Databases Online databases are the most accessible resource for me to collect data initially. The newspaper website I frequently use is Taiwan’s Apple Daily. This is a tabloid-style newspaper owned by a Hong Kong-based company. Hong Kong’ Apple Daily was first published in 1995, and because of its criticism of PRC government’s authorities, the

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newspaper is banned in China and its website is blocked by the great firewall of China. In 2003, the news corporation decided to enter Taiwan’s media market, and Taiwan’s version of Apple Daily was first published in May 2 of that year. I choose to use Taiwan’s Apple Daily website to collect sajiao data based on several reasons. First, its accessibility is much better than other Taiwanese newspaper websites. The website offers free news search service. When I first keyed-in “sajiao” in the search blank on the upper right corner of the website, I immediately got over 1,700 entries from the year of 2003 to the date I visited the website, and the number of entries has been increasing daily since then. Other newspaper websites either charge a certain fee or do not offer this service for readers to search their news older than a month. Second, Apple Daily features its “gossip-style news” to attract the general readership. The sensational news reports emphasize the visual effects, and the language use is very concise and even colloquial. Slang is frequently used, and popular vocabulary of Taiwanese dialect is sometimes used in a Mandarin sentence. This mixed written style of the newspaper is very close to people’s daily dialogues, therefore it is a valid resource to study how the speech act sajiao is described, mentioned, and commented on by native speakers. Third, tabloid-style as it is, Apple Daily invites popular writers, social observers, political critics, and celebrities to have regular columns. The diverse voices and styles represented in the newspaper attract the Taiwanese people’s attention. Since its debut in the Taiwanese media market, Apple Daily’s readership has been steadily rising and it has become one of the most influential newspapers in Taiwan. My initial data collection entailed copying and pasting all the entries in Apple Daily’s database containing the phrase sajiao. After reading part of the data, I developed several categories to separate these items, such as: “women sajiao,” “men sajiao,” “children sajiao,” “animal sajiao,” “sajiao as a metaphor,” etc. Later, as the entries accumulated, I created more categories to organize my data: “successful,” “unsuccessful,” “viewed negatively,” “viewed positively,” “columnists’ advice,” “quizzes,” etc. And for

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those original categories, I also felt it necessary to create sub-categories to be more specific, such as “straight women sajiao to straight women,” “straight women sajiao to straight men,” “gay men sajiao to straight women,” “straight men sajiao to straight women,” “couple sajiao,” “strangers sajiao,” “private sajiao,” “workplace sajiao,” “sex workers sajiao,” “law breakers sajiao to the police,” etc. The process continued while I was conducting my fieldwork in Taiwan. In Taiwan, I had access to more local databases, some of which were not open to the Internet users overseas. I basically browsed two databases. One is the ancient Chinese history and literature database in Taiwan’s research institute, Academic Sinica, and the other is Taiwan’s United Daily Newspaper database. Since, according to my observation, sajiao is such a popular cultural phenomenon in contemporary Taiwan, I wonder how people’s understanding of the speech act would manifest in the past. The cultural heritage from China definitely influences Taiwan’s current culture; thus, an investigation of how sajiao was described or used in old Chinese records can help reveal the connection. I searched the texts containing the phrase sajiao. There are thirty-eight entries in the database, and most of them use the phrase sajiao negatively. As I described in Chapter One, sajiao was not an encouraged women’s behavior in Imperial China. As for data about sajiao after 1949, I depend on the United Daily Newspaper database. United Daily Newspaper was established in 1951, so the website stores the news from 1951 to the present. Similarly, I searched the keyword “sajiao,” and copied and pasted the entries. There were more fictional descriptions of sajiao than examples of the usage of the phrase in everyday situations. This reflects the governmental restriction of the speech and media publications during that time. There were not so many pieces of real “news” in the newspaper; local writers’ works, translated literary works from the United States and Japan published in the form of daily serial novels, and readers’ submissions to share their creative works or life stories were also common in the newspaper.

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The information I collected from these two databases is supplemental to my research. Besides, I frequently visited several popular online personal blogs to collect stories about sajiao. Many Taiwanese people establish their personal blogs on roodo, pixnet, and wretch. Some of them have been writing their blogs over ten years. Their stories may be cited by mainstream media, and because of the characteristics of social media, similar blogs form a community and bloggers become “friends.” The blogs I follow are mostly created by women, and they cover topics such as family, relationships, kids, love, cooking, and beauty. Through reading their blogs, I collected many stories about how their husbands, boyfriends, and kids sajiao to them. Television Shows (Talk Shows) Besides online resources, I collected television shows as my data. The major television program I watch is Come Here (kang xi lai le), hosted by Tsai Kang Yung and Hsu Hsi-ti (Little S). Tsai produces and hosts several successful talk shows in Taiwan. He also has published several best-sellers. He is one of few people who openly talk about his homosexual identity in Taiwan. Hsu is a popular female idol, and previously hosted a talk show targeting teenagers with her sister. Come Here was first broadcast on January 5, 2004, at CTI Television, and remains popular. The talk show features comedic bantering and plays with Tsai’s intellectual wisdom and Hsu’s street-smart witty comments. Although it is broadcast in Taiwan, the show is very successful and popular with Mandarin-speaking audiences across the world, who watch uploaded re-runs over the Internet or through bootleg DVDs. Besides in-depth interviews of celebrities, the talk show often invites entertainers to discuss all kinds of topics. The topic of “sajiao” has been frequently discussed in the show. Besides Come Here, there are other television talk shows I watch to collect data about sajiao, such as University (daxuesheng le mei), and Guess, Guess, Guess (wo cai wo cai wo cai cai cai). These three shows are selected because of their popularity among the Taiwanese urban, young audience. All three are produced by Gold Star Entertainment,

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which is a successful TV program production company established in 1996. The company is located in Taipei, and is experienced in producing TV programs in the genre of variety/talk show. Guess, Guess, Guess started on air at the CTV network on July 4, 1996, but became popular among the young generation only since the mediator Jacky Wu joined the show in 1998. It maintained a high rating every Saturday night until 2010. 8 The newest show among the three is University, starting in 2007. Hosted by Tao Ching Ying and two assistant mediators (Ken and Nadou), the show invites sixteen college students every episode to discuss different issues. This is another show broadcast at CTI Television. Since 2009, CTV and CTI Television have both been included under the parent media corporation, Want Want China Times Group. 9 Instead of going over every episode of these shows, I choose to carefully examine the episodes that cause widely public discussion. Because I browse the news on the website of Apple Daily everyday, it helps me catch the latest popular trends in Taiwan. When there is a report about certain phenomena, I search YouTube or other social media to find the highlight of the episode or more detailed information. Often, people update information online at a very fast speed. I transcribe these television shows and translate their talks into English. Fieldwork (Taipei and Shanghai) Fieldwork is another important resource for me to collect the examples of the speech act sajiao. Participant-observation is the major method I used to collect data. During my fieldwork trip in Taiwan, I worked productively. In the morning, I went to 8 9

The show is still on air.

Want Want China Times Group is owned by the Taiwanese billionaire Tsai Eng Meng. Tsai made his fortune in rice crackers in Taiwan and successfully entered the Chinese market in 1992. He spends most of his time in China, and never hides his desire to see Taiwan united to China. Tsai’s media group is often criticized by locals for echoing the views of Beijing. On January 21, 2012, Tsai commented on the 1989 military assault on student protesters in China’s Tiananmen Square, saying, “I realized that not that many people could really have died,” in an interview with Andrew Higgins of The Washington Post, which is the evidence of his pro-Chinese, pro-unification political position.

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traditional markets, public parks, or schools to observe people’s interactions. During lunch time, I went to restaurants to pay attention to any sajiao behavior in the public sphere. I also went to shopping centers, department stores, and night markets as both a customer and an observer. Besides this routine schedule, I noticed many relevant scenes when I ran errands or spent time with family or friends. I kept a notebook with me all the time, and recorded these incidents as well. When the space allowed me to take notes, I would immediately write down the scene at the spot. If I noticed a sajiao scene and was unable to sit and write, I would memorize the conversation and write down the scene as soon as possible. It is not difficult to collect sajiao scene in public. However, the challenge is to write down every word people say when they do sajiao, especially between intimate couples. The nonverbal cues are easily identified, but what they exactly say to each other is rarely overheard in public. However, there is no such a problem in other types of sajiao. Children’s sajiao intends to be very loud, and the sajiao style used by waiters, clerks and salespersons is also quite obvious. I did not conduct interviews to ask how people feel about sajiao or how they do sajiao; this kind of rationale is abundant in other resources, such as in-depth interviews on TV, or anonymous readers’ comments on specific sajiao news on the newspaper website. The purpose of the fieldwork is to compare people’s talk of sajiao and their actual everyday practice of sajiao. What impressed me is that sometimes people swiftly exchange from a sajiao tone to a non-sajiao tone in the same setting. This shows the performative nature of sajiao. My assumption is that the practice of sajiao in Taipei is different from another Mandarin speech community, such as Shanghai. When I conducted fieldwork in Shanghai in the winter of 2011, I found that my assumption has been confirmed. I did participant-observation as what I had in Taiwan, but focused on business settings, such as the department stores, restaurants, and beauty salons. The major difference between the

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two places is that sajiao is rarely seen in public spaces in Shanghai, while I collected plenty of examples in Taipei. Data Analysis Framework In this section, I will describe how I analyze my data and come to the interpretation. I divide the data into three categories: the descriptive text, the actual practice, and the discursive construction. The descriptive text, as I showed above, includes historical records, newspapers, TV shows, and online blogs. The actual practice is the result of my participant-observation in Taiwan, mainly collected in the summer of 2011. The data can be divided into at least three categories: sajiao between parents and children, sajiao between intimate partners, and sajiao between salespersons and customers. I am interested in how these diverse descriptions and performances of sajiao interplay with gender. And it leads me to the third data category: the discursive construction. Simply put, the discursive construction I am looking at is the discourse. Although the word “discourse” is a vague term, and has many meanings in different fields, it is clearly involved in language patterns. In the project of sajiao, I am not only interested in the patterns of sajiao as a speech act, but also curious about the context in which sajiao is allowed and practiced as a normative behavior. Specifically, I want to examine how the group of women is connected, a taken-for-granted fashion, with the performance of sajiao in Taiwan, and how the different discourses compete to define femininity. As a heavy consumer of East Asian fashion, music, magazines, and TV shows circulating in Taiwan, and, later, a researcher who primarily studied the media representation of gender, I noticed that the meaning of femininity has changed in the media and among people in Taiwan. After hearing “women who sajiao are cute” (or some variation of that phrase) hundreds of times in different occasions, I began to question why it is used so often. The data of the discursive construction partially overlaps the other two categories. Moreover,

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observing how people are described as doing sajiao in the media texts, and how they practice sajiao in everyday life, I find that the concept of persuasion is complicated. I analyze each entry and make a list including the eight categories in Hymes’ model. The speech act sajiao thus can be understood as follows (Table 1). In the four examples, one can see that they are all socially accepted behavior, and in the genre of talk. All of them can be considered a performance of sajiao, although the situations, participants, purposes, act sequences, keys, etc. are quite different. Thus, this framework enriches our understanding of the speech act, and leads us to question further what sajiao is about.

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Table 1. The Application of Hymes’ SPEAKING Framework

S (Setting) P (Participants)

E (Ends)

A (Act Sequence)

K (Key)

Example 1 In a jewelry shop

Example 2 In a telephone call

Example 3 In a restaurant

A female model, her agent (gender unknown) The model shows her desire for the object

A Taiwanese wife, a Japanese husband The husband wants the wife’s attention

A five-yearold girl, her parents

The model puts on the diamond necklace, displays it to her agent, winks, and says, “It’s so adorable!” There is no response from her agent.

The husband calls on the bike, the wife answers, the husband calls the wife’s name, the wife answers. Once the wife answers a little bit slowly, the husband yells, “Why don’t you answer me? I’m so lonely! I’m lonely to death!” Tone, pitch, speed

She cries very loudly, yelling at her parents, saying, “I don’t want. I don’t want.” The mother takes her outside the restaurant.

Facial expression (wink) I Playful, (Instrumentalities) informal speech

Playful, informal speech, single word N (Norms) This is an This is an accepted accepted behavior behavior G (Genre) Talk Talk Note: The examples are selected from my fieldnotes.

The girl refuses to eat

Example 4 In a department store A young female clerk, random customers The clerk greets the passers-by to draw their attention The clerk repeats the same line to random customers: “Welcome, please come see it” with a baby-like tone. Some customers would approach her.

Facial expression, voice volume Informal setting, short sentences

Clothes, tone, pitch

Kids are allowed to do so Talk

This is an accepted behavior Talk

Formal speech, like a robot

58 Transcription In Chapters Three and Four, I display the data collected from newspapers, TV shows, blogs, and fieldwork. For the written texts, the transcription contains three lines. The first line is the Mandarin Chinese characters to mark what people say. The second line is the pinyin transliteration, a Romanized alphabet for Mandarin Chinese. The third line is a translation into idiomatic English. For the audio-visual texts and my observation in everyday settings, the nonverbal cues are added to indicate the tone, the emotion, and the physical interactions. In most cases, I show both the verbal utterance and the body performance of the speakers. I use Jeffersonian (1974) transcription convention with modifications to meet the needs of my research.

[

simultaneous talk

//

overlapped talk

=

latch: no apparent pause between two utterances

::

stretched sound

(?)

rising intonation

(.)

pause

word

underlining to indicate contrastive vocal stress or emphasis

WORD

higher volume

°word°

quiet or soft

In the second line, the pinyin transliteration, I mark the four pitched tones and the neutral tone. In the sajiao expression, people sometimes change the conventional pronunciation and tone of a phrase to make the sajiao effect; therefore, I use the following symbols to indicate the tones. I use the sound “ma” as an example (see Table 2).

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Table 2. Symbols used in Mandarin Chinese to Indicate Different Tones: Tone 1 2

Mark Mā Má

3

Mǎ

4

Mà

Neutral

Ma

Description High and level. Starts medium in tone, then rises to the top. Starts low, dips to the bottom, and then rises toward the top. Starts at the top, falls sharp and strong to the bottom. Flat, with no emphasis.

The tone of a syllable may change in some situations. For example, the Chinese characters for “mother” are written as 媽媽. As separate characters, each is pronounced as “mā,” but when put together as the address form for mother, the second “mā” becomes toneless or neutral. Thus, the conventional pronunciation is “māma.” However, since the mother is often the recipient of sajiao practice, people will hear many kinds of variations in tones. In Chapter Four, there is an example showing how kids sajiao to their mom by uttering unconventional tone to call their mom, such as “mǎmā” and “mǎmá.” Another common sentence structure in Mandarin Chinese is the use of sentencefinal particles. Particles in Mandarin have various functions, indicating the relevant state: a response, a warning, or a question. Most particles occur in the final position of a sentence, and employ the neutral tone. Here I list some common sentence-final particles and explain their functions in a sentence based on Li and Thompson’s (1981) categorization,

Response to Expectation

ne

Question

ne, ma

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Solicit Agreement

ba, ma, la 10

Friendly Warning

ou

Reduced Forcefulness

a, ya

These are the standard usage of sentence-final particles, and in most of the cases they are necessary to make the meaning complete. In the sajiao expression, however, people intend to use a great amount of unnecessary sentence-final particles. Besides completing the meaning or the emotional expression of a sentence, these particles are also used to create a cute feeling. Thus, in the transcription I indicate various common particles in the sentences.

ASP

aspect particle

ITJ

interjection

MPT

mood particle

Qtg

question tag

SFP

sentence final particle

For example, I add the symbol “(ASP)” immediately after the character “了” in the phrase “我餓了,” indicating the character “了” is an aspect particle. In the pinyin transliteration line and the English translation line, I mark the symbol at the corresponding position to show where the particle appears in the sentence. Thus, readers will see a standard three-line transcription as such,

Line 1: 我餓了(ASP)

10

Li and Thompson (1981) did not include the sentence-final particle “la” in their discussion. However, “la” is a common sentence-final particle used in the sajiao form in Taiwan. Based on the contextual meaning, I put it in the category of Solicit Agreement.

61 Line 2: wŏ è le (ASP) Line 3: I am hungry (ASP)

It means that the aspect particle “了” is read as “le,” which is indicated in line 2, and appears after the word “hungry” in line 3, though in English there is no corresponding word for it. Findings According to the framework, I examine the examples I collected and come up with the following understandings about sajiao: 1) Sajiao is an expression of dependence. Japanese psychiatrist Takeo Doi (1973) studies the Japanese word “amae” and how the word dominates Japanese people’s personhood, mentality, and relationship. Amae, like sajiao, is hard to translate into English. It refers to a passive love practiced in the form of dependence. For example, guests in a party should wait for the host to serve for them instead of actively grabbing a drink or a cake according to the Japanese custom. This passive behavior in contrast to helping oneself values one’s willingness to rely on others. In the Western world people are encouraged to be independent, so people stop this kind of dependence in children, while in Japan this dependence is viewed as the extension of the parent-child relationship and practiced in all kinds of social relationships. Although Doi claims that amae is a unique Japanese thinking, I would argue that his claim is only valid in facing the Western world where Christian thinking praises self-help, “The Lord helps those who help themselves.” In other Asian countries, this kind of behavior is easily observed. In fact, sajiao shares similar characteristics described in Doi’s works. 2) Sajiao is a form of persuasion. According to Chuang (2005), the sajiao style of speech takes the symbolic gesture of acting like children and is an effective way to deflect confrontation and change others’ behavior (p. 24). Chuang’s argument

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furthers the understanding of sajiao by treating it as a weapon used by women to disguise their ambition and gain some power. Chuang also makes the connection between sajiao and playing cute, and argues that women know the power of playing cute and they will strategically use sajiao to fulfill certain goals. Although Chuang’s focus is on how women take advantage of sajiao style, her interview result provides some interesting women’s confession: they pretend to be cute in order to manipulate others. Women admit that they behave differently in facing off against men, especially in the workplace, because they know that performing to be in the weak position makes things easy (p. 25). Therefore, sajiao is involved in power difference, and is the persuasive weapon used by the weak. It even becomes a mechanical device for salespersons to greet customers. 3) Sajiao is an expression of femininity. Femininity in this speech community is defined as childish cuteness that evokes love and affection, instead of mature sexual seduction. In the heterosexual culture, seduction is viewed as a skill or the art of being a woman. A website called “The Seductive Women” targeting Western readers defines the extreme femininity as “a hard to get woman” and “a coquettish woman.” The pictures on the website feature mature women’s bodies as the symbol of sexiness. However, in the abundant media texts in Taiwan, such a mature female image is not highly praised. Instead, infantilism is valued. In the following chapter, I will give an extensive picture of Taiwan’s historical, political, and cultural conditions in the East Asia region to show how the ideal female image is constructed and how sajiao becomes a requirement to express femininity in the given society.

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CHAPTER III CONSTRUCTING FEMININITY WITH SAJIAO

This chapter deals with the connections among sajiao, femininity, women, and cuteness to reveal how sajiao becomes a necessity to an ideal female image in Taiwan. First, a brief history concerning the changing female image in Taiwanese media is discussed. This history is not merely the record of the representation of femininity, but also the reflection of social struggles and political dynamics among different forces. Second, the Japanese kawaii phenomenon is introduced to complicate the concepts of national identity and cultural boundaries. My analysis of the kawaii phenomenon also seeks to explore what cuteness means in the framework of globalization and to highlight the ongoing process of defining femininity. Third, I pay attention to “sajiao” represented in the media to understand the current ideal female image in Taiwanese popular culture. Through textual analysis of newspaper articles, television shows, and online blogs, I indicate the ideologies that dominate contemporary Taiwanese society. Finally, I argue that this dominant media message shapes how femininity is associated with cuteness, and how “sajiao” becomes the necessary feature that creates desirability in women. The Changing Ideal Female Image The Cute Master When turning on the television in Taiwan or visiting a Taiwanese entertainment website, one will encounter numerous young female idol talents. 11 Some are selling various commodities from video games to cosmetics, while others are promoting their own photo albums, music albums, or other kinds of personal works, and without exception they are all extremely cute. Simply put, these female idols express cuteness in roughly two ways: 1) physically, they look innocent and baby-like, with big eyes, pale

11

For the usage of the term “idol,” see footnote 7 in Chapter Two.

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skin color, and thin limbs; 12 2) behaviorally, they imitate children’s gestures, know how to sweet-talk, wink, smile, show tongue, stamp, or move clumsily. The Taiwanese singer Yang Cheng-Lin (born in 1984) is one such young female idol. With big eyes and a small face covered with classic blunt bangs, Yang is now popular in Taiwan and other East Asian countries. Yang began her career as a member of all-girl singing group when she was 16 years old, but the group achieved only limited success. Not until she started “playing cute” did she successfully become a star. Due to her frequent cute performance, such as imitating a baby’s talk, she was noticed and invited to play supporting roles in several TV dramas, and later released her own album. Because of her dexterous skills of playing cute, Yang has been nicknamed by the Taiwanese media as “The Cute Master” (Wu, 2005). In 2005, for the first time, Yang played the leading role as a college freshman in Devil beside You (2005). This TV drama, as well as her ensuing works, Why Why Love (2007), Miss No Good (2008), and Hi My Sweetheart (2009), featured her as a cute girl, and her cute performance was highly emphasized. 13 These works are categorized in the genre of “idol drama,” which originally refers to the imported Japanese trendy dramas in the 1990s. 14 The Japanese trendy dramas are often adapted from Japanese comics (manga), featuring popular young idols, targeting young audiences. For example, Tokyo Love Story (1991), produced by Japan’s Fiji Television and based on Saimon Fumi’s manga of the same name, was not only extremely successful in Japan, but created a

12

Some also feature their large breasts. This contrast to the baby image creates even more attention because the female idol embodies two types of female image into one body. 13 14

Translations are offered by the official websites of the TV dramas.

Japanese trendy dramas refer to a specific TV genre, which is broadcast weekly in three-month seasons at night. It is called “trendy” because this genre specifically depicts urban lifestyles and explores social issues with romantic elements.

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phenomenon in Taiwan after Star Chinese Channel 15 purchased the drama and aired it in 1992. Since then, numerous Japanese trendy dramas have been aired in Taiwan and have attracted a group of loyal audience members. After a decade of the absorption of Japanese trendy dramas, local Taiwanese producers attempted to produce their own idol dramas (偶像劇). In 2001, Taiwanese producer Chai Chi-Ping launched what she claimed was the first made-in-Taiwan idol drama, Meteor Garden (Liuxing huayuan) (2001), which was based on the popular Japanese manga series, Boys over Flowers (Hana yori dango) (1992-2003). The story is about a working-class girl who attends an elite school and encounters four rich boys. New and inexperienced young actors were given leading roles, and the whole marketing campaign of this drama aimed to promote a desired quasi-Japanese urban chic style to the Taiwanese audience. The rich, high-class lifestyle was displayed through the main characters’ branded outfits, expensive race cars, cruise parties, delicate foods, etc. Chai kept the characters’ Japanese names, and the major scenes also loyally represented what had been depicted in the manga. 16 The adaptation of the Japanese comic style made this TV drama outstanding among other primetime shows. Like its Japanese precursor, Taiwanese idol dramas feature pure love and tell stories at a compact tempo. Stories usually take place on campus, at the beach, or at an isolated mansion. These fairy-tale-like stories require matching actors and actresses. Comic-like faces are preferred, and actors sometimes cartoonize their performance to catch the cute elements from the original manga version. For example, to express the

15

STAR Chinese Channel is one of channels STAR Group Limited (Satellite Television Asian Region Limited) owns in Taiwan. It was established by the Hong Kong business man Richard Li in 1991, and sold to Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation in 1993. In 2009, the restructuring made the channel part of the family of STAR Greater China. 16

Since the Japanese kanji writing system adopts Chinese characters, Chai mandarinized most of the characters’ names in pronunciation, but kept the kanji characters. For example, the male main character in the Japanese manga version is called 道明寺司 (Doumyouji Tsukasa). In Meteor Garden, he is called 道明寺 (Dao Ming Si).

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emotion of surprise, in a scene of office gossiping, in response to an unexpected piece of news, an actor slightly lifts up his head, opens his eyes wide, stretches his arms as if he surrendered, and suddenly, stiffly falls down on the ground. An actress puts her fists near her mouth, makes her eyes wide open, runs back and forth, and exclaims for a couple of seconds. It is through this trend that girls like Yang have opportunities to perform leading roles in idol dramas. Actresses Lin Yi-Chen and Kuo Tsai-Chieh also rose in this trend through playing the roles of cute girls. Moreover, Kuo was voted as The New Generation Cute Master in an online investigation in 2009 (Ke, 2009). This is the title young female idols covet, and the fame and glory accompanying the title guarantee a successful career. The competition to win the title of The Cute Master among young female idols apparently indicates the necessity of being cute for a female idol in present-day Taiwanese society. Subject to this cute trend, the path of becoming a female idol has also changed. Yang, Lin, and Kuo’s debut to the audience used to be the conventional path that a female idol usually goes through: they have a definite identity because of their special talents (Yang is a singer, and Lin and Kuo are actresses). Their talents require time for training before they are able to go on the stage. Then, if a female idol is lucky, with her popularity, she is able to gradually participate in other fields in the entertainment world. However, since playing cute becomes an alternative talent, many young girls jump to the screen, depending on their potential for playing cute. They become famous for posting their photos on their own weblogs or merely being discussed within an online community, and they are invited to appear on TV shows. Their identities as an idol are vague, and many of them are gone quickly because they have no other talents except their extraordinary physical attractiveness. In other words, except for a very few, the career lifespan of the female idol is short. The three TV talk shows mentioned in Chapter Two, Come Here, University, and Guess, Guess, Guess, catch the trend and frequently invite young and pretty girls to

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display their beauty and cuteness. Although these girls are famous among online communities, most of them are not ready to perform professionally on TV. Their beauty and cuteness are best displayed in the form of photos; however, this is not the preferred form on TV. Some of them cannot express their ideas or opinions fluently, others are too nervous to maintain an adorable manner, and still others turn out not to be as impressive as their photo images suggested. Nonetheless, the example of those who succeed in this path shows how the cute trend affects the image the female idols attempt to present to the audience. The Beautiful and Submissive Women However, being cute, especially being childishly cute, was not the dominant requirement for Taiwanese female talents until at least ten years ago. If Yang had been born twenty years earlier, she might not have been as popular as she is now. Or at least, she would have to model herself differently and play a different kind of character to be successful. Before and during the 1990s, famous female stars were expected to look mature, demure, poised, and womanly. There were mainly three types of female images dominating the TV dramas: “xianqi liangmu” (a wise wife and good mother), “historical figures,” and “bushi renjian yanhuo” (detached from all worldly concerns). The expectation for a woman to be a wise wife and good mother reflects the traditional Chinese Confucian discipline acting on the representation of gender role. Ideal women should be submissive, willing to sacrifice, and responsible. Once they are married, they are expected to take care of the family. They do not challenge fate, but accept and endure the hardship. Such a female image was vividly portrayed in the famous TV drama, Star Knows My Heart (1983). Actress Wu Jing-Hsian played a single mother. Her husband died and left behind five kids to raise. Unfortunately, she also found that she had cancer and would die soon, so she sought five families to adopt her children before she died. Star Knows My Heart had been rerun four times during 1984 and 1988; almost every year the audience wanted to watch it again.

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The success of this drama lies in Wu’s role and the plot about a traditional family function. Wu represented the ideal mother image who always sacrifices for her children. Moreover, this fictional sad story reflects the similar toils faced by many women in the rural Taiwan, such as the complicated family relationships in a big family, the lack of support to raise kids, and the double labor burdens. Even though many women during that time were not hired as formal employees outside their family, some of them helped farming or family-owned business, and others made their living room into a small factory so as to do simple manufacturing to help the family finances. Meanwhile, they also had to take care of other domestic chores. Thus, Wu’s fate of exhaustion touched many female audiences who led such busy, high-pressured lives. Besides the TV dramas that depict contemporary Taiwanese women’s lives, the genre of historical fantasy was even more popular during the 1980s and the 1990s. Historical fantasy makes use of specific elements of real world history, but adds many fictional figures and plots. In this genre, the female characters again serve to convey the traditional Chinese Confucian values. Several historical female figures in Chinese history were frequently portrayed, such as Empress Wu Zetian of Zhou, Princess Yang of the Tang Empire, and Empress Dowager Cixi in the twilight of the Qing Empire. Since they are historical figures, despite their individual personalities, their roles in TV dramas often reflect the influential cultural heritage from China that prevails still in Taiwanese society. In other words, historical female figures are not necessarily represented as wise wives and good mothers, but these characters still adhere to the social norms and value of Confucian thought. On the other hand, another female image was also common and sometimes interplayed with the submissive woman image: the nymph-like woman. Works written by Hong Kong swordsmen novelist Jin Yong (1924- ) and by Taiwanese romance novelist Chiung Yao (1938- ) contributed greatly in inspiring Taiwanese TV dramas to create this type of female role. Jin’s fifteen swordsmen novels written between 1955 and 1970

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earned him a reputation as one of the finest swordsmen writers ever in the Mandarinspeaking world. Although most of the main characters in swordsmen novels are male, some female characters are especially impressive. For example, the image of Little Dragon Girl in his The Return of the Condor Heroes (1959) has been played in films and TV dramas numerous times. She is described as a beautiful and icy woman: “her skin is as white as snow, beautiful and elegant beyond convention. Usually in white, she appears cold and indifferent.” Such a classic detached image is an honor for actresses in different generations to portray; they compete to play the role, and the winner always becomes famous quickly. In 1984, Pan Ying-Tze played the role of Little Dragon Girl and became so popular that she continued playing several leading roles in primetime TV dramas until the early 1990s. The fictional image of the Little Dragon Girl in many ways is similar to many female characters created by Chiung Yao in her romances. These female characters live in their own world, ingenuous, believing in love. Since she published her first novel Outside the Window in 1963, Chiung has published sixty-five novels. Her most popular novels were adapted into movies during the 1970s, and continued to be adapted into TV dramas in the 1980s and the 1990s. Actress Liu Hsue Hua was chosen to embody most of the famous female characters in Chiung’s novels. Unlike the types of wise wives and good mothers, Liu’s characters live for love. They both sacrifice and suffer for love. The Haunted Mansion (1987) is a story similar to Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. Liu acted the female main character, Chang Han-Yen (meaning Mist). At the beginning of the story, she appears as an elementary school teacher, applying for the private tutor position in Mist Mansion. As the story develops, her real identity is revealed. She escaped from the Mansion many years ago, leaving her lover, Mr. Bo, for his mom’s objection. Then, she comes back, changes her name, and disguises herself as a different person so as to reminisce about the past and secretly observe her ex-lover, whose eyes became blind due to an accident after her leave-taking. This female character is well-educated and refined,

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but full of passion and love. Chang and Bo’s interactions and love words are highlighted in the TV drama. They would recite poetry during their conversation, or have fierce quarrels because of their too-strong love. Chiung’s literary background made the lines in her TV dramas very poetic and surreal. For example, the line, “You are such a cruel little thing!” is rarely spoken in everyday conversation. Because of the emphasis on unfulfilled love and the painful process of trying to create a relationship, Chiung’s dramas contain many crying scenes and all the actresses seem ready to burst into tears at any moment. Chiung’s early tearjerkers are quite different from the current trendy dramas, and thus they represent different ideal female images and different levels of social toleration of freedom of love in their respective eras. Female Image: The Reflection of Confusing Identities Whether the wise wife and good mother, the historical figure, or the nymph-like woman detached from the worldly concerns, the ideal female image at each time period reflected the value of traditional Chinese culture. Jin’s works tell the stories of Chinese history from 1091 to 1799. Chiung’s romances also depict the love stories in China or among mainlanders who were exiled to Taiwan during 1945 and 1949. The predominant image of “Chinese women” in the media delivered confusing messages about national and cultural identities. Lee (2004) views the identity struggle as the interplay with “mainland China” and “ocean China” (p.167), which symbolizes political and economic forces, respectively. He elaborates on the pair to depict the internal contradiction as the struggle between “Chinese complex” and “Taiwanese complex” (p. 168), and his theoretical framework in examining media industry and cultural phenomena in Taiwan follows the concept of “Cultural China” proposed by Tu (2005). 17 According to Tu, Taiwan is categorized as 17

The Chinese version was published in 1991.

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being part of the first circle of cultural China along with the PRC, Hong Kong, and Singapore. 18 However, Tu raises the complexity that pertains in the field of China studies by problematizing the three symbolic universes. For example, he mentions that Taiwan has “much more in common with the Chinese diaspora than they do with mainland China” (p. 156). Built on this claim, I argue, if the claim of Taiwan’s Chineseness is problematic, a different framework should be applied to examine various issues in Taiwan. Despite the terms “mainland China,” “ocean China,” “cultural China,” etc. in coining Taiwan’s connection with China, Lee and Tu both emphasize the uniqueness of “Taiwanese experience” beyond the traditional definition of Chinese culture. What is the Taiwanese experience? They seem not to come up with a definitive explanation beyond the Chineseness. The investigation of the changing female image in Taiwanese media from decorum to cuteness tells us two facts: 1) The dominant “Chinese” cultural elements have gradually become less influential in Taiwan’s popular culture since the 1990s. 2) This popular media imagination of the ideal female image has much more in common with the rising Japanese and Korean popular culture than the traditional Chinese culture. Thus, two questions arise: what makes the Chinese framework still dominant in examining Taiwanese popular cultural phenomenon even though it is less relevant? How can the feminine framework emphasizing the construction of womanhood provide an alternative perspective in understanding identity formation in Taiwan? These questions will lead the reader to see how sajiao should be best understood as a culturally situated persuasion, given its close relationship with gender, power, and identity performance in Taiwan.

18

According to Tu (2005), cultural China can be examined in terms of three symbolic universes. The first consists of “mainland China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore.” The second consists of “Chinese communities throughout the world.” The third consists of individuals “who try to understand China intellectually and bring their conceptions of China to their own linguistic communities” (p. 155).

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Putting Taiwan in the framework of China studies has historical roots. In 1949, Chiang Kai-Shek’s KMT government lost the civil war to the Chinese Communist Party led by Mao Zedong and retreated to Taiwan. 19 Since then, the two governments have maintained an almost forty-year-long separation—no travel, business, cultural exchanges or any official visits were allowed across Taiwan Strait. This opposition and separation between Chiang’s Republic of China (ROC) and Mao’s People’s Republic of China (PRC) reflects the Cold War tension between the two world camps, the U.S. and the Soviet Union, but also implies that the government led by Chiang and the massive number of exiles following Chiang from China to Taiwan during 1945 and 1949 viewed themselves as Chinese. 20 In opposition to Mao’s PRC regime, Taiwan was under martial law starting from 1949 to prepare to claim a war against PRC. However, Chiang’s attempt to trigger a war against PRC was dissuaded by the U.S. in the early 1960s, so that political and military tensions during The Cold War period between the communist world and the U.S. hegemony could remain balanced. While the hope to go back “home” in the mainland through defeating the PRC became impossible due to the U.S.’s intervention, the ROC in Taiwan struggled to compete with the PRC which represented “China” in the international community. In 1966, Mao’s attack against his political enemies in China resulted in the holocaust known as the Cultural Revolution. Many young students stopped going to school and joined the organization of Red Guards, destroying traditional customs, 19

Chiang Kai-Shek was the chairman of KMT political party while he was also President of the Republic of China (ROC) during 1950-1975 in Taiwan. KMT is the short name for the Chinese Nationalist Party (kuomingtang). KMT refers to the name of the political party, and ROC refers to the official name of the nation. 20

Many of the exiles were Nationalist soldiers, civil servants and their families. The estimates of the number of civil war migrants in Taiwan range from one million to as high as three million. The lower figure is considered more reasonable because the population of “mainlanders” and their descendants are 13% of the total population in Taiwan according to recent polls.

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burning books, and killing intellectuals. In contrast, in the same year, the ROC government started to support the Chinese Cultural Renaissance Movement to promote Taiwan as the preserver of Chinese culture. The claim that the ROC represented conventional Chinese culture and the only legitimate government of China was the dominant discourse in Taiwan during this time. While ROC authorities in Taiwan were competing with the PRC in China for the privilege of being considered Chinese culture during the martial law period, they created an imagined China and instilled this image into education. For example, the official version of the geography textbook in Taiwan’s fundamental education printed the map of China’s provinces based on the map before 1949. In other words, the PRC official administrative region was not recognized and taught in Taiwan for a long time. On the other hand, this dominant promotion of Taiwan as the preserver of Chinese culture oppressed Taiwan’s local voices and the majority of Taiwanese population. Taiwanese people were colonized and ruled by Japan for fifty years until the end of World War II. 21 At the end of WWII, the Taiwanese population was approximately 6 million, and the literacy rate for the Japanese language was 70%. After 1945, Taiwan was taken over and ruled by the ROC government. The first priority of the new ruler was the implementation of “De-Japanization” and “Re-Sinicization,” in order to “purify the tainted Taiwanese culture” (Yang, 2010, p. 69). This forceful policy to purge the past was resisted by local Taiwanese people, and resulted in the massacre throughout the island on February 28, 1947. At least ten thousand people died in the 228 Incident, and it preceded a long period of strict governmental surveillance in which the KMT government secretly imprisoned or killed opponents. However, the claim and the image of Taiwan as the “Free China” eventually failed to win the consent of ROC’s old alliances. In the 1970s, a series of drastic political 21

Taiwan was a dependency of the Empire of Japan between 1895 and 1945.

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and diplomatic changes happened. In 1971, the ROC was forced to withdraw from the United Nations, and the seat was replaced by the PRC. Soon, the U.S. and other countries turned to the PRC to establish formal diplomatic relations and terminated diplomatic relations with Taiwan (ROC). The sudden isolation from the international community caused panic and an identity crisis in Taiwan. In 1975, Chiang died, and the dominant ideology of cultural China prevailing in Taiwan started gradually loosened. The constructed Chinese identity proposed by the authorities was gradually disturbed by an unnoticed undercurrent developing from the bottom to form the Taiwanese identity. During the martial law period, one of the restrictions was that all media programs were subject to censorship so that any “improper” content could be eliminated before broadcasting (Luo, 1999). Although while under martial law the TV stations were restricted from broadcasting foreign programs, Taiwanese TV producers were able to copy or imitate them to create the Mandarin versions. 22 One of the most popular references is Japanese TV shows. Iwabuchi (2002) notes that most variety shows in Taiwan are at least partially copied from popular Japanese TV programs and there have been frenzied calls for Japanese TV dramas and idols in Taiwan since the 1970s (p. 1234). Some Taiwanese singers, such as Lin Hui-Ping in the 1980s, imitated Japanese idol styles to gain popularity, although none of them explicitly claimed the connection due to the KMT’s de-Japanization policy (Yang, 2010, p.73). In 1987, the lifting of the forty-year-long martial law in Taiwan started gradually to change people’s lives, but the influence on the media industry was comparatively fast. With sudden freedom, Taiwanese media grew mainly in two directions. One, TV shows spoken in Taiwanese dialects increased. Second, TV stations looked for cultural imports

22

Since 1945, Mandarin has become the official language in Taiwan. In 1972, KMT government regulations required that all the TV programs should be broadcast in Mandarin except one hour per day for shows in the Taiwanese dialect. The ban was not lifted until in the late 1980s.

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from outside to increase ratings. One of the most apparent developments was the adoration of Japanese popular culture, including the rising kawaii (cute) phenomenon in Japan in the 1980s. For instance, in the same year of 1987, imitating how the Japanese music companies recruit and train young female idols, 23 a local music company introduced the all-girl singing group “Red Lips” to the Taiwanese audience. The members were four high school girls. They were recruited on the street, competed with other girls on TV, and finally were selected to form the group. The unexpected popularity of this group led to additional and similar idol groups to boast of their abilities to sing and dance as well as their Japanese pop idol counterparts. Moreover, at least three local TV channels (ONTV, GoldSunTV, and JET TV) have been devoted to broadcasting imported Japanese TV shows since the development of the Taiwanese cable-TV market in the 1990s. 24 Nowadays, the Internet even shortens the time and space needed to acquire Japanese shows and the latest entertainment information. Young Taiwanese people are thus immersed in Japanese popular culture and become gradually familiar with Japanese commodities and fashion. Current popular Japanese all-girl idol groups, featuring their cuteness, such as Morning Musume and AKB48, are also popular in Taiwan. 25 This newly rising phenomenon, however, has little to do with the nostalgia of the colonial past. Although between 1988 and 2000, Taiwan’s President Lee Teng-hui was known for his open Japanophile-tendency, the old top-down model to control information in the media has disappeared. The popularity of Japanese

23

Japan’s Onyanko Club was a large female idol group established in 1985. Young high school girls were invited to appear on a TV show and were selected to participate in all kinds of entertaining activities, such as hosting a TV show, singing, acting, dancing, etc. The total number of the Onyanko Club girls is 52. 24 25

Usually a Taiwanese household with cable service can access around 100 channels.

Since the late 1990s, South Korean pop has become another media trend. There are also TV channels devoted to broadcasting South Korean dramas in Taiwan. Due to the focus of this project and the fact that this South Korean trend did not rise in Taiwan until recent years, the author will cover the phenomenon most related to Japanophilia.

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popular culture in Taiwan is a response of the Taiwanese young generation to the rapid process of democratization and modernization after 1987. Japan’s popular cultural products provides the young Taiwanese generation with the tools to imagine their new role in the new era. This cultural import has formed a significant force in shaping Taiwanese identity. In examining the governmental control of Taiwan’s mass media, Lee (2004) praises the newspapers as the harbingers of Taiwan’s pursuit of democracy, while viewing television as the origin of social disorder because it aims only for the growth of commercial profit. However, in search of the changing media representation of the ideal female image, TV programs play an essential role in providing rich information. The examination of the female images on TV in the past three decades also reveals what Lee calls, “the swinging identities between Chinese complex and Taiwanese complex” (p. 168). The dominant ideal female image has transmogrified from the Chinese traditional female figure to a new type with mixed characteristics. The evidence is apparent in the rise of the Japanese trendy dramas and the decline of Chiung Yao’s TV dramas in Taiwan. Chiung Yao’s once popular TV dramas have gradually lost the Taiwanese audience because what audiences desire in their heroines is not represented by the Chinese nostalgia. After several failures in the late 1990s, Chiung has moved her TV Empire to China and has found her new niche. On the other hand, the Japanese trendy dramas have facilitated the emergence of a new ideal female type in Taiwanese popular culture to replace the traditional image. From this brief summary of the changing female images in Taiwanese media and the political context between 1945 and the present, I argue for the waning of the Chinese identity and the waxing of the Taiwanese identity among Taiwanese’s identity struggle process. Ang (2004) comments on a general cultural phenomenon observed not only in Taiwan, but in Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and newly rising Asian cities,

77 [Y]oung people in the 1990s were among the first generation faced with the task of figuring out how to be truly modern in a modernized Asian context. Media imagery plays a crucial role in this respect. (2001) Ang explains how Japanese popular culture is consumed in the East Asian region. Once people have freedom of choice, and local media are not ready to provide sufficient content, seeking an outside culture to nurture one’s identity seems to be expedient. Fiske (1989) views culture as a contested zone, where the dominant and the subordinate constantly negotiate to create new definitions or interpretations (p. 7). The case of the ideal female image in Taiwanese media demonstrates such a contest: Different cultural forces from the top and from the bottom have worked throughout time to develop the current phenomenon. The dominant “cultural China” ideology promoted by KMT government became difficult to maintain when people realized that this is not relevant to their current uncertainty. The urban, fashionable, foreign culture from Japan thus became the choice of many young people. The emphasis on cuteness as a defining characteristic of femininity is what I observe as the salient feature in Taiwanese popular culture after the 1990s. While I recognize that culture formation is an ongoing process, this chapter captures a significant moment by analyzing the connection between cuteness and femininity in Taiwan under the influence of Japanese popular culture. What is Cute? Politics of Identities The brief history of the changing female image in Taiwanese media is significant to understand the discursive meaning of sajiao and how the dominant discourse about sajiao is formed. Simply put, cuteness is a state, and sajiao is one of the actions that facilitate the individual to achieve the state. The emphasis of cuteness in the media as a desired feature of a female encourages people to view sajiao as a skill that women should possess and know how to use properly. This phenomenon is what Curtin (1999) labels the media representation of “feminine desire.” This term refers to the female consumers’ shopping desire that is evoked through the female image produced, circulated, and

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conventionalized in the media so as to support capitalist economies. Curtin’s emphasis on examining the examples of “feminine desire” in the media aims to challenge the topdown model in studying media globalization. He says, If one wants to comprehend the dynamic interactions between global and local forces, and if one wants to locate the fleeting but significant cultural spaces in which women might imagine a more liberated future, then one would do well to explore the specific operations of neo-network media industries and the textual possibilities they present. The growing prominence of huge media conglomerates does not automatically herald the homogenization of culture, the death of free expression, or the end of public life. (p.68) Curtin’s argument provides a framework to locate comparatively fleeting and indeterminate moments in studying identity politics in the seemingly homogenous world that is controlled by corporate, governmental, and media power. This feminine perspective is useful to this project. By focusing on the feminine performance of sajiao in the Taiwanese media, the following analysis approaches cuteness to reveal different layers of identity politics. First, I want to suggest an alternative framework to reposition Taiwan in studying East Asian popular culture. As a regional fashion starting in the 1980s, the cute trend is not unique to Taiwan, and viewing this phenomenon in the framework of globalization is useful to explore how this trend relates to the formation of national, cultural, and personal identities. I deliberately build up a route for readers to situate Taiwan and see the alternative picture of popular cultural flows during the 1980s and the 1990s. This is not a denial of the cultural bonds between Taiwan and China, but by identifying Taiwan as an independent entity in the East Asian region, different political, military, economic, and cultural forces will be revealed. As the previous section describes, from 1945 to the present, ROC government in Taiwan has changed from serving as the legitimate representative of China in the United Nations to holding an unrecognized, insignificant

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place on the world map. The perspective of cultural China disguises the fact that Taiwan is a small and weak member relative to its other neighbors in East Asia, and is not helpful in attempting to understand Taiwan’s prevalent sajiao culture and its symbolic implications as vulnerability and helplessness. Second, I want to provide an example of how we can use the feminine perspective in examining the formation of the “feminine desire” presented in the Taiwanese media. I will address three main forces that work to construct the cute imagery, including Taiwan’s feminist movement, the consumption of East Asian pop culture, and the regional taike/taimei culture. 26 Taiwan’s feminist movement seems to be quiet in such a development of the media representation of femininity. After its heyday in the 1980s and 1990s, where are the traces of feminist influence in such a media trend that apparently objectifies women and stereotypes gender roles? In terms of the consumption of pop culture in Taiwan, a brief history of the Japanese kawaii culture will be introduced. Its popularity becomes a strong cultural power backed up with Japan’s strong economic force during the 1980s. Since the South Korean popular culture (hallyu) rose in the late 1990s, the cultural flows in East Asia have made this region a very dynamic zone. How have these “foreign” pop trends influenced the gender aesthetics in Taiwan? Last, from the regional to the local, my analysis will return to Taiwan and examine the local responses to the cute culture. The politics of regional identities within Taiwan privileges certain female types to play cute, do sajiao. How does this privileged discourse compete with the non-mainstream taike/taimei culture? The Importance of Going Feminine Sajiao is a native term to indicate a cultural practice in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan. Although it is often used to describe an interpersonal speech act, 26

Taike is the combination of two Chinese characters, tai (台) and ke (客). The first character is the short name for Taiwan, and the second character means a person, or a guest. Taimei (台妹) is the gender variation of taike. Literally, it means a “Taiwanese sister.”

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this term is also used as a metaphor to describe Taiwan’s political or international negotiating process. Pressed mainly from the U.S. and China, Taiwan’s diplomatic decisions are often labeled by local critics as sajiao. For example, President Chen ShuiBian’s diplomatic visit to Central and South America in 2006 was viewed as a failure because his flight could not successfully stopover in the U.S. to take a break as he requested. 27 This transit en route to diplomatic allies allowed by Washington for Taiwanese leaders is a sign of the stable U.S.-Taiwan relation. Chen’s being rejected by the U.S. immediately became the headline in Taiwan and the media blamed this failure on Chen’s previous “overly sajiao” to the U.S. (Apple Daily, May 5 2006). Thus, my choice to focus on this imitation of a child’s behavior in order to persuade others is related to Taiwan’s current political and economic status in the international community. It makes the sajiao observation more relevant to the discussion of national identity and cultural identity in the context of global politics. In order to observe the complicated picture, a feminine framework is necessary. Currently, the framework of cultural China is still dominant in studying Taiwan’s politics, economics, society, and culture. Derived from the concept of cultural China, a popular term “liang-an-san-di” (two coasts and three places), referring to a collective name for China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, is frequently used in research papers written in Mandarin. This term is said to avoid the sensitive inference of a nation, emphasizing the cultural similarities of the three places. Yet, the framework of “liang-an-san-di” inevitably implies that this area is a politically integrated entity. This kind of research 27

In 1979, the U.S. closed its embassy in Taiwan to show its endorsement of PRC’s “One China policy,” in which PRC denies Taiwan (ROC) as an independent country from China. While the U.S. officially adheres to the one-China policy, it practices a de facto two-China policy. Under the 1979 Taiwan Relation Act signed with the ROC, the U.S. also expresses grave concern if the PRC takes any coercive unification efforts to invade Taiwan. As an unspoken consensus, despite the lack of formal diplomatic relation, ROC Presidents are allowed to conduct unofficial visits to the U.S. or stopover in U.S. cities en route to other countries, but not all attempts are sanctioned by the U.S. Thus, the sanction for ROC Presidents to enter the U.S. or land on the U.S. soil becomes an important sign for Taiwan to evaluate the U.S.-Taiwan relations.

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usually employs a comparative perspective to examine the differences in various economic systems, institutional practices, or media developments in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China. The limit of this perspective is the application of national imagination as taken-for-granted. The taken-for-granted framework of “liang-an-san-di” lacks the nuances of the already questionable “cultural China” and is unable to answer the fundamental question: what do the three places have in common? Compared with China, Hong Kong and Taiwan are tiny in the size of territory and population. It seems to make more sense to compare a cultural practice at the level of cities, such as Beijing, Shanghai, Taipei, and Hong Kong. The unequal comparison under the “liang-an-san-di” framework sometimes is similar to comparing the U.S. and Puerto Rico. In fact, it is cities that precipitate the political, economic, and cultural exchanges within the East Asian area. Cities such as Beijing, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai, and Taipei are the political, economic, and cultural capitals in this area, and the regional cooperation in the film and media industry has already made this area a unique case of global economy. It indicates that a different framework from the “liang-an-san-di” model is urgently needed to examine the regional cooperation and competition. Another disadvantage of taking “liang-an-san-di” for granted is that it suppresses important elements of the historical construction of this space. How it is connected to and dependent upon other contexts and broader regional and global flows will be missing in the discussion (Wiley, 2004). Scholars in critical-historical and cultural studies have problematized nationality to denaturalize its historical construction and its reliance on hegemonic processes to forge a unified whole (Anderson, 1991; Carey, 1988; Gellner, 1983; Hall, 1993; Hobsbawm, 1990). In response to the limitations of using the “liangan-san-di” framework, I wonder if there is a way to study Taiwan’s phenomena without prioritizing the Chinese elements.

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In recent years, more and more universities in Taiwan have established a department of Taiwan Studies, which can be viewed as a response to the problematic “cultural China” framework. This inward perspective offers the space to talk more about the domestic identity construction and to examine the internal conflicts and struggles in the process of defining Taiwanese identity. However, the major problem of Taiwan Studies is the exclusion and strictness of the definition of Taiwaneseness, which isolate the studies of Taiwan from outsiders, making it difficult to understand and hard to generate scholarly conversation beyond Taiwan’s academic circle. Nevertheless, the alternative attempt away from the cultural China framework reflects Taiwan’s readjustment of its role in the international community. As the PRC reformed its economic policy and opened its market to foreign investment and global markets in the 1980s, more and more economic and cultural exchanges have transpired between the countries bordering the Taiwan Strait. Due to the long period of separation between the Taiwan Strait and the PRC’s ideological control, the cultural imagination of Taiwan as China’s “treasure island” or as part of China is still the dominant ideology prevalent in China’s newspapers, travelogues, and TV shows. Meanwhile, since 1987, the ongoing political progress has led Taiwan to adopt a democratic form of society. The heated identity debates accompanied with political elections and the freedom of speech and publications have fostered Taiwan’s nationalism. Although the PRC government still firmly claims that Taiwan is an inseparable part of China in terms of political sovereignty, this does not accelerate the political unification of Taiwan with China, as China wishes; instead, Taiwan’s nationalism is on the rise. According to Wang (2004), not only is the movement toward Taiwan’s nationalism hard to turn around, but furthermore this development is speeding up. Built on Curtin’s idea of viewing how feminine desire in the media competes with corporate power in the age of globalization, I propose a framework focusing on the constructed femininity in the media to examine different forces in relation to Taiwanese

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identity. I argue that the politics can be found in the non-political cultural artifacts, such as feminine TV shows. Moreover, the feminine framework brings the unnoticed parts of society to the table. The signification of femininity in Taiwan’s media helps me articulate codes of the weak, the small, the underprivileged, the marginal, the subordinate, the vulnerable, the helpless, etc. into one analytical umbrella beyond a national framework. This framework also echoes Chen’s (2010) claim of Asia as method in which he proposes to analyze Taiwan by “systematically referring to different parts of East Asia” (xii). This method of relocating the site in the large regional politics will allow us to see if a different understanding of Taiwan—as well as of the region—is possible. Sajiao to Be Cute: The Interpretation of Feminine Desire Identity plays a key role in communication, serving as a bridge between culture and communication. In the field of communication, identity is often viewed as plural, dynamic, created through communication, and influenced by society (Collier, 2005; Gergen, 1985, Roland, 2003). As one form of identity performance, the speech act sajiao functions to produce a sense of femininity in Taiwan’s media. The following analysis links the sajiao phenomenon to three socio-cultural forces to articulate the multiple layers of imaginations or visions about the speech act. What can we see or understand about the identity struggles in Taiwan through juxtaposing the media representation of “feminine desire” with Taiwan’s feminist movement, Japan’s imported cultural products, and Taiwan’s internal geopolitics? Feminine Desires and Feminist Voices If Taiwan is metaphorically described as the island of sajiao, how is the feminine metaphor related to the feminist movements in Taiwan? Unlike China, which experienced the drastic nation-wide Cultural Revolution during the 1960s resulting in the degenderization in gender role, Taiwan took the Western pattern as a model. To reconstruct Taiwan’s feminist history, scholars trace the burgeoning of Taiwan’s feminist movement

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back to the period of Japanese Colonization (Yang, 1993). They argue that, during the 1920s and 1930s, many educated women had already promoted women’s liberation in newspapers and magazines. After 1945, when Japan returned Taiwan to the KMT government, which soon instituted the martial law and a series of speech -controlling policies, these records of feminist movements written in Japanese were neglected (Chiu, 2004). The first female Vice President of Taiwan (2000-2008), Hsiu-Lien Lu, is viewed as the pioneer of Taiwan’s feminist movement because she is the first to use the term “feminism” in her writing (Wang, 1999). In the 1970s, her political participation landed her in jail, but she kept promoting women’s social and political rights after being discharged from prison. Her proposal in New Feminism (1971) that women should first be a human, and then be a woman becomes the foundation for later feminist activists in Taiwan. Although the exact beginning of Taiwan’s feminist movement is disputed, scholars agree that the lift of martial law in 1987 triggered the thriving visibility of different feminist proposals in Taiwan. Before 1987, the major feminist movements in Taiwan focused on the revision of unequal laws. For example, starting from 1982, YuanChen Lee’s Awakening Magazine (later becoming the Awakening Foundation), is continually dedicated to the improvement of gender equality. Like the U.S. feminist organization, National Organization for Women (NOW), most of the members of Awakening Foundation were conservative and sought more support from women by means of traditional political and legislative appeals. After 1987, given the suddenly free atmosphere in the society, different feminist camps in Taiwan sometimes compete, and sometimes cooperate in their agendas and priorities. The feminist movements after 1987 reflect the chaotic social conditions in Taiwan. In 1988, Shih Chi-Ching established the organization of Warm Life, aiming to help women face the difficulties in their marriages, and offering consultation and selfachievement courses for women. The Awakening Foundation maintained its mission and

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later worked together with Warm Life. Eliminating the prostitution of children has become the major goal for The Garden of Hope Foundation since the 1990s, and the foundation has held several large-scale anti-child-prostitution campaigns in Taipei. On the other hand, the camp of sexual liberation led by Josephine Ho (1994, 2007) promoted women to explore the meaning of body, labor, and autonomy. Her provocative slogan, “I want orgasm, not harassment,” drew mainstream media’s attention, but also elicited other feminists’ criticism, for, they worried, this slogan was ironically appropriated by the dominant media as the passport to objectifying and exploiting women. Aligned with Ho’s camp is the organization of Sex Workers and Supporters, supporting the rights of sex workers. More recently, Ho’s proposal has also been appropriated by the LGBT social movements. Meanwhile, as the import of queer theory in Taiwan’s academia in the 1990s, queer literary criticism has joined as anti-patriarchal, anti-authority, and anti-hegemonic forces. In 1998, the consulting organization, Taiwan’s Homosexual Hotline, was established. In 1999, Gender/Sexuality Rights Association Taiwan was established, and in the same year, the first LGBT bookstore, Jin Jin, was opened in Taipei. Since 2003, Taiwan’s LGBT groups have held annual gay pride parades to promote civil rights and make other issues of sexuality visible. According to Chiu (2004), Taiwan’s feminist criticism or movement did not cultivate the powerful potential to reverse the existing patriarchal tradition, and did not form an authoritative feminist voice like its Western counterparts (p. 261). However, in facing a rising consumer culture and globalization, Taiwan’s feminists share a similar challenge with other comrades around the world; that is, the loss of a definite enemy in the postmodern world of fragmentation, deconstruction, ambiguity, and superficiality. For example, when table dancing girls, betel nut girls, and others who work in a stigmatized occupation are invited to talk shows and perform their feminine charm, many

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feminist scholars or activists encounter the dilemma of positioning themselves in such a post-feminist media arena. How to interpret the body politics represented in the media through these young, low-class, female laborers is relevant to the project of the speech act sajiao. Powers at play in body politics include institutional power expressed in government and laws, disciplinary power exacted in economic production, discretionary power exercised in consumption, and personal power negotiated in intimate relations. In the project of studying the dominant female image and its relation to the speech act sajiao, it is inevitable that my focus is mainly on the mainstream voice and presentation of how women should behave and look. However, a feminine desire is not necessarily compatible with a feminist goal. In the analysis of how the ideal female image in the media has changed from a mature, submissive woman to a cute, childish girl, what is missing is the “mainstream” feminist participating voices in Taiwan. Although I highlight several important moments, organizations, and movements that are relevant to the discursive construction of femininity under study, there are not many feminist critiques on this issue. Instead, Ho’s marginal voice of sexual liberation (1994) and queer literature on the performance of gender focusing on gay or lesbian sexuality provide relevant insights to my studies (Chao, 2000; Chen, 2011; Hu, 2011; Wiggins, 2000). The Influence of Japanese Kawaii Culture The speech act sajiao has existed in the Mandarin vocabulary for a long time (as I describe the history of the phrase in Chapter One). I argue that, although the phrase sajiao has a long history, it is not until recently that the connotation of this phrase has become positive, and has been strongly connected to feminine attractiveness. I attribute this development to the influence of the Japanese kawaii culture. Plenty of journalist reports and academic studies have already noted its influence in many aspects of Japanese society and other regions around the world (Craig, 2000, Iwabuchi, 2002; Ko, 2003). Many of the experts agree that the kawaii culture began its prevalence in Japan in

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the 1980s. It has been steadily developed since then, reflecting young people’s ideas about their future and the changing modes of social, cultural, and political conditions. Cuteness in the Japanese standard includes “extreme youth, vulnerability, harmlessness, and need” (Angier, 2006). The waning of the political leftist student movement in the 1970s and the prosperity of consumerism in the 1980s have prompted the cute trend to a new stage: young women become the main generators of, and actors in, cute culture. They are the main consumers of these cute products and styles (Kinsella, 1995, p. 225). Around the theme of cuteness, different connections are made to examine the significance of cuteness in the Japanese society. For example, cute rounded handwriting by young Japanese women influences the contemporary Japanese popular culture. Although the girlish, over-decorative writing style was banned in many schools, Japanese magazines, comics, print advertisements and packaging gradually adopted it to marketing the products (Kinsella, 1995; Skov, 1995). Madge (1997) shows the connection between cute culture and young women’s desire to revolt, These young girls in the 1980s gather kawaii goods around themselves and turn their bedrooms into kawaii “fortresses,” …girls, having been assigned more confining roles in modern Japanese society, have responded by trying to cut themselves off from society completely (p. 162). The gesture of this youth protest embodies one aspect of the kawaii trend, the asexual femininity. Hello Kitty is the typical icon for this cute trend. 28 This cat without a mouth symbolizes her rejection to communicate, and the escapism from the adult world. In terms of globalization and commercialization, Yano (2009) analyzes the cute trend which is adapted to toys, cosmetics, restaurant logos, and other commodities and concludes that the phenomenon is the reflection of the soft power of Japanese cuteness (p. 684). While

28

Hello Kitty is a character created by the Japanese company Sanrio. It is a female cat with a red bow as a staple of the kawaii popular culture. After the 1974 debut in Japan, Hello Kitty soon became popular around the world.

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the Japanese culture of cuteness has intrigued many scholars, most of them agree that the cute trend was started by the youth as a response to the bleak future, or the escape from their chaotic, uncertain society. The emphasis of the representation of cuteness on objects, such as toys, clothes, and furniture, has later extended to the appreciation of female idols, especially among young men. Observing the popular culture in Japan, Kinsella (1995) points out that cute culture is also popular among young men, though “young men were largely relegated to the passive, wistful audiences of the performance of cute culture put on by women” (p. 243-4). Aoyagi (2005) conducts an ethnographic work on the Japanese idol industry and argues that cuteness is an essential feature for a young idol to be successful (p. 72). The female idols in this context are consumed as objects to facilitate the fantasy generated around the cute fetish, because one of their common jobs is to personify a virtual character from a comic book, a video game, or a story. Nevertheless, what is worth exploring is how these idols communicate to attract people to a cute, naïve, and colorful world. The Japanese popular culture has been dominant in East Asia for over thirty years; however, in the recent decade, the South Korean popular culture (hallyu or K-pop) has become a newly rising trend that influences and shapes the film, music, television, and other related entertainment industries in East Asian region. Studies on K-pop become the latest trend, and most of them reveal a sense of national pride, for the popularity of K-pop symbolizes the “fight back” of the dominant J-pop in East Asia (see Park, 2011; Shin, 2009). In Kim’s (2011) analysis of South Korean’s entertainment industry, the concept of “girl” is used to define the New South Korean Wave. The “Lolita nationalism” coined by Kim is, in my opinion, an extension of Japanese cuteness in praise of asexual femininity embodied through female idols. Although most analyses of this rising South Korean pop trend refuse or neglect to include the Japanese cute culture in shaping K-pop, if we

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juxtapose the popular cultural trends in different geographical locations, the favoring of cute, young, baby-like femininity is the common element. Taiwan is always a place where different political, economic, and cultural forces interplay across domestic and national borders. While Japanese kawaii culture and the South Korean K-pop are still at the stage of fermenting, Taiwan might arguably begin importing these trends and allowing them to penetrate people’s everyday practices (Huang, 2011). In this project, my aim is to build up a trajectory to connect Japanese popular culture and Taiwanese popular culture, but I recognize the significance of K-pop or hallyu as a new power in Taiwan and the East Asian region. In terms of the construction of femininity in Taiwan, one of the significant contributions of the Japanese kawaii culture is the promotion of the cute, baby-like female body image. However, different from the silent protest and passive escapism implied by the iconic Hello Kitty, the sajiao feature makes the cute icons in Taiwan more active and more communicable. Localizing Cuteness When analyzing the changing female image in the media, I look at the female image in the past in TV dramas, for they were the major source for observation of the representation of female imagery. After the lifting of martial law, with a more open media market and diverse media inputs, talk shows, variety shows, blogs, and mediarelated activities all became sites that richly represented the new ideal female image in Taiwanese popular culture. Japanese popular culture has played a significant role in shaping Taiwanese audience’s taste and understanding of cuteness after the 1990s and up to the present day. Besides TV dramas, local Taiwanese entertainment companies imitate the Japanese model to create idol talents. More and more idols are produced and represented in the Taiwanese media, and these idols are trained to please the audience through the medium of displaying their childlike femininity. As Aoyagi (2005) argues, idol talents perform as lifestyle role models. They have tremendous influence on their fans as desired subjects. Although in literal usage the term kawaii is gender-neutral, in the

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context of media representation of gender, the adjective of cute is almost always connected with female bodies (p. 62). Thus, I want to examine how Taiwanese popular culture implants the Japanese kawaii culture and integrates it with the local culture in cultivating the new female image in the media. Although it seems that the development of Taiwanese popular culture after the 1990s is a copycat of Japanese media, something in the similarities can still reveal the uniqueness and the significance in interpreting the culture under study. I will first introduce the development of otaku culture, a side product of kawaii culture, in Japan in general, and then narrow my focus to the influence of the cute trend on the entertainment industry. Taiwanese popular culture definitely absorbs the export of the Japanese idol styles, but I want to show how the imported elements from Japan are used, twisted, and localized to create something new in terms of gender and communicative norms for Taiwanese people. For example, in 2000, the political party, Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), defeated the KMT party, and won the presidential election. Yang’s (2010) analysis of the 2000 presidential election concludes that the appropriation of Japanese comic-style mascots in the election campaign played a determining role in winning the election. This drastic turning point in Taiwan’s domestic politics also plays a role in shaping the cute culture in Taiwan. 29 While discussing the cute trend and its influence on females in Japanese popular culture, both Kinsella and Aoyagi mention a sub-cultural group: otaku. The otaku culture among young Japanese men fosters the cute culture intensively. The term otaku refers to people with obsessive interest in anime, manga (comic books), and video games. The cute female virtual characters are consumed in the forms of video games, collectible dolls, posters, etc. A related trend involves the numerous “Maid Cafés” in Akihabara, Tokyo, targeting the otaku group. In these coffee shops, waitresses dressed in maid costumes act 29

This is the first time that a non-KMT president ruled the nation after KMT’s supremacy of almost a half century.

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as servants and treat customers as masters. The ideal characteristic of a maid is “moe,” referring to the ability to excite the love or adoration of others by her young and innocent appearance. In other words, the concepts of “moe” and “kawaii” possess overlapped connotations. As the constant receiver of Japanese popular culture, Taiwanese young people are familiar with the cute trends in Japan. For example, one of the most popular activities in 2010 among Taiwanese video gamers is the crowning of the “otaku goddess” (zhainan nushen 宅男女神) (Chung, 2010). In Taiwanese mainstream popular culture, the meaning of otaku is interpreted differently from the original meaning in Japan. The term otaku is translated in Mandarin as zhainan (宅男), used in Taiwan with pejorative connotations referring to those heterosexual men who always stay at home, playing online games, with limited or no romantic relationships. In fact, otaku also refers to someone who possesses esoteric knowledge about a specific comic author’s works or a special gadget to win in a video game. The original respect for professionalism in the Japanese word is not emphasized. The competition among the candidates of the otaku goddess in Taiwan is originally held in the zhainan online communities. In Taiwan, zhainan are considered to have a peculiar fantasy about women and they spend a great amount of time online chatting with each other. They search pretty girls’ photos in people’s public individual websites, share the information, discuss these girls and vote for the favorite. Not all the girls are celebrities, but through the online discussion and voting, some of them are noticed by the mainstream media and later become idol talents. Thus, the title of “otaku goddess” is given by Taiwanese mainstream media to those female idols who match the standard the Taiwanese otaku men like. These female idols become famous among otaku men or to the general public in various ways. However, they are often invited to exhibitions of video games, digital products, cars, and computers, whose potential customers are assumed to be Taiwanese zhainan. The group of zhainan is also said to have money and time, which is essential to sustain the capitalist

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entertainment industry. Thus, these men’s taste in women becomes a powerful force in shaping the female idol talents’ performance. There are many variety shows and talk shows in Taiwan that make use of the trend, inviting young females to compete with each other. For example, since the term “otaku goddess” became popular in the late 2000s in Taiwan, the TV talk show, Come Here, has already produced five or six episodes concerning the topic of “otaku goddess” starting from 2009 to the present. While my focus is on the dominant popular cultural trend, what is the oppressed voice? Is the dominant female image in the media the representative of Taiwanese identity? I argue that the dominant female image is a Taipei-centered ideology, which is another important force in shaping the regional identity struggle within Taiwan. 30 To be specific, this cute female image preferred in Taiwanese media is a mixture of Japanese kawaii features and what I call Taipei Chic temperaments. Taipei Chic contains a sense of urban, fashionable, and middle-class elements as opposed to the local, rural, and working-class taimei (Tai-Gals) image. 31 While Taipei Chic is a desired image in the mainstream media, the image of Tai-Gals is undesired and viewed negatively. In other words, to become “successful” in the media, young females have to gain the Taipei Chic identity first, and then are qualified to play cute, and eventually become an “otaku goddess.” Being a “Taiwanese” Girl The media representation of a preferred female image to practice sajiao not only reflects the feminine contest between Taipei Chic and Tai-Gal, but also reveals geographic controversies in Taiwan. While Taiwan’s political talk shows are usually used to study the symbolic construction of Taiwanese identity, such debating performance on TV seems to narrow the meaning of being Taiwanese and to concretize the definition of

30

Taipei is the capital of Taiwan, located in the North of the island.

31

See footnote 16.

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what Taiwanese are. In this part, I argue that seemingly non-political topics in the media, such as feminine fashion and lifestyle, articulate tensions in the process of identity formation. By exploring the interplay between a discursive group, Taipei Chic, and the desire for assimilation among the remaining Taiwanese, I want to answer what it means to be Taipei Chic in relation to Taiwanese, and how this urban image silences other voices to form the conventional cute performance in the media. This feminine discourse departs from the political debate and offers a different view of identity negotiation in terms of class, gender, and geography in Taiwan. “Tai-Gal” is the term derived from the masculine form, taike, which is a pejorative reference to a specific ethnic group in Taiwan, and its history can be traced back to the 1950s. The taike phenomenon has been recently noticed in studies of Taiwanese popular culture and its significance in shaping popular culture has been analyzed (Hsi, 2005; Lei, 2009; Liao, 2007; Lin, 2007). As the media in Taiwan become interested in the taike culture, the concept of tai keeps expanding, including similar and contrasting elements, such as techno music, dyed hair, vulgarity, flowery shirts, accented Mandarin, fluent Taiwanese dialect, rockers, etc. There is no definite geographical location about the taike population in Taiwan, but it is implicitly associated with the South. To promote the tai culture, many researchers, musicians, and activists take efforts to redefine the word tai. The re-framing process starts from the grassroots groups, and gradually combines with pop music labeled as taike rock music (Lei, 2009; Lin, 2007). These popular cultural symbols associated with the image of taike partially eradicate the pejorative connotation of the term. For example, the annual Taike Rock Music Concert, starting in 2005 and organized by a Taipei-based production company, made the taike culture a hit topic in the mainstream media, but at the same time incited dispute among different groups as to who are the “authentic” representatives of taike. The abeyance of the Taike Rock Music Concert since 2008 was due to the dispute about the taike

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trademark. The application to register taike as a trademark by the production company of Rock Music Concert was protested by many other cultural groups, and forced the company to renounce the proposal (Ho, 2009; Liao, 2007). Thus, the massive commercial promotion of the taike culture suddenly vanished, and the cultural movement also faded out quickly in the mainstream media. This short movement in Taiwan’s popular music implicitly shows that Taipei’s mainstream media still possess the authority to interpret what tai is. Once they lose interest, the evolution of the cultural connotation of tai concept becomes half-hearted. One of the tai elements that has not evolved is the term taimei (Tai-Gals). Despite the trend of promoting the taike culture (most known promoters are male), we see that females in general resist being labeled as taimei or Tai-Gals. If the spirit of taike rock is to challenge and to protest the imbalanced regional cultural difference between the North and the South in Taiwan, the female version of the story is to transform a Tai-Gal (the South) into a Taipei Chic (the North). While taikes take pride in their tai, Tai-Gals work hard to get rid of the “bad taste.” 32 Simply put, taikes and Tai-Gals pursue opposite directions in response to the issue of identity construction. However, neither taikes nor Tai-Gals have been seen as the mainstream culture or the representative identity of Taiwanese in the media. Neither holds the authority to interpret what tai is nor to be successfully separated from or assimilated into the urban Taipei style. The right is in the hand of Taipei’s mainstream media, and to form the privileged group, they need the cultural Other. For example, many young females in the media directly express their hatred or dislike of being called tai. “… I hate to be called tai the most,” a girl from the South answers the mediator’s question in the talk show University (July 13 2011). In this 32

According to Silvio’s (2009) translation, “tai” is equal to “bad taste.” However, he explains, this translation can be viewed as the play of Susan Sontag’s concept of quotation in “Notes on Camp” (1999): “Camp sees everything in quotation marks. It’s not a lamp, but a ‘lamp’; not a woman, but a ‘woman’” (p. 56). Here, “bad taste” should not be read as ordinary language, but as the re-citing of the meaning of “bad taste.”

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context, the meaning of “tai” is associated with the symbol of the South, which is opposed to an urban image. For a female who strives to be recognized in the mainstream media, being desired means to eschew the elements of tai. This includes the transformation from rural to urban, from wild to refined, and one of the salient codes marking this transformation is her ability to speak standard Mandarin. 33 As mentioned above, the Taiwanese dialect spoken by the majority of Taiwanese was banned during the martial law period, and Mandarin was promoted as the only official language in Taiwan. The connotation of speaking standard Mandarin as high-class, educated, and refined prevails in Taiwan’s media and put a Tai-Gal, who is assumed to speak an accented Mandarin, in a position of being reformed. 34 Take the following conversation selected from an episode as an example, Wong: I am very gentle (wo hen wen-lou). Mediator: Gentle (wen-lou). (Laughter from others) Wong: Gentle (wen-lou), gen… gentle (wen…wen-rou). Some native speakers of the Taiwanese dialect have difficulties in distinguishing the constant “r” from constant “l” or “shi” from “si.” Wong’s pronunciation of the word “gentle” in Mandarin as “wen-lou” is a common mistake that can be observed in everyday conversation. The mediator’s imitation of Wong’s wrong pronunciation causes others to laugh. Wong’s reaction is typical; she pronounces the word several times until she can say it correctly.

33

The standard Mandarin in Taiwan in the ears of other native speakers outside Taiwan is simply another accented Mandarin. 34

For more information about the language policy in Taiwan and the influence on identity ideology, see Chen, 2001; Sandel, 2003; and Su, 2008.

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Another example shows how an accented Mandarin hinders a Tai-Gal from pursuing a desired identity in Taiwan. When a girl from the South explains why she is always quiet, we see her naturalize the stereotype of a Tai-Gal, Hu: I want to leave a good impression. Mediator: So, you don’t open your mouth when you meet someone the first time. Hu: Yes. Then as soon as I start talking, I mess it up. Then, yes, they are shocked. Mediator: They are shocked when you speak. Hu: Yes. (University, July 13 2011) The girl positions others’ shocked reaction to her non-standard Mandarin pronunciation as a natural phenomenon, one that is a habitual practice every time she encounters new people. Naturalization centers a discourse, thus making it immune to alternative systems of meaning. That is, why people have to be shocked by her pronunciation is a question that has no space in this context. Standard Mandarin means a good impression, while the girl’s accent does not. These examples illustrate the Taipei-centered standard in determining who can play cute and who cannot. The privileged position of Taipei Chic is problematic, but unfortunately this oppressive view is omnipresent in Taiwanese media. If a Tai-Gal cannot pass to play cute in the media, what is the image of a Taipei Chic? Literally, people who live in Taipei are definitively Taipei Chic. However, the geographic location is not enough to fulfill the Taipei Chic image. To personify the common media representations of feminine fashions and feminine styles, I argue that Taipei Chic is like a teenage girl living in a vacuum tube, pale, refined, but empty. She is good at classroom clique politics, crowding out unpopular classmates based on their appearance. She contents herself by causing this small tiff and setting up her own rules. She refuses to grow up, or open her eyes to the world outside the classroom. Such an image of Taipei Chic is similar to that of a Japanese girl under the kawaii trend. Both of them use their own tactics of cuteness to oppose the dominant value system. My detailed illustration of Taipei Chic, on the one hand, reveals the influence of the outside cultural

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trend on the formation of local female image. On the other hand, this picture is also the total sum of all internal contradictions, exclusions, and negotiations. To raise the question of how to be a “Taiwanese” girl, I aim to show the productivity of the feminine framework of this project. The collective term of Taipei Chic is an interesting aspect of Taiwanese identity formation. Sometimes, it represents Taiwan, and other times, it is opposed to the Taiwanese identity. The Taipei Chic identity marginalizes the Tai-Gals, but this identity is also portrayed as weak and helpless. This contradictory mixture of the female image in the media in Taiwan forms a contested zone. After this long discussion, we might find it difficult to answer the simple question, “What is cute?” If sajiao is the expression of cuteness, we already see that certain actors are preferred to perform sajiao and others are not. This distinction tells us about more than just the personal charm. Japanese, Chinese, South Korean, Taiwanese, the North, the South, feminist, gay, lesbian, straight man, female idol, otaku, zhainan, otaku goddess, Taipei Chic, taike, Tai-Gal, etc. are all symbols composing multiple layers of one’s identity. Without the continuing dialectics between the different forces, we cannot see the clear picture of the politics of identities, and the complicated process in shaping sajiao culture in Taiwan. How the Media Constructs Sajiao This section traces the clues in popular culture to see how the sajiao discourse is formed in the media and is used in conversation. Sajiao happens to someone positioned as more powerful than the asker. “Positioned as more powerful” is an important distinction from simply “someone more powerful.” Thus, sajiao is not merely a special style of women’s speech, a distinct gender marker, and a persuasive weapon for women. It is the tactic of the weak. Nevertheless, the dominant media representation that women should learn to play cute through sajiao is so widely accepted that other interpretations or understandings of sajiao are neglected. The dominant media representation reveals what Barthes (1972)

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calls the myth. The myth freezes certain meanings of a message and treats them as truth. This ideological work influences how people behave and value the meaning system. Thus, the following analysis will reflect the regional political, cultural forces in creating the media myth. Three dimensions in the media are discussed to show how the babyish, urban, heterosexual-preferred cute performance is formed. First, I analyze the common patterns that female idols in Taiwan perform to play cute. Aoyagi (2005) explores how Japan’s idol performers represent and resonate with the youth of a nation as well as reflect the dreams and fantasies of the masses. By focusing on a specific idol’s media image, one can see how sajiao is a tactic to fulfill the cuteness requirement. Second, I analyze newspaper articles containing the phrase “sajiao” in a major Taiwanese newspaper between 2003 and 2011. In the total 1909 entries, there is a clear picture about how sajiao is related to a certain identity and how sajiao is understood in everyday life. In essence, sajiao is described as a necessary feature leading heterosexual women to marriage. Third, I present the talks in popular TV shows in Taiwan; instead of analyzing TV dramas, I examine several popular Taiwanese TV talk shows to analyze how the urban femininity and cuteness converge to form the ideal female image. In this context, sajiao is viewed as women’s weapon and those who are good at sajiao are praised and admired. These media sources offer more immediate responses, simpler principles, and more concrete “lessons” than TV dramas in how to sajiao. Female Idols’ Performance Female idols cannot represent all Taiwanese women, but they give witness, to a certain degree, to the changing of the ideal female image in Taiwan. This section aims to argue that the power of playing cute for a female idol is equal to her other talents to gain popularity. That is, as long as the female idol is able to play cute, it is not necessary for her to have expertise in singing, acting, or dancing. For example, Ann Hsin-Ya, born in 1985, has been popular in Taiwan as a female idol since 2009. She suddenly became

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popular because of the cute performance of imitating another female idol, Yao-Yao, in a TV show. The Celebrity Imitated Show is a live show, featuring a group of actors and actresses who imitate politicians, celebrities, and people on the spotlight of the day. 35 Originally, Ann was a show girl of the show, merely appearing in the interlude without a line. When the show featured the hit phenomenon caused by the TV commercial featured by Yao-Yao, Ann was chosen to imitate Yao-Yao and the role Yao-Yao plays in the commercial. The humorous spice and Ann’s exaggerated performance caused the clip to become widely viewed on the Internet. The target commercial promoted a newly launched online video game. The storyline was vague and the setting was freakish, but what attracted the audience’s attention was the cute girl played by Yao-Yao in the warrior’s outfit, riding on a core exerciser, gazing at the male actor, repeatedly begging him, “Do not go!” The warrior’s outfit was tailored for her, a tiny camisole, and a mini-skirt. After failing to persuade the male to stay, Yao-Yao cried out, “Sa Hen Da!” and the commercial ended. The three words, “Sa Hen Da,” literally meaning “To kill, very big,” is not a grammar-correct combination in Mandarin. It was created in the commercial and the connotation is puzzling to many native speakers. However, the three words uttered by Yao-Yao’s sweet and childish voice delivered the sajiao effect, and her cute outfit captured zhainan’s attention. This commercial heated the otaku Goddess discussion on the Internet and made Yao-Yao popular with the public. No matter how successfully the commercial promotes the product, the sajiao scene played by Yao-Yao made her famous, and Ann’s imitation of this part in The Celebrity Imitated Show also gained much resonance. In Ann’s imitation, the line, “Do not go!” is repeated more times than in the commercial. The plot is simplified, but the

35

This show is also produced by Gold Star Production Company.

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outfit, the gesture, and the way of speaking remain. The audience loves to watch this kind of sajiao performance. Both Yao-Yao and Ann fit the media’s preferred female image, with big eyes, pale skin color, and thin limbs. When saying the line, “Do not go!” they use many nonverbal cues to stress the effect, such as a high pitched voice, nasal sound, slightly frowning, pouting, arm-stretching, and slowly making a fist. These cues deliver a sense of innocence and adorability. In other words, these sajiao tactics make them cute. After successfully imitating Yao-Yao and becoming famous, Ann has been assigned many other roles in The Celebrity Imitated Show. Most of the roles require her to play cute. By imitating girls who are similar to her, she demonstrates what means cute. For example, she comments on the ways of smiling of several female idols while imitating the role of one of them. This self-analysis and comparison show that the art of playing cute requires study and practice. She says, I know the different types of otaku goddesses’ smile. Like, YaoYao’s smile has an asymmetrical aesthetics, like this (imitating), and Li Yu-Fen’s smile is like this (imitating), she’s more reserved, like a little bit tipsy. Then, Wu-Kun Mei looks half-smile (imitating), kind of mystic. No one knows what she is thinking about. And Ann, everyone knows she is happy when she laughs. She has a feeling of carelessness. And do you know who has the most charming smile? Just compare the number of their fans! The winner is me! (May 31 2010)

Ann’s success lies in her persistent attention to how to play cute. After becoming famous, she published a photo album, launched a music single, participated in TV drama acting, etc. All these new jobs feature her cute performance. Being a good observer of cute features and a cute performer, she can be popular without an exceptional talent for music, acting, or dancing. Besides her TV performance, Ann reveals how she enjoys being a dependent “little woman” in her profile on Facebook. She says that she sometimes acts rudely, but

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she likes to “behave like a spoiled child (sa sa jiao).” 36 This is a common impression that young female idols portray about themselves, and in terms of making off-screen persona consistent with their onscreen performances, such a Facebook message also requires crafting. In a media interview, Ann denies that she is currently in a relationship with any particular man, so as to create the impression that she is available to all the male audience. Her popularity is established by seducing her audience into fantasizing about her, but at the same time viewing her as innocent, childlike, and cute. In 2011, Ann was also elected as one of the otaku goddesses in Taiwan. Talking or communicating in the form of sajiao is common in the female’s cute performance in the media. The personal blog of Ann shows how a female is able to play cute in written form. In her profile sajiao plays a significant role. While writing her work journal, Ann uses plenty of sentence final particles (SFP), such as, 這間店好有氣氛喔 (SFP) zhejian dian hao you chifen ou (SFP) This shop is so romantic (SFP) And 謝謝你們的關心 好感動呀 (SFP) 愛你們啦 (SFP) xiexie nimen de guanxin, hao gandong ya (SFP) ai nimen la (SFP) Thank you for your care. I am so touched (SFP) I love you all (SFP) 37 Addressing mainly her fans, Ann shares her work experiences in the sajiao tone to arouse people’s love and affection. These female idols’ media performance can be also identified with another native term, zhuang keai (裝可愛). The first character of the term is a verb, meaning to clothe or 36 37

This is an example of the reduplication of the monosyllabic words.

I bold these sentence final particles (SFP). In the third line as the English translation, I mark the correspondent position of sentence final particles for the non-Mandarin reader to know where SFPs appear in an utterance.

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to pretend based on different contexts. The phrase keai means cute or lovely. This phrase is usually used with negative connotations by observers, when they believe that the sajiao performer is too pretentious or does not arouse others’ genuine affection. The phrase, zhuang keai, shows that people understand that cuteness is a performance, something one can put on and take off. A similar observation of female’s pretentious cute performance can be found in Miller’s (2004) discussion on burriko. 38 By examining the image creation of the current candidates of the otaku goddess in Taiwan, I conclude that they aim to make themselves desired objects by emphasizing their immature cuteness. Although some of the female idols in Taiwan become popular because of their womanly, curving bodies, a body with the asexual femininity or the contrasting combination of cuteness and sexiness is still the best to allure the audience. 39 Through their voices, language, clothes, and bodies, their excessive cute performance causes much attention and concern in the society. It reflects how men view women in a heterosexual relationship, and the influence of the prevalent kawaii culture in defining femininity in Taiwan. An Analysis of Newspaper Language Being cute is not only a requirement for female idols, but also an expectation for ordinary Taiwanese women. In the newspaper database in which I search for the term sajiao, over 1,900 entries contain the term. These entries can be categorized based on who the sajiao actors are. Descriptions of women’s sajiao are the greatest in number, followed by animals’ sajiao, children’s sajiao, and men’s sajiao. Children’s sajiao is gender neutral (this category also includes adults’ sajiao to their parents or seniors).

38

A burriko is a female who puts on an extremely feminine front to attract men and who is unfriendly to other females. The way to express the extreme femininity includes playing cute. 39

A common phrase in Mandarin perfectly reflects such a heterosexual man’s illusion. That is, “天使面孔魔鬼身材” (An angel’s face with a devil’s body).

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Among them, women’s sajiao entries include not only the descriptive text, but also instrumental text, which is not found in the other categories. I define the descriptive text as a piece of news that contains the usage of the phrase “sajiao” when describing an event, an interaction, or an action. The following paragraph is an example of a descriptive text, After dinner, A-Ting, pregnant, holds her son, who is doing sajiao, and sweet-talks to her daughter, who keeps saying that she is hungry. Then, she has to prepare a bath for A-Wen. (Apple Daily, August 6 2009) Besides descripting human’s behavior, one can find how the term is used in referring to animal’s behavior, “As soon as [the dog] sees us, it swings its tail to sajiao and keeps weaving between our legs” (March 23 1960). This kind of usage can be found across all categories, so it proves that the term sajiao is widely applied in everyday conversation. What makes a difference is the instrumental text, which reveals the mainstream opinion and shapes the public’s idea. The instrumental text serves to justify, explain, and reinforce the necessity of women’s sajiao to communicate with others. This is instrumental because the content contains judgmental comments, evaluation, and explanation. It suggests a direction that readers should follow. The text can be classified into several types: 1) women’s stories or reflections on her past experience; 2) so-called gender experts’ comments; and 3) the implicit words used in all kinds of genres. Stories and Reflections From many women’s point of view, being a good lover (or wife, girlfriend, etc.) is equal to playing cute. These stories and reflections confirm the traditional gender roles in the patriarchal society, proposing that being submissive is the key to a successful relationship. For example, the following is a reader’s reflection on her past relationship,

104 When being with my honey, I work hard to be a perfect lover. I will use my innate childlike voice to sajiao to my love, making him happy. I love to make cards on my own to thank him. I help him pick up shirts and wallet. I want him to feel my consideration and care. (Apple Daily, October 13 2008) In this paragraph, the message is clear: the female portrays an image of herself as a successful relationship keeper by playing sajiao, providing daily care, and working hard. Interestingly, while she considers that she needs to “work” on the relationship, the author believes that her voice is “innate” so as to talk like a baby and sajiao effectively. The mentioning of the word “innate” shows that a desired sajiao should be as “natural” as possible. Moreover, women seem to voluntarily choose to be submissive or weak in a love relationship. The following example reveals this, Although I look like a strong woman, I am super fond of sajiao when I fall in love with someone. I behave obediently like a kitten in front of my boyfriend, and I like to rub my head against him. (Apple Daily, November 10 2008) This is again a comment on how sajiao helps to maintain a relationship according to one’s own experience. A desired female image is created: she must sacrifice her toughness to please others, and sajiao is an inevitable element in maintaining a harmonious relationship. In this paragraph, a typical way of sajiao is also mentioned: rub one’s head against the other’s shoulder or chest. This nonverbal movement is not often viewed in public settings, but many popular romance novels stress it in describing the close interaction between lovers. The code-switching between a workplace manner and a private interaction is also mentioned in the above paragraph. When to display the image of a strong woman and when to be a little woman is a culturally situated decision. Gender Experts’ Advice Another common genre in the newspaper data is so-called experts’ words. These columnists are invited to write weekly short essays about relationships, love, marriage,

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and other topics. Among many topics, how to sajiao is addressed as a skill that women with which should be conversant. Such a performance is supported and encouraged widely. The male interpersonal communication expert, Wu Ruo-Quan, comments in his newspaper column on how women should sajiao. Wu’s comments on sajiao are accepted as truth by many men and women in Taiwan. For example, the following paragraphs analyze how to practice sajiao, and the thesis is that women must know how to sajiao so as to gain men’s love: There is a way of saying, “women must know how to sajiao so that they can gain men’s love.” But female friends highly supporting feminist ideas object to this view, saying, “Why do we need to sajiao to men? We take a too low gesture. It is not gender equal!” In fact, those who agree with the first saying, practice it, and see the substantial effect must be very smart women. These women know that sajiao is a very high-level strategy, not a very low gesture. It is a tactic that benefits themselves by persuading and deceiving men. Because of the benefit, why not talk more gently and act more tenderly? However, the problem lies in the potential failure of the sajiao strategies. If women encounter a boyfriend who knows nothing about flirting, sajiao will not work. Besides, sajiao might not work to men who are very picky or who only follow their mothers’ words. The picky men have a very strong sense of subjectivity and a very high standard of their own. You cannot pass your mistake by sajiao. The mama’s boys admire their mom and treat her as the archetype of their ideal spouse. Sajiao is too childish for them. This is a little girl’s pretentious behavior, and cannot touch their heart. Besides your partner’s personality, it is also crucial for a sajiao to be successful that you study when and where to sajiao. Otherwise, sajiao in an inopportune moment or a wrong situation creates negative effects. Moreover, it doesn’t work when women do sajiao carelessly and hurt men’s self-esteem. The typical case is as follows. A woman asks her man, “Who would you save first when your mom and I fall in the water?” While the man has not yet answered, she says, “I am so worried, you mom is big, and, you are not a good swimmer!” Such a woman will fall into the bottom of the sea of love, never seeing the sun again. With such a comment on her man, it is in vain that she has a sweet voice and a charming gesture to sajiao. (Apple Daily, October 13 2008)

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This paragraph can be read as a warning or a piece of advice for women to exercise caution regarding their relationship. Furthermore, it lists, in an authoritative tone, several principles for women when they consider doing sajiao. First, as implied by Wu, women should lower their self-esteem because doing sajiao is a smart decision. Second, to succeed in sajiao, one must choose carefully a person without certain personalities. Third, the timing is important. Don’t sajiao at an inopportune time. Fourth, what to say in sajiao is also crucial; do not harm the men’s self-esteem. This paragraph summarizes the rules spread in the media, teaching how women can attract others and maintain a relationship. If Wu’s elaboration on sajiao is the mainstream view in this society, it echoes women’s stories and reflections of how they practice sajiao to maintain a good relationship. The discourse of sajiao works with other discourses such as marriage, love, relationship, and self-esteem, and the interplay of these discourses leads to answering how to perform a woman’s role from a Taipei middle-class, heterosexual perspective. In Wu’s article, we observe the unpopularity of a “feminist” view in which women could pursue a promising future. The “feminist” view is twisted as a hindrance rather than a catalyst for “smart” women’s self-achievement. Instead, the self-achievement in this context is narrowed to the scope of marriage and love. Women’s highest mission and all their energy should be contributed to drawing men’s attention. This “smart” view leads women back to the patriarchal world where feminism was not yet invented and where women’s lives depended on the security of their marriage. Wu’s praise of women’s sajiao as smart is not supported by examples in the article, either. All the examples he offers are “stupid” women making mistakes when doing sajiao. This raises the question, where are the smart women? Another contrast is the relationship between sajiao and love. On the one hand, sajiao is described as an expression of love. Women claim that sajiao is a spontaneous practice to show their love. The expression quoted from the newspaper is typical, “Although I look like a strong woman, I am super fond of sajiao when I fall in love with

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someone.” This cause-effect relation makes sajiao the proof of love; “because I love you, so I sajiao to you.” On the other hand, the emphasis of the strategies of sajiao taints the claimed love expression. The explicit calculation of how to behave or how to speak in front of the loved one contrasts with the image of a woman who loses her mind for love. Wu’s detailed explanation of how to sajiao properly sounds like a preparation for a spy game, such as the word choices “persuading” and “deceiving.” The seemingly “natural” sajiao is actually the result of a rational scheme. When women have to work hard and put on a face to play cute in a love relationship, it shows that generally women in Taiwan are still in a lower position; love becomes the means for the weak to secure its social status and future wellbeing. Implicit Words about Sajiao While the advantage of sajiao is emphasized, the limit of sajiao is also an important message in the media discourse. Due to their appearance, not all women are able to effectively sajiao. Analysis of the words and expressions in this newspaper text draws the conclusion that, although these messages encourage competition among women about their ability to play cute, only a certain type of women has the privilege to practice it successfully. It is related to the regional politics. Women with the urban, Taipei Chic temperament are considered to have the privilege to sajiao. The following four principles strengthen the urban chic features of sajiao and symbolically heat up women’s war for beauty, marriage, and men. 1) Sajiao must look natural, or like an inborn characteristic. Many entries in the newspaper database emphasize this feature. The positive comment is like the following, “The ability of sajiao is deeply in your gene” (August 22 2008), while a negative view of sajiao is that the actor makes his/her sajiao too painstaking or deliberate. However, it does not mean that people in this speech community believe that sajiao is an inborn characteristic of the female. The seemingly

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“natural” combination of sajiao, femininity, and woman is a cultural construction. This is related to the second assumption. 2) The actor must look young, pretty, and cuddly. If a person practicing sajiao is young, pretty, and adorable, he or she will not be criticized or viewed negatively. On the other hand, if a person does not possess such characteristics and does sajiao, the criticism might be harsh. For example, Kelly suggests that she keep her body fit so as to match her sajiao voice. Otherwise, if we hear a ‘fat peach’ sajiao, anyone will be very uncomfortable! (Apple Daily, April 15 2011) This type of comment appears in the Entertainment section, written by the fashion editor under the penname Kelly. The style in Kelly’s column fluctuates between humor and seriousness. It tells the reader something about a celebrity with a joking or sarcastic tone. The message about sajiao is that a sajiaoer’s physical condition matters. Another example reads as follows, Some girls are born delicate. They do not need to deliberately sajiao, but speak in a soft voice, and men will be attracted. However, if she has a robust body and loud voice, no one will feel comfortable when she does sajiao. (Apple Daily, February 4 2009) This paragraph reveals a preference for small, thin female forms in doing sajiao. These features are closer to a baby’s physical image, small, tiny, immature, and seemingly controllable. On the contrary, given a masculine body and a coarse voice, it is more difficult to generate a sense of babyish helplessness. Thus, the preferred image of an infantile female sajiaoer circulates widely in Taiwanese society. Bordo (2006) describes how media have become a strong force in constructing the standard body images and have caused a variety of syndromes and physical disorders. The worries about weight, aging, and fitness in this era have been reflected in the media

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discourse about gender, body, and health. In the following example, the reader will see a similar anxiety in Taiwan and its consequence. Concerning women’s general behavior, author and columnist Wu Dan-Ru uses the term “Princess Syndrome” (公主病 gongzhu bing) to criticize women’s self-centered behavior, and to warn the reader the outcome of maintaining this “princess” attitude as they are aging. 40 Many women fantasize that they are a princess. Men hate these women who have the princess syndrome. They overemphasize their appearance, pampered, arrogant, and requesting special courteous treatment. If the princess is young…, the princess syndrome can be tolerated and forgiven. However, sajiao cannot be used all the time, especially in the workplace. There is an expired date for princess. When the princess gets old, not cute anymore, please do not sajiao anymore” (Apple Daily, March 25 2011). This paragraph asks women not to sajiao when they reach a certain age. However, another interpretation of this message might be more popular. That is, if sajiao is a young person’s privilege, let’s make us look young! This twist of meaning results in anxiety and pressure on many Taiwanese women to look as young as teens or refuse to become mature. In Taiwan, it seems that many women choose to maintain their look as though it had stopped changing in adolescence and they refuse to grow up. The refusal of behaving as their correspondent age partly explains why playing cute becomes a prevalent cultural phenomenon in Taiwan. The above selected paragraphs regulate who is able to sajiao. Basically, women as the gender category are expected to play sajiao, but not all women as individuals are equally able to do so. The direct and candid word choices in some sentences reflect that women are judged strictly in the society about their age, appearance, and behavior. 40

This term, “Princess Syndrome,” is also found in English. However, the term is usually used to describe the adolescent period of a girl and implies that it is a temporary syndrome. See M. Carr-Gregg (2006), The princess bitchface syndrome: Surviving adolescent girls, Penguin Books.

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3) Sajiao is most effective when being applied to someone who has a strong attachment to the actor. Sajiao is viewed as a form of persuasion. According to the text, this kind of persuasion works most effectively when being applied in the intimate relationship. In the public, and to the stranger, sajiao usually does not work that well. The following paragraph describes a sajiao scene of a young celebrity couple. It shows that the sajiao form of love expression works between the two, but does not work to an onlooker. Lin posted a message on Deng’s Plurk to show his love to her, especially write, “ku-ku,” 41 to sajiao, making me almost vomit. Their fans wish the best to their relationship. I think that they should officially announce it. Do not display the affection on the Internet anymore! (February 15 2011). The commentator uses a humorous way to release the news about a developing relationship between two young idols. It shows that Lin’s sajiao is directly addressed to Deng, and he assumes that the cute expression will make her think of him in a certain way. While the onlooker, the indirect addressee, understands what Lin is doing, she does not feel it is adorable and she jokes about it. Thus, we can say that the indirect addressee is not persuaded to Lin’s cute performance. Another example involves a drunken female and a policeman. The woman attempts to sajiao to avoid a ticket, but she does not succeed. She sajiaos and says, “Escort me home with your ‘warm police car.’” But the policeman does not respond to her and instead gives her the ticket. (Apple Daily, November 14 2008). In an intercultural setting, sajiao does not work, either. A female idol asked the airplane business counter in Germany not to charge her for overweight luggage by sajiao, but the response was a cold

41

The word “ku” means “to cry,” and here Lin uses the reduplication of the monosyllabic words to sajiao.

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“No.” (Apple Daily, March 7 2009). This shows that the request or demand by the sajiao form works best in the intimate relationship. 4) Sajiao is an arena for women to compete in physical beauty and attractiveness. Women are expected to know how to sajiao, and this is the way for them to express feminine attractiveness. Many of the news reports focus on female celebrities’ popularity and how they interact with their fans when attending public events. Sajiao is often mentioned as the proof of their feminine charm, and a way to avoid unwanted questions. For example, in a press conference, the Taiwanese super model Lin ChingLing was asked about a private issue, and she used the sajiao tone to respond the journalists. This episode is described in the newspaper as follows, Lin looks hesitant in response to a series of question about Mr. Chiu, and eventually decides to sajiao, saying, “I dare not say a word la! 42 Otherwise I don’t know how you are going to report it for tomorrow’s news!” (Apple Daily, January 24 2009) Her refusal to answer the questions has been assisted with the sajiao tone (with the sentence final particle “la”). Therefore, it is not viewed as a blunt face-threatening expression. The following example shows further why sajiao style is a necessity. The journalist’s report to a certain degree influences a celebrity’s popularity, but their judgment sometimes is subjective and resorts to the sensibility they receive through the interactions with the celebrity. Yen-Zi is cute. She knows that we are unable to not ask her about her private life during the three hour interview appointment, so she tries her best to answer us. If she does not like to answer a question, she will smile, and sajiao, saying, “ai-yo, please don’t ask me this la!” She has a high EQ and is very sincere, unlike another female singer who comes from the same area as Yen-Zi, always putting a long face when being asked about her emotional life. (April 12 2009) 42

The sentence final particle is bolded by the author.

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This paragraph is written by a journalist, comparing two female singers in terms of how they handle an unavoidable and unpleasant situation. Yen-Zi’s strategy is sajiao, and she is highly praised, while the other singer directly rejects further probing, and is considered less friendly. Such a comment implicitly regulates women’s action and their gender role. An Analysis of Talk Show Language The implicit messages about sajiao are also shared in electronic media. As mentioned above, television shows, especially women’s talk shows, produce the dominant urban fashions and lifestyles in Taiwan that highly promote the Taipei-centered value system. Women’s talk shows thus regulate the performers’ physical appearance and the ways they communicate to each other. If a girl is not cute enough physically, she cannot sajiao well, so implies the media. This assumption has been examined in the newspaper, and I will continue to analyze the language and performance in the TV programs. A common way to impose the regulation on the performers’ bodies is through the mutual confirmation. Women’s talk shows are informative about trendy make-up, clothes, accessories, and tips to keep fit. Femininity and cuteness work together in shaping the ideal female image. For example, five or more young female idols are invited to the show, “Queen.” Two fashion experts put the latest fashion or latest cosmetic products on them. When each of them displays the effect, they are praised by phrases such as, “hao mei ou (so pretty),” and “hao keai ou (so cute).” There are several regular male fashion experts in the show, but except for these, the participants in the episodes of women’s topics are mostly women. So, sajiao is not only used to draw men’s attention, but in this context, this speech act is used to mutually persuade or confirm the validity of the information. It is hard to distinguish the sajiaoer from the sajiaoee because the participants play both roles in turn, which proves that the changing power relations in communication makes

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sajiao happen. The frequent use of the sajiao form in these shows is like a mesmeric collaboration, assuring all the members that it is necessary to learn the skills of being cute. Another way to regulate the cute performers’ qualification is through competition. Here is an example of The Cute Master Yang Cheng-Lin. In 2007, to promote her music album, Yang was invited to the talk show, “University.” As the title indicates, the show is about college students’ lives. Sixteen college students are invited to the show, discussing issues with three mediators about their emotional lives, relationships, friends, values, etc. In this particular episode, Yang was asked during the interview to interact with the invited college boys, demonstrating how she would sajiao to her boyfriend. The mediator appointed two men to play the roles of her boyfriends, and Yang used baby-talk to sajiao to each of them by saying, “Can you forgive me?” One man responds to her by saying, “Ok, ok, ok,” to show his surrender. The other man says, “Ok,” and “I love you.” Yang did a good job of playing cute, and her performance was treated as a significant victory for her womanhood by other participants of the show. After this short demonstration, the mediator wanted to know the other college students’ reactions. The immediate response from a college girl was, “I lost.” Then there were comments like, “Yeah, I lost, too.” “She’s so cute.” “I can’t do it. She’s formidable.” “She’s awesome. Men must yield to her attack.” These comments illustrate Yang’s cuteness, her ability to play cute, and the skills of attracting men. One can observe from these comments that the expert, persuasive display of femininity among women is viewed as warfare. Yang “won” the battle because she properly spoke like a little kid, with a high-pitched voice, pleading to the two men. The innocent, infantile behavior ironically requires the competent calculation of a mature mind. Yang was praised as an ideal female image, and many girls wish to be like her. The demonstration of how to play cute is always a popular topic in TV talk shows and young girls dauntlessly display their cuteness. They are pleased to take on the tasks of playing cute, sajiao, talking like a baby when they are given an order.

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The following paragraph supports the four principles about sajiao derived from the newspaper data. Sajiao should look natural, played by an actor with certain features in appearance, and applied to someone close to the sajiaoer. This performance in essence is a competition among women. The paragraph is the transcription of an episode of Come Here. The episode invites six new actresses and introduces their recent works. One of the actresses, Li, was specifically picked (or attacked) by the mediators, Tsai and Hsu (Sister S), because of her apparent cute performance. Their discussion shows the struggle between social expectation and personal preference, and the debate of whether the cuteness is natural or artificial.

1

Tsai: 上一次我們對你還好嗎 (Qtg) shàngyícì wŏmen duì nĭ hái hǎo ma (Qtg) Did we treat you well last time when you came to the show (Qtg)

2

Li: 我只記得 我被小 S 姐丟筆(.) 然後她一直跟我說(.) 你放鬆 你放鬆 wŏ zhĭ jìde wŏ bèi xiǎo S jiě diu bĭ(.) ránhò tā yīzhí gēn wŏ shuō(.) nĭ fàngsōng nĭ fàngsōng I just remember that Sister S threw a pen to me (.) She kept saying (.) relax relax

3

然後我就 (.) 嘟::: 我鬆了 我鬆了

Her lips pursed and

ránhò wŏ jiù(.) dū::: wŏ sōng le wŏ sōng le

making a sound, du

so I was (.) du::: and told her ‘I was relaxed I was relaxed’ 4

Tsai: 因為她的臉被你抱怨說 她一直在裝無辜 放鬆不 了 yīngwèi tā de liǎn bèi nĭ bāoyuàn shuō tā yīzhí cài

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zhuāng wúgū fàngsōng bù liao You complained about her face saying that she’s pretending to be innocent and never relaxes her face 5

Hsu: 她一直這樣子

Pursing her lips.

tā yīzhí zhèyàngzi She kept doing this 6

Tsai: 某某某(.) 她有沒有在裝無辜的樣子(Qtg)

Turn to ask another male

so-and-so (.) tā yŏuméiyŏu cài zhuāng wúgū de yàngzi

guest.

(Qtg) so-and-so (.) does she pretend to be innocent (Qtg) 7

The Male Guest: 她有一臉無辜的那種長相 tā yŏu yīliǎn wúgū de nàzhŏng zhǎngxiàng Her face is innocent

Hsu, the female mediator of the show, is critical about the actress Li’s every movement. Her throwing the pen to Li is the action of disapproval, not because Li’s performance is abnormal, but because her cute performance threatens other women. Hsu’s comments show how threatened the cute performance of others could be to a female, and the words of the gay mediator Tsai reveal a sharp observation of Li’s sajiao tactic. However, the male guest Chao might not notice well about the delicate tension created by women’s sajiao and playing cute. When Li does an action as requested, Hsu is outraged,

1

Hsu: 你有沒看到(.) 你有沒有看到[她 nĭ yŏuméiyŏu kàngdào(.) nĭ yŏuméiyŏu kàngdào [tā Did you see(.) Did you see that [she

2

Tsai: [什麼事情 (Qtg)

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[shéme shìqíng (Qtg) [What (Qtg) 3

Hsu: 她每個動作都精緻的算過耶:: (SFP) tā měige dòngzuò dōu jīngzhì de suàn guò ye:: (SFP) She calculates delicately her every movement (SFP)

4

Tsai: 因為她撩瀏海的時候 會好像站不穩這樣 yīngwèi tā liāo liúhǎi de shíhò huì hǎoxàng zhàn bù wěn zhèyàng Because she seems to be staggering when she tries to push her bangs aside

5

Hsu: 對:: (?)=

Pursing her lips.

duì:: (?)= Yes:: (?)= 6

Tsai: =就她的劉海很重 所以洋娃娃被風吹到這樣

Turn to ask another male

=jiù tā liúhǎi hěn zhòng suŏyĭ yángwáwa bèi fōng chuī

guest.

dào zhèyàng =Like, her bang is too heavy, like a doll is resisting to the wind 7

Li: (.) 就這樣 (.) jiù zhèyàng (.) That’s it

8 9

Hsu imitates Li’s gesture. Hsu: 你真的好厲害喔 (FSP) 你 nĭ zhēnde hǎo lìhà ou (FSP) nĭ You are really good (FSP) you

10 Tsai: 可是我覺得男生會很喜歡啦 (FSP) kěshì wŏ juéde nánshēng huì hěn xĭhuān la (FSP)

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But I think men will love it (FSP) 11 Hsu: 趙哥你有看出來嗎 (Qtg) zhào-gē nĭ yŏu kàn chūlái ma (Qtg) Brother Chao did you see that (Qtg) 12 Chao: 應該不是設計的(.) 如果設計的(.) 也設計的太 精準了 (ASP) yīnggāi búshì shèjì de (.) rúguŏ shèjì de (.) yě shèjì de tài jīngzhŭn le (ASP) It seems not a calculation (.) If it were (.) she’s too sharp (ASP) 13 我覺得她是天生自然散發出來的 wŏ juéde tā shì tiānshēng zìrán sànfā chūlái de I feel that she has this innate ability, naturally expressed

This paragraph shows how the “natural” cute performance is valued. Li’s seamless movements of “staggering” (line 4) “like a doll” (line 6) infuriates Hsu because, as a female talent, Hsu is familiar with such a pretentious cuteness, and rushes to reveal the truth by saying, “She calculates delicately her every movement!” (line 3). She also asks a male guest’s opinion for support, “Brother Chao, did you see that?” (line 11). However, Li’s deliberate cute performance seems to deceive the male guest, for Chao evaluates Li’s performance as “innate and natural” (line 13). After pointing out that what Li has done is not acceptable to her, Hsu continues to perform what Li might do in other situations as a criticism, but also serving to show that she is able to do it, too. This is a war between the two women.

1

Hsu: 你知道 (.) 她勾完全都勾不到 (.) 然後又再叫 (.)

Falls down on the floor.

nĭ zhīdào(.) tā gō wánquán dōu gō bú dào (.) ránhò yòu

Kneels down.

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zài jiào(.) You know (.) she would not be able to reach the thing on the floor (.) then she yells (.) 2

然後爬不起來

Tsai helps Hsu stand up.

ránhò pá bù qĭlái Then she cannot stand up on her own 3

因為她整個人就是很無助啊(?) (FSP) yīngwèi tā zhěngge rén jiùshì hěn wúzhù a (?) (FSP) Because she looks so helpless as a person (?) (FSP)

4

她找不到那個啊 (?) (FSP)

Imitates Li.

tā zhǎo bú dào nàge a (?) (FSP) She cannot find that (?) (FSP) 5

Hsu: =常常是會原地打轉的人 =chángcháng shì huì yuándì dǎzhuàn de rén =She’s also a person who has no sense of direction, often spinning around

6

Tsai: 是:: shì:: Yes::

7

Hsu: 有人叫說 (.) 李某某 (?) 她就這樣 yŏu rén jiào shuō (.) [her name] (?) tā jiù zhèyàng Someone calls her (.) “Hey Li” (?) She would do this

8

誰 (?) (Qtg) 誰在叫我 (Qtg)

Stretch her arms on her

Shéi (?) (Qtg) shéi zài jiào wŏ (Qtg)

side, spin around, lift her

Who (?) (Qtg) Who’s calling me (Qtg)

arms, cross them, as if looking for something.

9

你知道 (.) 會找不到

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nĭ zhīdào (.) huì zhǎo bú dào You know (.) she cannot find it 10 Tsai: 你真的是這一路的嗎 (Qtg) nĭ zhēnde shì zhèyīlù de ma (Qtg) Are you really like the person whom she just described (Qtg) 11 Li: 我不是:: WŎ BÚ SHÌ::

Close her eyes. Yell in a childish voice.

I AM NOT:: 12

Hsu inhales a very deep breath.

13 Hsu: 你幹嘛 (Qtg) nĭ gàn ma (Qtg) What are you doing (Qtg) 14 Li: 放我一條生路:: S 姐:: fang wŏ yìtiǎo shēnglù:: S jiě:: Leave me alone:: Sister S:: 15 Tsai: 幹嘛用娃娃音說 我不是啊 (Qtg) (FSP) gànma yòng wáwayīng shuō wŏ bú shì a (Qtg) (FSP) Why did you say, “I am not,” with a baby’s voice (Qtg) (FSP) 16 這個路線很精采 對不對 (Qtg) zhège lùxiàn hěn jīngcǎ duì bú duì (Qtg) This kind of performance is really spectacular, right (Qtg) 17 趙哥現在心裡一定在幻想 把她推到牆上去狂吻這事 zhào-gē xiànzài xīnlĭ yīdìng zài huànxiǎng bǎ tā tuī dào

Ask other guests.

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qiánshàng qù kuánwěn zhèshì Brother Chao must be fantasizing to kiss her crazily in his mind right now 18

Hsu imitates again: staggering, shaking her head, waving her arms, pouting, pursing her lips, making sounds like a baby.

19 Chao: 不要這樣子

Ask Hsu to stop.

BÚ YÀO ZHÈYÀNG ZI DON’ DO THIS 20 你不要用那種表情 NĬ BÚ YÀO YÒNG NÀZHŎNG BIĂOQÍNG DON’T PUT THAT FACE 21 會出事情 (.) 真的會出事情 我跟你講 HUÌ CHŪ SHÌQÍNG(.) zhēnde huì chū shìqíng wŏ gēn nĭ jiǎng THINGS WILL GO WRONG (.) Really things will go wrong I am telling you 22

Everyone laughs.

This conversation is mainly about how the female mediator intends to show that she is able to play cute by explaining and imitating Li’s cute performance. Ironically, Hsu does not allow Li’s sajiao by inhibiting Li’s action several times. For example, in line 12, after Li’s response, Hsu inhales a deep breath to show her disapproval. But meanwhile, her own cute performance becomes more frequent and intensive so that the male guest Chao

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has to stop her. Chao’s response is also interesting. As an admirer of the hostess Hsu, Chao has a stronger response to Hsu than to the new actress when both of them perform sajiao. It adds to the evidence that women’s sajiao can arouse men’s sexual fantasy, and that sajiao is more effective when the actor has a stronger attachment to the viewer. Conclusion To those who might wonder why we should study a “copy” of the cute culture instead of studying the original, this chapter argues that the cute culture in Taiwan reflected in the media representation of women creates new meanings in the speech community. This project is a case study intended to problematize the current system of categorization in regional studies. Many studies on East Asia have focused on the cultural connections between Taiwan and China, and the phenomena of Taiwan are usually treated as supplemental materials to explain, support, or provide contrast to the larger picture of Chinese culture. In the context of globalization, it is not enough to focus on this linkage only. In this paper, through examining the changing meaning of femininity in Taiwanese popular culture, one sees multiple forces that shape the current phenomenon. It is more accurate to say that Japanese popular culture influences the Taiwanese audience’s taste of the ideal female, but the label of “Japanese cute” in Taiwan actually is a mixture of local and imported elements. The persuasive form, sajiao, is used as a display of cuteness. Besides exploring the meaning of being cute at the individual level, cute culture implies the collective response to the current lived conditions. The imitation of the Japanese cute, however, is not to become Japanese, but as Yang (2010) argues, to respond to the particular social conditions and to build up the Taiwanese identity. In this paper, one will see, although it might not occur to these Taiwanese female idols at all, the cute performance in the media becomes localized and represents what a female should look like in this culture. The Japanese import to Taiwan is one of the trajectories to understand the cultural flow in building up Taiwanese identity. Besides, feminist movements in Taiwan

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contribute to the understanding of gender and participate in defining femininity. The dominant Taipei-centered view in interpreting Taiwanese cultural phenomenon is also crucial because it manifests the complex of regional identities and the imbalanced power dynamics within Taiwan. To understand the popular cultural flow, we need to articulate seemingly irrelevant elements. In Silvio’s (2009) analysis, taike, zhainan, funu (the feminine counterpart of zhainan), and another kuso (shitty games) subculture have all emerged in Taiwan at roughly the same time. The unanimous engaging in the playful modes of these cultural practices has the potential to answer how to be Taiwanese in the age of post-industrialism, democratization and globalization (p. 356). Silvio explains further how he views the identity struggles in Taiwan, Tai ke and kuso are actually different strands within an emerging sensibility that explores the consequences of Taiwan’s post-martial law structural transformations. Both ambivalently appropriate marginalized subcultural styles of the past in order to imagine more open futures, and their reflexivity may be the condition that eventually allows for more complex dialogue across the boundaries of gender, class and generational identities. (p. 358) His view echoes what I have worked to build up: a feminine framework in examining identity struggle in contemporary Taiwan. In this chapter, I first introduce the changing female image in Taiwanese media and the various forces that result in this change. Under martial law, the dominant image in Taiwanese popular culture was restricted to a submissive woman, without much voice. Only when people are able to express their preferences and choices freely does the entertainment industry become diverse and energetic. Thus, the 1990s was the turning point because Taiwanese media started facing competition due to a much more open market. Given these circumstances, I bring Japanese kawaii culture into the discussion, explaining what the Japanese cuteness means and how it influences Taiwanese popular culture. I also compare the different understandings of otaku practiced in Japan and in

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Taiwan, and the importance of this extrinsic culture in shaping cute culture. One of the cute trends is reflected in the preferred female image in the media. Female idol talents are encouraged to play cute and look childish. The cute female image is still interpreted as submissive, but we see certain tricks make this cute performance more complicated. One piece of evidence is the deliberate communicative act, sajiao, played by these young idols. Unlike Taiwanese senior idols, these young idols perform actively to sell their charm. Cuteness is not merely a quiet and static state, but like the TV talk shows reveal, it is a communicative act, a dynamic interaction. The frequent use of sajiao to show their feminine attractiveness is far afield from the earlier idol image. Both immaturity and cuteness are related to baby-like behaviors in contrast to responsibility, confidence, ability, and adulthood. However, putting oneself in the weak position and infantilizing oneself in need of love and attention becomes a powerful persuasive weapon to these women. This display of one’s inability and one’s need of others’ help is exactly what de Certeau names “the absence of power” (p.38). The absence of power disguises the ruses and tricks the weak can practice to turn the rules of the dominant system to their advantage. Viewing sajiao with this perspective, we see why and how childish cuteness becomes the standard of femininity and further illuminate the hidden cultural rules. By deciphering some myths around sajiao, I highlight the persuasive power of this feminine display and explore the conditions necessary to connect femininity and cuteness in Taiwanese popular culture. The dominant ideal female image shown in the Taiwanese media after the 1990s is not a fair lady, but a controllable baby. However, the question is, where is the agency or the revolutionary moment for these cute performers? Are they able to change anything or simply reduplicate the existing gender role? Where is their resistance? In the above data analysis, it seems that their resistance, if any, is quite weak and instead reinforces the gender stereotype. In Chapter Four, I will show that sajiao

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performances are tactics that serve to turn the rules of the dominant system to the advantage of those who are (supposedly) weak. But, the limit of this tactic will also be discussed.

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CHAPTER IV SAJIAO IN EVERYDAY LIFE

In Chapter Three, I portray a picture of the ideal female image, which is a combination of various elements from Taiwanese TV programs, popular female idols’ performance, newspaper columns, personal weblogs, and YouTube clips. I introduce the trend of Japanese cuteness, the tension between the North and the South in Taiwan, and the position of Taiwan in East Asia in facing globalization. I argue that these elements influence how femininity is connected to the concept of cuteness in Taiwanese society. This connection leads to the dominant myth in the society that sajiao is a women’s weapon. However, in order to understand how the native speakers practice sajiao in everyday life, it is necessary to view this speech act in a different framework. Instead of thinking of sajiao as the display of a gender role, I propose to see the role of power in the relationships in which sajiao happens. Based on my ethnographic observations in Taipei and Shanghai, I classify sajiao practice into several different levels: who does sajiao, how people sajiao, and when sajiao happens. This classification serves to contrast the dominant ideology described in Chapter Three, and highlights the media-neglected sajiao practice in everyday life. Although, according to my fieldwork data, women are still the majority of sajiao actors, the practice of sajiao cannot be simply interpreted as a women’s weapon to draw men’s attention in a heterosexual relationship. Readers will see a more complicated picture of sajiao. Because my original fieldwork took place mainly in Taipei, I wondered whether sajiao culture is unique in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan. Therefore, I conducted fieldwork in Shanghai as a comparison. While I observed similar sajiao practice in the private sphere (among family members or intimate partners) both in Taipei and in Shanghai, I rarely saw people sajiao in formal settings in Shanghai. The result of my fieldwork will be compared in the section discussing when sajiao happens. My focus

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is on business greetings that are heard in the department stores, street food stalls, and beauty salons in Taipei and Shanghai. The sajiao form used in business greetings is, in my observation, unique to Taiwan’s Mandarin speech community. The following analysis is a reconstruction of a taken-for-granted everyday human interaction. This is a comprehensive investigation of the speech act sajiao from three aspects. Built on the previous research, I expand the understanding of this speech act, its functions, and its cultural implications. First, the concept of Goffman’s (1959) “performance team” is applied to examine who does sajiao. Second, I approach the verbal and nonverbal features of sajiao to answer how people sajiao. I focus on the functions of sajiao in representing its verbal features, which is a framework aligned with speech act theory. To highlight the significance of nonverbal cues in doing sajiao, I examine each nonverbal feature based on the categorization developed by Richmond, McCroskey, and Hickson (2011). Third, the sajiao act in business settings is a neglected area in previous research. I display my ethnographic notes conducted in business settings such as the hair salon and the department store to answer where people sajiao. The sajiao actors, especially females, in the workplace are most influenced by the dominant gender imagination described in Chapter Three. I argue that the common sajiao scenes in Taipei’s commercial district are not easily seen in Shanghai, which makes Taipei and Shanghai two distinct Mandarin speech communities. Who does Sajiao? In this section, I focus on the sajiao actors. Although sajiao is often considered a form of women’s communication, I argue that “the role” of a sajiaoer can be played by a variety of people. Goffman’s (1959) concept of a performance team is useful here. He views communication as a cooperative performance by a group of individuals. His emphasis on the cooperation is useful in understanding the intertwined roles of sajiao actors, their audience members and participants. In his view, they are a team, but

127 [I]t is a grouping not in relation to a social structure or social organization but rather in relation to an interaction or series of interactions in which the relevant definition of the situation is maintained. (p. 104) What is important in understanding sajiao actors is the relationship among the teammates, not their given social roles. The power imbalance in a relationship makes sajiao happen. In discussing who does sajiao, I list four categories for the reader to see a new perspective. The first two categories, “Men” and “Women,” serve to show a traditional gender-based classification. They are limited, but the examples under the “Men’s” category have already challenged the prevalent myth that sajiao is a women’s behavior. The categories of “Children” and “Sales Persons” will provide a relationship-based view to examine how the “teammates” in a sajiao performance play out the power imbalance and their mutual identities. Men I observed several examples of men’s sajiao in Taipei. Here I list three examples: in a heterosexual relationship, in a homosexual relationship, and in a casual and public relationship. The first case is a man’s sajiao to his girlfriend in a subway carriage. The second example happens between a homosexual couple in a restaurant. The last case is a male bus driver chatting with a male passenger. The first example may be the most common scene that can be observed in a heterosexual relationship. On a crowded subway carriage, a man and a woman, both in their mid-twenties, stood, facing each other. When the passenger who was sitting in front of them got off, the man signaled the woman to take the seat by slightly patting her waist. After chatting for a few minutes, the man asked the woman to hold his bag. He did not directly ask the woman, but made a performance. He acted as if his shoulders could not bear the weight of the bag anymore. He dropped the bag from his shoulder, his hands trembling to move the bag toward the woman, with a smile on his face, and looking at the woman with direct eye contact. The woman laughed, took the bag, and put it on her lap.

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This short nonverbal communication is a good example of a successful sajiao. The man took a lower position, begging and persuading the woman to hold his bag, and the woman understood the message, and accepted his request. I judge that they are a heterosexual couple at the beginning stage of dating based on the following factors: 1) Their outfits. The woman wore a one-piece dress with a pair of mid-heeled sandals. The man wore a shirt and pants, not a pair of jeans. He also carried a camera. On Saturday afternoon, on the subway car destined for a scenic spot in a Taipei suburb, their dress was too formal. Their outfits signaled that both of them took the meeting seriously. 2) The frequency of laughter in conversation. After this sajiao scene, I happened to overhear their talk. Both of them employed the pattern of ending their turn in conversation with slight laughter, “hehe.” For example, The man: “You haven’t answered my question yet, hehe.” The woman: “What? I thought I have answered it, hehe.” Laughter helps turn-taking, signaling rapport and consensus, which is a cultural mark in communication (Adelsward, 1989; Jefferson, 1985). This type of short, slight laughter between the man and the woman is different from laughter caused by jokes or wholehearted happiness. The laughter did not occur by external stimuli, but it happened after the man’s and the woman’s own verbal utterances. It serves to regulate the flow of interaction and pursue intimacy (Vettin & Todt, 2004). The conversation between the two was incessant, showing that both of them made efforts to keep the conversation flowing. 3) The touch. The man touched the woman’s waist when telling her to sit down. The waist is one of the body parts that people will not usually touch (Guerrero & Andersen, 1994). The man’s touch did not cause the woman’s resistance, which indicates that they are probably in a close relationship. If they were not a dating couple, they might be at the stage of developing a romantic relationship. The second example involves three men and one woman. The conversation happened when the four had dinner at a Thai restaurant on a Friday night. When I started

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observing them, two of the men in their early thirties and the woman in her early thirties were already at the table. Based on what they were saying, I judge that the three people have known each other for many years. They might be college friends. The two men were gay, but they were not a couple. The one they were waiting was one of the two men’s new partner. One of the purposes of the dinner gathering was for the man to introduce his new friend to the female. Therefore, when a man, around twenty-five years old, finally arrived, the female stood up to greet him. They shook hands, and exchanged names. Then, they ordered dishes, and started eating. The young man often spoke in the sajiao tone to his partner and to the other two guests. After a moment, the female asked the young man where his company is, and teased him that he was a little bit too dressed up. The young man then turned to his partner for consolation. The conversation is recorded as follows, 43

1

Female: 你從哪裡過來 (Qtg) nĭ cóng nǎlĭ guòlái (Qtg) Where were you (before coming to the restaurant) (Qtg)

2

Young Man: °南勢角° °Nánshìjiǎo° °Nánshìjiǎo (a suburb of Taipei City)°

3

Female: 南勢角 (?) 穿這樣在南勢角上班喔 (SFP) Nánshìjiǎo (?) chuān zhèyàng zài Nánshìjiǎoshàngbān ou (SFP) Nánshìjiǎo (?) Do you always wear such a formal suit working at Nánshìjiǎo (SFP)

4

43

Young man: °我好像不該說南勢角°

He slightly frowns. He

°wŏ hǎoxiàng bù gāi shuō Nánshìjiǎo°

turns to his partner.

Most of the conversations in this chapter follow the Jeffersonian transcription convention with modifications. See Chapter Two, p. 58.

130 °It seems that I shouldn’t have said Nánshìjiǎo° 5

Old man: 你不會說景安喔 (SFP) nĭ búhuì shuō Jĭnān ou (SFP) You should say that you were from Jĭnān (SFP)

6

Young man: °怎麼辦° (Qtg)

He slightly leans to the

◦zěnme bàn◦ (Qtg)

old man.

°How should I do now (Qtg) 7

Old man: 沒關係啦 (SFP) méi guānxi la (SFP) It’s ok (SFP)

The young man looked particular about his outfit and made an effort to follow the latest fashion. He wore a tailored suit with a tie in June in Taipei, where the average temperature is above 80°F. He also showed off his leather shoes, boasting that not everyone dared to choose the color. Then he started talking about Japanese fashion, the couple’s future trip to Tokyo, and their shopping plan. Many people who work at the downtown financial district in Taipei put on similar fancy outfits as the young man. Thus, when the young man uttered that he is an assistant financial consultant, the female asked, “Where were you?” (line 1) in order to recognize his company. The young man’s answer then surprised the woman because Nánshìjiǎo is far away from downtown Taipei, and not considered a financial district. The woman’s surprise and tease (line 3) made him realize that uttering Nánshìjiǎo harmed his Taipei Chic image. 44 He slightly frowned, a little bit

44

In a strict definition, Taipei refers to Taipei City, which is the area discursively generating the desired Taipei Chic image. For further explanation of what Taipei Chic means, see Chapter Three: Being a “Taiwanese” Girl. Nánshìjiǎo is not part of this urban imagination because it is located in Taipei County (now the name of this administrative region has been changed to New Taipei City).

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vexed. He did not respond to the woman. Instead, he turned to his partner, saying, “It seems that I shouldn’t have said Nánshìjiǎo.” I interpret this interaction between the young man and his partner starting in line 4 as sajiao. The young man admitted his mistake; that is, uttering a term that was insufficiently “fancy.” He stopped talking to the woman and conducted an image-saving “project” with the help of his partner. When he uttered, “How should I do now?” (line 6) he sought help and an opinion. He spoke in a soft voice directly to his partner, and his partner replied to console him by saying, “It’s ok.” Although there were no physical contacts between the two, the older man used a sentence-final particle “la” (line 7) which softened the tone and created a sense of tenderness. The partner then switched to a different topic so as to stop the discussion of the young man’s company location. Sajiao in this case aims to seek emotional support. Besides assuring the young man it is not a big deal, the partner went a step further to switch the topic so as to save the young man’s face. The young man played the role of the helpless, and his partner became the care giver in response to his sajiao. In my fieldwork observation, sajiao between couples is common; however, due to the intimate distance between couples when they talk to each other, it is difficult to catch the actual words they are using to sajiao. If the sajiao stories provided by celebrities and blog authors are true, the cases I collected about couple’s sajiao in public will be less “juicy” and will lack “drama.” However, the cases in my ethnographic observation prove that sajiao is not a private behavior; people can sajiao to each other while they know that other people are looking. Men’s sajiao can also be observed in more formal arenas. The cases I select about men’s sajiao show that men’s sajiao is not limited to their intimate partners. They will also play the role of a weak person to persuade their audience to change their minds, accept their explanation, and request a favor or an object.

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The last example happened on a bus. At every stop, before the passengers got on the bus, the bus driver would inform them, 不是直行的喲:: (SFP) bú shì zhíxíng de yo:: (SFP) This is not a straight-route bus:: (SFP) Or 不是直行車:: 不是直行車:: bú shì zhíxíng chē:: bú shì zhíxíng chē:: Not a straight-route bus:: not a straight-route bus::

He uttered the sentence with an elongated tone and spoke each word at a slow speed. Speaking a sentence or a phrase twice is also a feature of sajiao. Chuang (2005) observes the tendency of a sajiaoer to repeat the final word of a phrase, which is called the replication of monosyllabic words. My findings not only support this observation, but also identify a similar verbal pattern, the repetition of a short sentence, as the bus driver’s case shows. The following conversation records the interaction between the bus driver and a male passenger. The passenger started to chat with the driver after confirming that this bus would stop at his destination. This male passenger spoke faster, with a lower voice. I identify the bus driver sajiao to the passengers in at least two conditions.

1

Passenger: 請問這台車有到中研院嗎 (Qtg)

The passenger chooses a

qĭng wèn zhè tái chē yŏu dào Zhōngyányuàn ma (Qtg)

seat in the front, near the

Excuse me, does this bus stop by Academia Sinica (Qtg) bus driver. 2

Bus Driver: 有 (?) 有到中研院:: yŏu (?) yŏu dào Zhōngyányuàn:: Yes (?) it will stop at Academia Sinica::

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3

Bus Driver: 不是直行車:: 不是直行車::

The bus stops. The door

bú shì zhíxíng chē:: bú shì zhíxíng chē::

opens. The driver talks to

Not a straight-route bus:: not a straight-route bus::

people outside the door.

4

Some people get on the bus. The door closes.

5

Bus Driver: 其實這才是最早的路線

The driver talks to the

qíshí zhè cái shì zuì zǎo de lùxiàn

male passenger.

Actually this route is the original 6

Passenger: 為什麼不換個號碼 (Qtg) wèishéme bú huàn ge hàomǎ (Qtg) Why didn’t you give the other route a different number (Qtg)

7

8

Bus Driver: 我們也沒辦法啊 (SFP)

The driver occasionally

wŏmen yě méi bànfǎ a (SFP)

looks at the passenger

We don’t have any ideas, either (SFP)

while driving.

上次有個女的 撘錯車就罵我 (.) shàngcì yŏu ge nŭ de dā cuò chē jiù mà wŏ (.) The other day, a female got on my bus and found that she was on the wrong bus. She blamed me (.)

9

才十八九歲 (.) 說我標示不清:: cái shíbā jiŭ suì (.) shuō wŏ biāoshì bù qīng:: She’s just 18 or 19 years old (.) She said that I didn’t show the sign clearly::

10 我就說 (.) 好啊 (SFP) 這裡有投訴電話 (.) 你打啊 (SFP) wŏ jiù shuō (.) hǎo a (SFP) zhèlĭ yŏu tóusù diànhuà (.) nĭ dǎ a (FSP)

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I said to her (.) ‘all right (SFP) here is the number of customer service (.) You call them’(FSP) 11 這不是我們的問題嘛 (MPT) (SFP) zhè búshì wŏmén de wèntí ma (MPT) (SFP) This is not our problem (MPT) (SFP) 12

The passenger nods.

First, the bus driver uses the sajiao tone to avoid potential criticism. His announcement, “Not a straight-route bus, not a straight-route bus,” was a routine, informing and warning passengers not to get on the wrong bus (line 3). I detect that he announced the information in a sajiao way because of his repetition of the sentence and his elongated sounds. The evidence that the bus driver used the sajiao tone to avoid criticism is found in his chatting with the specific male passenger. The conversation also indicates the bus driver’s second sajiao attempt. The story he told the passenger made himself a victim of the system (line 7-11). From his perspective, the unfairness lay in 1) his powerlessness in the company’s policy (line 7, 11), 2) his vulnerability to the wrong policy (line 8), and 3) the disrespect of a young person for a fault he was unable to control (line 9). This story of being blamed explained why he repeated reminding passengers of the bus route. This story was told with many sajiao features. Many of sentence-final particles were used, such as yo, a (line 7, 10), and ma (line 11). The slow speed and elongated sounds made him talk as though a child was complaining to a superior (the passenger) about an unfair deed. He looked for compassion and justice. The male passenger’s nodding was the bus driver’s salvation because his sajiao for someone to agree with him was endorsed. Women There are many examples of women’s sajiao. The most familiar pattern is that a woman sajiaos to a man; however, some variations are offered in this category. Women,

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like men, perform sajiao in different situations and to different people. I will also list three examples about women’s sajiao: two were observed in a more intimate relationship, and the other happened in a more distant relationship. The first example involves the public display of love between a young girl and her boyfriend. They might be in their early twenties or even younger. The young couple was among their friends in a restaurant. The young girl was sitting on the lap of the boy, and the boy embraced her around the waist. They kept whispering to each other, and the girl occasionally pinched the boy’s nose and made him make faces. Then they would laugh together. These nonverbal features are strong evidence of their relationship as a couple. One of their friends attempted to stop them,

1

A friend: 你們可以停止嗎 (Qtg) 噁心死了 (ASP)

The friend stands up. The

nĭmen kěyĭ tíngzhĭ ma (Qtg) ĔXĪN sĭ le (ASP)

friend faces the young

Could you stop (Qtg) This is GROSS (ASP)

couple while they are doing the above interactions.

2

Girl: 怎樣 (?)(.) 我們就愛這樣

The girl still sits on the

Zŭnyàng (?)(.) wŏmen jìu ài zhèyàng

boy’s lap.

What (?)(.) We love doing it all the time 3

4

Female: 咕嘰咕嘰 你好可愛喔:: (SFP) 北鼻:: 45

The girl pokes the boy’s

guji guji nĭ hǎo kěài ou:: (SFP) běibí::

cheek with her forefinger,

guji guji you are so cute:: (SFP) baby::

and talks to him. The boy laughs, touching the girl’s face, too.

45

This female transliterates the phrase “baby” from English to Mandarin. 北鼻 is the unconventional written form for the phrase. See the following two footnotes for further explanations.

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5

Their friends: 齁:: (ITJ)

They frown, shake their

hò:: (ITJ)

heads, or drop their jaws.

Ho:: (ITJ)

The young couple was sajiaoing to each other. Their close body touch, whispering, pinching, making faces are all counted as the features of sajiao. By imitating a baby’s actions and way of talk, they expressed their love to each other. Their friends’ intervention did not stop the girl from doing sajiao, but instead, it catalyzed her desire to perform sajiao in a more exaggerated way. For example, the girl said directly to the boy, “guji guji, you are so cute, baby.” “guji guji” has no meaning, just an onomatopoeic word, usually used to tease small children. The word “baby” was pronounced by her in a Mandarinized way. Instead of pronouncing “baby” in English or the Mandarin translation “寶貝” (bǎobèi), she said, 北鼻 běibí in the form of transliteration. This example is worth noticing because it supports the theory that the practice of sajiao is not totally considered an improper behavior in public in Taiwanese society. Although the young couple’s friends showed the disapproval, the couple, especially the girl, did not respond as though embarrassed. Moreover, their friends’ dissuasion was not very serious. The long sigh, “Ho,” was a playful response to the girl’s challenge. The friends expressed their disapproval, but stopped there, not insisting that the girl stop what she was doing. The interjection “ho” is commonly used to express surprise and disapproval if the situation contains certain naughty elements. For example, a child informs his mother, “I farted.” The mom would respond, “ho, stinky!” The response is a disapproval of the child’s behavior, but not really leading to punishment. Therefore, the “ho” in the sajiao case should not be read as a strong objection to the public sajiao practice. Another point worth noticing in this case is the use of transliteration. The girl’s transliteration is a form of sajiao. The transliteration of foreign vocabulary became

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popular in Taiwan in around 2000 by online video gamers. When young people play online games, they chat with each other by typing symbols, emoticons, and unconventional Chinese characters for fun. Gradually, they have developed an Internet language circulating among young people, which is called 火星文 (Martian language). 46 The creation of new vocabulary in the Martian language can be viewed as part of kuso culture. Originated from Japanese, the term “kuso” literally means “shit.” When online gamers realize that they cannot make a good game, they start to kuso the game, such as appreciating the flaws and poor quality of the game rather than frustrated by the failure. Thus, kuso culture refers to various forms of self-deprecatory or deflationary parody (Silvio, 2009). This is also a free, creative pastiche of different popular cultural elements. The creativity of the kuso culture can be observed in the development of the Martian language. Based on the written Chinese characters, vocabulary in other languages is transliterated. For example, 麻吉 (maji) is a term from the English word, “match,” into the Japanese word, “macchi,” and then into the Chinese characters, referring to “buddy-buddy.” This written form later becomes popular in the spoken form, especially among young generations, for its novelty and exclusion. 47 Skov (1995) argues that the rounded handwriting by Japanese high school girls can be read as the youth rebellion by means of cute elements. Similarly, the invention and the application of the Martian language in the written and spoken forms are a childish, immature behavior in the eyes of school and education authorities, but this kuso play with unconventional elements creates the sense of cuteness, which is a powerful force in shaping popular culture in Taiwan.

46

The name, “Martian language,” emphasizes the difficulty of understanding the meaning of the online language. The metaphor is from science fiction. For the general public on earth (earthling), this online language is like words from the Mars. 47 This transliteration also becomes the hypertext exclusively understood and exchanged among the online tribe or the younger generation. The unconventional Mandarin phrases usually create a cute visual effect, such as 北鼻 (baby) in contrast to the conventional form 寶貝, 谷的拜 (goodbye) in contrast to 再見, and 黑皮 (happy) in contrast to 快樂.

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Not all the kuso transliterations are viewed as sajiao. Nevertheless, the case of the young couple shows a common kuso transliteration adopted in the sajiao practice. In the Martian language, the English term “baby” is transliterated into the Chinese written form as 北鼻. The unconventional form “北鼻” creates a sense of cuteness compared with the conventional form “寶貝.” The girl’s adoption of “北鼻” (line 3) is a cute performance in referencing her boyfriend. Similar kuso expressions used in sajiao can be seen in the following ways,

口以嗎 (Qtg) (Conventional written form: 可以嗎) kŏyĭ ma (Qtg) (Conventional read form: kĕyĭ ma) May I/ Can I (Qtg) And 啾咪 Jiūmī

The origin of this phrase is still under dispute. This online written expression is frequently used in playing cute. According to the information circulating in Taiwan’s online forums, “啾咪” was invented to be put at the end of a sentence to play cute. It is not clear who created the term, but it soon became very popular after many people ended their online messages with the term. In my opinion, this usage is like the function of sentence-final particles in colloquial form, which is literally meaningless, but adds the flavor of emotions into the sentence. Another explanation of the origin is related to the pronunciation of the phrase. In Japanese, “啾” refers to the kissing sound, especially to that of the pecking on the cheek. In this context, the Taiwanese usage of “啾咪” in the online written form might symbolize a goodbye peck when an online user is ready to leave or end a chat. Either way, I am confident that “啾咪” is one of the kuso

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vocabularies that is invented to create the cute effect and later used in sajiao. Currently, it is not rare to hear the phrase in young people’s conversation. Besides the sajiao scene in a heterosexual relationship, women do sajiao to women as well. For example, a conversation between two adult sisters is full of sajiao elements. In a household that I visited, I observed the following conversation. For people who are not familiar with this culture, the two sisters’ interaction might be interpreted as a little tiff. However, despite the harsh words they said to each other (“annoying,” “leave me alone,” etc.), their nonverbal cues were full of exaggerated movements, such as walking, hugging, and pointing. These dramatized movements indicate that they were actually sajiaoing to each other.

1

A.Y.: 請問有什麼事嗎 (Qtg)

A.Y. lies prone on her

qĭngwèn yŏu shéme shì ma (Qtg)

bed.

Excuse me, may I help you (Qtg) 2

B. G.: 沒事啊 (SFP) 就來看看你啊 (SFP)

B. G. approaches A. Y.

méishì a (SFP) jiù lái kànkàn nĭ a (SFP)

and sits next to her.

Nothing (SFP) I just want to see you (SFP) 3

A.Y.: 小姐 (.) 我想一個人靜一靜

A.Y. moves her body

xiǎojiě (.) wŏ xiǎng yīgerén jìngyíjìng

away from B. G.

Miss (.) I want to be alone 4

B.G.: 為 (?)什麼 (Qtg) 你難道不想跟姐姐多相處一點

B. G. immediately moves

時間嗎 (?)(Qtg)

toward to A.Y.

wèi (?) shéme (Qtg) nĭ nándào bù xiǎng gēn jiějie duō

B. G. holds A.Y. tightly.

xiāngchŭ yìdiǎn shíjiān ma (?) (Qtg) Why (?) (Qtg) Don’t you want to be with your sister for a while (?) (Qtg) 5

A.Y.: 怎麼有人這麼煩

A.Y. sighs while

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6

ZĔME YŎU RÉN ZHÈME FÁN

attempting to get rid of

HOW COULD A PERSON BE SO ANNOYING

B.G.

B.G.: 誰啊 (SFP) (Qtg) 誰這麼煩 (Qtg)

B.G. still releases A.Y.

shéi a (SFP) (Qtg) shéi zhème fán (Qtg) Who (SFP) (Qtg) Who is annoying (Qtg) 7

A.Y.: 你啊 (SFP) 就是說你啊 (SFP)

B.G. looses A.Y.

nĭ a (SFP) jiùshì shuō nĭ a (SFP) You (SFP) I say, you (SFP) 8

A.Y.: 你為什麼還不走:: (Qtg)

B.G. stays, not leaving.

nĭ wèishéme hái bù zŏu:: (Qtg) Why are you still here:: (Qtg) 9

拜託你:: 給我一點私人的空間:: 我想要靜一靜::

A.Y. pretends to start

bàituō nĭ:: gěi wŏ yīdiǎn sīrén de kōngjiān:: WŎ XIĂNG

crying.

YÀO JÌNGYÍJÌNG:: Please:: give me a little private space:: I WANT TO BE ALONE:: 10 B.G.: 不要 不要 我就是要待在這裡 這裡也是我的

B.G. stands up, with big

家::

hand gestures, pointing at

búyào búyào wŏ jiùshì yào dāi zài zhèli zhèli yě shì wŏ

the floor.

de jiā:: No No I (simply) don’t want to leave This is also my home:: 48 11 A.Y.: 拜託你走= 好不好 (Qtg) bàituō nĭ zŏu = hǎobùhǎo (Qtg) Please go= okay (Qtg) 48

I translate 就是 (jiùshì) into “simply,” but the whole sentence “I don’t want to leave,” that is, without “simply,” would be more similar to a sajiao expression.

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12 B.G.: I’ll be back.

B.G. starts to slowly leave the room.

13 A.Y.: 快走 快走 kuài zŏu kuài zŏu

A.Y. frowns, waving her hand.

Go, go

The above example reveals an important feature of sajiao: the playfulness. When A. Y. called B.G. “Miss” instead of “Sister” or B.G.’s name (line 3), it creates the effect of playfulness in defining the relationship. She estranged herself from B.G. by calling her “Miss,” but was pulled back to the close relationship because B.G. referred to herself as A.Y.’s “Sister.” The exchange between line 5 and line 7 is another example of playfulness. A.Y. said, “HOW COULD A PERSON BE SO ANNOYING.” She used “a person” to refer to B.G., but B.G. asked, “Who?” as if she did not know who A.Y. was talking about even though she was the only conversational partner on the spot. This forced A.Y. to use the pronoun “you.” The change of the address form from “a person” to “you” is a twist that creates playfulness. The interaction between the two women in their twenties is like a mini-drama. This conversation includes polite greetings (line 1), questioning (line 4), complaining (line 5), arguing (line 5-10), fake crying (line 9), and begging (line 11). All of these imply that sajiao is a mutual performance. Both women sajiao to each other, and the switching of the roles is smooth. B. G. started the first sajiao by saying, “Why? Don’t you want to be with your sister for a while?” in response to A.Y.’s request to be alone (line 3). B.G. did not leave the room and rejected A.Y.’s request. This emotional appeal in the form of begging for more hanging-out time was supported by the social convention that sisters (family members) should hang out often. Moreover, this begging turned to be an aggressive sajiao form when B.G. embraced A.Y. The beggar (B.G.) became the aggressor and changed the power dynamics.

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On the other hand, A.Y. switched her role from a sajiaoee to a sajioer. A.Y.’s sajiao occurred when she faked crying to push B. G. to leave the room. The fake crying intensifies the message: “I want to be alone” (line 9). In general, the sajiaoee might give in due to the intensified message. However, A.Y.’s sajiao ignited B.G. to challenge her. B. G. made a second attempt of sajiao by saying, “No, No. I want to be here. This is my home, too.” The direct rejection is considered a childish behavior, and is rarely seen in a formal occasion between adults. Moreover, when B. G. uttered the sentence, she used a dramatic tone and gesture (a slow utterance, finger pointing at the floor) to make a cute effect. Thus, this conversation itself is a play between the two for emotional exchange (spending time talking to each other), more than the actual request (leaving the room). People sajiao in order to persuade or to get attention, but they also enjoy the process. The sajiaoer initiates the speech act, but without the cooperation of the sajiaoee, and sometimes of other audience members, the exchange cannot be complete. Women’s sajiao can also be observed between acquaintances. I overheard the following conversation between the bank cashier (female in her twenties) and a frequent client (a middle-aged woman). I arrived one moment earlier before the client came in. Before she actually came to the counter, all the cashiers were whispering to each other, “Ms. Huang is coming.” One woman, I assume, a senior supervisor, came out from the inside room to greet her and appointed a clerk to serve her. While the cashier was dealing with the account for the woman, she started chatting with her, and the way she spoke to the woman was filled with many sajiao elements.

1

Cashier: 過年要出去玩嗎 (Qtg)

The cashier starts a chat

guònián yào chūqù wuán ma (Qtg)

while dealing with the

Are you going abroad for fun during the Lunar New

client’s business.

Year holiday (Qtg) 2

Client: 本來有 但是太忙了 (ASP)

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běnlái yŏu dànshì tài máng le (ASP) I had a plan, but I have been too busy (ASP) 3

Cashier: 那本來想去哪 (?) 裡啊 (SFP) (Qtg) nà běnlái xiǎng qù nǎ(?)lĭ a (SFP) (Qtg) So wh(?)ere did you want to go (SFP) (Qtg)

4

Client: 都可以啊 (SFP) dōu kěyĭ a (SFP) Many options (SFP)

5

Cashier: 就多看看 jiù duō kànkan You can shop around

6

7

Client: 欸 (MPT) 那你們有要去哪裡嗎 (Qtg)

Pause. The client starts

èi (MPT) nà nĭmen yŏu yào qù nǎlĭ ma (Qtg)

asking the cashier

Uh (MPT) Do you guys plan to go somewhere (Qtg)

questions.

Cashier: 我沒有 (.) 我是排 228 連假 可是啊:: (SFP) 我

The cashier speaks in a

覺得過年啊:: (SFP) 228 啊:: (SFP) 機票都貴好多喔::

high-pitched, elongated

(SFP)

voice at the end of each

wŏ méiyŏu (.) wŏ shì pái èrèrbā liánjià kěshì a:: (SFP)

sentence.

wŏ juéde guònián a:: (SFP) èrèrbā a:: (SFP) jīpiào dōu guì hǎoduō ou:: (SFP) I don’t have a break (.) I take a vacation on the February holidays But:: (SFP) I feel the flight tickets during the Lunar New Year:: (SFP) or February holidays:: (SFP) are extremely expensive:: (SFP) 8

Client: 那你不一定要放假的時候去啊 (SFP) nà nĭ bùyīdìng yào fàngjià de shíhò qù a (SFP) You don’t need to travel during the holidays (SFP)

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9

Cashier: 但是要跟同學 大家時間喬不定 還是只有過 節的時候可以 dànshì yào gēn tóngxué dàijiā shíjiān qiáo bú dìng háishì zhĭyŏu guòjié de shíhò kěyĭ But with my old classmates, everybody has a different time-off The only time we can go together is the holiday period

10 Client: 一起去比較好玩 yìqĭqù bĭjiào hǎowuán It’s more fun that you go together 11 Cashier: 喔 (MPT) 對啊 (SFP) ou (MPT) dùi a (SFP)

The cashier suddenly replies.

Oh (MPT) That’s right (SFP) 12 Client: 去哪裡 (Qtg) qù nail (Qtg) Where (Qtg) 13 Cashier: 去巴里島 qù bālĭdǎo Bali 14 Client: 不錯呀 (SFP) búcùo ya (SFP) Sounds good (SFP) 15 Cashier: 對呀 (SFP) 去放空 dùi ya (SFP) qù fàngkōng

The cashier laughs in the end.

Yeah (SFP) I will do nothing there 16 Cashier: 你等我一下喔 (SFP) 馬上就好了 (ASP) nĭ děng wŏ yíxià ou (SFP) mǎshàng jiù hǎo le (ASP)

The cashier stands up and reassures the client.

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One moment please (SFP) I will finish right away (ASP)

Unlike the second example, this conversation does not contain a hyper-dramatic atmosphere. During this polite conversation, the cashier played multiple roles to maintain a good relationship with her client. She played the role of a sincere service provider (dealing with the woman’s account), a friend (asking the woman’s holiday plan), and a quasi-daughter role (sharing her holiday plan). Because of her usage of the sajiao form when she disclosed her own holiday plan, she put herself in a lower position to the client. She made herself pitiful by using many sentence-final particles, such as a (line 7), ou (line 7), and ya (line 15). These made her tone childish as if a child talked to an adult. She also used laughter during the conversation to show her friendliness (line 15). Finally, when she finished her work, she said, “nĭ děng wŏ yíxià” [One moment please] (line 16) with the particle “ou.” This made her formal business request sound more friendly and intimate in the natives’ ears. In the section addressing sajiao’s verbal features, I will offer more comparison between an utterance with sentence-final particles and without sentence-final particles. Children After going through the above two categories, one can identify the flaw of using gender as the basic categorization to identify different sajiao practices. Although I grouped my examples into these two categories, men and women, to explain who does sajiao, there are not so many distinctions across categories. In terms of intimate relation, both men and women do sajiao to each other. The difference is that men’s sajiao performances to their intimate partners are seldom seen in public. Therefore, I aim to use the following two categories, “Children,” and “Sales Persons,” the non-gender specific ones, to show an alternative approach to examining who does sajiao.

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As I keep emphasizing, sajiao is a practice involving power. A sajiao performer’s relative identity plays a more determining role than its gender identity. If we re-examine the above examples, we will find that the one who performs sajiao is in a lower position, especially at the moment when he or she did sajiao. Therefore, when we analyze a sajiao case in a given relationship, we should first identify who is in a weak position. For example, children are considered in a weak position in facing their parents. Besides, sales persons in a business setting are considered in a weak position because they depend on customers’ patronage to earn profits. Based on this rule, we can infer that employees are in a weak position in facing their boss, and students are in a weak position to their instructors in terms of their academic grades, etc. The benefit of considering the power issue is that we recognize that everyone might be put in a position where she or he is able to sajiao. And we also recognize that sajiao is a performance based on one’s relative identity and one’s specific occasion. Thus, the identities of children, sales persons, employees, and students are the analytical terms paired with parents, clients, employers, and teachers, respectively. More similar categories can be created to identify different power relations. Here, I put the cases of children’s sajiao in the context of power relations in contrast to the common notion that it is a “natural” behavior of children. I agree that a baby’s crying can be viewed as sajiao, as the physical response to its needs. However, when children start interacting with adults, they learn how to get things they want in a conscious fashion. Although they might not understand the meaning of sajiao as a vocabulary, they learn quickly how to do it and how to use their weak position in the family relationship. Thus, children’s sajiao should be included in this project as examples to examine the manipulation of the power relationship.

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Children’s sajiao is easily observed in public. They usually do sajiao to their parents. Although the onlooker may consider the sajiaoer adorable, parents sometimes do not look happy or affectionate. Here are two examples: the first is about two girls (5 or 6 years old) doing sajiao to their mother, and the second is a boy (3 years old) doing sajiao to his mother. Judged by their nonverbal cues, the mothers in the two examples seem to be impatient rather than gentle toward their children. In the first case, the two girls attempted to draw their mother’s attention. The scene took place at a subway carriage. The two girls and the mother got on a subway carriage, while the girls were arguing about who is the mother’s favorite daughter.

1

2

3

Girl 1: 媽媽比較愛我

Girl 1 and Girl 2 walk in

mǎmá bĭjiào ài wo

the carriage together

Mama loves me more

while talking.

Girl 2: 媽媽比較愛我啦:: (SFP)

The mother enters the

mǎmá bĭjiào ài wŏ la:: (SFP)

carriage following the

Mama loves me more:: (SFP)

girls.

Girl 1: 媽媽今天比較愛我

The girls face each other.

mǎmá jīntiān bĭjiào ài wo Mama loves me more today 4

Girl 2: 才怪 cái guài No way

5

The mother searches for a seat.

6

The mother moves toward a bench.

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7

Girl 1: 今天換我跟媽媽坐

Girl 1 pushes Girl 2. The

jīntiān huàn wo gēn māma zuò

mother sits down.

Today it is my turn to sit next to mama 8

Girl 2: 媽媽我坐你旁邊

Girl 2 tries to reach the

mǎmá wo zuò ni pángbiān

mother.

Mama, I sit next to you 9

The mother stands up and looks around.

10 Girl 2: 媽媽你要坐哪裡 (Qtg) mǎmá ni yào zuò nǎli (Qtg)

The girls follow the mother.

Mama, which seat do you want to sit on (Qtg) 11 Girl 2: 媽媽:: mǎmā:: Mama:: 12 Mother: 好::啦 (SFP)

The mother looks at the

hǎo:: la (SFP)

girls, and moves to the

A::ll right (SFP)

other side of the carriage.

13 我們不要坐這裡 去坐三人座的 wŏmen bú yào zuò zhèli qù zuò sānrénzuò de

The girls quickly follow the mother.

We do not sit here. Let’s go to the three-seat bench 14 欸 (MPT) 不要這裡 有太陽 太熱了 (ASP) ei (MPT) bú yào zhèli yŏu tàiyáng tài rè le (ASP) Uh (MPT) Don’t want here The sun is here, too hot (ASP) 15 Girl 2: 媽媽 (?)

The woman sits down.

mămá (?)

The two girls still stand

Mama (?)

to approach the mother.

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16 Girl 1: 媽媽:: mǎmá:: Mama:: 17 Mother: 好了 (ASP) 不要吵了 (ASP) 就坐這裡

The mother waves her

hǎo le (ASP) bú yào chǎo le (ASP) jiù zuò zhèli

hands to let the girls sit

Ok (ASP) stop talking (ASP) Sit here

down.

18

The girls sit next to the mother quietly.

At the beginning, the mother did not bother to stop her daughters, and walked toward two benches facing each other perpendicularly. Each bench had two seats, and the mother chose to sit on the seat of one bench that is closer to the other bench, and arranged one girl to sit next to her, and the other to sit on the other bench. However, the two girls were competing to sit on the seat next to their mom (line 7, 8). The two girls were still standing, pushing each other, while the carriage started moving. The mother then stood up and moved to a three-seat bench in the carriage, followed by the two girls. The girls were still calling, “Mama” (line 15), “Mama” (line 16), and finally the mother said, “Ok, stop talking. Sit here” (line 17). Afterwards, the girls became quiet, and no more conversation was heard. The content of the conversation is qualified as a sajiao practice because the two girls sought their mother’s love and attention. To intensify their request, the two girls used body language, such as leaning against their mother tightly, and pushing each other away from the mother. Also, the way they called their mother employed a salient sajiao tone. The conventional tone for the word “mother” in Mandarin is māma. As the example shows, the two girls referred to their mom in various ways, such as mǎmá (line 1, 2, 3, and 15) and mǎmā:: (line 11). The rising intonation and elongation of calling indicate the two girls’ sajiao.

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This example also shows that the mother did not appreciate her daughters’ sajiao. Her impatience grew as her daughter continued bothering her, which is evident from line 12 to line 17. In line 12, she responded, “hǎo:: la” (all:: right), with the elongated tone. This utterance aimed to stop the daughters’ competition; however, because of the elongation, her authoritative order sounded less threatening and even had a flavor of begging. In line 14, she did not respond to her daughter with the begging tone; instead, the utterance, “Uh, don’t want here. The sun is here, too hot,” was a plain statement, without apparent intonational features; she spoke indifferently. Then, she stopped their sajiao by an abrupt order, “Ok. Stop talking. Sit here” (line 17). Compared with line 12 and line 14, the mother used short and direct orders. The three lines mark the mother’s emotional change from begging, to aloofness, to impatience. In the second case, a three-year-old boy was sajiaoing to his mother while he, his mother, and his grandmother were waiting for the bus at a bus stop outside a park. The relationship among the three was confirmed by the boy’s address form to the two adults. He called them mămá (mom) and á-mà (grandma). 49 The boy sat on the bench, holding his mother’s waist, and pushing and turning his head into his mother’s belly. He was whining and making noise, and his mother frowned slightly, smiling bitterly, but did not do anything to stop him. The boy, without getting what he wanted, intensified his sajiao. He started swaying his legs, and making much louder sounds. Besides, he yelled,

我不要 WŎ BÚ YÀO I DON’T WANT

49

Á-mà is the address form in the Taiwanese dialect to refer to grandma. This indicates that this family speaks both Mandarin and the Taiwanese dialect.

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The mother’s soft voice, “ok, ok,” was covered by the boy’s sonorous crying. Suddenly, the grandmother interfered by yelling at the boy, “腳伸這麼高, 要踢人?” (Who do you want to kick by stretching your legs?) With this loud message, the boy became startled and couldn’t react for about five seconds. He stopped crying, stared at his grandmother, and then pouted. He did not whine anymore, but instead he put his pointing finger into his mouth. The boy did sajiao twice. First, he did sajiao to his mother. In order to request something, he held his mom’s waist, turning his head and crying. Second, after his grandmother yelled at him, he did sajiao again by playing cute (pouting and finger sucking) to please the grandma. These scenes are typical in identifying children’s sajiao. Crying is common, and nonverbal cues are more used than verbal cues, because not all children develop their vocabulary fully to articulate their ideas, emotions, or desires. Parents’ reactions to children’s sajiao vary. In the above two examples, children’s sajiao is not encouraged, and even inhibited or scourged. On the other hand, some parents might succumb to their child’s sajiao if the crying or calling disturbs others. For example, a family of three was eating in a restaurant. The girl, around three years old, kept bothering her parents for at least five minutes. She cried loudly and said, “I want to eat with hands!” while her father ordered her, “Sit here! Sit well! Eat!” In response to her father’s order, the girl yelled, “I DON’T WANT THIS! I DON’T WANT THIS!” and burst into more tears. The parents exchanged words in low voices, looking at the girl for a minute. Then, the mother decided to hold the girl, stood up, and left the room. While she walked out, she talked to the girl with a soft voice, “Ok, ok, don’t cry. It’s ok.” This is a more aggressive sajiao form played by children, and it can be observed in many public and private occasions. Parents either stop it immediately like the grandma did in the second case or succumb to the kid. The mother in the restaurant succumbed to the girl’s sajiao because she did not voice a threat or reply to her in a loud voice. Instead, she spoke to the girl gently, and did not force the girl to eat her meal with chopsticks.

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These cases raise an interesting question: is sajiao an effective persuasive form? While the media boast of the magic power of sajiao, in these cases we do not observe the effect that they claim. Moreover, if it is not effective, why are there so many people still practicing sajiao? With more examples unfolded, the answers will be clearer. Sales Persons Following the category of “Children,” I use the same standard to come up with another category, “Sales Persons.” Just as “Parents” is the correspondent subject in the above power relation, “Customers” is the correspondent subject to “Sales Persons” in this power relation. Here, I list two examples of sajiao in the category of sales persons. The first example of sajiao happened in a traditional market. The seafood retailer in his late thirties or early forties was talking to a woman in her sixties. He tried to persuade the woman to buy more clams.

1

Retailer: 來看看喔 (?) (SFP) lái kànkàn ou (?) (SFP) Come look (?) (SFP)

2

Customer: 我要一點 蛤蜊 wŏ yào yīdiǎn gélì I want some clams

3

The retailer grabs clams from the basin to a bag, and he is going to grab another full hand

4

Customer: 好了 (ASP) 好了 (ASP) 我不要太多 hǎole (ASP) hǎole (ASP) wŏ bú yào tài duō Enough (ASP) Enough (ASP) I don’t want too many

5

Retailer: 剩下的一起買 算你一百 好不好 (Qtg)

The retailer weighs the

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shèngxìa de yīqĭ mǎi suàn nĭ yībǎi hǎo bù hǎo (Qtg)

clams

If you buy the rest together, I just charge you 100 [NT dollars (=3 US dollars)] in total, okay (Qtg) 6

Customer: 不用啦 (SFP) 我上次買一斤都吃不完 bú yòng la (SFP) wŏ shàngcì mǎi yījīn dōu chī bù wuán It is not necessary (SFP) I couldn’t finish last time

7

Retailer: 好吧 (SFP) hǎo ba (SFP) All right (SFP)

8

Customer: 再給我一斤海參 分兩袋 一袋半斤 zài gěi wŏ yījīn hǎishēng fēn liǎngdài yídài bànjīn Give me a half kilogram of sea cucumber Divide into two bags

9

Retailer: 好 沒問題 (.) 放進菜籃嗎 (Qtg) hǎo méi wèntí (.) fàngjìn càilán ma (Qtg) Ok no problem (.) Shall I put them into your shopping basket (Qtg)

The sajiao feature appeared first when the retailer said, “If you buy the rest together, I just charge you 100 in total, okay?” (line 5). The retailer’s voice was soft, and he uttered the sentence with an elongated tone. Further, his usage of a tag question creates a sense of effeminacy. These features are usually observed in women’s talk, according to Erickson et al. (1978). Indeed, these features can be interpreted as lack of masculinity and lead to a group of gendered linguistic marks; however, they can be viewed as the mark of childishness as well. The tag question “好不好” (okay) is a phrase that carries a sense of begging. It is often heard when a child requests something from the parents, such as,

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給我氣球 好不好 (Qtg) gěi wŏ chìchiú hăo bù hăo (Qtg) Give me the balloon, okay (Qtg)

It is a request with the sajiao tone, but, similar to other sajiao cases, this begging tone does not guarantee a “yes” in return. The customer was not persuaded to buy more clams. She replied, “It is not necessary. I couldn’t finish last time” (line 6). After she rejected his suggestion, the retailer said, “All right” (hao ba) to show that there was no harmful feeling. This was his second sajiao in the conversation, which is a face-saving expression. The sentence-final particle “ba” shows that the speaker reluctantly accepted the answer. The particle “ba” is a sajiao feature. The retailer could just say, “hao,” to express the same meaning, but without the particle “ba,” the single word reply would sound too direct, and make the speaker sound rude or unhappy. Thus, to maintain a good relationship with the customer, the retailer applied the sajiao form to ease his response to the rejection. This example shows that sajiao is conducted by the person who is in the weak position, regardless of gender. The second example is still in the traditional market; a vegetable and fruit seller in her early forties used the sajiao form frequently in greeting customers. Her customers were mainly old women (60-70 years old), housewives near her age, and some old ladies (sitting in wheelchairs) accompanied with maids. She addressed them with intimate forms, such as “auntie,” “beauty,” and “sister.” Usually, in a business setting, a conventional address form to a female customer is “太太 taitai” (Mrs.), “小姐 xiaojie” (Miss), or “女士 nushi” (lady, ma’am). The address forms “auntie” and “sister” imply the existence of family bonds between the conversational partners, which was not true in this case. The seller used the intimate address forms to shorten the distance between her and customers. Besides, though it is

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not formal, calling someone “beauty” becomes a conventional compliment. Almost all female customers will be called “beauty” if they patronize the cosmetics shops, fashion shops, or stalls like the vegetable vendor’s. The address form alone is not necessarily a sajiao form, but with other elements, the utterance can become a sajiao expression. For example, when an old lady approached her, the seller was busy serving other customers. She said, “等我一下喔 阿姨” (Wait for me ou, auntie) three times because the customer did not reply to her. And finally the old lady said, “沒關係, 慢慢來.” (No problem, take your time!) The expression, “Wait for me ou, auntie!” is qualified as a sajiao form because the use of the intimate address form (auntie) and the use of sentencefinal particle (ou). The seller put herself in a lower position (pretending to be the woman’s niece) and asked for a favor in a childish way. The old lady accepted it and confirmed that she would wait. The seller looked conversant with this communicative pattern. Although she was very busy, she behaved very politely to each customer.

1

Seller: 阿姨 你這二十 (.) 來 (.) 美女 好了嗎 (Qtg) 你

The seller weighs the

這二十七

fruits in the plastic bag.

ǎyí nĭ zhè èrshí (.) lái (.) měinŭ hǎo le ma (Qtg) nĭ zhè

She hands in the bag to

èrshíqī

the customer. She

Auntie yours is twenty dollars (.) Hey (.) beauty, are

repeats the actions.

you done (Qtg) Yours is 27 dollars 2

No customers reply to her verbally, but they pay her and leave.

3

Seller: 謝謝喔 (?) (SFP) 阿姨 下次再來 xièxie ou (?) (SFP) ǎyí xiàcì zàilái Thank you (?) (SFP) auntie Come here next time

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4

Seller: 姐姐 (?) 好了嗎 (Qtg)

The seller approaches to

jiějiē(?) hǎo le ma (Qtg)

a customer.

Sister (?) are you done (Qtg) 5

6

Seller: 來幫阿姨

The seller talks to her

lái bān ǎyí

son, a teenager. Her son

Come to help this auntie

weighs the bag of fruit.

Seller: 總共八十元 姐姐 (?)

The seller talks to the

zŏnggòng bāshí yuán jiějiē (?)

customer.

The total is eighty dollars, sister (?) 7

The customer gives her a bill of one hundred.

8

Seller: 來 (.) 給阿姨二十元

The seller talks to her

lái (.) gěi ǎyí èrshí yuán

son. The son gives the

Come (.) give auntie twenty dollars

change to the customer. The seller hands the bag to the customer.

9

Seller: 謝謝

The seller talks to the

xièxie

customer.

Thank you 10 Seller: 你媽這個髮型很好看 很復古

The seller talks to the

nĭ mā zhège faxing hěn hǎokàn hěn fùgŭ

customer’s daughter,

Your mom’s hairstyle looks good

who is next to the customer.

Besides the use of the intimate address forms, she also praised the customers and made them happy. The elongated tone was used, and she addressed her customers with a rising intonation. For example, she said ǎyí (auntie) (line 1,3,5, and 8) instead of the

157 conventional tone, āyí. She said jiějiē (sister) (line 4, 6) instead of jiějie. She created a cute feeling, because children pronounce the terms in this way. In this scene, the seller behaved as a sole actor in the monologue. Few customers replied to her. Although she took a lower position to serve and please customers, she actually controlled the whole process. She was the boss, but her sajiao tone made her dominance less threatening. While she did sajiao to the customers, the seller ordered her son more directly (“Come to help this auntie”). In line 5 and 8 when she talked to her son, the seller did not raise her tone at the end of the sentence as she did in line 3, 4, and 6. She talked to her son in a plain tone, but talked to the customers with a rising intonation. This slight code-switching shows that sajiao is a performance designed for a specific audience, depending on the relationship and the context. In this section, we discussed who does sajiao in various situations. I propose to categorize these examples not based on gender, but according to the actors’ relative identity. For example, sales persons can be a category in a pair with customers. Children/parents, student/teacher, employee/boss, junior employee/senior employee, etc. are several pairs that have obvious power relations. After we identify such relations, we can expect to observe sajiao practice. In this way, we will see clearly how people sajiao, when sajiao happens, and why people sajiao. How Do People Sajiao? While giving examples of who does sajiao, I also indicate many features of sajiao. In the previous research, scholars have listed several verbal and nonverbal characteristics of sajiao, but there is no analysis based on the functions in communication. In this section, I will deconstruct sajiao into two parts—verbal features and nonverbal features— for the reader to understand how people do sajiao. Verbal Features Meaningful verbal communication is inescapably tied up with the context in which we perceive it to be taking place. Based on my fieldwork and media texts, I list the

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most common phrases that are used in sajiao. These phrases will be accompanied with a contextual setting. The phrases are not exhaustive, and can be developed more fully, but I am confident that their verbal functions should fall into one of the following categories: greeting, apologizing, complaining, refusing, giving an order, negotiating, asking for help, agreeing, informing or suggesting. Greeting The sajiao form of greeting is often heard when one walks into a shop in Taipei. The clerks will greet the patrons with the conformed phrase:

歡迎光臨:: 看看喔(?) (SFP) huānyíng guānglíng:: kànkan ou (?) (SFP) Welcome:: Take a look (?) (SFP)

This sentence is considered a sajiao form because of the sentence-final particle “ou.” It helps to create a rising intonation at the end of the sentence. With other non-verbal cues, such as nasal sounds, and a high-pitched voice, the sajiao form will be intensified. The retailers in the two cases of “Sales Persons” both use this sajiao form to greet customers. On the contrary, a non-sajiao greeting would look like the following:

歡迎光臨 請進 huānyíng guānglíng qĭng jìn Welcome Please come in Or 進來看看 jìn léi kànkan Come take a look

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There is no sentence-final particle in each sentence. Usually, the listener will not hear too much emotional expression in the non-sajiao greeting. I collected many examples of such non-sajiao greetings in Shanghai. The form of address is another place to observe whether the speaker does sajiao or not in greeting others. Like the example of the female vegetable vendor, people sajiao by addressing others with intimate forms. “阿姨 ǎyí” (auntie), “姐姐 jiějiē” (sister), “哥 哥 gěgé” (brother), and “妹妹 měiméi” (sister) are commonly heard when the sales persons greet customers. These address forms are also pronounced differently from the dictionary convention (see Table 3). Some address forms can be shortened. For example, people can say the single word “姐 jiě::” or “哥 gē::” with an elongated sound to make the sajiao effect. The complimenting address forms such as “美女 měinŭ” (beauty) and “帥哥 shuàigē” (handsome man) are often used in these settings, too.

Table 3. Conventional forms of address vs. sajiao forms of address Forms of Address Auntie Sister Little Sister Brother Little Brother Mother Father Husband Honey

Conventional Pronunciation 阿姨 āyí 姐姐 jiějie 妹妹 mèimei 哥哥 gēge 弟弟 dìdi 媽媽 mama 爸爸 bàba 老公 lǎogōng 蜜糖 (rarely heard)

Sajiao Pronunciation 阿姨 ǎyí 姐姐 jiějiē 妹妹 mĕiméi (美眉) 哥哥 gěgé (葛格) 弟弟 dĭdí (底迪) 媽媽 mămá (馬麻) 爸爸 băbá (把拔) 公公 gŏnggóng hǎnī (哈尼)

Note: 1) I bold the differences between conventional and sajiao pronunciation. 2) The Chinese characters in parentheses are unconventional forms in Martian language (see footnotes 45-47 and the analysis of the first example in the section of “Women” in Chapter Four. 3) The address form “honey” is commonly used in the transliterated form.

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In an intimate relationship, people use the sajiao address forms. Unmarried couples can call each other “老公 lǎogōng” (husband) and “老婆 lǎopó” (wife). I also heard people say “gŏnggóng” or “gōng::” referring to their boyfriends, but there seems to be no variation for the address form “老婆.” Other forms of address used between intimate partners include “寶貝 bǎobèi or běibí” (baby) and “honey” (read as hǎnī). All these variations aim to create a sense of cuteness by imitating children’s talk. Another verbal expression of sajiao in greeting can be found in text messaging, rather than in a face-to-face talk. The phrase can replace “早安” (good morning), “午安” (good afternoon), and “晚安” (good night) depending on when the online or text conversation happens. People will type the following two words: 安安 ānān Hello The receiver can also reply with the same phrase to the sender. This is a sajiao form because of the use of the replication of monosyllabic words, observed in Chuang’s research (2005, p. 22). Instead of typing 早安, 午安, 晚安, or the Mandarinized transliteration of “hello” (哈囉), people type 安安 as a greeting meant to create a cute effect, and to sajiao to the recipient. People choose to use these greeting forms to shorten the distance and show their good will or warmth. Apologizing People also seek forgiveness by using the sajiao form. This is an informal apology, but also can be interpreted as a persuasion or a request. Unlike an unconditional apology, such as, “I am sorry, it’s all my faults,” this sajiao form of apology implies, “although I do something wrong, you should forgive me anyway.” There is a strong dependent relation between the conversational partners. The common expression is as follows,

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對不起啦 (SFP) 我也不知道 duìbùqĭ la (SFP) wŏ yě bù zhīdào I am so sorry (SFP) I also don’t know

The sajiao feature is again shown in the sentence-final particle “la” following the phrase “對不起” (I am sorry). Another important feature is the emphasis on one’s inability or helplessness, which is shown in the next phrase, “我也不知道” (I also don’t know…). The speaker takes a lower position, presenting him- or herself as unwise, incapable, immature, inexperienced or unfamiliar with the situation. The expression, “I also” creates the feeling that the speaker and the listener are in the same boat, “so please don’t blame me!” To make a sentence by this formula, we can say,

對不起啦 (SFP) 我也不知道事情會這樣:: duìbùqĭ la (SFP) wŏ yě bù zhīdào shìqíng huì zhèyàng:: I am so sorry (SFP) I also don’t know that things will turn out this way::

對不起啦 (SFP) 我也不知道你會這麼生氣 duìbùqĭ la (SFP) wŏ yě bù zhīdào nĭ huì zhème shēngqì I am so sorry (SFP) I also didn’t know you were so angry Or 對不起啦 (SFP) 我也不知道他今天怎麼了 (ASP) duìbùqĭ la (SFP) wŏ yě bù zhīdào tā jīntiān zěnme le (ASP) I am so sorry (SFP) I also don’t know what’s wrong with him today (ASP)

I witnessed a sajiao scene between a clerk and a customer in a café shop. The clerk apologized to the customer and his friend in the sajiao form. Based on their

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conversation, I knew the customer was a friend of the clerk, and he brought the new friend to patronize the café shop. When the customer tasted the poor quality of the cake, he asked his friend, the clerk, to come to the table. The following records how the female clerk apologizes to the customer.

1

Customer: 你竟然害我吃了一口怪味 nĭ jìngrán hài wŏ chī le yìkŏu guàiwèi How dare you made me have a bite of the strange cake

2

3

Clerk: 對不起啦 (SFP)

The clerk touches the

duìbùqĭ la (SFP)

customer’s shoulder

I am so sorry (SFP)

with her pointing finger.

Customer: 我沒關係 (.) 但害她也吃到 wŏ méi guānxi (.) dàn hài tā yiěchī dào I am ok (.) But you made her eat the cake too

4

Clerk: 對不起啦 (SFP)

The clerk turns to the

duìbùqĭ la (SFP)

friend.

I am so sorry (SFP) 5

Friend: 沒關係 沒關係 méi guānxi méi guānxi It’s all right It’s all right

6

Clerk: 我也不知道[某某]今天怎麼了 (ASP) wŏ yě bù zhīdào [mŏumŏu] jīntiān zěnme le (ASP) I also don’t know what’s wrong with [a person’s name] today (ASP)

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7

8

Customer: 那你怎麼不先告訴我 (Qtg)

The customer looks at

Nà nĭ zhěme bù xiān gàosù wŏ (Qtg)

the clerk, and slaps the

Why didn’t you tell me first (Qtg)

table.

Clerk: 對不起啦 (SFP) 對不起啦 (SFP)

The clerk pats the

duìbùqĭ la (SFP) duìbùqĭ la (SFP)

customer’s head and

I am so sorry (SFP) I am so sorry (SFP)

shoulder.

The clerk kept apologizing for the mistake in lines 2, 4, 6, and 8. Besides the verbal expression of apology, she used nonverbal cues to sajiao to the customer. In line 2 and line 8, she touched the customer on the head and shoulder. This is an intimate behavior, telling the observer that they are not only a customer and a clerk, but also friends. On the other hand, although the clerk expressed her sorrow to the customer’s friend, she did not show the same intimacy to her, which was evident by the lack of physical touch. The clerk’s expression in line 6, “I also don’t know what’s wrong with [a person’s name] today,” showed that this is a sajiao apology. Although the shop gave the customer a different cake for free later, her apology heavily relied on her friendship with the customer. Her touch and sajiao tone serve to remind the customer of the fact that they are friends. In other words, she asked the customer to forgive her based on their relationship. In the above example, we identify another common sajiao form, which is the combination of sentence-final particles and the repetition of the phrase (see line 8). Besides “I am so sorry, I am so sorry” (line 8), the following phrase is often heard,

不好意思啦 (SFP) or 不好意思耶 (SFP) bùhǎo yìsi la (SFP) bùhǎo yìsi ye (SFP) I didn’t mean it (SFP)

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Various sentence-final particles can be added, such as la, ye, ou, ma. The choice of which particle to be added depends on the native speaker’s personal speaking habits or patterns. This phrase also means “I am sorry,” so people will use 對不起 and 不好意思 interchangeably. The effect of these particles is to create a sense of embarrassment. For example,

不好意思耶 (SFP) 我忘了 (ASP) bùhǎo yìsi ye (SFP) wŏ wòng le (ASP) I didn’t mean it (SFP) I forgot it (ASP) Or 不好意思啦 (SFP) 我今天不行耶 (SFP) 改約別天行嗎 (Qtg) bùhǎo yìsi la (SFP) wŏ jīntiān bù xíng ye (SFP) gǎi yuē biétiān xíng ma (Qtg) I am sorry (SFP) I cannot make it today (SFP) Can we meet on the other day (Qtg)

This expression of sajiao is slightly different from the other form of apology. The speaker displays a feeling of guilt, and he or she takes a begging position. Complaining The sajiao form of complaining can be found in an interjection, “há::” (meaning, what!). Strictly speaking, this is not a word, but merely a sound. Usually, when the speaker receives a message that is undesired or unwelcome, he or she will utter the sound. The rising tone and the elongated sound are necessary to make it a sajiao form. For example,

啥:: (ITJ) 要走多遠啊(SFP) (Qtg) há:: (ITJ) yào zŏu dōu yuǎn a (SFP) (Qtg) What:: (ITJ) How far should we go (SFP) (Qtg)

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The word “啥” should be read as “shá” according to the dictionary pronunciation, but in colloquial conversation, native Mandarin speakers in Taiwan usually utter the sound “há” instead of “shá.” The above sentence was heard in a gathering. When a group of young people were walking, one girl uttered the sentence with the interjection “há::” as a sajiao complaint. A boy replied, “Pretty soon.” And another boy half-jokingly criticized her by saying, “You sajiao.” This means, “Stop complaining. Keep walking.” Another common sajiao form of complaint also involves a change in the pronunciation. The phrase is the following,

怎麼這樣 (Qtg) zěnme zhèyàng (Qtg) How come (Qtg)

The conventional pronunciation of the words is “zěnme zhèyàng,” but the sajiao speaker will often combine the last two words “zhèyàng” into one word “jiàng.” 50 When the two words “zhèyàng” are spoken at a fast rate, they sound like “jiàng.” So the phrase will be heard as “zěnme jiàng.” Children who start learning how to speak often pronounce the phrase as “jiàng,” for it is not easy for them to distinguish that this is a two-word phrase. When an adult adopts the children’s way of speaking to pronounce “jiàng” instead of “zhèyàng,” the speaker creates a feeling of cuteness. For example, I heard a young woman talk to her boyfriend with the following sentence, “你怎麼這樣子nĭ zěnme zhèyàng zi” (Why did you do this?). She pronounced the sentence as “nĭ zěnme jiàng zi”? This sentence was heard as part of the conversation while they had a slight quarrel on the street. I was walking behind them. I assumed that they are in a close relationship because, 50

In online conversation, people often type the Chinese character 醬 (jiàng) to replace 這 樣 (zhèyàng).

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originally, they held hands, talking to each other while walking. Suddenly, the young woman complained her boyfriend by uttering the words “nĭ zěnme jiàng zi” (Why did you do this?) using a high-pitched voice, and attempted to pull her hand back. In response to the sajiao complaint, the young man did not loosen his hand, and said, “好啦 好啦” (All right, all right.) and “對呀 對呀” (Yes. Yes.) in order to calm her down. The young man half-pulled and half-pushed the woman to keep walking with him. The woman finally resumed. They still held hands as if nothing had happened. The young man’s reaction was also a sajiao form with different functions: negotiating and agreeing. More analysis about negotiating and agreeing can be found later. In Farris’ (1995) and Shih’s (1984) research, both of them identify the phrase “討 厭” (annoying) as a typical sajiao utterance. This phrase is also heard during the period of my fieldwork in the context of complaining. One of the variations of the expression is the following,

好討厭 hǎo tǎoyàn So annoying

The adverb “hǎo” functions to intensify the message, so the complaint will be emphasized. The sajiao form of complaining is used by the person who is in the lower position at the moment. By using the sajiao form, the speaker aims to reduce the possible conflict after he or she utters the complaint. In a meeting, a woman was asked if she gained some weight. She responded,

啊 (ITJ) 好討厭喔 (SFP) 說我變胖 a (ITJ) hǎo tǎoyàn ou (SFP) shuō wŏ biàn pàng My (ITJ) so annoying (SFP) you say that I gained weight

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This message is the woman’s complaint. She criticized the question as annoying and did not answer the question about whether she had gained some weight. In other words, the woman avoided answering an unwanted question by using the sajiao form to complain. This example leads us to the next function of sajiao, refusing and rejecting. Refusing or Rejecting The speech act, disclaimer, is usually used to assuage hurt feelings when the message is harsh. For example, disclaimers appear before the speaker refuses or rejects something. “It is not personal, but I don’t like the idea.” “You are a good guy, but I am sorry I am not into you.” As the two sentences show, the first part is the disclaimer, and the second part is the real message: refusing or rejecting. However, in sajiao form, the message can be delivered directly. Disclaimers are missing in many cases. For example, in the case of “tǎoyàn” mentioned in the section of complaining, rejection is accompanied with direct criticism. The woman does not answer if she gains weight by directly complaining that the question is annoying. If the sajiao form is used, one can reject someone or something boldly. The following is another example.

天啊:: (ITJ) (SFP) 我不要聽 tiān a :: (ITJ) (SFP) wŏ bùyào tīng Gosh :: (ITJ) (SFP) I don’t want to listen

With the exclamation “天啊” (Gosh!), the rejection is straightforward (I don’t want to listen!). I caught this sajiao rejection at a cafeteria. When a group of young people decided to share “ghost stories” they had heard or had experienced, a girl cried out loud this sentence, shook her head, and covered her ears with her hands. The group then changed the topic because of the girl’s protest.

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Compared with a refusal applying disclaimers, this sajiao refusal is different in several aspects: 1) The directness. Disclaimers are not used in most of the cases. 2) The dramatized gesture. The nonverbal body language is used to exaggerate the effect. The girl’s series of movements to cover her ears was an exaggerated performance. 3) The imitation of a child’s tone. When the girl cried out the sentence, she used a high-pitched voice, with a slightly inarticulate pronunciation, as if a child spoke. Another common sajiao form of rejecting is to repeat “No!” twice.

不要 不要 bú yào bú yào No, no

This expression is often seen in children, but adults sometimes apply this form with nonverbal cues, such as frowning, pouting, placing arms akimbo, or stamping. Although the rejection is direct, the sajiao form, i.e. imitating a child’s behavior, reduces the hurtful feeling. A comparatively indirect sajiao form of refusing might look like the following,

不要嘛 (MPT) bú yào ma (MPT) Please don’t/ No (MPT)

This is comparatively indirect because of the use of the sentence-final particle “ma.” The use of “ma” at the end of the sentence adds a flavor of begging in the tone. In the following case, a father urged his son to take leave from the grandparents’ home, and the son refused by sajiao.

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Parent: 走了 (ASP) 走了 (ASP) zŏu le (ASP) zŏu le (ASP) Go (ASP) Go (ASP) Child: 不要嘛 (MPT) 我還要玩 bú yào ma (MPT) wŏ hái yào wán No (MPT) I want to play

Besides uttering the verbal message, the child crawled on the floor, rolling and yelling. He was making a scene to express the thought that he did not want to leave. His parents did not cast a look at him. They quietly put on their shoes, walked out of the door, and closed the door. After a quiet ten seconds, the child jumped up and rushed to the door to catch his parents. Since the parents did not succumb to the child’s imploring, this was an unsuccessful sajiao form of rejection. With these examples, how can we make the disclaimer sentences into the sajiao form of refusing or rejecting? Here is my suggestion based on similar actual cases. Sentence 1: It is not personal, but I don’t like the idea. Sajiao Form: 我不喜歡 wŏ bù xĭ huān I don’t like it (With necessary nonverbal cues, such as speaking in a high-pitched voice, with inarticulate pronunciation, and at a slow speed.) Sentence 2: You are a good guy, but I am sorry I am not into you. Sajiao Form: 沒有辦法耶 (SFP) or 縮蕊 51 méiyŏu bànfǎ ye (SFP) or shuō rŭi No way (SFP) Sorry 51

Another vocabulary created in the Martian language. 縮蕊 is the written form of the transliteration of the English word, “sorry.”

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(The sentence-final particle “ye” and English transliteration “shuō rŭi” are applied.) These two sentences serve to compare the two different forms of refusing. However, it does not mean that a sajiao form is more effective than a non-sajiao form for the conversational partner to accept the rejection. Just like the child’s sajiao to his parents, not all sajiao practices guarantee a desired result. Nevertheless, we learn that, to complete the sajiao form, nonverbal cues are necessary in supplementing the verbal message. Saying these phrases in a childish voice would help pacify the listener’s temper or anger. Using the sajiao form of refusing benefits or protects the speaker because the listener cannot immediately fight back with harsh words; after all, how can an adult be seriously mad at a child? In this sense, sajiao becomes the tactic of the weak, not in terms of its attacking power, but in terms of its explicit tone of dependence and inability. Giving an Order The sajiao form can be used in giving an order. Usually, an order is given from the one who holds the higher position to the one who is in the lower position in a relationship. Thus, the use of sajiao form creates a reversal of this power relation. Using the childish tone, the speaker can order someone do something for him or her, and this sajiao form usually makes it difficult for the message recipient to say no. People often hear children say the following words,

我還要 我還要 wŏ hái yào wŏ hái yào I want more I want more

The sajiao form has several variations, such as “One more time, one more time,” and “One more minute, one more minute.” The shared feature of this verbal expression is the

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repetition of the phrase. The speaker requests something by giving an order. This sajiao form happens in a toy shop, at a restaurant, or in a park, when children request one more gift or one more bite of ice cream. I also heard this form being used when children wanted to play with their friends longer after the parents asked them to go home. Another example is an order with flirting elements. I heard this sentence in a beauty salon, in which the female customer jokingly warned the male stylist to take particular care of her hair.

你要對我負責 nĭ yào duì wŏ fùzé You have to take care of me

There were actually two females on the spot. Female A brought female B to the hair salon, and introduced the stylist to female B. All three looked young, in their early twenties. I judged that these females came to the beauty salon not merely for styling their hair, but also for creating an opportunity to see and talk to the stylist. Their fondness for the stylist was observed by how they communicated with him. These two female customers kept asking the stylist questions, not all of which were related to business. Moreover, they over-reacted to the stylist’s answers, such as laughing loud and long in response to the stylist’s plain statements, such as “your hair looks a little bit dry.” In this context, the phrase “You have to take care of me” contains at least two levels of meanings indicating their relationship. First, it indicates the relationship between a customer and a service provider. When female B uttered the phrase, she asked the stylist to take extra care of her hair. Second, it indicates that the two might have a closer relationship or that they were developing a close relationship. The phrase “負責” means to take responsibility for someone. In the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan, this sentence carries the implication that the two conversational partners engage in sexual

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intercourse. The female’s joking tone when uttering the sentence created a sense of ambiguity for other listeners (female A, other people in the salon, and me) to guess about their relationship. It could be a statement of fact or a play on words, but in either case, the sentence places a strong demand on the addressee (the stylist) to take action. The implication of the heavy dependence on the other makes the sentence a sajiao form. An even stronger expression would be as follows,

我不管 你要對我負責 wŏ bù guan nĭ yào duì wŏ fùzé Whatever, you have to take care of me

“Whatever, you have to take care of me!” reveals the “nature” of sajiaoer. As a powerless subject, he or she can only depend on the other to be the savior, come what may. Therefore, this is the righteous position in which the powerless give an order and demand the powerful do something for them. Negotiating Negotiation is a process whereby each party involved tries to resolve differences and gain advantage in dialogue. When the power relation among each party is imbalanced, the party with less power usually takes a sajiao form in the negotiating process. For example, two friends were negotiating the next meeting time at a restaurant while one was hesitant and doubted the necessity of the meeting. The friend who proposed the meeting then used the sajiao form of negotiating to persuade the friend. This was in the form of a tag question,

我們就約六點半 好不好 (Qtg) wŏmen jiù yūe liù diǎn bàn hǎo bù hǎo (Qtg) Let’s meet at 6:30, can we (Qtg)

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The tag question in an utterance is a common place to add the sajiao flavor. Although in the given case, the tag question was uttered with a conventional pronunciation (hǎo bù hǎo), to intensify the sajiao effect, one can pronounce the phrase by using the rising intonation, so as to utter the phrase as “hāo bŭ hāo.” Another sajiao feature that could be observed in the expression was the usage of the word “就” (jiù) (a modal particle), which reflected the slightly forceful attitude of the speaker. When I discussed the sajiao form of complaining, I used the example of a couple quarreling with each other, and both of them used sajiao forms but with different functions. In response to the sajiao complaint of his girlfriend, the young man said, “好 啦 好啦 hǎo la hǎo la” (All right, all right.) and “對呀 對呀 dui ya dui ya” (Yes. Yes.) in order to calm her down. I classified his expression as a form of negotiation because he attempted to resolve a dispute and reach a compromise. The use of the sentence-final particles “la” and “ya” and the repetition of the short phrases are the common sajiao forms that have been identified in many cases. With other non-verbal cues, such as pulling the woman to keep walking with him, the young man negotiated with the woman to avoid a small quarrel turning into a big fight. The woman finally reverted to a normal tone to talk to the man. The sajiao negotiation can be used as a disclaimer. The structure looks like the following,

好啦 (SFP) 好啦 (SFP) 但是[可是] hǎo la (SFP) hǎo la (SFP) dànshì [kěshì] All right (SFP) all right (SFP) but

The sentence-final particle “la” is used, and the phrase “hǎo la” is repeated twice. Just like the disclaimers, the first part of the utterance is the expression of the speaker’s

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attitude or position, and the actual important message falls in the second part followed by “but.” For example, a vendor negotiated with a potential customer about the price of a skirt, saying,

好啦 (SFP) 好啦 (SFP) 算你四百啦 (SFP) 但是不能換喔 (SFP) hǎo la (SFP) hǎo la (SFP) suàn nĭ sìbài la (SFP) dànshì bù nén huàn ou (SFP) All right (SFP) all right (SFP) Give me four hundred dollars and it’s yours (SFP) but you can’t exchange it later (SFP)

I heard this sentence uttered by a street vendor who was talking to a young girl. The street vendor was selling inexpensive fashionable clothes alongside other similar vendors on the most crowded downtown area in Taipei. This type of vending usually attracts young people who love fashion but do not have regular incomes. The clothes imitate the latest styles in magazines or of famous brands with a low cost. Therefore, street-smart shoppers know how to bargain down the price with the vendors as part of the shopping process. On the other hand, the vendors usually set up the price as 399 NT dollars to let potential customers cut the price to 350 or 300. 52 In this utterance, the vendor spoke each segment with a final particle, such as “la” and “ou.” She accepted to lower the price of the skirt from 499 to 400 as the customer bargained, but the condition was that the customer was not allowed to return the skirt or exchange the skirt with other commodities. She was negotiating with the customer in the sajiao form because, on the one hand, she had to please the customer due to her lower position in this power relation, and, on the other hand, she managed to secure her own profit as a vendor.

52

The price 399 NT dollars is estimated to be equal to 13 US dollars (1:30).

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Asking for Help or a Favor To reduce the embarrassment of an adult asking for help, many people choose to use the sajiao form. The common phrase that is heard in asking for help or a favor is the following,

怎麼辦 (Qtg) zěnme bàn (Qtg) How should I do (Qtg)

With nonverbal cues, such as the childish tone and facial expression, the phrase is qualified as a sajiao request. An example can be found when I discuss the sajiao actors in the section of “Men.” In many cultures, adults are expected to be capable, responsible, and reliable; thus, it is rare to see an adult publicly recognize his or her shortcomings or incapability. However, with the playfulness of the sajiao form, an adult is able to play a child’s role temporarily. In this context, this admitted flaw is allowed, and a favor can be granted. The expression would appear this way,

我不會 你來幫我啦:: wŏ bú huì nĭ lái bāng wŏ la:: I can’t do it. Come to help me::

This sentence was heard in a park. A man talked to a woman for help to arrange a gadget in his hands. The woman took a look, grabbed the toy, and worked on it. Although she said, “Can’t you?” expressing her doubt, she still did him the favor. The man then looked at the woman while she was arranging the small toy. Because they stood near each other, shoulder to shoulder, I assumed that they were close friends. This sentence was qualified

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as a sajiao form because the man admitted his incapability and uttered the sentence in a loud and high-pitched voice. Instead of posing the request in a more polite way, “Can you help me?” the man asked for help by a direct order, “Come to help me.” This was a direct statement, but with the assistance of some nonverbal cues, such as the childish tone and slight frowning, the order sounded like begging. He did not order the woman from the perspective of an authoritative position, but took a lower position to elicit the woman’s help. Agreeing The sajiao form of agreeing usually aims to create an amicable atmosphere and make the people involved in the conversation feel comfortable. A simple expression of echoing others’ opinions can be seen in the following,

對呀 (SFP) 對呀(SFP) duì ya (SFP) duì ya (SFP) Yes (SFP) yes (SFP)

The use of sentence-final particle “ya” makes the expression a sajiao form. In comparison, a non-sajiao form of agreeing may look like this, “是的 shìde” (yes), “沒錯 méicuò” (you’re right), or “我同意 wŏ tóngyì” (I agree). The difference is the expressive emotion in the sajiao form. A conversation that I heard at a McDonald’s in Taipei employed this sajiao form using elements of agreement. It was between an insurance agent and her client. Before ending their casual meeting, they set up their next meeting time.

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1

Agent: 看約哪一天 (Qtg) kàn yuē nă yī tiān (Qtg) Which date can we meet (Qtg)

2

Client: 好啊 (SFP) hăo a (SFP) Ok (SFP)

3

Agent: 禮拜二晚上可以嗎 (Qtg) lĭbàièr wănshàng kĕyĭ ma (Qtg) How about Tuesday night (Qtg)

4

Client: 好啊 (SFP) hăo a (SFP) Ok (SFP)

5

Agent: 好 我馬上寫下來 (.)那我們約七點 好不好 (Qtg) hăo wŏ măshàng xiĕ xià lái (Qtg) nà wŏmen yuē qīdiăn hăo bù hăo (Qtg) Ok, I write it down right now (.) Can we meet at 7:00, all right (Qtg)

6

Client: Ok 呀 (SFP) Ok a (SFP) Ok (SFP)

7

Agent: 那我就跟你約一樣這裡碰頭囉 (SFP) nà wŏ jiù gēn nĭ yuē yīyàng zhèli pèngtóu luo (SFP) Then I will meet you here next time (SFP)

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8

Client: 好 下週二見 hăo xià zhōuèr jiàn Ok, see you next Tuesday

9

Agent: 謝謝你耶 不好意思耶 下週見 xièxiè nĭ ye (SFP) bùhăoyìsi ye (SFP) xià zhōu jiàn Thank you (SFP) I am so sorry (SFP) See you next week

As stated, this conversation happened between an insurance agent and her client. However, they used many sentence-final particles (lines 2, 4, 6, 7, and 9) and tag questions (lines 3, 5) to shorten this relationship built on business. The agent suggested that they meet again, and the client agreed in a sajiao tone “ok” (hăo a). Then, the agent posed a question using the sajiao phrase “all right? (hăo bù hăo).” Moreover, after they set up the date, the agent expressed her gratitude and sincerity by saying, “Thank you ye. I am so sorry ye. See you next week.” She used ye consecutively in a short sentence. The great number of sentence-final particles in this short conversation reveals that both of the conversation participants worked hard to create a friendly and congenial talk atmosphere. If I had not followed their conversation earlier, I would have assumed that they were friends. The expression of this sajiao form serves as a mutual agreement between the speaker and the listener. Informing or Suggesting This sajiao form of informing or suggesting is expressed in the use of the sentence-final particle “ou” or “yo.” Adding either particle at the end of a sentence that functions to inform or suggest something makes it a sajiao form. It may appease the impact of imparting rather shocking information.

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Usually, people warn children of potential danger in this form. In a crowded restaurant, a waitress stopped a running child, whose parents sat nearby, by saying,

弟弟 不可以這樣子喔 (SFP) dĭdí bù kĕyĭ jiàngzi ou (SFP) Little Brother, You cannot do this (SFP)

She used the intimate address form “little brother” to refer to the boy despite the fact that he was not her brother. She also pronounced the address form in an unconventional way so as to create a rising tone (see Table 3.1). As mentioned above, her pronunciation of jiangzi instead of zheyangzi was another sajiao feature. Finally, she added the sentencefinal particle “ou” to soothe her warning. Parenting is a sensitive issue. Parents have different attitudes toward disciplining their children’s behavior in public, and the interference from a stranger sometimes is intolerable. Due to the presence of the child’s parents, the waitress used this sajiao form to warn the boy so as to avoid his parents’ possible displeasure. This gentle warning made the boy stop running and return to his seat. His parents gave the boy a stare, and signaled him to be seated. Another example of informing happened at a McDonald’s café. A young male clerk repeated the customer’s order and suggested that the customer change the combination. The female customer looked older than the young clerk. She wore a suit and rushed into the café in the morning. Due to the age difference and the given customerclerk relationship, the young man employed a sajiao tone to give a suggestion.

Customer: 我要單點一個滿福堡 一杯熱紅茶 wŏ yào dāndiăn yíge mănfúbăo yìbēi rè hóngchá I want to order a McMuffin and a cup of hot tea Clerk: 單點一個滿福堡 一杯熱紅茶 (.) 那幫你換成套餐 這樣比較便宜喔 (SFP)

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dāndiăn yíge mănfúbăo yìbēi rè hóngchá (.) nà bān nĭ huànchéng tàocān zhèyàng bĭjiào piányí ou (SFP) A McMuffin and hot tea (.) I switch this into an extra value meal. It’s cheaper this way (SFP) Customer: 這樣啊 (SFP) 好 zhèyàng a (SFP) hăo Well (SFP) ok

In this example, the clerk suggested in a sajiao form that the customer choose a cheaper meal. The sentence-final particle “ou” served to soften the tone and made the suggestion easily acceptable. The customer agreed with him. If the customer had rejected the proposal, the clerk would not have lost his face as well because of the protection of sajiao. I classify the sajiao interactions into nine categories based on their functions in communication. These are greeting, apologizing, complaining, refusing, giving an order, negotiating, asking for help, agreeing, informing and suggesting. I give two or more examples in each category to demonstrate how people do sajiao in everyday settings. In these nine categories of sajiao forms, several verbal features are frequently applied: 1) the use of sentence-final particle la, ba, ou, ya, yo, a, ye, and ma; 2) the replication of monosyllabic words or the repetition of a short phrase, such as “安安 ānān” (hello), “好 啦 好啦 hǎo la hǎo la” (All right, all right); 3) the “I” portrayed as a helpless, childish, incapable, dependent, or powerless subject; 4) the directness in expressing an opinion or giving an order, such as “I want more,” and “I don’t like it”; 5) tag questions; 6) the combination of two words into one (“zhèyàng” into “jiàng”); 7) the transliteration of foreign vocabulary (“baby” as běibí, “sorry” as shuō rŭi, and “honey” as hǎnī); 8) the use of adverb hǎo or the modal particle jiù; and 9) the use of intimate address forms. These features supplement the result of previous research on sajiao in its verbal features, and draw the reader’s attention to more subtle elements in the sajiao form. From

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these examples, we find that the use of sajiao in everyday life does not aim to display one’s feminine charm as portrayed in the dominant media, but it has practical communication functions, such as to express emotions, to avoid conflicts, to persuade others in a less threatening way, and to manage one’s identity. Nonverbal Features As the analysis of verbal features of sajiao shows, this speech act cannot be understood without its nonverbal cues, which function to stress, repeat, supplement, and accentuate the verbal message. Such cues also express emotions and attitudes, and hint the communication process: for example, the turn-taking in a conversation. In this section, I will identify the nonverbal cues of sajiao based on the categories common in the field of nonverbal communication. According to Richmond, McCroskey, and Hickson (2011), nonverbal behavior can be divided into the following categories: physical appearance, gesture and movement, facial behavior, eye behavior, vocal behavior, territory, touch, and environment. Physical appearance Nonverbal elements such as physique, height, weight, hair, skin color, age, gender, odors, and clothing send nonverbal messages in interactions. According to my fieldnotes, there is not a typical type of physical appearance that is considered the sajiao type. The examples that I have already disclosed show a variety of people who practice sajiao in everyday life. In the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan, almost everyone has the potential to perform sajiao as long as the context, the relationship, and the situation allow. The examples already show that children do sajiao to their parents or family seniors, couples do sajiao to each other, a bus driver does sajiao to the passengers, a cashier does sajiao to the client, waitresses do sajiao to the customers, sisters, friends and strangers do sajiao to an audience, and all these cases cannot be distilled to a sole type of what kind of physical appearance makes people sajiao more. However, the dominant discourses of sajiao regulate a certain type of people whose sajiao is considered accepted, and even

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welcomed. This type is elaborated in Chapter Three, as the ideal female image. The media messages from TV programs and newspapers tell us that young, cute, pretty females have the privilege of sajiao. The ideal female image also articulates femininity with the image of innocent children rather than with mature, sexy women. The myth accompanying this privileged sajiao type is that these cute females’ sajiao would be an important weapon to manipulate others. The currently popular female idols created by Taiwan’s entertainment industry reflect native speakers’ imagination of the sajiao actors’ standard physical appearance. However, according to my fieldnotes, the power of the weapon is exaggerated. If whether the sajiaoee succumbs to the request of a sajiaoer is the measurement of a successful sajiao, physical appearance is not the determinant factor that guarantees the rate of success. Thus, we cannot judge who will do sajiao more based solely on people’s physical appearance. Gesture and Movement The nonverbal cues of sajiao should be understood as a set of movements or a series of performances. In order to analyze each nonverbal characteristic of sajiao, I divide them into several categories. But in the actual cases, a sajiao actor usually uses multiple nonverbal cues across categories. For example, when people do sajiao, they not only execute certain gestures but also change their facial expressions. In this section, I focus on people’s body language, including people’s static gestures and their dynamic movements. Two questions will be answered: 1) What is a common gesture used in sajiao, if any? 2) How do people walk, stand, or sit to intensify the sajiao effect? There are several common ways to do a nonverbal sajiao in terms of gesture and movement: 1) Leaning the head slightly while talking to or looking at others (expressing their doubt or questioning); 2) shrugging with two arms up and two palms open (expressing “I don’t know”); 3) stretching arms stiffly (as if they were a doll and they want a hug); 4) using the index finger either pointing at something or putting it on the lips,

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cheeks, or forehead (meanings differ depending on the contexts); 5) fisting both hands exaggeratedly, applauding, saluting, placing arms akimbo or waving the hands; 6) staggering, jumping, stamping, or moving slowly; 7) doing pigeon-toed walking and standing, etc. The list keeps increasing because people continue to create new gestures and movements to play cute. Among them, features 1, 2, 3, and 4 are commonly observed in everyday interactions, while 5, 6, and 7 possess more exaggerated effects, which are not easily seen in daily conversation. How does a sajiao actor do these differently from a non-sajiao actor? The difference lies in whether the gesture or the movement reveals a sense of exaggeration, cartoonism, or clumsiness. A feature of sajiao is the expression of dependence. In other words, these nonverbal cues aim to help the actors increase the sense of dependence, helplessness, and vulnerability. Imitating a child’s behavior or performing the nonverbal cues theatrically will create this effect. For example, in the case of two sisters playfully teasing each other (p. 143), the sister B.G. stood up, pointing with her index finger at the floor, and saying, “I don’t want to leave. This is my home, too.” While uttering the sentence, she performed the hand movement in an exaggerated way to express childish manners and refused her conversational partner’s demand directly. This is a sajiao nonverbal cue. Another apparent sajiao case has been mentioned in Chapter Three. The interaction between an invited female guest and the female mediator shows how the deliberate imitation of a baby’s behavior or the performance of clumsiness make the cute effect and intensify the sajiao power. In that case, the invited guest’s and the mediator’s own sajiao actions included staggering while standing, spinning around, having difficulty in getting up when “accidentally” falling on the ground, arm-stretching stiffly like a doll, head-shaking, etc. All of these can create an even stronger effect if combined with facial behaviors.

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Facial and Eye Behavior In some studies, facial expressions are included in the nonverbal category of kinesics, because facial behavior is viewed as part of body movements. On the other hand, eye behavior is sometimes an independent category in nonverbal communication, in which researchers study eye contact and certain involuntary movements of the eyes. This kind of research aims to study and interpret people’s involuntary messages. For example, people’s eye contact might reveal whether a person is telling a lie or not, and the change of one’s pupils reveals the real emotions. Ordinarily, people cannot control these involuntary movements of their bodies. In discussing various nonverbal forms of sajiao, however, I propose to examine facial behavior separately from other body movements, but to include eye behavior in this examination. This is based on two reasons: first, the facial expression of sajiao is greatly emphasized on TV to form the ideal female image. In many popular TV variety/talk shows, women are invited to compete with each other in the skills of sajiao or playing cute. Their use of voice is a common event in the sajiao competition, and the other popular event is their use of facial expression. Second, since we have understood that in most of the cases sajiao is a voluntary action, people’s eye behavior in this context should be viewed as part of facial performance. One of the salient facial expressions involving sajiao is the eyes. The effect of this sajiao facial expression shares similar features with the Puss in Boots in the movie Shrek 2 when he opens his eyes wide, staring at the enemy to pretend to be an innocent cute cat. When people do sajiao, they usually make their eyes open wide, directly gazing at the other person. The effect of the gaze will be intensified if it is cast from a position of looking up. Another common sajiao facial expression is lip movements. As many researchers note, pouting is a common sajiao feature. Doing it not only makes the lips form a pushedout shape, but also bulges the cheeks out. These create a sense of adorability, according

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to many native speakers. Therefore, it is not surprising that many television shows invite guests and ask them to perform pouting in a cute way. Other variations of the request include puckering, pursing, bulging, grimacing, sticking the tongue out, etc. Sometimes, the mediators ask the invited guests to pretend that they are in a photo studio, in which they must change their facial expressions quickly for the continuous shooting. In this way, when the mediator signals, every guest needs to prepare different facial expressions with matching gestures at a quick pace. Although in everyday life, people will not do it in such a hurry or in a continuous manner, these facial and eye movements are often applied in a sajiao scene. Verbal Behavior Verbal behavior is also called paralanguage, incorporating rate, accent, pitch, laughter, volume, and turn-taking cues. Since this nonverbal category is closely related to verbal communication, many sajiao features of paralanguage have already been mentioned in the previous section, such as the rising tone at the end of a sentence and the elongation of certain words. Besides, two other paralanguage features are worth noticing to identify the sajiao form. First, there is a preferred voice in sajiao. A native term “娃娃 音 wáwa yīng” (baby’s voice) is often used to describe a sajiao actor’s voice. It refers to a high-pitched, sharp, sweet, nasal way of talking. This sound is usually heard in children who have not entered the period of puberty. Although in everyday life, not all sajiao actors possess this kind of voice, people sajiao anyway and attempt to imitate these features by raising their tone, or deliberately emphasizing the nasal sounds. The television talk show, University, once asked two young female college students to utter a sentence in a sajiao manner (April 10 2012). After their performance, other guests evaluated which one sounds more “natural” and less “pretentious.” Almost everyone chose the female whose voice was high-pitched. They commented on her sajiao as “not strange,” “comfortable,” and “cute.” On the other hand, the other female with a lower

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voice was not able to use her voice to create a sense of cuteness, and the listeners were not persuaded by her sajiao. The second feature is the inarticulate style when pronouncing words. This is different from pronouncing words with an accent. The inarticulate style is more related to a baby’s talk at the stage of learning how to speak a word correctly. People do it by emphasizing their aspiration when speaking, changing vowels, uttering the onomatopoeic sounds, etc. For example, a girl says “mīyŏu” instead of the conventional “méiyŏu” in expressing a “No (没有 ).” The former is sometimes heard from a child who cannot pronounce “méiyŏu” correctly. Adults adopt this form to create a cute feeling and to sajiao. Some common onomatopoeic sounds include “hen” (emphasizing the nasal part), “ha,” “aiyao,” “wu.” These can be found in the above examples. Territory and Touch The study of territory is called proxemics, and the study of the touch is haptics. Proxemics was introduced by anthropologist Edward Hall in 1963, in studying the use of space and the distances between people as they interact. Personal territory can be divided into four areas: public space (12-25 feet), social space (4-10 feet), personal space (18 inches-4 feet), and intimate space (18 inches to a touch). This standard is measured based on the American context. The related nonverbal communication to proxemics is haptics. In different cultures or contexts, haptic customs differ. Examining sajiao in these two aspects, we find that the distance between people when a sajiao behavior happens falls in the range from the intimate to the personal space. To a certain degree, sajiao is an imitation of the intimate interaction; therefore, it is often performed with touching others or from a close distance. In the many examples I mentioned, when sajiao happens, the physical distance between the participants becomes shorter, and most of the cases involve physical contact, such as hugging, arm-holding, sitting on the lap, and touching the face. Touching is not a necessary element in practicing sajiao, but the following physical contacts are commonly considered sajiao: 1) The use of the index finger. The

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index finger is an important tool in playing cute, as people can touch their own cheeks or lips; moreover, the finger can be used to touch others’ faces, shoulders, or arms. The meaning of this contact varies based on the context, but usually it informs the recipient that the actor has something to say. 2) The use of one’s fist or fists. People punch others in the chest, the back, or the arms with modified forces. This is an expression of playfulness, and the main purpose is to warn or complain about the other in a cute way. I saw a short girl punch a tall boy in the chest and the back in a department store, while she said, “Why didn’t you come to celebrate the holiday with us the other day?” The boy attempted to dodge and said it hurt, but he did not really escape from the girl. The girl was sajiao-complaining to the boy, and she used her fists to emphasize her points. 3) The use of one’s head. This kind of touch is usually seen in a close relationship. People lean their head on their partner’s shoulder, or turn their head around the shoulder or the chest as the center of a circle. The former is static, while the latter is dynamic, but both are the sajiao form of touch. Environment The environment in which people live and the way people adjust to the environment is another nonverbal message that contains cultural significance in meanings. For example, in the workplace people are not supposed to post insulting or discriminating pictures or slogans on their walls. In the public sphere, people are also expected to behave in a certain way that might be different from their manner in private. The switching of the different behaviors is based on the environment. However, in terms of sajiao, the line between the public and the private seems not to be very clear, especially in Taiwan. The prevalent sajiao atmosphere in Taiwan creates an ambiguous space for people to judge when to sajiao or to whom they can sajiao. I observed many sajiao cases in intimate relationships, but they did not necessarily happen in a private place. In business settings, the various sajiao forms could be identified very often. In business telephone conversation, I heard people use sajiao forms as well. The

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form of sajiao was even performed by political figures. In Chapter One, I introduced a phrase—“genye”— that is used to describe a common strategy that public figures adopt in their image management when they make mistakes. The phrase refers to choking with sobs, a kind of crying to express one’s apology or regret. The image of one’s genye has been criticized, for it is a sajiao behavior. It is considered irresponsible for a public figure to perform as incapable and weak in order to ask the public’s forgiveness of their significant faults. For example, a female legislative committee member performed genye when interviewed by a print media for her mistake made against her political party. She said that she regretted it to death (Apple Daily, December 26 2010). The current President Ma has been caught with eyes moistening or choking with sobs several times in live broadcasts. His public “performance” of genye is often criticized as sajiao. These frequent genye scenes performed by celebrities and political figures lead to public discussions on whether the public figures should behave in a sajiao way. Due to the dominant discourse of sajiao as women’s speech act, male celebrities’ sajiao behavior seemed to be attacked more fiercely by the Taiwanese people. However, what we should pay attention to is not the debate on whether political figures should sajiao or not or whether a male (female) public figure should cry in public. The existence of these two cases has already manifested that in Taiwan, there is a tolerant range for people to do sajiao in the public. These two cases help us identify the boundary of the range; in other words, all these cases help us define where the range of the cultural expectation lies. Cultural premises are organized around shared understandings about personhood and relationships. Individuals understand the premises through various cultural codes, and these codes are grounded in history and enacted in social contexts. In the section of sajiao’s nonverbal features, I summarize several common practices that are identified as sajiao. Some nonverbal cues are easily identified, while others require culturally situated knowledge to recognize. These features are useful in understanding how people in Taiwan practice sajiao and the functions of each practice.

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By examining these sajiao examples, we find that this practice is a reaction to the given situation, not performed by individuals as a persistent element. In other words, these sajiao features appear only when the individuals face the proper audience. Thus, the next question is: When does sajiao happen? When Sajiao Happens In this part, I want to explore two dimensions of sajiao. First, I argue that the sajiao performance in Taiwan complicates the boundary between the public and the private spheres. The visibility of a private speech act in public is a penetration from the private realm into the public realm. Accommodating the private sajiao to the public reveals the change in the society’s imagination and regulation of femininity. Second, I want to draw the reader’s attention to the code-switching moment. When does a sajiao actor switch from a sajiao to a non-sajiao performance in a conversation? What makes the actor temporarily jump out of the state of being cute? What does it mean? How should we interpret this moment? To show the blurred zone between the public and the private in the case of sajiao, I especially focus on people’s sajiao in business settings. The supposedly intimate interactions currently prevail in public occasions in this speech community. The hair salons and the department stores in Taipei are full of sajiao examples. I will offer some examples and introduce the standard sajiao formulas used in business settings to show how the performance tells us about the construction of identities. Contrary to the situation in Taipei, people do not use the sajiao form in business settings in another Mandarin speech community, Shanghai. Sajiao is still confined to the private sphere, and is viewed as weakening one’s professionalism if the actor performs it in public. The comparison will show how differently people in these two places understand about communication and their role in negotiation.

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Public/Private Divide In exploring when sajiao happens, we cannot neglect the difficulty in determining whether sajiao is a public or a private communication form. We have already witnessed cases of intimate couples’ sajiao and children’s sajiao to their parents in various verbal and nonverbal cues. This type of “private” communication, 53 ironically, is performed on public occasions, so that I, as the unnoticed observer, can capture the interactions without much effort. Besides the public display between intimate partners, I find many cases of sajiao in the public arena performed among strangers and acquaintances. It challenges the common assumption that sajiao is a private and personal speech act. Why is it important to emphasize the “publicness” of the speech act sajiao? The public arena is traditionally considered a world of work, politics, community involvement, and rational citizenship. In contrast, the private refers to family, informality, nepotism, and emotions. The public world is a place where a person achieves importance. It embodies business and social elements, and is regarded as a man’s world. Under the traditional binary divide, the private world is the women’s world, where emotions, family, childcare, and no-pay jobs segregate members from political and social participation (Theodosius, 2008). This divide also implies that the public is political. The bordercrossing actions to turn the private into the public have become an important step for various activist movements. For example, Kurtz’s (2007) study on a conflict in St. James Parish, Louisiana, shows that women’s participation in the public sphere through environmental justice activism makes their originally home-based concerns become broader community-based concerns. This sort of border-crossing serves to stir the takenfor-granted public convention. Besides the political intent, the emphasis of sajiao’s publicness serves to challenge the divide between “real” and “unreal” emotions. In studying emotion 53

Here the term “private” refers to the communication with a sole, definite addressee in a close relationship.

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management, Hoschschild (1983) divides emotions into two kinds: the “real” private feelings, and what people express publicly. This division implies that the emotions revealed in a social occasion are not real, but possess certain fakeness, which is also understood as performed. Mills (2002) argues that sales people often perform a certain personality to help their sales. This process of selling one’s personality in the business transaction is what Hochschild calls emotional labor. For her, “emotional labor” is sold for a wage as a commodity and takes place at work, which is different from “emotion work,” as part of our private lives and taking place in the home. However, this model is problematic in defining “real” and “social.” The divide of public and private should not be read as the divide of unreal and real. Children’s socialization often happens at home, instructed by parents. They are taught what good manners and bad manners are through praise, rewards, punishment, and warnings. In other words, people learn how to perform their emotions even in their private sphere. Hochschild’s model highlights the important fact that emotions can be managed, but her view of one’s home as a place away from social life is not convincing. Sajiao practices, for example, trouble this model. If the sajiao performance belongs to the private realm, why are so many people doing it in business settings? If sajiao is “unreal,” practiced as an emotional labor, why do people sajiao in private as the expression of love? Instead of a fixed divide of public and private, Goffman’s (1959) concept of front stage/back stage provides a more sound explanation in understanding the practice of sajiao. A back stage is a place to prepare for front stage performances “where the impression fostered by the performance is knowingly contradicted as a matter of course.” It is here that the capacity of a performance to express something beyond itself may be painstakingly fabricated; it is here that illusions and impressions are openly constructed. Here stage props and items of personal front can be stored in a kind of compact collapsing of whole repertoires of actions and characters. (p. 112)

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However, it is possible for a back stage to become a front stage. As long as the audience of the performance enters the back stage, the back stage turns into a front stage where the performer has to put on the mask. According to Theodosius (2008), what makes Goffman’s front stage/back stage useful lies in the movability of the model: “the distinction is really one of a different self, between what individuals consider belongs to them, representing their ‘real selves,’ and what is socially acceptable and for public consumption” (p. 15). Thus, the code-switching in sajiao practice can be explained. It is a state in which the performer forgets the existence of the audience and brings the back stage self out to the front stage. Both performances should be treated as “real.” I will discuss when sajiao happens by offering examples from my fieldwork. In presenting these cases, I will first describe an example of a typical interaction between the customer and the service provider. Second, I will identify several common formulas used in this workplace to solicit customers and show friendliness. Third, I will record a code-switching moment to show how the performers switch between front stage and back stage. In discussing when people do sajiao, I will confirm the performative feature of this sajiao speech act. The Hair Salon The hair salon is an ambiguous public place. The big window allows the pedestrians to see the interior space, and makes it a site for surveillance, but the interactions between the stylist and the customer are close and intimate. When a customer arrives, an assistant stylist or an apprentice will serve a drink first, and provide a couple of fashion magazines for the customer to read while waiting. Some hair salons at the downtown area install cable TV sets on each table so that the customers can watch TV while their hair is styled. Due to the comparatively cheap labor cost, the average price for cutting hair, including shampoo, is 10-20 U.S. dollars. One special service in Taiwan’s hair salons is shampooing hair with a combo of head and neck massage. It costs around 5 to 10 U.S.

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dollars since the service is mostly done by an assistant or an apprentice. The stylist just takes the job of drying and styling the customer’s hair at the final stage. Many whitecollar females often take their lunch time off to go to the nearby hair salon to shampoo their hair and enjoy a quick respite. This service is an easy-money income, and requires a great number of entry-level laborers. Young females who do not continue studying after graduating from high school are recruited to work at hair salons. In the hair salons I have visited in Taipei, I encountered many sajiao figures. They are usually young females, and they have the latest fashionable hairstyles as copied from Japanese fashion magazines. Their make-up highlights the eyes to make them big. Once, such a cute figure came to shampoo my hair. She was not a stylist yet, but working as an assistant. She was short, had a classic blunt bang matching a bob hairstyle, and wore a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She greeted me politely with a thin, highpitched, and nasal voice. After the head and neck massage, she led me to the back, where there were four shampoo chairs. The assistant signaled me to lie down on one chair, and started to shampoo my hair. She was not talkative, only asking me questions or informing me her next step regarding her service. For example, when she massaged my scalp, she asked me,

力道這樣可以嗎 (Qtg) lìdào jiàng [zhèyàng] kěyĭ ma (Qtg) Is it ok I massage your scalp this way (Qtg)

And when she rinsed my hair, she asked me,

水溫這樣可以嗎 (Qtg) shuěwēn jiàng [zhèyàng] kěyĭ ma (Qtg) Are you comfortable with this water temperature (Qtg)

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After I answered ok, she said, “Thank you.” These questions were conventional, but the stylist assistant used tag questions and said “jiàng” instead of “zhèyàng.” The phrase “kěyĭ ma” was a variation of tag questions, equal to “can I?” Plus, with nonverbal cues in her voice, the stylist assistant was sajiaoing to me. The lying position made me sleepy, so I did not respond to her questions with an active voice. But she seemed to be fine with my lukewarm answers, still posing similar questions in such a sajiao tone. After about twenty minutes, she finished and led me go back to my seat. When she was going to dry my hair, I started chatting with her. Then I realized that she was only seventeen years old, and had been working there for almost two years. When I commented favorably that her voice sounded sweet, she said that this was her “natural voice.” Then, the stylist came, and the assistant took leave to serve the next customer. This assistant was not the only one performing the sajiao tone to the customer. I was impressed that she emphasized that her voice was natural. It seemed to be very important that one’s voice matches the ideal image of a sajiao figure. Later, I encountered other assistants working in other hair salons who claimed the similar statement about their “natural” sajiao voice. Such a sajiao greeting seemed to be developed as the norm for service providers to interact with customers. The following example illustrates how a service provider manages different roles by employing several communication forms. When I patronized another hair salon in Taipei, I observed the female owner play several roles in interacting with different people. She was a quick decision maker and never hesitant to give an order to employees. She spoke in a low voice, loud and fast. However, when she encountered a customer, she would employ the sajiao form. The following conversation was heard when she greeted one of her loyal customers.

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1

2

Hair Salon Stylist: 好久不見 新年快樂 :: (?)

She slightly bows,

hǎo jiŭ bú jiàn xīnnián kuàilè:: (?)

greeting the customer

It’s been a long time Happy New Year:: (?)

with a big smile.

Customer: 新年快樂

The customer gives a

xīnnián kuàilè

small smile.

Happy New Year 3

Stylist: 今天想要做什麼 (Qtg) jīntiān xiǎng yào zuò shémo (Qtg) What can I do for you today (Qtg)

4

5

Customer: 嗯 (MPT) 就修短一點 跟以前一樣

The customer looks at the

uh (MPT) jiù xiūduǎn yīdiǎn gēn yĭqián yíyàng

stylist reflected in the

Uh (MPT) make it shorter, just as usual

mirror.

Stylist: 這樣啊 (SFP) 是有一點長了 (ASP)

The stylist touches the

zhèyàng a (SFP) shì yŏu yīdiǎn cháng le (ASP)

customer’s hair.

I see (SFP) It looks long (ASP) 6

7

Stylist: 好 (?) 我們先去洗頭

The stylist waves her

hǎo (?) wŏmen xiān qù xĭtóu

hand to signal an assistant

Ok (?) we go washing hair first

to come over.

Stylist: 快點 快點

The customer stands up,

kuàidiǎn kuàidiǎn

and the stylist slightly

Hurry up Hurry up

pushes him to leave his seat. Then she laughs.

The stylist interacted with the customer intimately. At the beginning, she greeted him in a formal but friendly attitude (elongating the final word to create a slightly sajiao tone), but when she pushed him and said, “Hurry up! Hurry up!” she joked as if the customer were a friend, instead of a mere customer. Compared with her enthusiastic greetings, the

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customer’s voice was plain and lacked emotions. Nevertheless, the stylist maintained the same tone when serving the customer. However, she would talk differently to her employees. During the interval, she gave an order to a young apprentice, saying,

這裡趕快掃一掃 zhèlĭ gănkuài săo yì săo Clean here quickly

She referred to the hair on the floor. This order was direct, and given in a low voice, which was different from what she said to the customer. I consider this moment a codeswitching moment. Therefore, we observe the stylist’s role management from a front stage (talking to the customer) to a back stage (talking to her subordinate). There are some common expressions for the front stage lines. Here I list five of them.

1) 力道這樣可以嗎 (Qtg) lìdào jiàng [zhèyàng] kěyĭ ma (Qtg) Is it ok I massage your scalp this way (Qtg) 2) 水溫這樣可以嗎 (Qtg) shuěwēn jiàng [zhèyàng] kěyĭ ma (Qtg) Are you comfortable with this water temperature (Qtg) 3) 現在幫你洗第二次喔 (SFP) xiànzài bāng nĭ xĭ dìèrcì ou (SFP) Now I shampoo your hair the second time (SFP) 4) 需要熱敷嗎 (Qtg) xūyào rèfū ma (Qtg) Do you need a hot towel under your neck for a while (Qtg)

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5) 幫你潤絲喔 (SFP) bāng nĭ rùnsī ou (SFP) I will rinse your hair (SFP)

These are common greetings and questions when one patronizes a hair salon in Taipei. The sentence-final particles and the high-pitched voice make these lines a sajiao form. However, we can still find a certain awkward moment in such a seamless performance as a cute figure serving customers. Sometimes, an unexpected condition will disturb the front stage performance. In a hair salon, an assistant stylist revealed the codeswitching when she shampooed a customer’s hair. She asked the customer, “Do you need a hot towel to cover your eyes for a moment?” in a sajiao tone, a sharp, high-pitched voice. Suddenly, she realized the customer had make-up on her eyes, and uttered in surprise in her “normal” voice, which was lower and thicker, “You have make-up! Is it ok?” She was afraid that the customer’s make-up would be ruined when she served her with the hot towel. After the customer confirmed that it was ok, the assistant resumed to the sajiao tone, “Now I will put the hot towel.” This quick transition confirms the performative characteristic of sajiao. This also shows that these service providers in hair salons practice the sajiao performance as part of their jobs. The Department Store In the department store, the conventional communication pattern between service provider and customer is different from that of the hair salon. Sales representatives of different brands deal with more random customers than scheduled ones. In Taipei, I visited several department stores in the business district. The business hours of a department store were between 11:00 a.m. to 10: 00 p.m. During lunch time, white-collar workers would eat lunch there and browse around. From 5:00 p.m. until the store closed, another stream of people crowded into the store. Most of them went to the department store on the way to their next appointments. They looked around while waiting for their

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friends or in between two appointments. How to turn this random browsing into a real transaction is sales representatives’ task. The first step for the sales representative is to draw the random customers’ attention. For example, a young female clerk stood next to a jewelry display counter on the second floor, and kept greeting the passing customers with the same line: “歡迎光臨, 看看喔” (Welcome to take a look ou!). It was after five o’clock on a weekday. More and more people entered the department store and passed the counter. Her voice was soft, thin, and sweet like that of a little girl. Her greetings did not attract many people, though. After four or five repetitions, the clerk finally caught a man’s attention, and he walked toward the counter, asking some questions, and left without buying anything. The sajiao form was usually adopted when there were more customers. When I visited the department store during the off-peak time, some clerks’ greetings displayed lack of energy and tended to be casual. They did not look at me when uttering their greetings. But during the weekend or during the week nights, their greetings were louder, more energetic, and full of passion. They might work harder to perform this sajiao form when there are more potential customers around. Once the customer enters a shop, the clerk will use the sajiao form to suggest and agree with the customer. For example, when I walked into the bag and wallet department, browsing the exhibition counter, a female clerk came to me.

1

Clerk: 要挑皮夾嗎:: (Qtg)

She approaches the

yào tiāo píjiá ma:: (Qtg)

customer, greeting the

Are you looking at a wallet:: (Qtg)

customer with a big smile.

2

Customer: 這種款式的只有這種顏色嗎 (Qtg)

The customer nods, and

zhèzhŏng kuănshì de zhĭyŏu zhèzhŏng yánsè ma (Qtg)

picks up one wallet.

Is this the only color of this style (Qtg)

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3

Clerk: 對啊 (SFP)

The customer is ready to

duì ya (SFP)

leave the counter.

Yes (SFP) 4

Clerk: 如果你要這種尺寸的 可以看看這款的呀 (?)

The customer stops.

(SFP) rúguŏ nĭ yào zhèzhŏng chĭcùn de kĕyĭ kànkan zhèkuăn de ya (?) (SFP) If you want this size, you can take a look at this (?) (SFP) 5

Customer: 喔 (SFP) 我不太喜歡麂皮的

The customer touches the

ou (SFP) wŏ bú tài xĭhuān jīpí de

wallet.

Oh (SFP) I don’t like suede. 6

Clerk: 喔 (SFP) 沒關係呀 (SFP) 你再看看 ou (SFP) méi guānxī ya (SFP) nĭ zài kànkan Oh (SFP) It’s ok (SFP) Take your time

The clerk spoke to me in a high-pitched voice. At the end of each sentence, she either elongated the sound or added sentence-final particles to create a sense of cuteness. When she saw me put the wallet back and appear ready to leave (line 3), she rushed to pick up another wallet to draw my attention (line 4). In this specific sentence, she raised her intonation and put the sentence-final particle “ya,” sajiaoing to ask me to stay longer. After I rejected her proposal, she worked to maintain a friendly atmosphere by saying, “It’s ok.” Her training was professional because she did not react rudely after I showed that I did not want to buy the wallet. Some very skillful sajiao actors interact with customers as if they were born this way. They look energetic and enjoy the commodities they are selling. They create a

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fantasy world and the consumer cannot help being drawn in. For example, I heard the following conversation in a shop selling imported Japanese women’s clothes.

1

Customer: 小姐 可以試穿嗎(Qtg)

The customer holds a

xiǎojiě kěyĭ shìchuān ma (Qtg)

coat.

Miss may I try it on (Qtg) 2

Sales Representative (SR): 可以啊 (SFP) 你可以直接套 (.) 這裡有鏡子 kěyĭ a (SFP) nĭ kěyĭ zhíjiē tiào (.) zhèli yŏu jìngzi Sure (SFP) you can try it on immediately (.) Here is the mirror

3

SR: 哇 :: (?) (ITJ) 好好看喔 (SFP)

After adjusting the coat

wā:: (?) (ITJ) hǎo hǎokàn ou (SFP)

on the woman, the SR

Wow:: (?) (ITJ) very good on you (SFP)

looks at the woman and the mirror.

4

5

Customer: 是嗎 (Qtg)

The customer looks at

shì ma (Qtg)

the mirror and touches

Is it (Qtg)

the coat.

SR: 我們家的外套都很好看 (.) 而且現在都在打折喔 (SFP) wŏmen jiā de wàitào duō hěn hǎokàn(.) érqiě xiànzài duō zài dǎzhé ou (SFP) All of our coats are pretty (.) and we have special discounts now (SFP)

6

Customer: 我覺得有點短//

The customer still looks

wŏ juéde yŏudiǎn duǎn//

at the mirror.

I feel that it is a little bit short//

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7

SR: //你喜歡長一點的嗎(Qtg) 要不要試試這款(Qtg)

The SR picks up another

// nĭ xĭhuān cháng yìdiǎn de ma (Qtg) yào bu yào shìshi

coat from the hanger to

zhèkuǎn(Qtg)

give to the woman.

//Do you prefer a longer coat(Qtg) Do you want to try this one(Qtg) 8

9

SR: 這件你穿也很好看耶(SFP)

After the woman puts it

zhèjiàn nĭ chuān jiě hěn hǎokàn ye (SFP)

on, the SR adjusts the

This one is also good on you (SFP)

coat again.

Customer: °這件好像比較好°

The customer reveals a

°zhèjiàn hǎoxiàng bĭjiào hǎo°

small smile.

°This one seems better° 10 SR: 就跟你說:: 我們家的外套版型都很好看吧 (SFP) jiù gēn nĭ shuō:: wŏmen jiā de wàitào bǎnxíng dōu hěn hǎokàn ba (SFP) I told you:: our coats are pretty, right (SFP) 11 Customer: 這件也打七折嗎 (Qtg) zhèjiàn jiě dǎ qī zhé ma (Qtg) Is this one 30% off (Qtg) 12 SR: 嗯 (.) 這件是新的 (.) 所以只能打九折耶 (SFP) en (.) zhèjiàn shì xīn de (.) suŏyĭ zhĭ néng dǎ jiŭ zhé ye (SFP) Uh (.) this one is new (.) so I can only give you 10% off (SFP) 13 Customer: 什麼 (Qtg) 只有九折 (Qtg) shéme (Qtg) zhĭ yŏu jiŭ zhé (Qtg)

The customer takes it off quickly.

What (Qtg) Only 10 % off (Qtg) 14 SR: 不好意思耶 (SFP) 但是我們家的外套都賣得很好

Take the coat, arrange it,

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喔 (SFP) 可能一下子就沒了(ASP)

and hang it back to the

bù hǎo yìsi ye (SFP) dànshì wŏmen jiā de wàitào duō

hanger.

mài de hěn hǎo ou (SFP) kěnéng yíxiàzi jiù méi le (ASP) I am sorry (SFP) But these coats are best seller (SFP) It’s possible that they are sold out pretty soon (ASP) 15 Customer: 啥 (ITJ) 這樣變好貴喔 (SFP) 我再想想 há (ITJ) jiàng biàn hǎo gùi ou (SFP) wŏ zài xiǎngxiang My (ITJ) it’s expensive (SFP) I will think about it 16 SR: 好阿 (SFP) 沒關係 hǎo a (SFP) méi guānxi No problem (SFP) It’s ok

This conversation contains several parts: First, the customer approached to the clerk, and the clerk answered her question in a sajiao tone (the use of sentence-final particle, “a”). Second, the clerk introduced the coat and praised the customer. She praised the coats on the customer twice with a naïve tone (line 3 and line 8). She used an interjection and several sentence-final particles to express her positive emotions about the coats. These features turned her words into a sajiao tone, as if a little girl talked to a senior. Third, while the customer was convinced of the prettiness of the coat, the price drew her back to reality (line 13). The young clerk made an effort to persuade the woman to buy the coat, saying, “These coats are best seller. It’s possible that they are sold out pretty soon” (line 14). Although this sentence sounded like a threat or warning, her usage of sentence-final particles decreased the tension. Last, the clerk accepted the customer’s decision not to buy the coat without expressing disappointment or frustration. She put the coat back and assured the customer that it was fine. But, about twenty minutes later, I saw the customer return to the shop. In terms of the result, the clerk’s sajiao persuasion turned out to be successful.

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This example does not aim to exaggerate the sajiao power because other factors such as price, the customers’ rational consideration, and the quality of the products also influence the completion of a transaction. However, I would say that the use of sajiao tone can successfully avoid or alleviate embarrassing moments and save each other’s face in business settings like this. The sales person’s overall performance as an innocent girl sincerely appreciating the coats and the customer’s sajiao rejection (line 15) are both useful forms to avoid direct conflict about an unsettled issue. The following greetings are common and serve as conventional patterns in most department stores:

1) 歡迎光臨 看看喔 (SFP) huānyíng guānglín kànkàn ou (SFP) Welcome to take a look (SFP) 2) 歡迎光臨 參考一下喔 (SFP) huānyíng guānglín cānkǎo yíxià ou (SFP) Welcome, come to compare (SFP) 3) 你好 進來看看喔 (SFP) nĭhǎo jìnlái kànkan ou (SFP) Hello, come to take a look (SFP)

The sentence-final particle “ou” is the undeletable part in this greeting. It creates the effect of cuteness as if the speaker begged the customers from a very low and feminine position. These sweet greetings are the front stage performance. I collected several instances of clerks’ code-switching moments in the department stores. For example, I heard a male clerk talk differently to his peers and to the customers. During the busy hours of a Friday night, I was lingering in a department store. One of the entrances of the

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department store was connected to the subway station, so every five minutes or so a crowd of people would enter the department store. After a customer left and while new customers had not yet arrived, the male clerk asked his colleague about an unfolded blouse on the counter,

這件是她剛剛試穿的嗎 (Qtg) 快擺好 zhèjiàn shì tā gānggāng shìchuān de ma (Qtg) kuài băi hăo Is this the blouse she just tried on (Qtg) Put it back quickly

According to this sentence, I assume that the male clerk had a higher position than the other clerks because he gave an order in a direct way, “Put it back quickly.” His voice was plain, without much emotional expression. Then, suddenly, when he glanced at a young woman as she stepped into the shop, he turned to her and greeted her in a highpitched, slightly elongated tone, saying, “歡迎光臨” (Welcome!). Following his example, the other clerks uttered the same phrase to welcome the woman. The male clerk did not add any sentence-final particles in this sentence, but he indeed managed his voice to fit the conventional sajiao greeting. Compared with the way he talked to his colleagues, this greeting expressed his emotion, which was evident in the rising intonation and the rising pitch. With this greeting, the man presented himself from the back stage to the front stage. The code-switching moment may also happen from a back stage to a front stage, as seen in the previous example. In a further occurrence, I heard two clerks complain about the previous customer when I stood at the entrance of the shop looking at the clothes on a mannequin. They talked to each other without using the sweet voice. One clerk uttered,

剛剛那個人 一件都沒買 gānggāng nàge rén yíjiàn duō méi măi

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That person didn’t buy anything And the other clerk consoled her, saying, 算了啦 (SFP) 就是有這種人 suàn le la jiùshì yŏu zhèzhŏng rén That’s fine (SFP) This type of person exists

Although the sentence-final particle “la” was used, both of them talked in a low and plain voice. They criticized the previous customer as if I were not there, although I was not far away from them. It was possible that they did not see me when they started this complaint. This conversation was a back stage conversation because they lowered their voices and criticized someone who was not present. After the short exchange, one of the clerks walked toward me, while I was looking at the clothes on the hanger. She greeted me with a sweet voice, saying,

慢慢看喔 (SFP) 喜歡可以試穿:: mànmàn kàn ou (SFP) xĭhuān kĕyĭ shìchuān:: Take your time (SFP) You can try on whatever you like::

She raised her voice, added sentence-final particle “ou,” and elongated the word at the end of the sentence. She switched to a sajiao form in greeting me. It shows that people do code switching often in business settings. While the sajiao actors often claim that their voices are “natural,” these examples tell us that the claim is also part of image construction, part of sajiao performance. Other Examples in Taipei Besides hair salons and department stores, service providers in other business settings practice a variety of sajiao to their customers. Here I list three examples to show the popularity of this speech act in Taiwan. The first example can be found in the juice

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stalls at Shi Da night market. The second example is a promotion campaign of a new shop in the street of Ximen Ting. 54 The third example involves a banker doing code switching between a sajiao and a plain tone. The juice stalls Da Jiao Tong Juice Booth at Shi Da night market are famous for the young and pretty sales girls. There were three juice stalls at Shi Da night market, and each took up a tiny space, mainly selling one drink, a mixture of lemonade and orange juice. Each stall had a counter where one or two giant transparent covered buckets were at the center, full of the drink. Around the bucket were fresh lemons and oranges. In the front of the counter, different sizes of plastic cups were exhibited with a price. The price was similar as that in other juice shops, but what makes Da Jiao Tong different from other juice shops is the selling strategy. The stalls recruit young and pretty girls to sell the juice. Each stall is taken care of by one or two girls, who are paid five to six dollars per hour. 55 These girls put make-up, wear fashionable clothes, and greet customers with a sweet voice. The common lines are as follows,

1) 你好 nīāo [nĭhăo] Hello 2) 要試喝嗎 (Qtg) yào shì hē ma (Qtg) wanna try (Qtg) 3) 不夠酸可以幫你加酸喔 (SFP) bú gòu suān kěyĭ bāng nĭ jiā suān ou (SFP)

54

Ximen Ting is an area in Taipei where young people go to watch movies, shop, and hang out with each other. 55

This payment is higher than working part-time at a McDonald’s in Taiwan. McDonald’s pays three dollars per hour.

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If the flavor is too light I can make it thicker (SFP)

These girls used a heavy sajiao tone. When they uttered the greeting “nĭhăo” (Hello), they omitted the “h” sound in the phrase “nĭhǎo” and made it sound like “nīāo” as if a kitten’s meowing. Most of them spoke in a high-pitched voice, and acted dexterously to serve customers. Once people stopped at the stall, they gave the customers a small cup for free taste. The third line then elicited the customer to express an opinion about the taste. If the customer decided to make a purchase, the transaction could be done in one minute. At a hot summer night, many people stopped and asked a free drink. Although not all people bought a cup of juice, the girl I observed already sold four cups of juice in ten minutes. On the recruitment webpage of the Da Jiao Tong Company, it lists several requirements for the job candidates, including “kindly service,” “an enthusiastic attitude,” “cheerful and lively,” “clean,” and “teamwork.” None of them emphasize the candidates’ appearance and age. However, these sales girls’ unified beauty and their well-trained sajiao practice tell us how the abstract adjectives about “good service” are embodied through verbal and non-verbal sajiao features. Their presence strengthens the dominant ideal female image in this society and explains why women tend to manage their appearance in a certain way and practice sajiao in the workplace. The next example supports the perception that female bodies are used to sell products and to promote commercial campaigns. In a weekend afternoon, I encountered six or seven young girls standing in a row, wearing maid costumes, and voicing a promotional slogan,

某某餐廳即將開幕 午間特餐只要三百喔 (SFP) mŏumŏu cāntīng jíjiāng kāimù wŭjiān tècān zhĭ yào sānbăi ou (SFP)

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The restaurant will open soon, lunch special only three hundred 56 (SFP)

All of them put on make-up, had a fashionable hairstyle, and wore a black mini dress with a white satin apron, white lace on sleeves, collar, and a matching headband. They smiled at pedestrians and gave them free tissue packs on which the company’s logo, address, and telephone number were printed. The maid costume was an imported cultural product, influenced by the Japanese otaku culture. Since the 1980s, the fans of animation, comic, and video games have developed the costume play (cosplay) to imitate their favorite fictional characters. They dressed in these specially tailored costumes at various video game or comic exhibitions, and made cosplay popular. The maid is a popular character, and has been played not only in those cosplay exhibitions, but also in other business occasions as a gimmick. Such a costume with the sajiao performance attracted much attention. The decision for this restaurant to utilize this strategy of performing the maid role in promoting the new restaurant also tells us about gender expectation in this culture. The last example is a code-switching case. A female bank employee told me how her colleague practiced “two-faced” communication skills in the workplace. In the department of corporate finance, the informant helped the corporation’s clients plan their financial investment and management strategies. She described how her colleague spoke in a sajiao tone to her clients, but used a very straightforward sentence to talk to her subordinate. The bank employee imitated the tone and the voice of her colleague. The sentence my informant told me when the saleswoman talked to a client by telephone is as follows,

喂 (?) 某某某 我正想要打電話給你耶 (SFP)

56

Three hundred NT dollars are equal to ten US dollars.

209 wéi (?) mŏumŏumŏu wŏ zhèng xiăng yào dă diànhuà gĕi nĭ ye (SFP) Hello (?) [client’s name] I was thinking to call you as well (SFP) After hearing the client’s response, the saleswoman continued, 好巧喔 (SFP) 對呀 (SFP) 這幾檔股票都還不錯 可以看看阿 (SFP) hăo qiăo ou (SFP) duì ya (SFP) zhè jĭ dăng gǔpiào dōu hái bú cuò kĕyĭ kànkàn a (SFP) What a coincidence (SFP) That’s right (SFP) these stocks are ok you can consider (SFP)

After imitating how the saleswoman did sajiao to her client, the informant mentioned that this woman treated other colleagues or subordinates differently. The tone was cold and with few final sentence particles, such as,

你這個不是我要的資料 nĭ zhège búshì wŏ yào de zīliào This is not the material I want Or 這個不對 zhège bú duì This is wrong

The informant’s story aimed to criticize her colleague for playing two-face in the workplace. Because the informant experienced the cold treatment from the colleague, she expressed discontent with her colleague’s inconsistent behavior. The conflict occurs because the colleague and the informant have different views of front stage/back stage, so they manage and display their roles differently. However, this example shows that sajiao actors are able to switch codes based on the context and the conversational partners. It

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involves complicated calculations based on one’s understanding of the social norms and cultural expectations about one’s role in relation to other people. A Brief Comparison: Shanghai In many business settings in Taiwan, I witnessed sajiao interactions between customers and clerks, and identified common sajiao features used as conventional greetings in these cases. In my fieldwork in Shanghai, however, I had difficulties in finding a sajiao scene in the same type of places where I was usually able to collect many of them in Taiwan. Most sales persons and service providers I encountered in Shanghai were female, but the greetings, the common language used in sales, and the nonverbal cues did not display the same sajiao features. They do not use the sajiao form; thus, from a Taiwanese’s perspective, I do not consider their service or communication friendly and warm. But for the Shanghai natives, this is the conventional way to interact with each other. The following contains several examples about the interactions that take place between customers and clerks in Shanghai. The first is in a hair salon, where I had a conversation with the receptionist. The second is a general observation of the greetings in Shanghai’s department stores. The third example records a conversation between an old man and the booking clerk. And the last example is about how a waitress in a restaurant apologizes to customers. If women in the workplace reflect a collective imagination of the culture, female laborers in Taipei and in Shanghai represent different images. Taipei’s cute figures are not common in Shanghai’s business settings. In examining these Shanghai examples, I come up with a tough and mature image of Shanghai woman. My first experience of visiting a hair salon was memorable. The stylist and the assistant treated me well, although they did no talk in the sajiao tone. Both were male, and their accents were different from the local accent. However, this pleasant experience turned unpleasant when I was ready to pay. I walked to the reception desk, waiting for the receptionist to greet me. But she did not. She sat and looked at me, as if I should know

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what to do. After a long silence, I asked, “Should I pay here?” She nodded, without facial expression, and still looked at me. In Taiwan, the receptionist usually stands up when a customer comes to the desk, and he or she picks up the customer’s bill and announces the total number. Next, the customer pays, waits for the receipt, and leaves. Thus, the scene in the Shanghai hair salon confused me. Nevertheless, I gave her a bill. She took the bill, and returned the change to me. For a moment, I forgot that I was not in the U.S., and did not need to pay tips. I looked at the change and the receptionist, confused. I waited there while the receptionist was on the phone. After she finished, she looked at me with a frown, saying,

怎麼了 (ASP) zěnme le (ASP) What’s wrong (ASP)

This short sentence was not uttered with a rising tone. The aspect particle “le” indicates the state of a finished action. It does not have the same inviting effect as the sentencefinal particles mentioned in other examples. Her frowning and the tone of this sentence made me shrink back, speaking haltingly.

我(.) 我不確定 (.) 要不要給小費 wŏ (.) wŏ bú quèdìng (.) yào bú yào gěi xiăofèi I (.) I was not sure (.) if I should give tips

Then, the receptionist managed to talk to me slowly, “These apprentices don’t earn much. Their salaries are low. The tips are the extra income for them. If you want, of course you can pay (這些洗頭的薪資都很低, 小費對他們來說, 是一筆額外的收入, 你要給當然 可以).”

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The receptionist’s long statement was also beyond my expectation. She gave the talk based on rationale, not a simple expression of gratitude with emotional appeals. I left some change on the desk, but I was not sure if it was because the receptionist convinced me or because of my Americanized habits. The tone the receptionist used to talk to me reminded me of the way a senior lectures a young person. Even though I was a customer, I acted as if I were in the lower position and had to please her. Thus, I spoke like a timid child, unable to finish a complete sentence smoothly in front of her. On the other hand, the receptionist did not create a friendly atmosphere or shorten the distance between her and me. It was hard to receive a “Thank you” or a smile from her. Her reply, “If you want, of course you can pay,” revealed no personal emotion. The message was clear: whether I pay the tip or not, it is not her business. I visited five department stores in Shanghai’s different business districts. Most of the clerks were female, and they looked young and pretty. They did not use heavy makeup or imitate the Japanese kawaii style in their outfits. The clerks were friendly and polite, but I did not observe many of them use the sajiao form to greet customers. The common greetings in the department store in Shanghai are the following, 1) 進來看看 jìnlái kànkàn Come take a look 2) 要不要試一試 (Qtg) yào bú yào shì yí shì (Qtg) Wanna try it on (Qtg) There is no redundant word or meaningless sentence-final particle in the expression, and at the end of the sentence the tone is not rising. For a Taiwanese who is familiar with the sajiao form of greeting, I find that the verbal message in Shanghai stores is delivered in a less inviting way.

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When customers entered the shop, the clerks usually followed the customers to see if they needed help. In general, clerks in Shanghai’s department stores talked fast and the speed created a sense of tension between customer and clerk. For example, I recorded a conversation between a pushy clerk and a reluctant customer. The clerk aggressively persuaded the customer to try on a blouse.

1

2

Clerk: 要不要試一試 (Qtg)

The clerk approaches the

yào bú yào shì yí shì (Qtg)

customer within a close

Do you want to try it on (Qtg)

distance.

Customer: 不要了 (ASP) 我不是特別喜歡

The customer retreats.

bú yào le (ASP) wŏ búshì tèbié xĭhuān No (ASP) I don’t like it particularly 3

4

Clerk: 我拿下來給你試一試吧 (SFP)

The clerk grabs the

wŏ ná xià lái gĕi nĭ shì yì shì ba (SFP)

hanger, ready to take the

I give you this to try it on (SFP)

clothes off.

Clerk: 不用了(ASP) 真的不喜歡

The customer turns to

bú yòng le (ASP) zhēnde bù xĭhuān

leave.

No (ASP) I really don’t like it

When the clerk talked to the customer, her speed was fast. The clerk first asked the customer if she wanted to try the clothes on. After the customer refused, the clerk posed the same message, but in the form of a direct suggestion. So she became more aggressive when encountering the customer’s refusal. It created pressure to the listener, but the customer firmly refused her proposal the second time as well. The interaction was direct and fast; neither the customer nor the clerk employed the sajiao form. Shanghai people seemed to have no problems with this non-sajiao form performed by clerks in the department store. Accordingly, the customers’ responses were

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direct and fast as well. In Taiwan, if customers are solicited and do not like the item, they might decline either by leaving without saying a word or indirectly expressing their lack of interest, such as “Thank you,” “I am just looking around.” However, in Shanghai, I observed several scenes in which the solicited customers directly uttered the reasons why they were not interested in purchasing the product. The sentence, such as, “醜死了 不好 看 chŏu sĭ le bù hǎokàn” (It’s ugly, not good-looking), can immediately stop the soliciting, but neither the sales person nor the customer considers it a problem. The following example illustrates well the customer’s direct interaction with the clerk. I witnessed a customer talk to the clerk in a very loud voice in a shop as if they were having a quarrel. In fact, they were not. The issue under dispute was that the customer tried on a dress and liked it, but it was not her size. The clerk suggested that she wait for the company to deliver the dress of her size to the shop, but the customer did not want to wait. The clerk’s voice was covered by the customer’s loud voice, so I only heard the customer’s words. She said,

我沒說我不喜歡 wŏ méi shuō wŏ bù xĭhuān I didn’t say that I don’t like it 如果現在有 我就馬上買了(ASP) 問題是 你就沒有 rúguŏ xiànzài yŏu wŏ jiù măshàng măi le (ASP) wèntí shì NĬ JIÙ MÉI YŎU If you had the size, I would buy it right away (ASP) The problem is, YOU DON’T HAVE IT

After expressing this opinion, the customer was ready to leave. She was in her twenties, wearing high-heeled shoes, and a fashionable long jacket. She used the same volume to talk to her child, “Hurry up. Let’s go.” I stealthily observed the clerk’s reaction after the customer left, but she did not show any displeasure on her face.

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One of the sajiao features is to express rejection directly without disclaimers. This kind of directness in the above example is different from that of sajiao. The directness of the verbal message functions to refuse or reject something. However, in the sajiao form, the speaker uses the childish tone to decrease the sense of threatening or offending. The sajiao actors utter the rejection in a lower position as a child, and this saves the listener’s face because as adults, they should tolerate the children’s “mischief.” In other words, the sajiao form creates a buffer zone to alleviate the impact of direct verbal “attacks.” On the other hand, without the protection of the sajiao form, the direct rejection sounds like an attack between two equally-powerful adults, leaving less space to save one’s face. Performing cute and childish is not the conventional way in Shanghai’s business setting. Even though female clerks in Shanghai look feminine, they do not use a sajiao tone to treat customers. They emphasize their toughness and competence, and avoid being belittled. Moreover, the age difference does not influence how they talk to each other. At the booking office, a female booking clerk at her twenties answered an old man’s question, and they had the following conversation,

1

Customer: 要走外灘隧道怎麼賣(Qtg) yào zŏu wàitān sùidào zĕnme mài (Qtg) How can I buy the ticket to The Bund (Qtg)

2

Clerk: 你要加買什麼展覽的門票嗎 (Qtg) nĭ yào jiā măi shéme zhănlăn de ménpiào ma (Qtg) Do you want to add a ticket to any exhibition (Qtg)

3

Customer: 不用了 (ASP) 就走地道 búyòng le (ASP) jiù zŏu dìdào No (ASP) just the ticket for the entrance

4

Clerk: 如果這樣 乾脆不要買了 (ASP) 搭別的交通工 具去吧 (SFP)

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rúguŏ zhèyàng gāncùi búyào măi le (ASP) dā bié de jiāotōng gōngjù qù ba (SFP) In this case you don’t need a ticket (ASP) take other transportation (SFP) 5

Customer: 怎麼說 (Qtg) zĕnme shuō (Qtg) Why (Qtg)

6

Clerk: 今天人多 人擠人 不看展覽 何必去湊這熱鬧 jīntiān rén duō rén jĭ rén bú kàn zhănlăn hébì qù còu zhè rènào Today it is very crowded. If you don’t want to see the exhibition, why bother to go there

7

Customer: 你說還有什麼方法到對岸 (Qtg) nĭ shuō háiyăo shéme fāngfă dào duìàn (Qtg) Do you know other ways to go to The Bund (Qtg)

8

Clerk: 打滴呀 (SFP) 公交車呀 (SFP) dă dī ya (SFP) gōngjiāochē ya (SFP) Taxi (SFP) bus (SFP)

9

Customer: 那是怎麼走 (Qtg) // nà shì zĕnme zŏu (Qtg) // How to (Qtg) //

10 Clerk: //我哪知道 (.) 你問司機去 // wŏ nă zhīdào(.) nĭ wèn sījī qù // How do I know (.) Go ask the driver

The clerk did not soften her tone to show respect when talking to a senior. She sounded experienced in dealing with all kinds of questions from customers. She suggested that the

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customer not buy the ticket with an adult-to-adult or even lofty attitude (lines 4 and 6). The old man was listening to her, and asked many questions (lines 5, 7, and 9). In the end, she refused to assist the customer further by saying, “How do I know? Go ask the driver.” While uttering the sentence, she opened her eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe that the old man asked her such a question. This direct rejection was contrary to her feminine appearance. And the old man left in silence. The lack of sajiao form used in Shanghai reflects the preferred public image in this culture. According to the data I collected in Shanghai, I have the impression that people in Shanghai manage their roles to look professional, eloquent, gender-neutral, mature, and capable when they are in workplaces. Although I identified children and couples doing sajiao, most of the cases were not involved in business. The desired female image in Shanghai may be found in the following example. In a restaurant, a young female waitress apologized for the mistakes the restaurant made due to the lack of waiters on an extremely busy night. The waitress in her early twenties explained why the mistake had happened and showed that she was fully responsible for the mistake. The customers were a family of three. The young waitress came to their table. She said, “Tonight the business was extremely busy, and we were in a great bustle, too. If we have not been serving you well, please be magnanimous enough to forgive our errors.” The male customer replied: “Yes, we ordered vegetable dumplings, but you gave us the meat dumplings.” Waitress: “I am very sorry. Originally we would have more waiters tonight because a group of people would come to help from another branch, but they didn’t come because they were busy, too. We were seriously short-handed. Tonight we made mistakes when serving the reserved guests. We made mistakes when serving the VIP guests of our boss, too. It was just too busy tonight.”

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After a quick pause, she added, “At this moment we stop accepting new customers.” Hearing the explanation, the customers cooled down, saying, “I know it is not your fault. Your boss should predict this kind of situation in advance.” “No, no. It’s all our faults. We didn’t serve you well. I sincerely wish that you give us a second chance. Please come again.” After this, the customers were ready to leave. They stood up from their seats. Seeing this, the waitress followed, walking with the customers, escorting them from their seats to the door. Her right arm stretched to indicate the direction, while she kept saying, “Thank you for your patronage”; “watch your step”; “please come again,” until the customers went out of the door. She is a well-trained employee, with the over-her-age maturity to handle the situation. The customers also praised her eloquence. The customers seemed to be satisfied with her apology and left the restaurant, content. This young waitress’s eloquent style is highly valued in the Mandarin speech community in Shanghai. She looked calm, decorous, and superior to other employees who have not been trained with this dexterous skill. There were several novice waitresses sharing similar ages with this waitress on that night, yet, when they served customers, they often did not know how to respond to a question. They were astonished, speechless, or even reactionless. Seeing a young waitress’ being dumbstruck and transfixed, a customer sighed and waved his hand to let her go. Thus, both the eloquent style and the sajiao style used in business settings require adequate training before the clerks can professionally interact with the customers. However, the different emphases on the communication skills in serving customers reveal that the preferred communication patterns are situated in the respective cultural contexts. The actors acquire the knowledge of verbal and nonverbal elements to respond to the system of meanings in the given culture.

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Summary I described sajiao in these categories as I observed it in Taipei, and then offered a brief comparison to Shanghai in order to get more clarity about the culturally situated nature of the phenomenon by way of cross-cultural comparison. In these two Mandarin speech communities, sajiao is commonly understood, but practiced differently by native speakers. Shanghai and Taipei are similar because both of them are the commercial centers, possessing the cultural capitals for other Chinese and other Taiwanese to imagine the urban fashion. Many people in Shanghai and Taipei are bilingual; besides Mandarin, they can speak Shanghaiese and the Taiwanese dialect, respectively. However, these similarities do not lead to a similar sajiao culture. People in Shanghai do not perform sajiao as part of their business profession. While I observed similar sajiao cases among children and intimate couples in Shanghai (mostly based on their nonverbal features), it was difficult for me to find sajiao scenes in business settings. I observed a rare code-switching moment in a shop in a department store. A yong female clerk spoke sajiaoly to her colleague,

嗚嗚:: 我今天忘了帶打火機了(ASP) wūwū:: wŏ jintiān wàng le dài dăhuŏjī le (ASP) ooooh:: I forgot bring the lighter today (ASP)

This was a sajiao tone because of the first two sounds “wūwū::” in the sentence. The clerk imitated the crying sound and made it longer to gain her colleague’s compassion. But once she saw a customer approach them, she switched to a formal greeting,

歡迎光臨 huānyíng guānglín Welcome

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This example shows the different cultural understandings about the public and the private boundary, and the different cultural norms that influence individuals’ front and back stage performance. Thus, this provides the reason why I focus Taiwan’s sajiao phenomenon as a specific speech community culture. Many of the features cannot be found in other Mandarin speech communities, and they do not share the same symbolic meanings, either. Next, I will explore why people sajiao by summarizing the examples and re-examining sajiao in terms of communication, relationship, and culture. I juxtapose different layers of discourses to show how these cultural forces interplay and shape the native speakers’ uses of this speech act. I will also offer interpretations of sajiao that connect the analysis of Chapters Three and Four with relevant theories of culture, persuasion, and dominance/resistance.

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CHAPTER V WHY DO PEOPLE SAJIAO?

By analyzing who does sajiao, how people sajiao and when sajiao happens, I aim to answer the last question derived from the analytical framework which I initially set up based on my ethnographic observations: Why do people practice sajiao? According to the instances in the three above categories, sajiao is a culturally situated communication. Here, culture is viewed as a persuasive force, drawing the boundary between what people would and would not do. Philipsen (1989) views the invisible cultural force as providing rhetorical means for influencing conduct by way of discourse about behavior. Based on his elaboration of speech codes, patterns of speaking, metacommunicative vocabularies, rituals, stories, and other communicative forms are places where researchers can find the influence of the cultural force in a speech community. Thus, by examining how the speech act sajiao is talked about, how the native term sajiao is used in speaking, and how the act sajiao is performed, I am able to identify an important cultural force in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan and answer why people do sajiao. Simply put, this speech act sajiao is a response to the cultural norms and the cultural premises found in Taiwan. Cultural norms and cultural premises are both elements of cultural codes, which may be used to “frame actions as within the spectrum of reasonable and legitimate behavior in the community” (Fitch, 2003, p. 110). Performances that are consistent with the cultural codes will pass without notice or draw praise. By contrast, actions that do not match the codes will be noticed or criticized. In this section, I will first discuss the cultural force that determines the codes of sajiao in Taiwan, and manifest the benefit of adopting a cultural perspective in the study of sajiao. Next, I will elaborate on the power issue in the speech act sajiao. Is it the tactic of the weak? Or is it a disguise of the hegemonic control of the weak?

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Culture as a Persuasive Force Performing like a child to request something is a familiar speech act for people in the East Asian region, but different speech communities perceive, talk about, perform, and respond to the speech act based on specific cultural systems of meaning, respectively. For example, the Japanese phrase “amae” shares similar meanings with the Mandarin phrase “sajiao,” but Japanese and Mandarin linguistic systems as a cultural force make the similar speech acts contain different verbal features. On the other hand, the phrase “sajiao” is commonly understood by all native Mandarin speakers, but not all other Mandarin speech communities allow the practice of sajiao as frequently and freely as in Taiwan. In other words, it is the cultural codes shared in Taiwan that make the sajiao practice possible. The concept of cultural codes is derived from the perspective of language and communication, which can be used to study how the meanings of sajiao are produced, circulated, and reproduced in the process of communication. However, from a psychiatrist’s perspective, the adult’s imitation of childish behavior is a reflection of one’s mental state. Drawing on Freud’s theory, Doi (1973) states that the prototype of amae is the infant’s desire to be close to its mother, and it also implies an attempt psychologically to deny the fact of separation from the mother. The ongoing internal struggle between dependence and independence deeply influences the development of Japanese ways of thinking about the concepts of personhood, relationships, and community. Doi’s analysis is based on the assumption that the word amae contains the exclusively Japanese psychological state influenced by historical, linguistic, and cultural elements, but the following example may challenge the uniqueness that Doi claims about the Japanese dependence. The popular Taiwanese blogger, Avocado Sushi (pen name), often shares anecdotes of her married life with readers. She is a Taiwanese woman living in Japan with her Japanese husband. She has published two books in Taiwan because of her

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popular online articles. She described in one post how she used to prepare for dinner while her husband, riding a bike on his way home from work, called her by cell phone. Instead of telling her about his day, he just called her name every one or two minutes while he was riding the bike and expected to hear her responses. If she missed replying to him immediately due to the kitchen noise, he would yell, “Why don’t you answer me? I’m so lonely! I’m lonely to death!” (Avocado Sushi). She and her readers agree that her husband is very good at sajiao. Moreover, her husband’s sajiao behavior is one of the popular themes in her blog. He is portrayed as a spoiled child and is nicknamed The Princess. Readers usually comment on his sajiao behavior in a joking tone, showing their sympathy to the wife; at the same time, they view it as evidence that the author and her husband maintain a loving relationship. Comments include, Your husband is so sissy (mrjamie, 10:55, June 24 2009). The Princess was so childish to the extreme, but this was cute (ALEX, 11:03, June 24 2009). Sushi, the bitterness will turn into your nutrition, hehe (MANDY, 11:07, June 24 2009). Hahaha, the Princess is so funny. But I think it super romantic that he called you on the bike XD (ciaoufo, 10:57, June 24 2009). He really loves you! (haluka, 13:27, June 24 2009). In Japanese, the husband’s behavior would be described as “amaeru,” which is the verb form of amae. The Japanese husband conducts a culturally acceptable behavior to his wife. However, in Avocado Sushi’s blog, these anecdotes are recorded as sajiao in Mandarin, and Taiwanese readers have no difficulty understanding the meanings of the behavior described in the texts. For the author and her readers, what make these stories funny are the possible trespasses of the husband’s behavior against the cultural norms in Taiwan. Their messages about the husband’s sajiao behavior indicate that his sajiao

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action might fall in the grey zone, between acceptable and unacceptable, matching certain cultural premises, but not matching others. This example also shows that the uniqueness of a culture lies not in individuals’ mental states, but in their use of language. How the words amae and sajiao are understood in people’s talk determines the cultural norms and premises in the speech communities. Focusing on one of the cultural codes, the use of language, I analyze how the discourse of sajiao determines individuals’ communication in Taiwan. According to Fitch (2003), this cultural force should not be viewed as a monolithic entity, based on three reasons. First, since cultural force is discursive, it is subject to resistance, conflict, and change. Second, individuals might belong to multiple speech communities, and this exposes them to different ways of speaking, which sometimes conflict. Third, with an open, diverse environment, individuals are able to negotiate and change the existing cultural codes. In the example of Avocado Sushi’s web diary, we see some conflicting cultural codes at work. For example, the terms “sissy” (娘) and “childish to the extreme” (極端幼稚) in the given context show a negative view of the husband’s behavior. These imply the cultural premise about gender roles that a man’s standard manner should not be effeminate. However, the behavior is also interpreted as the necessary lubricant in marriage, so terms such as “cute” (可愛), “superbly romantic” (超浪漫), and “love” (愛) repetitively appear in the readers’ comments, which shows that the cultural premise about marriage requires the sajiao elements in this culture. Moreover, the reversed gender role in this marriage becomes another entertaining element. The wife portrays herself as a tough man who takes care of the princess-like husband. The parallel of the relationships between husband/wife and mother/son reveals another cultural premise that determines the acceptable behavior in this culture. In this short analysis, we already observe the conflicting elements in native speakers’ interpretations of the cultural practice so as to understand the potential complexity and dynamics of the cultural force.

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Viewing culture as a persuasive force, we will understand that people’s choice of doing sajiao is not merely an individual’s response to the situation at the level of interpersonal relationship, but an action influenced by the rhetorical force, the messages they receive from other people’s talk, newspapers, television shows, interactions through social media, etc. When a native speaker claims, “I don’t do sajiao,” the claim should not be interpreted literally if we consider the cultural force. Many people, especially females, claim that sajiao is not their “thing”; however, they perform it anyway. Thus, this claim may be understood as a response to the dominant ideal female image that plays sajiao on the screen. The claim functions to distinguish the speaker from those idols, for the latter often perform it with exaggeration. However, from the above analysis of who does sajiao, we know that a sajiao performance is a teamwork based on actors’ relative identities. In other words, when the native speaker enters a relationship, is assigned a role, or performs a duty, he or she may inevitably employ a sajiao character to make things go smoothly. Regardless of the individual’s mental state, or his or her own freewill, sajiao will be performed under the cultural force. The Tactic of the Weak Contrary to previous studies on sajiao, this project argues that the essence of sajiao is to play cute in order to persuade, and the practice accrues power to the actors. I propose to identify a sajiao case by considering who is in a weak position in a given relationship. Next, by observing the verbal and nonverbal features of sajiao, I list many common tactics used in sajiao, most of which are the imitation of a child’s gesture, pronunciation, and movements. These examples also imply that the power relations might be reversed when the weak plays the sajiao tactics. From this perspective, the reason why people play sajiao can be interpreted as an action turning the disadvantage into the advantage. This is a tactic by which the weak gain power. The word “tactics” is adopted from de Certeau (1984), emphasizing the potential power reversal from the dominant to the subordinate. In studying several everyday

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practices, such as walking, talking, and reading, de Certeau argues that one of the shared features of these activities is the dynamic play between regulation and variation. These activities can be viewed as “an art of the weak,” “a guileful ruse,” or a play of deception (p. 37). On the surface, these activities follow norms and social expectations, but all of them contain the inventive power to reshape the existing discipline. For example, walking in the city is what de Certeau terms the tactical raids against disciplinary strategies. The city is metaphorically described as a discourse, a language system. While the law, the architecture, and governmental organization plan the city for its users to “consume,” the city dwellers, who are familiar with shortcuts needing no map, can turn the city’s disciplinary mechanisms into their own freedoms. The free lingering in the street is thus the tactic of the city dwellers. The importance of de Certeau’s concept lies in the productive potential of the users of a given system, whether it is language, urban street map, recipe, or communication codes. According to him, in the binary division of the dominant and the subordinate, the powerful group’s means is strategies, while the powerless’ is tactics. A strategy is planned and deployed in a proper place, with a definite distinction between one’s own place and the others’. Its goal is to accumulate capital, expand territory, and maintain the totality. However, there is no proper place for tactics. Like guerilla attacks, the practice of the tactic depends not on a fixed base, but on time: “It is always on the watch for opportunities that must be seized ‘on the wing’” (de Certeau, 1984, p. xix). It waits for opportunities and maximizes the effectiveness in the given space, even though it is passing and transient. Using this perspective to view sajiao, one will see that sajiao possesses the quality of a tactic. The display of one’s inability in need of others’ help, such as infantilizing oneself, is what de Certeau names “the absence of power” (p. 38). The absence of power disguises the ruses and tricks the weak can practice to turn the rules of the dominant system to their advantage. When people in a lower position refuse,

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negotiate, or give an order to those in a higher position, sajiao has been proven to be an effective means in this culture. We see how a couple negotiates a conflict with a sajiao form, how children sajiao to refuse eating lunch, and how people make others accept an order by sajiao-begging. Using the sajiao form in business, if done skillfully, can increase sales and shorten the distance with customers. However, de Certeau’s model also reminds us of the risk of abusing the tactics. When a tactic becomes routine, perceived as an action of a gendered body, or accommodated to be a conventional communicative formula, the inventive potential of the tactic may be gone. With this reminder, we can return to the issue of gender. The fact that most sajiaoers are women indicates that Taiwanese women in most situations take or are put in the subordinate position in the society. While the subordinate, the “objectified” women, takes advantage of their weak position to manipulate the powerful by the knowledge they learn from their experience, newspapers, television shows, and female celebrities’ screen performance, do they gain an empowerment or deepen the gender oppression? If sajiao does not grant the actors revolutionary change in their social position, and sometimes it even worsens the prejudice, is it still considered a tactic? I mentioned a case of a boy’s sajiao to his parents, for he did not want to go home. I evaluated his sajiao as a failure because his parents did not bother to respond to his yelling, crying, and rolling on the floor. From their disregard of his behavior, I concluded that his parents had learned how to manage the child’s sajiao challenge because the child frequently performed similar behaviors. This example tells us that, when the sajiao tactic becomes a habitual strategy that a person frequently practices, the tactic will no longer be effective or influential. In de Certeau’s concept, a tactic requires the actor to seize a good moment. When sajiao becomes the norm, performed in every moment, to fulfill the dominant imagination of the weak, it loses the challenging and resistant power. Thus, for women who view sajiao as a persuasive weapon to manipulate men, they should be cautious about triggering a backfire and an even worse result.

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Scott (1990) examines power relations by dividing the society into the dominant and the subordinate. He argues that there are public and hidden transcripts for both groups to interact with each other, and the hidden transcript enacts the potential political action. The word “transcript” is used to refer to all kinds of interactions among people, because communication is never free of restraints. Rules, premises, and codes compose the transcript that people consciously or unconsciously follow, obey, transgress and challenge. According to Scott, the public transcript is used in front of the dominant group while the hidden transcript is practiced offstage by the subordinate. The range of the public and the hidden is determined by power relations. The performative function of the public transcript is more important than its real communication; it is a one-way communication: the subordinate pleases the dominant without revealing real feelings. The hidden transcript, on the other hand, is the “offstage” discourse. It consists of those offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript. Hidden transcript and public transcript are produced for different audiences and under different constraints of power. Both the subordinate and the powerful are forced to follow the transcripts. “If subordination requires a credible performance of humility and deference, so domination seems to require a credible performance of haughtiness and mastery” (p. 11). However, these two types of transcripts are not incompatible. “The process of domination generates a hegemonic public conduct and a backstage discourse consisting of what cannot be spoken in the face of power,” and powerless groups conspire to reinforce hegemonic appearances out of self-interest (p. xii). In discussing why people sajiao, I offer two explanations: 1) it is people’s response to the cultural force, and 2) it is the tactic of the weak to gain power. However, both de Certeau and Scott warn us not to be too optimistic about the power of the subordinate. We see the method that individuals in the Mandarin speech community in Taiwan can employ when encountering a difficult situation, but we also witness the

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danger of depending on the tactic as the elixir. The contest between the powerful and the powerless is never an equal game. When the sajiao form has been elaborated on and discussed as a standard communicative form for women, it is no longer a weapon available to the weak, but a means that can be controlled by the dominant. Only when the individuals in the weak position understand the complexity of the different discursive forces in the given culture can they make good use of the tactic of the weak. Sajiao in the Intercultural Setting As I became interested in the speech act known as sajiao, I started noticing everyday interactions that involve or can be defined as sajiao. Although the main site of my fieldwork was in Taiwan, I found many of my friends, acquaintances on the bus, or strangers in a restaurant in the Midwestern college town where I live also practice sajiao, except they do not know the Mandarin term and in their language system there is no such collective phrase to include all the verbal and nonverbal features that I have elaborated in Chapter Four. I was looking for a proper translation in English for the term sajiao. When I explained what sajiao is to my American friends, and asked them how they would describe it in English, they paused, looked perplexed, uttered several words, and finally gave up and admitted that there might not be an exactly matching word for this Mandarin term. However, some of them would eagerly share a sajiao behavior happening in their relationships or would describe a scene of sajiao in the U.S. context and ask me if this was what I meant. The answer was usually “yes.” Then, my American informants looked satisfied, for what I was describing was not a totally foreign experience to them. These anecdotes tell us that sajiao is not a communication experience exclusively found in East Asia, but can be observed in the U.S. as well. The difference is that such a practice does not bear a significant cultural meaning in the U.S. With the special focus on the Mandarin native term, sajiao, this project is important and relevant to the field of communication, especially in gender

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communication, intercultural communication, and language and social interaction. For readers who are not familiar with the Mandarin language, this project draws their attention to a common speech act in Taiwan. Sajiao is not only frequently performed by native speakers, but also talked of among native speakers. However, by reflecting on similar practices of sajiao in their own lives and the lack of a vocabulary to describe the behavior, readers are able to see how language influences their perception of a common speech act in their own culture, and how language plays a role in regulating cultural norms. This project also offers an alternative perspective for viewing the dynamic contemporary politics in the East Asian region. I use a feminine framework to analyze political, economic, and cultural forces that form the identity struggle in Taiwan. This complicated picture situates Taiwan in the margin, and personifies its dwindling international status throughout time, which serves to explain the relationship between sajiao and the society that enacts the speech act. Besides the specific East Asian case study that I introduce to my readers, I aim to answer a more general question; that is, as an individual whose identities are subject to different layers of discourse, how can we be aware of our multiple identities and understand the politics of identity formation? My inquiry of the speech act sajiao includes several aspects. First, I traced back the historical development of the term. In classic Chinese works, this term was used to describe an actor’s outrageous behavior that was not tolerated or approved as the social norm. Most records were found in the low-end literary works, such as classic novels, dramas, and short stories. 57 The actors were mostly outlaws, prostitutes, immoral women, or unwise men. The exact turning point when sajiao became a woman’s conventional persuasive weapon was not clear because it was not a drastic change in usage, but the records in newspapers and the television shows in Taiwan since the 1950s have shown

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These works were popular, but not considered “high class” or “serious.”

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that the term has gradually evolved from a negative term to a positive feature that women should possess. The even more recent development of the term is its wide application in everyday communication in Taiwan. Despite the dominant ideology that sajiao is a women’s tactic, this speech act can be observed to be practiced by different social actors in various contexts and relationships. Thus, this aspect shows the usefulness of the historical inquiry in studying language and society. The meaning of the phrase changes over time, and this is an ongoing process. Culture is not a fixed boundary. What the term means in the period after 1990s reveals the specific situation in Taiwan under different sociocultural forces. Second, by examining the current discourse about sajiao, I raise the question whether sajiao should be studied in the framework of gender and language. Here I depart from previous research on sajiao. I summarize the development of the Western feminist movement, and situate the study of gender and language in this context. I also notice the linguistic turn, which is labeled as poststructuralist feminism in feminist scholarship or as socio-constructionist in the field of gender and language. This linguistic turn makes visible the constructive nature of gender and sexuality, and challenges the taken-forgranted gender categorization. Following this direction, I propose to examine sajiao as a feminine speech act rather than a women’s communicative feature. In this way, the cultural construction of “women” in the Mandarin speech community in contemporary Taiwan becomes clear. Besides observing women’s behavior to understand the meanings of sajiao, I propose that we identify the relative identities in a sajiao relationship so as to understand the power relationship, which is the key of the sajiao practice. Third, this project provides critical ethnographic research. What makes this project significant in the intersection of gender communication and ethnography of communication can be elaborated in two points. First, my sajiao study has benefited from ethnography of communication. This research method requires a relatively open attitude at the beginning of the data-collecting stage. The framework of approaching research

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questions is usually developed as the researcher accumulates data from the natural settings. This can prevent a researcher from seeing a phenomenon in a taken-for-granted fashion. Although I am interested in gender, at the stage of data collection, I focus on communication instead of gender. By inquiring as to how a communication pattern, a ritual, or an everyday performance is understood, the issue of gender spontaneously emerges. Therefore, scholars interested in gender communication do not need to hurry to put gender at the center, but they can first explore the issue or the question as a whole. This project as a critical ethnographic research aims to experiment on ways to combine the two research paradigms: interpretive and critical. That is, it seeks to weave the author’s position, a humanistic inquiry, into a work linked to the social science tradition. A dissertation, or any research writing piece, requires a writing process in which the author explores intellectual knowledge of an academic field, inquires about something unsolved, and has a conversation with other scholars’ ideas and thoughts. However, the writing more or less reflects the author’s personal inquiry, worldview, and the important life questions that haunt him or her. Feminist ethnography provides the theoretical foundation to make the politics of writing visible in the supposedly objective or “scientific” work. Such a view makes ethnography critical. Fourth, I address the issue of power at both the individual level and a metaphorical level. At the individual level, based on my ethnographic notes, I highlight the verbal and nonverbal features of sajiao, and examine the speech act in three aspects: who does sajiao, how people sajiao, and when sajiao happens. Based on the three categories, I explain why people sajiao. This is an extensive overview of the speech act. I list several common sentences and expressions used in sajiao. I also compare the sajiao practice in Taipei and Shanghai. The purpose of this comparison is to show that, in different Mandarin speech communities, speakers’ views of sajiao and the usage of sajiao are influenced by persons, communication, and society. In Taiwan’s business settings, clerks tend to apply the sajiao form in their greetings and negotiations with

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customers. This is not merely a gender display, but a tactical choice to perform their front stage identities. Metaphorically, I emphasize how talks, images, and media representations about sajiao form competing discourses, and how the dominant discourse produces and influences individuals’ negotiation in performing the speech act. Moreover, the discourse of sajiao circulating in the mainstream Taiwanese media have material consequences on everyday artifacts, such as beauty products, Hello Kitty dolls, cartoon models, and video games. The commodities are not simply the result of international trade or global capitalism, but of the competition among different cultural capitals. I attribute the popularity of sajiao in Taiwan partly to the development of popular culture after the 1990s. I depict the popular cultural flows in the East Asian region to cross the boundary of area studies based on nationality. By portraying Taiwan as a weak member in East Asia, I argue that this specific international position fosters the sajiao culture in Taiwan. This is also my political stance in attempting to see what will happen upon moving Taiwan beyond the China studies territory. This perspective has proven productive instead of narrowing the understanding of the regional politics. Sajiao and Identity Performance One thing that I have not explored further is to what extent the cultural discourse is imprinted in people’s identity performance. As more and more people move, travel, and immigrate around the world, which identity should be prioritized in a daily encounter might be a challenge for global villagers. When my advisor commented on my doing sajiao several times while talking to her in her office, I saw how the Taiwanese culture influences my thinking and acting. Everytime she said, “Are you sajiaoing to me?” I realized that I did something to play cute, such as greeting her by waving both of my hands and posing them near my face. This habit follows me to the U.S., and is performed in front of an unexpected audience. As an international student from Taiwan who is studying communication in the U.S., I understand identity negotiation not only through

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theory, but also through interactions with others in everyday life. The case of sajiao makes this identity struggle visible, and provides an analytical framework to examine identity performance. Why do I still perform sajiao in a culture where most people might not interpret the signal right? The different layers of cultural discourses on individuals show that identity construction is an unfinished process. Most of the time, I am learning the “American” way of becoming a teacher, a student, a classmate, a friend, or a participant in various community activities. The features emphasized in the U.S. are individualism, self-help, and independence, which are opposite to the value system in East Asia. My occasional sajiao moments might be read as unconventional in the eyes of the Americans. When “strange” communication patterns are observed and identified, how should people respond to them? On the other hand, how can or should an individual negotiate between her onstage and offstage images and make them consistent? One of the concerns of post-structuralist theories is to locate power and make the process of discursive construction clear. In the case of sajiao, we see how the category of “women” is constructed through media, everyday talk, and social context in Taiwan, and how the dominant ideology influences how people evaluate others, while in the U.S. the category of “women” is not necessarily constructed with the concept of sajiao, but the discourse might be involved in other contested factors such as class and race. The commonly accepted image reflects the dominant cultural perspective in the given society. The exchange and interaction between the dominant culture and minority groups are not a fair game. The groups who are placed in the lower position are the ones who have to learn the new vocabulary and map themselves into the mainstream. But their image in the mainstream society is ambiguous, like the taike culture in Taiwan, and “Asian culture” in the U.S. A detailed analysis of a small part of everyday communication helps to complicate the flat image of a marginal culture. In introducing the context of the

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cultivation of sajiao culture, I deal with the regional identities in Taiwan and bring the KMT language policy, Taiwan’s feminist movement, the Taipei-centered media capital, and the South culture into discussion. When I pose the question of how to be a “Taiwanese” girl, it aims to trouble, to unstabilize the concept of Taiwanese, and to examine how different cultural flows in Taiwan work together to shape Taiwanese identity. However, it is also a question that I ask myself—is it necessary to maintain the label of “Taiwanese” identity in the context of the U.S.? The promotion of this “Taiwanese” identity is in the conversation of other dominant cultural forces in the East Asian area. If there is a more troublesome identity issue that “Asians” have to deal with in the context of the U.S., what would be the prioritized identity in response to the situation? In different cultural contexts, a certain identity will be prioritized over all others. It shows that identity is a performance based on the given situations. Goffman (1959) suggests that individuals are always going through some kind of impression management, daily and in any given situation, in order to communicate an identity that will be deemed acceptable should they desire to maintain the illusion of normalcy. Performativity is a method of constructing reality. Performativity characterizes the practice of recycling behaviors for the purposes of embodying particular kinds of performances in everyday life. This is the way I examine the construction of femininity through the sajiao practice. The Island of Sajiao Femininity is understood differently across cultures. While in the East Asian region, the ideal image to represent femininity contains the cute element, portraying a young, immature, Lolita-style figure, femininity expressed in the Western context emphasizes a womanly, mature, and sexy body. The different imaginations of a figure to execute the sense of femininity lead to the deviant discourse of how to perform a social role, such as how to play the role of a “woman” in the given context. In answering why people do sajiao, I apply de Certeau’s concept, “the tactic of the weak,” viewing it as a

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persuasive speech act with empowerment potential used by the weak. Both immaturity and cuteness are related to baby-like behaviors in contrast to responsibility, confidence, ability, and adulthood, yet putting oneself in the weak position and infantilizing oneself in need of love and attention becomes a persuasive weapon to negotiate with a strong power. Many examples reveal how actors perform like children to greet, apologize to, and reject others. These actions echo the dominant discourse circulating in the media that sajiao is an effective weapon. However, such an interpretation is risky when it is abused as a customary strategy. In current-day Taiwan, the practice of sajiao seems to gradually become a conventional strategy and to lose the potential to challenge the dominant. My emphasis in defining sajiao as a feminine speech act broadens the understanding of this popular communication pattern in Taiwan. It involves not only the imagination of womanhood, but also the imagination of nationhood. An exchange college student from Shanghai, China, writes the following paragraph about Taiwan’s sajiao culture, Taipei’s “dia” 58 seems to be prevalent in every place, at any time, even in the political occasion. For a political figure, it is equally important to “make oneself cuter” as to “make oneself more reliable” …. The tactics of sajiao played by a politician vary, but the purpose is the same: to increase the sense of amiability and to please the people. (Yang, 2011)

In her paragraph, she praises such a culture which is lacking in modern urban China. For Yang, the frequent utterances of “a,” “ou,” “wa,” “ye,” “la” in Taipei People’s conversation provide the evidence of a relaxing, carefree, and cozy society. From a Chinese person’s perspective—one who views Taiwan as a lost part of China—Yang romanticizes the reality she observed in Taiwan as part of the imagination’s construction of the “Treasured Island.” The Taipei culture romanticized by Yang reflects the

58

This word “dia” (嗲) is from the Shanghai dialect, which means sajiao.

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imaginary culture of Taiwan that prevails in the minds of many Chinese. A response given by the PRC premier, Wen Jiabao, during a press conference in Beijing addresses the Taiwan issue, I have long cherished the hope of going to the Treasure Island. I really want to go to the Alishan Mountain, Sun and Moon Lake and more other places, and have contact with the people in Taiwan. Although I am 67 years old, if it is possible, I would like to go to Taiwan. Even if I am too old to walk, I will crawl. (Wen 2009)

With the current open policy agreed by both governments, traveling to Taiwan is not an impossible mission for many Chinese people. Wen’s passionate public speech about the Taiwan issue and the expression of his willingness to crawl to Taiwan for a visit convey China’s essential goal of reunification between Taiwan and China. China’s sentimental calling for Taiwan to “go back home” is ironically accompanied with its military threat; over one thousand missiles are targeting Taiwan in preparing to bring Taiwan into its fold (Jennings & Wills, 2010). China never renounces the use of military force to secure Taiwan. The relaxing, carefree, and cozy society is just one aspect of Taiwan. From a Taiwanese’s view, this sajiao gesture might be an inevitable compromise to the reality. This deliberate display of one’s inability and one’s need of others’ help is the performance of the weak. The cute performance found everywhere in Taiwan is a gesture of survival amid the international wrestling over the Taiwan issue. Nothing serious about international affairs is determined in Taiwan’s hands. What the local politicians can do is accept, negotiate, or sajiao to an already decided policy, and lead the decision so as to provide the maximum benefit to the people of Taiwan. Viewing sajiao with this perspective, we see why and how childish cuteness becomes the standard and popular communication element and the fact further illuminates the hidden relationship between womanhood and nationhood in this given culture.

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Limitations and Further Research From the 1950s to the present, the condition of Taiwan has experienced several drastic changes. Through a feminine framework, I weave this national status change into the web of other sajiao phenomena. The competing discourses of Taiwanese identities are juxtaposed with the contemporary media representations about gender and femininity. In other words, the dominant ideal female image in Taiwan is used to illustrate the complicated interactions among several concepts such as Chinese, Taiwanese, Taipei Chic, Chinese Taiwanese, authentic Taiwanese, and Taike, etc. This articulation connects my research to that of scholars studying East Asia in anthropology, history, literature, political science, and sociology. Sajiao is not merely a simple speech act among Taiwanese as a daily communication practice; it reveals the deep anxiety and uncertainty of identity struggles in Taiwan. From this broad framework, sajiao tells us not only about the personhood, but also the collective struggle in this culture. Based on the fieldwork observation, I come to the conclusion that sajiao is a feminine manipulation to change the adversarial situation to the sajiaoer’s benefit. Without a strong power, convincing reasons, or a valid authority, playing cute or childish is a persuasive tactic used by the weak actor. This project focuses on the dominant discourse presented in the mainstream media and how native speakers living or imagining an urban, middle-class lifestyle interact with the discourses. Although I mention the internal power imbalance and regional differences in Taiwan, groups who do not belong to the range are not covered in this project. There are several routes that I plan to further explore the subject of sajiao. First, the current project does not cover the non-middle-class, non-Mandarin speech communities in Taiwan. For example, the conversations that I recorded during my fieldwork in Taiwan were all spoken in Mandarin. They happened in the urban area of Taipei. How native speakers of other Taiwanese dialects talk about and perform sajiao is not included in this project. How this speech act is applied in rural areas and whether it

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functions the same as in urban settings are also left unanswered. Although my purpose is to identify the influence of the dominant popular culture on the majority middle-class population in Taiwan, the above aspect should be addressed in my future research to see if there are any deviations. Second, the fieldwork in Shanghai revealed a different communicative pattern in business settings, but as a comparison of the sajiao scenes in Taipei, the nuances of the cultural meanings of this pattern have not been explored further. A comparison between the two Mandarin speech communities in terms of gender, the use of language, and culture is a possible direction for my future research. Besides, another cross-cultural comparison can be conducted. Since I view East Asia as an entity under multiple political, economic, and cultural forces, a comparison among native terms of “sajiao,” “amae,” and “aekyo purida” can offer a new perspective of cultural flows in East Asia. What is the collective imagination of the national identity in Taiwan? This heated question is still under debate and worth discussing in the Taiwanese society. However, one thing that is certain is that most people in Taiwan now would not consider themselves citizens of a powerful nation. After 1949, the government in Taiwan, despite its claim as the legitimate representative of China, has never owned the sovereignty for as much as a single day. Instead, given the increasing exchange and interactions with the “motherland” China, people in Taiwan have grown a sense of forming Taiwanese identity or Taiwanese identities. In almost sixty years, Taiwan has developed a mixed culture through many resources from outside and within. The sajiao culture described in this dissertation is one aspect of this fusion process. The neglected youth culture has pushed the island into a new stage. The imitation of Japanese popular culture in Taiwan has also fertilized the local characteristics, such as from otaku to zhainan, from kuso to Martian language, from Japanese cuteness to Taiwanese cuteness. In the margin, powerless, weak, and feminine, the use of the tactic of the weak has the potential to turn disadvantage into advantage. But the power comes from the understanding of one’s positioning in the given

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environment. The performance requires skillful practice and creativity, not replication and imitation.

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252 馬含淚道歉 下月懲官員 [President Ma apologizes with tears and promises to punish the officials in charge]. (2009, August 19). Apple Daily. 馬哽咽謝中國捐 51 億元 [President Ma chokes with sobs to thank China’s 5.1 billion NT dollars]. (2009, September 8). Apple Daily. 馬總統談外交艱辛 一度哽咽 [President Ma once chokes with sobs when mentioning the diplomatic hardship]. (2011, August 16). Apple Daily. 過境一波三折 扁美決裂 [Stopover full of twists and turns, President Chen and Washington break off relations]. (2006, May 5). Apple Daily. Wang, C. 王千. (1953, January 16). 高山流水 [Flowing Water in the High Mountains]. United Daily News. Wu, D. R. 吳淡如. (2011, March 11). 我劈腿也是你害的 [I Blame You for Making Me a Two-Timer]. Apple Daily. Wu, R. Q. 吳若權. (2011, March 25). 這個女人太娘了 [This Woman is too Womanish!]. Apple Daily. ----. (2008, October 13). A happy man’s talk. Apple Daily. Wu, Y. H. (2005, December 11). Yang Cheng-Lin is cuter than the doll. Apple Daily.

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