Punch Our Way Out
20241026 14:23-14:33
It was an art festival in Changhua, where Taiwan's first grassroots feminist organization was founded. For this performance, I collected newspaper clippings from the Japanese colonial era to the present that reflected the challenges of gender roles in Taiwanese society. I printed them out and used them to create a punching bag.
The punching bag was constructed using a circular clothes hanger and over twenty overnight sanitary pads. The outer layer was covered in newspaper clippings, while the inside was filled with dried leaves and colorful plastic toy vending capsules. Each capsule contained a slip of paper with a printed sentence, expressing self-doubt born of gender-based social expectations.
I hung the punching bag from a tree, which happened to have a sign nailed to it reading “Under Surveillance.” Wearing red boxing gloves, I invited people to punch the bag with the only rule: before throwing a punch, choose a headline from the newspaper clippings pasted on the bag and read it aloud. Anything that fell out could be picked up and opened.
I read aloud: “Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling questions the gender of Taiwanese boxer Lin Yu-Ting — When will this madness end?” Then I aimed my first punch at that news clipping.
A boy wearing glasses stepped up, read “Men work outdoors, women stay indoor,” and punched. A girl with a ponytail punched the headline “Death of a gentle boy”.
A man with headphones around his neck read out loud: “Spinster!” and threw a right hook that tore a huge hole in the bag. Capsules, leaves, newspaper shreds, and cotton from the pads spilled out. A foreigner who couldn’t read the headlines also stepped up and punched.
A woman picked up a transparent glove stuffed with crumpled newspaper that had fallen from the bag, and gave the punching bag a gentle swat using the “paper hand.”
Around me, people started picking up the capsules and reading the paper slips inside. One read, “Why can’t I balance work and family like other moms?” I kept punching the bag.
The audience took turns reading other slips aloud: “No matter how hard I try, girls will never beat boys in math and science.” “I’m too emotional. As a man, I should be more rational.” “I’m too tall, like a lamppost. I don’t look like a woman at all.”
The boy with glasses and I kept punching until there was only the circular clothes hanger at the top. Then we began clipping the paper slips to the hanger with clothespins. Others joined in.
More slips were read and clipped to the hanger: “It’s my fault. I dressed too provocatively, so people think they can take advantage of me.” “I’m in my forties. Who would want an old woman like me?” “He cheated on me. Maybe I didn’t do a good job as a girlfriend or a wife.” “I’m too skinny. A man should be muscular.” And so on.
Someone quietly muttered, “Sanitary pads are expensive.” I repeated it out loud. Others echoed, “They really are expensive!”
We kept going until there were no more paper slips visible on the ground. Then everyone gradually stopped.
I said, “I hope these self-criticisms hidden beneath society’s judgments can be spoken aloud, aired out, and carried away by the wind.” I bowed and ended the performance.
Special thanks to Jun-Liang for lending the red gloves, Joyce for helping to make the punching bag, and the curation team of the Baguashan Power Art Festival.
Photos by Li Yi-Qian, Zhong Jia-Ling, Deng Ting-Wen, and Joyce
