From the Chinese standpoint, Luo Hongmei appears to be a typical young American woman. She has red-gold hair and very fair skin. But after four years of life here, a tongue fluent in Chinese, a deep respect for the peasant, and a lifestyle centered in the classroom, dorm, and stage, she can no longer be simply labeled as American. "Why must I represent a country? I can only represent myself," she says directly. "I am my experiences, actions and beliefs all rolled up into this bundle of a being." That bundle of a being came to China to pursue a dream.

After being invited by a close friend, Hongmei made her first trip to China in the summer of 1994. She stayed in a village in northern Hubei Province for about one month. She tilled, hoed, cooked, and even washed the oxen with the local farmers. No electricity or running water, yet, regardless of the physical conditions, was impressed by the purity and kindness of the people. She was inspired by their spirit, and by the wealth of the cities, and the calm of the countryside. She saw unlimited possibilities and longed to return one day.

She returned to college in California to finish her degree in psychology and graduated in 1996. Upon completing her studies, she found a job as a counselor at the University of Texas. "I moved to Texas to be near my mom who was in the hospital at the time. My only concerns then were being near her, maintaining a stable job, and paying the rent." Following the same pattern as all of her peers -- attend college, graduate, work and prepare for marriage, Hongmei would never have steered off course had it not been for one question.

"Is there anything you feel you have not done and would like to do, Aly?" her mother asked while lying still on a hospital bed just before surgery took place. "So I had to be honest with her. I told her I felt my future was in China and I just couldn't explain why," she says smiling. "My mom is great. She allowed me to trust my intuition. 'You can be replaced in your job, you are not married, don't have children, are young and healthy, do it.'" And with those simple words of encouragement, Hongmei, on a hunch and with a huge leap of faith, sold her car, some belongings, her flat, and bought a one way plane ticket to China.

Living down south in lush limestone Guizhou with the Miao, Dong and Bouyei is where our Rose went next. She enrolled at Guizhou University and took Chinese there for two years. "Everyone thinks it is so strange I chose to live there. Why? Few foreigners, great food, beautiful land, and allowed intimacy with the locals. I miss them," she says warmly. "I was even asked to be Liu Silu's godmother. He is half Bouyei, half Han. I am honored to be a part of their family." She considers Guizhou her second home and returns to the province every vacation.

So where does she live now? "I must admit, ending up here at the Beijing Dance Academy was a little unexpected. Everyone thinks I'm off the edge," says Hongmei, shrugging her shoulders. Guizhou TV asked Hongmei to represent the province at the 1999 Spring Festival Foreigners Singing Songs of Our Land contest held in Beijing each year. After winning Best Performance and third place for her song, a choreographer attending the event encouraged her to look at the Masters program at the dance academy. "I thought, what do I have to lose?"

Up until this point, Hongmei had never thought of seeking a degree in art. "Psychology, public health, and medicine were all I would consider, but dance? I don't think so," she says rolling her eyes. Yet with another leap and bound, she is now dancing everyday in China's most reputable dance institution and finishing her master's degree in choreography. In the middle of her fourth semester she is anything but a bookworm. Chinese folk dance, modern dance, music and dance theory, choreography, and teaching tap dance occupy her day and night. "I am doing the right thing. It feels good to stop guessing what I should become and how to do it. I've arrived," she says confidently, with an open-arm gesture.

So will she stay? "I am not going back to the States to work. I will find a job here after I graduate, and if I cannot find one, I'll create one! I am not leaving China." Her love of this country is real. And accompanying that love is a passion -- for art and for common understanding. "Look, when I am here, so many Chinese people say 'Americans are so this and so that...' and when I visit home they say 'Chinese need to do this and that.' I think we need to stop criticizing each other. If we allow real dialogue and stop emphasizing our differences, it will become obvious we stand on common ground," she says nodding her head.

And what is the common ground in the dance world? "I am searching for it now. I have been experimenting in how to blend Chinese traditional folk and modern dance forms, but it has to be pleasing to more than just me. I want the general populace of China to be moved by it, so that's where the difficulty lies. In most eyes, I am just a laowai. How could I possibly understand and dance traditional folk dances, much less move the hearts of the common people. "Man man lai ba," she says with a wink.

While she says it will come slowly, she is moving quickly ahead in weaving her west into our east. She has already choreographed tap pieces solely using the rhythms of Tibetan dance. She is currently working with the rhythms of Anhui Hua Gu Deng as well as Northeast Yangko drums. She has performed several modern dance pieces using traditional Chinese symbols such as the fan, Northeast handkerchiefs, and the Chinese national red scarf worn by elementary and middle school students. "Some of my peers feel it is important to keep ballet strictly ballet, folk dance strictly folk dance, modern, strictly modern, etc. But I personally didn't come here to study traditions and imitate them. I want to create something new," she says.

Luo Hongmei considers that Chinese dance emphasizes imitation, perfecting what is already known and established. So the test is not to see you create something original, but to see how well you dance or act out what has already been established as the standard. Though she respects those who do this, she nevertheless wants to create. "I truly admire the struggles that face the Beijing Modern Dance Company, the Guangdong Modern Dance Company, and the students and teachers of the Beijing Dance Academy Choreography Department. They also want to create, but maintain a Chinese identity throughout the process. They, like me, do not want to solely imitate an art form, whether it is modern, ballet, classical Chinese, or minority folk dances. They are not just simply dancers, but creators."

Currently Hongmei sees in China, especially at this year's 5th China Dance Competition held in Wuxi from September 29-October 10th, a strong trend for utilizing certain western modern dance choreographic techniques in better promoting and enhancing traditional Chinese dance themes. "This trend, as it is now becoming mainstream, is fascinating, and worth studying. What is of even more interest is why certain aspects of western modern dance are absorbed and others not. This is directly related to how truly open this society is or is not," says Hongmei. "If we examine traditional thinking patterns, the feeling of wanting to preserve a Chinese identity, and how currently most art is fuel for political machinery, we will discover a great deal."

Right now Hongmei's interests lie in choreographing with her peers. They frequently ask themselves: What is dance? What is art? What is their role in society? "I don't know if I can answer those questions, but they must be asked," she says. "I believe art will, as time progresses, take its true place in society in motivating and inspiring the masses. Art's power remains stifled for the moment, but nothing ever remains the same. Everything changes. We can depend on that at least. I do."

(China Today December, 2001)