Identity as Performance in She Who Became the Sun
Introduction: Identity as a Sustained Performance in She Who Became the Sun
In Shelley Parker-Chan’s She Who Became the Sun, identity is not a fixed, innate essence but a performance that must be continuously enacted through disguise, concealment, and decisive action. The novel’s central characters survive and accumulate power by successfully performing identities that are not their own—Zhu Chongba, the girl who becomes a monk and then an emperor; Ouyang, the eunuch who performs masculinity and loyalty; and Ma Xiuying, who performs the role of a dutiful woman before choosing to become an empress. Yet the performance is never stable: it is constantly threatened by the body’s betrayals, by the gaze of others, and by the performer’s own internal dissonance. This analysis traces the theme across three distinct phases of the plot—Zhu’s initial assumption of her brother’s identity, the body’s challenge to that performance, and the strategic use of disguise for political ends—before examining the complexity of performance as both a means of survival and a source of existential risk. The novel ultimately suggests that identity is a choice made through action, but that choice is haunted by the fate it seeks to escape.
The Initial Performance: Survival Through Disguise
The novel opens with the Zhu family’s second daughter, a girl whose fate is declared to be “nothing” by a fortune-teller, while her brother Chongba is promised greatness. When bandits kill her father and Chongba falls into a catatonic state and dies, the girl makes a radical choice: she buries both, takes Chongba’s clothes and amulet, and assumes his identity. This is not a mere change of name but a full performance of a new self. She travels to Wuhuang Monastery, waits outside for four days despite abuse, and when a monk asks who she is, she declares herself Zhu Chongba. From that moment, she must enact the role of a male novice. The performance requires constant vigilance: she must hide her female skills, learn to read, and avoid any situation that might reveal her body. The bath day incident is a pivotal example. When the novices are required to bathe, Zhu deliberately falls into the bath fully clothed, polluting the water, so that she will be banned from the bathhouse. The punishment—holding a bucket overhead until evening—is a relief because it secures her secret. As the narrative notes, she has “escaped her fate” by performing the role of a boy, but the escape is contingent on the performance never slipping.
The Body as a Threat to Performance
As Zhu grows, her body becomes an ever-present reminder that the performance is a lie. By sixteen, she is “fully grown” but short for a man, and she must bind her small breasts. More critically, she begins menstruating, a monthly event that marks her as female despite her chosen identity. The narrative observes that “her body kept the score of the years according to its own inviolable mechanism—an ever-present reminder of the fact that the person living that life wasn’t who Heaven thought he was.” This internal dissonance is amplified when Zhu encounters Ouyang, the eunuch general who serves the Mongol prince Esen. Ouyang’s body is neither male nor female, and Zhu feels a “peculiar vibration” of recognition—a resonance that she interprets as a reminder that she, too, is not made of the same “pure male substance” as the real Zhu Chongba. The encounter forces her to confront the fragility of her performance: if Ouyang can be seen as neither one thing nor the other, then so can she. The body, then, is not just a passive container but an active threat to the identity she has constructed.
Performance as Strategic Disguise
Zhu’s performance is not limited to her male identity; she also uses disguise as a tactical tool. In the twelfth chapter, she infiltrates the residence of Governor Tolochu by disguising herself as a woman. She joins a procession of servants, wearing women’s clothes and a scarf, and enters the women’s quarters to speak with Lady Rui. The disguise works—nobody looks at her twice—but the experience is deeply unsettling. The narrative describes her feeling of “suffocating wrongness” and a violent internal litany: “This isn’t me.” When Lady Rui slaps her and the scarf falls away, Zhu feels relief: her shaved head and ordination scars, the marks of her monk identity, are “the indelible mark of her true identity.” This moment reveals a crucial tension: Zhu’s performance of a woman is more alien to her than her performance of a man, because the monk identity has become, in a sense, her true self. Yet even that “true self” is itself a performance—a role she has played for years. The strategic use of disguise also extends to her manipulation of Lady Rui, whom she recognizes as pregnant. Zhu uses this knowledge to gain an advantage, demonstrating that performance is not just about survival but about wielding power over others.
Performance as Power: The Rise of Zhu Yuanzhang
The culmination of Zhu’s performance is her transformation into Zhu Yuanzhang, the Radiant King, and eventually the emperor. Throughout the middle of the novel, she performs the role of a loyal commander, a husband to Ma Xiuying, and a servant of the Red Turban cause, all while secretly pursuing her own ambition. When she kills Prime Minister Liu Futong and later the Prince of Radiance, she does so to eliminate rivals and claim the Mandate of Heaven for herself. The final step is her proclamation: she renames the city Yingtian and declares herself Zhu Yuanzhang. This is the ultimate performance—a complete re-invention of identity that is both a continuation of her original disguise and a transcendence of it. Ma, too, performs a new identity: she chooses to become Zhu’s empress, appearing in red and pledging to rise with her. The performance of power is thus collective: it requires others to accept the new identity, and it is sustained through public acts of declaration and ritual.
Complexity and Contradiction: Performance, Fate, and the Cost of Self
The novel complicates the idea that identity is purely performative by introducing the concept of fate. The fortune-teller’s prophecy—that Chongba would achieve greatness while the girl’s fate was nothing—suggests that identity is predetermined. Yet Zhu’s performance seems to override fate: by living as Chongba, she claims his destiny. However, the narrative repeatedly questions whether this is truly possible. When Zhu sees the Prince of Radiance and feels a “pull” toward greatness, she wonders if her fate has changed, but she also senses that the pull is a promise of “nothingness” as much as greatness. The performance may be a way to escape fate, but it also risks becoming a trap: the more she performs, the more she loses touch with any authentic self. The novel also highlights the cost of performance. Zhu’s constant vigilance isolates her; she cannot fully trust anyone, and even her marriage to Ma is built on a secret. Ouyang’s performance of loyalty to Esen is a lifelong deception that ends in murder and self-destruction. The performance of identity is thus not a liberation but a burden, requiring the suppression of the body, the denial of desire, and the acceptance of violence.
Symbolic Connections: Fire, Ghosts, and Red
The theme of identity as performance is reinforced by the novel’s symbols. Fire and flame represent transformation and desire—the burning away of an old self to make way for a new one. The epigraph from the Fire Sermon frames the novel’s concern with suffering and desire, suggesting that identity itself is a kind of burning, a constant consumption of the self. Ghosts serve as reminders of the dead and the past. Zhu sees ghosts throughout the monastery, and they are a constant reminder of the brother whose identity she has stolen. The ghosts are also a metaphor for the performance itself: Zhu is a living ghost, inhabiting a dead name. The color red is associated with Zhu’s rise to power—the Red Turbans, Ma’s wedding dress, and ultimately the red of the Radiant King. Red is the color of blood and violence, but also of transformation and new identity. It is the color of the performance made real.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does Zhu’s initial assumption of Chongba’s identity illustrate the theme of identity as performance?
Zhu’s assumption is a deliberate act of disguise: she takes her brother’s clothes, amulet, and name, and then performs the role of a male novice at Wuhuang Monastery. The performance requires constant vigilance, such as deliberately falling into the bath to avoid undressing, and it is sustained through action—learning to read, hiding her female skills, and declaring herself Zhu Chongba. This shows that identity is not innate but constructed through repeated acts.
2. In what ways does Zhu’s body threaten her performance, and how does she respond?
Zhu’s body betrays her through menstruation and breast growth, which she must bind. She responds by hiding these signs, avoiding situations where they might be revealed, and by internalizing the dissonance between her performed identity and her physical reality. The encounter with Ouyang, a eunuch, makes her aware that her body’s “substance” is not male, threatening the purity of her performance.
3. How does Zhu’s disguise as a woman in Lady Rui’s quarters complicate the idea of performance?
The disguise is strategic—it allows her to infiltrate the governor’s residence—but it also causes her profound discomfort, as she feels “suffocating wrongness” in women’s clothes. This suggests that performance is not simply a tool but can be alienating, and that some performances are more authentic to the performer than others. Her relief when the scarf falls away reveals that her monk identity has become her “true self,” even though that identity is itself a performance.
4. How does the novel address the tension between performance and fate?
The novel suggests that performance can override fate, as Zhu claims Chongba’s destiny by living as him. However, it also questions whether this is truly possible: the fortune-teller’s prophecy haunts Zhu, and she feels a “pull” toward greatness that is also a promise of nothingness. The performance may be a way to escape fate, but it also risks becoming a trap, as the performer loses touch with any authentic self.
5. What role do symbols like fire, ghosts, and red play in reinforcing the theme of identity as performance?
Fire represents transformation and the burning away of the old self, as seen in the epigraph and in Zhu’s rise. Ghosts symbolize the dead brother whose identity Zhu has stolen, and also the idea that Zhu is a living ghost inhabiting a dead name. Red is associated with the Red Turbans, Ma’s wedding dress, and Zhu’s proclamation as Radiant King, representing the performance of power made visible. Together, these symbols underscore the idea that identity is a constructed, performed, and often violent process.