Mahjong: more than just a game... Mahjong is an inextricable part of Chinese cultural consciousness along with fireworks, red lanterns, and pandas. While not everyone knows how to play, you cannot find a person who hasn’t heard of it, and would be hard-pressed to find a Chinese household that doesn’t have a boxed set of mahjong tiles stashed away deep in a closet. Over the last century mahjong itself has changed very little and its position in the Chinese culture pantheon is indisputably secure. However, mahjong’s place in the hearts of each succeeding generation of Chinese has been in constant flux. My grandparents grew up watching their elders gather around the mahjong table drinking, laughing, arguing, and gambling long into the night – especially during the Lunar New Year. However, upon reaching adulthood they suddenly found it taboo. Mahjong (along with card play and gambling in general) was banned under the new Communist government in 1949 which viewed it as a useless and morally corrupt capitalist distraction. Many Chinese certainly continued to play in private, but at their own peril – especially during the height of the Cultural Revolution. It wasn’t until the late 80’s that the central government officially once again legalized the open playing of mahjong. Prior to writing this essay, I asked my grandparents how they felt about that and their response was essentially that life was so hard during those years they likely wouldn’t have been able to find time to play even if it was acceptable. Despite the long absence of mahjong from their lives, when suddenly confronted with tremendous free time upon their retirement and driven by childhood memories, they all rediscovered the game and have played nearly constantly to this very day. My grandparents are not the same when they gather round the table and begin shuffling the tiles. Traditional expectations of maturity and decorum melt away as the game goes on. Without fail they are soon laughing, shouting, bickering, and swearing not like wizened elders but crass teenagers! The long-term mahjong ban affected my parents even more, for they did not grow up with the happy memories of raucous family games that my grandparents had. They were familiar with the game though, British-controlled Hong Kong in particular produced no shortage of movies in which mahjong played an important role during the 70’s and 80’s. My mother told me she did not play her very first game of mahjong until soon after marrying my father, when her mother-in-law politely forced her to play and taught her the rules. The driving pace of work in reformed China has kept both of my parents far too busy to enjoy such idle amusements, but they do occasionally play at major family gatherings. To them, mahjong is most meaningful as a way to honor their parents (via participation in a foursome). And that leaves my generation, the first generation of Chinese to grow up with something approaching a Western lifestyle. Though thanks to our parents’ hard work we now enjoy the leisure time traditionally filled by mahjong, we have new toys clamoring for our attention – GameBoys and Playstations, new sports like basketball and tennis, and new destinations like karaoke parlors and cavernous shopping malls. While I marvel at my grandmother’s ability to accurately identify any of the 136 tiles simply by passing her thumb across their faces, I haven’t the faintest clue how to play and to be honest lack the patience to learn. I am not alone in this respect. None of my former classmates play mahjong unless guilted into doing so by honored elders in order to complete a foursome. It wasn’t until I left China to study abroad in America that I was able to step back and gain proper perspective on mahjong’s place in my country’s society. I’ve gradually come to understand more of my grandparents’ love for mahjong. Even though it was banned for much of their lifetimes, they still see it as their number one game. Mahjong is the only game – the only thing at all, really – that gives them the freedom to express their unguarded feelings; it’s the only game that gives them the chance to know more about their children through open talk at the table; and it’s the only game that gives them the opportunity to compare descendants against those of their friends and brag about their grandchildren. I now realize that mahjong is more than just a silly game of tiles and gambling – it performs a key role in our traditional culture as a vehicle for dialogue, a bridge both between people and between generations.