Photo: Guo Yingguang

By Wu Ningning

Forty three years ago, a chromosome took the wrong road.

By the age of five, Jin Xing knew she felt different from other little boys, but it was not until she was 28 that she smashed the gender barrier by changing sex, in a series of operations that almost crippled her, but fulfilled her deepest desires.

Jin, whose name in Chinese means "gold star" or Venus, has a singular profile. But the first Chinese "out" transsexual modern dancer and choreographer prefers to be known as a serious artist, rather than a celebrity. And like her celestial namesake, the earthbound Venus has spun the other way for most of her life.

Boy soldier

Undergoing a sex change operation in 1995 was not a sudden decision for the dancer. "It is only an opportunity to redefine myself," she admits. Born August 13, 1967, Jin was the second child and only son in a military family stationed in northeast China. Ethnically Korean, she grew up surrounded by women – grandmother, mother and sister. Jin's early childhood memories informed her fondness for all things female.

"It felt natural following my mom to the female public bathroom. But following my father to the men's side at the age of five, I was uncomfortable. 'How ugly the man's body is!'" wrote Jin in her autobiography, Even God's Mistake Could Not Block My Dream, published in 2004.

After 6-year-old Jin saw a film about dance, she was amazed by the exceptional grace of the dancer and asked for a ballet outfit. In 1970s China, the PLA had the best dance troupes, and Jin, failing to use pester power alone, finally threatened her family with hunger strike to join up.

Army life was tough for a young, slim boy; at nine, she tried to behave like a man, but uniforms were too big, guns too heavy, and grenades easily slid through small fingers. She did her utmost to suppress feminine emotions, and focused on ballet. At 17, Jin won a national ballet award that she had been working toward for a long time.

A year later, having won a scholarship, Jin went first to New York, and then Europe, where she discovered modern dance and frequented the gay scene, although Jin realized that she was not a gay man. More importantly, she learned to hear the voice of her heart.

Rebirth

In 1995, she returned to China to search for the possibility of sex change. "I am Chinese. My rebirth could not take place anywhere in the world but China," she recalls.

The sex change procedures began on April 5, 1995. It was Qingming, Tomb Sweeping Day, and not an auspicious day to start a serious life-change. After negligence by nursing staff, the final operation resulted in temporary paralysis. Her dance future was in doubt. Fortunately the sex change itself was incredibly successful.

"You finally found yourself," her father, a military intelligence officer, sighed with relief. While her family had misgivings initially, after the operation, they supported her. Her friends were confused about how to refer to the newly female Jin.

"Call me sir, miss, lady or whatever, as long as you are comfortable with it," she told them.

Following her post-operative recovery, Jin started her eponymous dance troupe in 1999, as the first independently owned and non-government funded troupe in China.

A lack of financial support means Jin has to rely entirely on box office earnings. She even sold her house to cover costs. "We've never asked the government for a cent," says Jin. Now the Shanghai-based troupe performs less in China and far more overseas.

She doesn't deny that some people pay attention to her dance because of her unique identity, but she insists, "real modern dance finally awakens the inner passion of the audience."

The Jin Xing dance company recently celebrated their 10th anniversary. Two works were performed – a solo dance by Jin, and a work Circle, was especially commissioned for the occasion. In Under the Skin - Closest and Furthest, first performed in 2006, the dancer uses body language to tell the story of the 2,000-year-old seven-stringed classical instrument guqin.

Correcting life

A male to female Chinese transsexual would not normally be able to marry or have children, but Jin is now a wife and mother of three adopted children, two boys and a girl.

Standing at the primary school gate to witness her kids come and go is the happiest thing for her. "I liked to bring them everywhere I went when they were young. But now it's more important they go to school," says Jin of her three primary age children.

As she climbs the ladder of career and success, balancing work and home life well is not easy. The former self-confessed "party animal" has given up on nightlife. "No more disco nights for me. I prefer to sing lullabies to the kids." The happy chaos of her children more than compensates for the lost parties.

To the modern dance icon, kids rather than her German husband Heinz Gerd is her top priority. "I told Heinz clearly before marriage that I am not a woman who needs a husband," she continues. "So if you come into my life, please make it better, otherwise I don't need it." She is lucky. Heinz entered her life with the same love for her three kids that nourish the family. "He is the best xian neizhu [better half ]," Jin jokes.

Romantic, but somewhat candid. The two met on a first class flight to Paris. Heinz was attracted by the charming choreographer and initiated his courtship three days later. One year later he proposed. They married in China, and in a church ceremony in Germany, walking down the aisle as tradition requires.

Jin is not afraid to talk about her sex change to her children. "If I were a man, I couldn't be your mom," she tells her son with her still unchanged deep voice. Her son looks back at her. "Every day, every minute, I have reasons to give up. But next day, next minute, I quickly find reasons to stay on. It seems the counter-clockwise spin of her life is being corrected.

Jin Xing and her dance troupe will open the Adelaide Festival in Australia on February 26.

wuningning@globaltimes.com. Cn