A Rebel Without Cause Reflects-- Chang Chih-chien's Story

Ten years ago it was pretty hard work being one of the "new youth," defying society's values and subverting the accepted aesthetic. If you wanted to rebel against society, people's intolerance and the labels "rebel" and "freak" were heavy crosses that you had to bear.

I've never liked studying, but it happens that I was born into the home of a strict, conservative military officer, on a military dependants' village near Youth Park in Taipei. The neighborhood kids all followed the "normal" academic track through high school, university, and on to graduate studies abroad. My brother was the same. He wasn't satisfied with his university entrance exam results the first time round so he retook the exams the following year, only to fail and get sent off for three years' military service. After that he finally made the grade and got into Tunghai University. He's nearly thirty now and still a student. All the other kids were like that too. I was the only misfit.

My dad, a retired lieutenant-general, is a stem, uncompromising man who has always believed that the only way to a good future is through hard study. He kept a very close eye on our schoolwork, but I genuinely loathed studying. I was once punished for that at elementary school, when the teacher beat me until my fingers bled. At junior high school we were streamed according to our IQ scores, with the result that I ended up in the cretin class, which really upset my dad. He was so determined to make me studious that when I came home from school every day he locked me in my room to do homework.

In the past Chang Chih-chien was rebellious and could not be reined in. But these days he's settled down.（photo courtesy of Chang Chih-chien）

Running Away

The only subjects that I actually liked were English and history, but I didn't know a thing about any of the rest. The more Dad tried to force me the more I hated studying. One day during the second year of junior high, locked upstairs in my room going insane with boredom, I decided to run away for the first time. I took several hundred Yuan Dad had given me to pay for extra schooling, climbed out the window, shinned down the drainpipe and rode off on my bicycle.

Where was there to go? At that time there was a cinema in Taipei called the Ching Kang that showed movies on second release, where a lot of runaways and truants used to hang out. I paid my NT$30 to get in, and watched movies all day. I was only kicked out when they emptied the place after the last show.With nowhere else to go, I spent the night in a carpark near Hsimenting, where I was picked up by the cops and taken back home. Dad was absolutely livid. Just after I started washing, he burst into the bathroom and whacked me with a piece of rubber hose. It really hurt! I felt like crap inside and I cursed him silently. He had a stubborn temper, but I could be even more stubborn, and I didn't cry.

Dad believed that I had picked up bad ways from my friends, so he used his connections to get me transferred to a better school. He was also worried that I would run away again, so I had to swap with my brother for a room without windows. Every time, hearing that lock turn and him saying something like "I'm doing this for you, you know," I felt like screaming out "leave me alone!" I'm not bad, and I've never wanted to be in gangs or make trouble for people. I just don't like studying. I did try telling him once that I wanted to leave school, get a job and earn a bit of money, but I just got yelled at for my efforts, and then told, as usual: "I'm doing this for you."

I didn't like deceiving my parents, so the best policy at home was to keep quiet most of the time. While dad was standing outside the door telling me off, I would be inside listening to music on my headphones, replying every few seconds: "Yes, it's my fault."

It is in my nature to dislike studying and being disciplined, so I ran away again to have some freedom. I knew how to work for a living but I was still a bit green, and let them confiscate my ID card the first time I started work at the T-shirt printing factory. The boss was strange, he may have been a pedophiliac. After two days I ran off, and it was my dad who went back there and got my ID back for me. When I got home my mother burst into tears and I felt really ashamed. But it couldn't be helped, I simply couldn't stand Dad's way of imposing discipline. I ran away from home three times that school year, finally getting a job operating a Chinese typewriter in the Chunghwa Bazaar until Dad tracked me down again and brought me home. Eventually, after skipping too many classes, I was ordered to find another school. Dad finally gave up on me, and stopped locking me up.

Having fun and making mischief

For the third year of junior high I was sent to a lousy school. The neighbors were always competing with one another through their children's achievements, so in Dad's eyes I was a real letdown for the family. But he still bought me a 50cc scooter. I got a girlfriend and used to go zooming about with my pals. Dad didn't care what time I got home in the night. I had a really great time that year.

After junior high I naturally failed to get in anywhere. Just so that I could have another year of fun I told Dad that I wanted to retake the exams. He thought I was really going to knuckle down to it this time, so he took me to Nanyang Street to enrol at the best cram school, with the highest college entrance rate and the most "spartan" discipline. But I had other ideas, and secretly re-registered at the crummiest school in the street, where kids went for a good time. We had so little to do in the evenings that we often wandered down the road to New Park just to see what the gays were up to.

Somehow or other I made it into vocational school. Because of my commitment to a life of fun I kept retaking exams and changing schools, attending five different schools during the next three or four years.

At junior high school I was simply rebellious, but it was at vocational school that I really began learning how to have a good time. Around then the fashionable look was tight pedal-pushers and big sweaters with a shirttail hanging out. On our feet we wore brightly-colored All Star hi-tops. Long hair was banned at school, with crewcuts required for boys. We used to cut off lengths of the girls' hair and braid them into plaits to wear as accessories. We liked baggy tops and different-colored shoes,red on one foot and white on the other. We used instant glue to stick the plaits on our heads then sprayed our hair purple and red. We had probably the weirdest, most punky look in the whole city. We often went to the illegal dancehalls on Linsen North Road. Whenever the cops picked us up we gave false names.

I was making just enough money from doing intermittent jobs. My family didn't know what I got up to away from home because the separate parts of my outfits looked quite normal, and I always left the house before getting all togged up. When I was seventeen I was so crazy about heavy metal and long hair that I had an obituary notice printed up announcing the death of my grandma (who had actually passed away long before), so that school would allow me the 100-day mourning period in which to grow my hair. Unfortunately, my teacher telephoned the house to express her condolences, and Dad answered the call. He absolutely blew his top.

No one likes mediocrity

I became quite fanatical about heavy metal music and its fashion and stars. I had virtually dropped out of school by the time I was eighteen, and let my hair grow long. My dad hated androgynous appearances more than anything, and he finally roared:"Cut your hair or get out, and spare me the disgust of seeing you!" With that, I packed up and left home.

I started working around dancehalls, doing some lighting and deejaying, and also booking venues. I made a lot of friends who were like me. I looked like a heavy metal maniac at the time, covered in studs, rings and earrings. That was when the Japanese magazine came and did a feature. Society was more conservative in those days. I remember one time when we were getting our ears done at the roadside in Kungkuan, an old lady came by and gasped:"Wah! Lads with pierced ears!" There was also the young mother who kept pointing at us, explaining to her child: "Those people are homosexuals." How come we chose to dress that way? First it was to look good, and second it was to be different, to feel we were real bad-ass dudes. I don't think anyone wants to be mediocre. Well in my case, I may never have been much of a student, but at least I can claim to be an expert on having a great time.

After a couple of years working I saved up some money, teamed up with four or five friends and opened this punk accessories store. We didn't have any experience and just attached studs to wholesale clothes however we felt looked good. The results were so weird that we sold hardly anything. My friends returned their shares and all the money got paid out. I had to go home and borrow money from my dad. He agreed to lend me NT$300,000, on condition that I cut short my hair.

Not long before that I had developed a terrible pain in my chest, and without money for treatment I was sent home. At that time Ma too tried to get me to cut my hair in return for money to go back to hospital, but I refused. This time it was different, and I agreed. Does that say that the business means more to me than life? Actually, no. I think that being successful in business was a way to make a breakthrough in my relations with my family, erasing the years of frustration over my school record and proving my ability to Dad. That was the thing that meant more to me than life. No one likes being given up on and considered a mere mediocrity.

After that I changed the way I ran the store and began making a profit. At New Year, I took Dad a NT$10,000 gift envelope. He was really moved and said, "Keep up the good work." That was a big encouragement to me.

Mutual forgiveness

After I was about 23 or 24, my friends began to have children themselves. They made very conscientious parents, putting family before everything, and stopped hanging out with the rest of us in the evenings. Getting older I began to realize that Mother and Father belong to another generation, with conservative values and old-fashioned ideas. When they used to discipline me it was basically intended for my own good, so now, no matter what they have to say, I do my utmost to respect rather than oppose them. For their part, they have come to recognize that my character will not change, and this has compelled them to soften their views.

Six months ago I moved back home with them. Where I used to think: "Friends first, money second, parents third," I now think: "Parents first, business second, friends third." That's not to say that there are no generational discrepancies remaining between us. I keep two different sets of clothing, for example: sharp fashion for the outside world, regular dress around the house. Sometimes, behind my back, dad will still throw out a precious pair of ragged jeans that I have been carefully nurturing. I also have to make frequent calls to the States at night to make orders or contact friends, and this tends to disrupt their way of life.

We are part of Taiwan's new generation, more hippy in our outlook, and we believe in letting other people be. If I ever have a child I won't try to force a particular mold on him. Today's kids--the new "new youth" -- are a lot luckier than we were, because society and parents are far more tolerant of them. People are so familiar with things that used to seem strange that there is no need any more to rebel against everything. One problem, though. I often hear the little rascals brag: "I'm gonna be a real bad-ass dude," but when you ask what is actually going to make them stand out they haven't got a clue. Animal designs and tie-die T-shirts are popular with them at the moment, but they aren't interested in the environmentalism or psychedelia that lies behind the fashion. In fact they are just about as shallow and flaky as we were back then. I guess that's true for all youth everywhere.

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Chang Chih-chien looks as cool as the heavy metal fashions he sells. (photo by Hsued Chi-kuang)

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In the past Chang Chih-chien was rebellious and could not be reined in. But these days he's settled down.(photo courtesy of Chang Chih-chien)