¶ … Woman Maxine Hong Kingston's short story "No Name Woman" approaches the silencing of women and the potential for their expression in younger generations through the story of the narrator's unnamed, possibly fictional aunt. In particular, the story highlights the way in which women can actually work to reinforce the social standards which keep them silenced and relatively powerless, because the narrator's mother uses the story of the nameless aunt in order to scare the narrator into hewing more closely to cultural norms. However, the narrator is critical enough to see through this ideological imposition, and works to undermine not only her mother's method of control through fear but also the underlying societal assumptions which motivates her mother in the first place. By examining the motivations of the narrator's mother in conjunction with the critical perspective of the narrator, one is able to see how breaking the silence of women's voices necessarily stems from confronting those women actively engaged in maintaining that silence.

The narrator identifies her mother's goal in telling the story of her nameless aunt immediately after it concludes when she notes that "the emigrants confused the gods by diverting their curses, misleading them with crooked streets and false names," and thus "must try to confuse their offspring as well, who, I suppose, threaten them in similar ways -- always trying to get things straight, always to name the unspeakable" (Kingston 5). Because "those of us in the first American generations have had to figure out how the invisible world the emigrants built around our childhoods fits in solid America," emigrants are necessarily confronted by the children regarding the social structures and norms transferred from one country to another (Kingston 5). In the act of trying "to understand what things in you are Chinese," the narrator implicitly criticizes any and all preexisting standards of behavior and thought given to her by her parents because there is no way to accurately understand the different elements of her identity (Kingston 5). This presents a conflict between "those carrying traditional female social roles [and] those whose experience and values have been shaped by the new possibilities […] of the late twentieth century" (Machin 110). The former group represents an attempt to maintain preexisting social standards not by arguing for the logical validity of those standards, but rather by precluding any criticism of them. Thus, the purpose of her mother's story is not only to instill a sense of fear regarding sexual relationships outside the strict boundaries dictated by traditional society, but also to preclude any questioning of those boundaries.

This is why the narrator's mother begins and ends the story of the nameless aunt by telling the narrator that she "must not tell anyone," and especially must not "let [her[ father know that" she told her (Kingston 1, 5). While this entreaty is obviously born out of a sense of propriety and a dedication to the social standards which condemned the aunt in the first place, its most important function is to preclude questioning or investigation, because the narrator is supposed to take it as truth without any opportunity for finding corroborating evidence. This is why she is especially forbidden from discussing it with her father, because he would be the one best suited to reveal whether or not he actually had a sister.

In a sense, the narrator's mother is "succeeding" where the nameless aunt failed, because the narrator notes that her aunt's parents "expected her alone to keep the traditional ways, which her brothers, now among the barbarians, could fumble without detection" (Kingston 8). The lie which serves to justify this requirement for women to maintain traditional standards of behavior is based on a claim towards "assign[ing] to women an ethical high ground" by pretending that women represent something more essentially "pure" than men, and thus must work extra hard at remaining pure, whether sexually or culturally (Smith & Watson 30).

This assumption that the aunt would be the one solely responsible for maintaining the traditional ways is merely a specific example of the phenomenon present in nearly all patriarchal societies, in which men are generally not expected to conform to the same set of rules applied to women, especially in regards to sexual promiscuity and fidelity. The narrator recognizes this double standard when she wonders about the man who impregnated her aunt, asking "whether he masked himself when he joined the raid on her family" (Kingston 7). Although the claim was that "the heavy, deep-rooter women...

This demonstrates one of the crucial observations of the story, because it reveals the way in women often serve to silence their own voices far more effectively than men by internalizing patriarchal assumptions and delivering them to the next generation in the form of "motherly advice." This is not to lay the blame for the historical and ongoing oppression of women on women in general, but rather to acknowledge that this oppression would be largely impossible without the acquiescence of female authority figures. Specifically, the story seems to suggest that the role women play in silencing women's voices is not through the prescription of laws and explicit standards of behavior (a duty often reserved for men in patriarchal societies, something revealed simply by looking at the disproportionate representation of men in many contemporary legislatures), but rather through a secondary form of control that serves to make the questioning of these laws and standards taboo. This may be seen more clearly when one considers the punishment meted out on the narrator's aunt.
While the raid on the house and the destruction of the family's property and livestock may be seen as the patriarchal, explicit punishment meted out for the breaking of strict social boundaries, "Maxine's mother makes it clear that the aunt's greatest punishment is not the raid but her 'family's deliberately forgetting her'" (Petit 482, Kingston 16). The physical punishment, though "economically and brutally [reducing] the aunt to a set of perpetually unfulfilled desires" by punishing her sexual desire with a subsequent desire for the destroyed food and livestock, pales in comparison to the almost eternal punishment in the form of erasing the aunt from memory and thought, a punishment only possible if the other women agree to reduce her to a cautionary tale (Outka 453). Of course, this eternal punishment is metaphorically discussed in the same terms as the physical punishment, because "always hungry, always needing, she would have to beg for food from other ghosts," but this only serves to reinforce the fact that the intentional disavowal of the aunt is the true punishment (Kingston 16). This is why the narrator notes that "if my aunt had betrayed the family at a time of large grain yields and peace, when many boys were born, and wings were being built on many houses, perhaps she might have escaped such severe punishment" from the men, she nonetheless would have been ostracized and eternally punished, because "instead of letting them start separate new lives like the Japanese, who could become samurais and geishas, the Chinese family, faces averted by eyes glowering sideways, hung on to the offenders and fed them leftovers" (Kingston 13, 8).

The narrator very clearly realizes the role women play in silencing other women's voices, because she feels guilt at having participated in the punishment of her aunt (and even if the aunt never existed except for in her mother's story, it nonetheless contributes to the larger oppression of women). The narrator initially believes that "[her] family, having settled among immigrants who had also been their neighbors in the ancestral land, needed to clean their name, and a wrong word would incite the kinspeople even here," but she gradually realizes that "there is more to this silence: they want me to participate in her punishment. And I have" (Kingston 15-16). The narrator seeks to rectify her complicity in her aunt's punishment so that "after fifty years of neglect, I alone devote pages of paper to her, though not origamied into houses and clothes" (Kingston 17). Recognizing that the silencing of women's voices and desires may only successfully progress with the complicity of other women, the narrator seeks to finally give her aunt a means of expression through the telling of her story, a story that according to the narrator's mother must never be told.

The critical work done by the narrator of the story cannot be understated, because her decision to tell her aunt's story represents a twofold challenge to the…