Holding a photo of themselves taken in 1960, Daosheng Jin (R) and Zulan Wang were finally able to have their wedding photo taken after being married for 55 years. Chinese seniors rehearse and have 'wedding photos' taken during a meeting at 519 Church St. on Feb 4 2015. Many couples from China were wed during the Cultural Revolution and missed out on having proper wedding photos taken. A backdrop was set up where they could, even though it's 40-50 years later have photos taken after getting dressed up in formal wear.Fred Lum/The Globe and Mail
The first time David Luo and Queenie Deng were married, there was no music, bouquet or big white gown. It was 1970, the height of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, and the pair sealed their union in the simple manner expected at the time: by bowing their heads to a portrait of Mao Zedong at the local government office.
Marriage in China has traditionally been marked with large celebrations, music, firecrackers and a banquet. But for the decade of the Cultural Revolution – when such ostentatious demonstrations were frowned upon – countless couples instead married in front of faceless bureaucrats, wearing shapeless dark clothing and holding a copy of the Little Red Book in their hands.
"Wedding?" Mr. Luo said in Cantonese. "I didn't dare think about it."
Fast-forward 45 years, and Mr. Luo, 83, and Ms. Deng, 75, are finally having their wedding. Along with 102 other couples first married during the Cultural Revolution, Mr. Luo and Ms. Deng will participate in an elaborate "wedding" ceremony in Toronto's Chinatown next month.
The event, organized by the Ontario Chinese Seniors Association, will rely on volunteers and sponsors, such as a local travel agency that donated the white gowns. The entertainment will be provided by the couples themselves, who will perform ballroom dancing and traditional Chinese music.
"Very, very simple," said one of the event organizers, Mike Xie, who described his 1959 marriage to wife Linda Li as being more like an "appointment" than a wedding. The pair simply met at an agreed-upon time at the local government office, where he wore a black zhongshan zhuang, or "Mao suit," and she wore dark pants and her hair in pigtails. Her father had to work and could not attend.
"In that political environment, if we wanted to get married with a big gown or get together for a big celebration, people would criticize you," he said. "They would see it as anti-Communist."
Mr. Xie said the seniors association decided to organize next month's event after realizing that more than 100 other couples in the group, like him, were married during the revolution. With many of them already celebrating their 40th, 50th and 60th wedding anniversaries, he said now seemed like a good time to throw the celebration they never had.
Mr. Luo and Ms. Deng first met in their 30s, while working together at the same factory in Guangzhou. By that time, Mr. Luo had long since given up on finding a mate, figuring he had two strikes against him: He was a poor factory worker, and also had a grandfather in Vancouver – a fact the government eyed with great suspicion.
But Ms. Deng said she liked Mr. Luo immediately. "He knew how to compromise," she said in Cantonese. "I knew we wouldn't fight."
After they got married, the couple remained in Guangzhou. But in 1989 – shaken by the Tiananmen Square massacre – they began looking for ways to leave. Since moving to Canada in 1992, they've met many other members of the "lost generation," with whom they meet often and trade experiences.
In preparation for the event one recent afternoon, Mr. Luo and Ms. Deng had wedding photos taken at an event arranged by the seniors association.
Ms. Deng, a petite woman with short hair, looked nervous as she screwed a pair of white plastic studs into her ears. A volunteer zipped her into a white wedding gown with a sequined bodice and puffy sleeves, as she fidgeted with the large skirt, pulling fistfuls of tulle up in the air and revealing the brown corduroy pants and boat shoes she still had on underneath.
"Beautiful!" Mr. Luo proclaimed his wife. He was sitting just a few feet away, dressed in his own dark suit and bow tie, and wincing as a volunteer smeared blush on his cheeks and dotted rouge onto his lips.
"He has it good," remarked Helen Liu, another one of the event organizers. "Some of the men – we had to work hard to cover the age spots."
When it came time to be photographed, Ms. Deng – unaccustomed to having her photo taken – smiled gingerly, and held the bouquet of plastic flowers awkwardly in her hands. Mr. Luo, meanwhile, stood about a foot behind her, with a toothy grin on his face.
Ms. Liu cackled from the sidelines. "Not like that!" she scolded. "More intimate!"
Afterward, Mr. Luo couldn't stop smiling.
"At our age, we've experienced so much. But now? We've let it go," he said. "We're happy."
Ann Hui