Harvard University

Clear, hopeful melodies break the silence of the night. Playing a crudely fashioned bamboo pipe, in the midst of sullen inmates—this is how I envision my grandfather. Never giving up hope, he played every evening to replace images of bloodshed with memories of loved ones at home. While my grandfather describes the horrors of his experience in a forced labor camp during the Cultural Revolution, I could only grasp at fragments to comprehend the story of his struggle. I floundered in this gulf of cultural disparity. As a child, visiting China each summer was a time of happiness, but it was also…