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Home>Service> Awardees of Fervent Global Love of Lives Award> 17th Fervent Global Love of Lives Award 2014> Liao Zhi, China—The Legless Dancing Queen
 [Amputee and Dancer]

Not for one minute have I lamented for my loss.
If what I lack teaches people to cherish their loved ones, then lack is good.
If my weakness teaches people to show gratitude, then weakness is good.
If my sorrow softens the heart of men, then sorrow is good.
If my being hurt teaches people to forgive, then hurt is good.
What happens to me isn’t what matters most. What really matters is what people learn from me once we’ve crossed paths.
—Liao Zhi
 
Dance and Hope
Born in 1985 in Hanwang Town, Wenchuan County of Sichuan Province, Liao Zhi loved singing when she was a child. She competed in dance contests one after another, receiving numerous awards for her endeavors. At the Miss World beauty pageant held in Chongqing Province, Liao was even asked to dance at the finals.
In 2008, she became a mother. Yet her whole life changed on May 12, the fateful day when Wenchuan earthquake struck. Buried in the rubble for 26 hours, she lost her daughter, her marriage, and both her legs. 
“The disaster is the best teacher,” Liao believed, in spite of what it took away from her. During recovery, she held back tears, and kept her dream of dancing alive by practicing on a wheelchair. She choreographed the Drum Dance, or Inspiration, receiving wide acclaim and praise. She founded the first troupe for charity consisting of disabled performers—Inspiration Troupe. It has given over 193 performances for charity purposes, inspiring fellow countrymen everywhere. Liao is fondly named the most elegant volunteer, the dance queen with no legs. 
 
From Victim to Volunteer
Liao Zhi survived the 2008 Wenchuan earthquake, yet she was left with nothing. Starting from scratch, she began to practice dancing once again. Through arduous training, she became a giver instead of a taker. She no longer required aid; she became a volunteer.
Her courage to put behind the past and embrace the future is indeed remarkable. She has what it takes to let go of what she lacks and to cherish all that she have and what she may have. Liao Zhi is a fitting awardee of the Chou Ta-Kuan Foundation’s 17th Annual Global Love of Life Award.
 
Liao’s Father Gave Her the Will to Live
Wearing prosthetic limbs, Liao Zhi went from town to town making speeches. Onstage, she stood tall with determination. Her brisk, elegant steps up the stage earned her rounds and rounds of applause. 
As someone who experienced the terror of disaster firsthand, Liao witnessed the passing of her family with her own eyes in utter darkness.
“I was buried in the debris. No matter how I struggled, the rubble would not budge. I felt for the first time in my life how tiny human beings are in the face of natural disaster. I could not help the ones I loved most, nor could I save myself. All I could do was lie face down on the wet, hard floor. I was powerless,” she said.
One of her legs was pinned under the precast concrete slab; the other was pierced through by rebar. The excruciating pain, coupled with her family’s passing, made her despair. Yet it was her father’s shouts of encouragement that made her realize one thing: she was her parents’ only child. 
“All of a sudden, I cried. I felt alive again. I thought, how could I give up? It was so selfish of me. I am my father’s only child. There was no way he could let his daughter die just like that. For this reason alone, I resolved to keep on living,” Liao reminisced.

Teaching Confidence Through Her Life Story
In the face of disaster, Liao was both unfortunate and fortunate. She was the sole survivor of those who lived in the same building. She was given medical care in spite of harsh medical conditions. There are those who would ask, “How do you smile despite your loss?” Liao would reply, “You have no idea how precious life is! When you are the sole survivor among tens of thousands of people, you will learn to be grateful. You will no longer lament your loss, for you realize what you still possess does not come easily. You will do whatever you can to hold onto all that’s left.”
“I want to be happy all the time, and to live with a smile always on my face. When those who have everything start to envy someone like me, someone who has nothing, then I am truly blessed” Liao said.
Liao wanted to share her belief with fellow patients. She visited them, and convinced them with her passion. They formed into a band of wheelchairs, holding meetings every now and then. When the space wasn’t big enough for their wheelchairs, they changed their meeting room to the hospital lobby, and to the conference hall.
 
The Most Beautiful Dancer Without Legs
Liao once gave up on prosthetic limbs and opted for a wheelchair. But one early morning, she woke up feeling the call of nature, and found there was no one home to help her. That made her realize the importance of prosthetic limbs.
She climbed down from her bed, found the prosthetic limbs, and stumbled a few times on her way to the restroom. Just when she reached it, she fell hard and collapsed on the floor. She hit her head on the side of the toilet, her hair soaking wet in it.
“I had to do everything to pull myself back up. I looked at myself in the mirror, saw the bump on my forehead, felt my wet hair, and saw how much weight I have gained. That was the ugliest moment in my life.”
“I cried before I knew it. I told myself, ‘I am only 24. Am I going to lead a life like this, without a care for how I look, without dignity? How could I ever face myself again? Is this really how I want to live for the rest of my life?’”

I Want to Dance
And so Liao shut herself in her room, and danced to the music day and night. “I must leave this room and make a living by myself. I still want to dance. I’d rather deal with the pain than stare at the empty shell that was me.” 
Just two months after surgery, Liao performed the dance that would make her famous far and wide—Drum Dance, or Inspiration. This dance sent shock waves through audience everywhere, and became an inspiration to countless disaster-stricken victims. She has successfully overcome the darkest moment in her life.
 “Dreams can be realized if you learn to suppress fear. Confidence is the key to fulfilling your dream,” Liao said.
 
Inspiring Life Story
Liao is a highly experienced volunteer. She believes that a volunteer’s attitude is far more important than his/her ability. Respect and humbleness come first. Volunteers should not focus on changing the way things are. In addition, volunteers should be supporters and friends.
Liao encourages volunteers, “When I say words of encouragement to fellow patients who have undergone amputation and hang out with them, some of them tell me that what I am doing is meaningless. They say that my companionship makes them happy, but when I leave, they fall into depression. You see, as a volunteer I bring them happiness, and that’s what I can do to help them.”
 “Do not think that your friendship, endeavors and well-meaning actions are meaningless. The moment you do good, it is absolutely meaningful. The tiny things you do in life may be life-changing. This is how one’s life inspires another.”
 
A Driving Force for Good
Liao shares her stories wherever she goes. She asks young people to cherish their youth and have the courage to be who they are. She loves giving directions to those who feel lost in life, or are uncertain about their identity. Liao cherishes the opportunity to be with friends from different crowds, each talking about his/her adventure, lessons learned, and dreams for the future. For her, a gathering of this kind generates positive energy, leading people closest to embarking on their dreams.
Listen to Liao’s personal telling of her life story:

“Grateful to the Woman Whom I Was Five Years Ago”
Positive Psychology
To the woman whom I was five years ago:
I try to look back and recall that woman. She doesn’t seem much different than I am now. When people say to me nowadays, “You don’t look to be 23 already,” I smile to myself, and think of you from time to time. It would appear that time has not left much of its mark on my face. Perhaps it is thanks to my positive thinking habits I’ve been working on in my mind that have contributed to the lessening of the aging process. There’s something very different between the two of us, however. For instance, you have a pair of slender, beautiful legs, and I don’t.
You stood in the dancing room, with the sunlight slanting down through the windows. You swirled and leaped, saw the sweat beads accumulating on your two legs roll towards the ground. You loved observing this particular scene and took pride in it, for it was a testament to the Creator’s blessings on you, making you a fairy elegantly dancing to the music. Children who studied dancing under your instruction adored you and made you the center of their attention. They quarreled over whom among them you liked best. Your beauty made the children regard your attention as something to be proud of.
 
Life or Death
Autumn, 2004. You were full of youth, had ample time to waste. After graduation, you went home in Hanwang Town of Sichuan Province. Before 2008, it was a downtown with a splendid natural landscape. It was 30 kilometers away from the epicenter of the Wenchuan earthquake. Like all girls with dreams of love and romance, you were waiting for Prince Charming to show up on your doorsteps.
Winter, 2006. It was 2 a.m. in the morning. A man hoping for your hand had been waiting for hours just to let you have a bite of the hot, steamy bun. You fell madly for him, so madly that you did not hold a proper wedding, did not put on the snow-white wedding dress that was the dream of any girl, and married him. And of course, nowadays I call him ex-husband.
A year later, your precious baby was born. Little Caterpillar, you called her.
An affluent family, a steady job—that pretty much adds up to a good life, doesn’t it? And before you know it, disaster struck. In the afternoon of May 12, 2008, you felt a violent shaking of the earth. You, your daughter, and your mother-in-law held on to each other, and fell in the darkness. Your mother-in-law was not far from you. You repeatedly told her, “Talk to me, don’t fall asleep!” Yet words failed her, and she slept.
You reached out your hand, feeling rough texture and hardness all around. Suddenly, your fingertip rested on a piece of softness in an opening under your body—it was your daughter’s fleshy arm. You touched it, sensing its soft coolness, and closed your eyes. The lights seemed to go out in your mind, and you felt dizzy. When you came around, you began to sing every children’s song you know that makes Little Caterpillar giggle every time she hears it. One song after another, you sang on. You shook her frail body hard. She had yet to learn to speak, but how come she wasn’t crying?
 
Father’s Heart-wrenching Shouts
You heard father calling you from outside. It was a ceaseless, heart-wrenching cry. The noise made by the rescue team could also be discerned. A day passed, you lay in darkness still. Your family’s gone, so was your daughter. Fear, helplessness, confusion, and despair filled your entire being. You would not respond to father’s calls.
Fortunately, after 26 hours, you were rescued. As soon as you were sent to the hospital, you signed a consent form for amputation. Once could be whole or lose a few limbs, but survival comes before everything.
During your recovery at the hospital after surgery, a volunteer organization heard that you were a dancing teacher. They provided professional assistance for you to choreograph THE dance—Drum Dance, or Inspiration. On bed, you moved on your knees and practiced hard. The doctor feared that would impede your recovery, and you said, “I don’t have my legs anyway. What is a little hurt?”
In the still of the night, vulnerability crept in, and you wept. Pained and exhausted, you wish you could just give in and simply stop the painful process of rebuilding life. But then you thought of your parents, toiling hard as ever, and you clenched your fists. “I will not be a burden to my parents anymore,” you said to yourself.
 
The Dance That Made You Famous
Drum Dance, or Inspiration made you a household name. Media flocked to interview you. You put on prosthetic limbs, and hobbled out of the hospital like a dance novice. In the hospital, you learned to dance on prosthetic limbs before you learned to walk.
A year later, during Chinese New Year’s Eve, a formal document was placed in front of you—a divorce agreement. You signed it, just as you signed the consent form for amputation a year ago, but not with more ease. The oaths the two of you had sworn were no more.
A friend asked, “Legs amputated, loss of your daughter and the man you loved . . . Do you hate what life has done to you?” 
“There’s nothing to complain about. If this is God’s will, I will remain silent,” you said. The friend was alarmed at your calmness, but I knew what you were thinking. Hatred only made life seemed darker. No tears could change the way things were.
In the beginning of 2009, you had to take a flight from Beijing to Chongqing. In the terminal, a foreign man held the papers high and peeped at you. He seemed curious as to why a young woman like you were sitting on a wheelchair. On a whim, you went and sat next to him. When he was looking, you took off the prosthetic limbs from under your skirts with a sweeping motion and put them on your shoulders. That gave him a good scare, seeing how his face grew red in a matter of seconds. And you laughed merrily, celebrating the little success you had with your trick. That was a small diplomatic mission accomplished, with a bit of joke attached.
 
Grateful all the way
To make a living for yourself, you put together a performing troupe of a dozen or so people with disability, and went from place to place to give performances. It was hard to make ends meet, but, as you always said, the future’s bright nonetheless.
 
It’s been five years. Since when did I take your place? When did the innocent woman that was you become the mature woman that I am now?
I could not locate a point in time when the transition occurred, yet I could tell this much: You have come a long way, from shedding tears in secret to sealing your lips in silence; from lamenting in sorrow to smiling with understanding and ease. You left quietly, and I found myself on the stage called life. In the past few years, I have been transformed. I started out knowing nothing about public welfare programs; now I have made friends with lots of volunteers. I have participated in public welfare events and found myself interested in these activities. I have always wanted to create a platform where volunteers could interact freely.
When Ya'an earthquake struck on April 20, 2013, I went there at the first possible moment. Five years ago, I was a disaster victim, requiring aid from others. Five years later, I wanted to offer a helping hand to the people of Ya’an. I wanted to contribute what little I can to people across the Taiwan Strait, and to minority groups around the world. 

Living a life of thanks
Some would question me, “Can you serve as a volunteer with your condition?” I know the true meaning of helping others—it is not what I can or cannot do, but whether I am willing or not. As long as one is willing to help, there is no end to what one can do. Throughout the entire rescue mission, my disability has not been a cause for concern for my fellow companions. The amount of exercise I undertake on a regular basis is greater than the average person. Friends and relatives often forget that I am different from them. As long as you have a sound heart, you will not think your actions to be inferior to those of other people.
A college student volunteer joined our team on short notice. He was in charge of handing out food supply. I reminded him, “Before handing out food, please ask them if water is needed first.” It is important to bear in mind what is really needed, and to respect the wishes of the ones in need. Volunteers need not only a caring heart for people, but the ability to put themselves in their shoes. I know from my own experience that an explanation given with sincerity will make those in need feel respected. They will know warmth and hope.
In the beginning of this year, I received an invitation from a company, asking me to give a speech titled “To live is to be thankful.” I would like to thank all the people who have been my companions. I would like to thank the woman that was me from five years ago. You missed out on a lot of things; you suffered; you panicked; you struggled. Despite everything, you have come through in one piece with your endurance. Because of you, I am who I am today.