Beyond the Headlines: My True Fei Tian Journey

My name is Jenny He, and I’m a Fei Tian Academy of the Arts graduate, now a fourth-year architecture major at the University of Toronto. I was taken aback by the recent New York Times article alleging mistreatment of students at Fei Tian and members of Shen Yun. Having spent eight incredible years at Fei Tian, I can honestly say that my experience was worlds away from the harsh, oppressive environment described in the report. Instead, my time there was a beautiful, rewarding chapter filled with growth and cherished memories. I want to share my perspective and clarify the reality of what I lived through.

In my eight years at Fei Tian, I never encountered a single teacher, faculty, or staff member who treated me unfairly or spoke to me demeaningly. Nor was I ever subjected to emotional abuse or psychological manipulation of any sort. Sure, I was called out for some of my mistakes and shortcomings, but it was never done with malice. Instead, it was always about helping me grow. They genuinely wanted me to take responsibility for myself, learn from my errors, and become a better person.

The purpose of Shen Yun has always been clear to me: to reveal the authentic culture of Chinese civilization, highlight the persecution of religious minorities like Falun Gong, and achieve a world-class standard in the performances so that these messages can be powerfully conveyed. Looking back, I understand the urgency and high standards of that mission. Chinese culture is so rich, with a history steeped in spiritual philosophy. However, after the Cultural Revolution, the foundations of Chinese civilization were destroyed by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and replaced with their own communist ideology. The CCP, feeling threatened by the rapid rise of Falun Gong and its revival of traditional spiritual beliefs, has been relentless in its efforts to suppress spirituality ever since.

When a group of people is part of something so important and faces such strong resistance, everyone needs to be level-headed. There is a need for precision. That need to “move as one” translates to a personal motivation for every person to perform at their best, every time, because people in the audience deserve to know the truth about what is happening in China. That was the standard I set for myself as a performer, and that’s why I never found “chiding” to be unfair. No one in Shen Yun or Fei Tian had ill intentions towards me—if anything, my time there was filled with support and encouragement. Mastering the violin isn’t easy, and I had my share of slumps and moments of dejection. But whenever that happened, there was always someone nearby to help me move forward.

At Fei Tian, musicians were invited to step up and perform for the community in open concerts every Sunday. It was a great way to sharpen our technical skills and artistry, and to build confidence on stage. One time, I signed up two weeks ahead of time and threw myself into preparations like a maniac. But as the dress rehearsals got closer, I started to lose my nerve. Stage fright hit me so hard that I couldn’t even bring myself to run through the piece—my body didn’t feel like my own. The fear of messing it all up in front of the entire school was so intense that just thinking about Sunday’s performance felt paralyzing.

Two days before the concert, I cracked under the pressure and tried to drop out. The manager didn’t let me off the hook that easily, though. We sat down and had a long talk. She told me she believed in me even though I didn’t believe in myself. She told me not to give up and to focus on creating a memorable experience for the audience instead of worrying about how this performance might affect my reputation. But most importantly, she said to always appreciate whatever I have accomplished, no matter how insignificant it might seem.

Her words gave me the strength to push through. When I performed that Sunday, I played with my heart focused solely on the audience, and it turned out to be one of my best performances at Fei Tian. Without her support, I would have let my fears and insecurities take control. Instead, I learned to face them head-on with resilience and determination.

Jenny (left) with close friends Michelle (center left), Difei (center right) and Crystal (right) sample the local cuisine on a sightseeing trip.

In response to the article's claim about student exploitation, I would like to share another of my experiences, which paints a different picture. Throughout my time at Fei Tian, I never felt exploited. On the contrary, the school made genuine efforts to provide me with the very best student life and ease my financial burdens. One memory that stands out is when my family could only afford a student-grade violin, which started to hold me back in my studies. I mentioned this to my orchestra manager, and soon after, the company offered to loan me a better instrument! I was even more surprised when I visited the storage room and got to try any of the beautiful instruments there. The manager there reassured me and encouraged me to take all the time I needed and to openly share my thoughts on each violin and bow. His warmth and understanding were deeply touching. I felt like he was genuinely invested in my growth as a musician.

By the end of that session, I was entrusted with a stunning violin, bow, and case. The care and kindness the manager showed me during that time left a lasting impact on my life and my music. To this day, I look back on that experience with immense gratitude, knowing that his support played a significant role in my development as a violinist and in reaching new heights in my musical journey.

The New York Times describes a harsh environment where students are supposedly pushed far past their physical and mental capacities, but that wasn’t what I experienced at all. Of course, there were challenges, and that’s inevitable when striving for world-class standards. However, my life at Fei Tian wasn’t just about practice and performance. There was a rich tapestry of social and cultural activities including holiday festivities, movie nights, and cafeteria specials that kept us lively, connected, and grounded. There’s a saying at Fei Tian that goes something like this: “When it’s time to work, give it your all; when it’s time to relax, play your heart out.” Despite the demanding schedule balancing academics and rehearsals, my classmates and I enjoyed numerous breaks filled with joy and celebration.

One of my all-time favorite celebrations at Fei Tian was the Mid-Autumn Festival. I’d start the day by sleeping in until 11 a.m., then lazily head to the cafeteria for a late brunch. The afternoon brought a grand feast with tables overflowing with Chinese dishes and delicacies. As evening approached, student groups took turns presenting skits, movies, and dances on stage, and we would laugh and cry at each other’s creative performances.

But the real magic began when night fell. We'd move outdoors to a terrace decorated with lanterns. The soft, flickering glow painted the night in warm hues and brought the surrounding temples to life with a gentle radiance. I remember tables with mountains of mooncakes and my favorite game display with hanging paper riddles. We would munch mooncakes appreciatively under the soft light of the full moon, our laughter mingling with the ambient glow. In the background, twinkles of laughter echoed in the cool autumn breeze as groups of clever students celebrated having solved another riddle.

Thinking back on all those memories and moments, I genuinely feel that the environment at Fei Tian is something special like no other. In my years there, no one flaunted their achievements or looked down on others. It felt like I was part of one big family united by a noble mission to reveal the true essence of Chinese culture. These golden memories of mine stand in stark contrast to the negative portrayal by The New York Times. My experiences at Fei Tian are a testament to the deep care, beauty, and camaraderie that defined my time there, and they continue to hold a cherished place in my heart.