By Lena H. Sun
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, April 28, 1998; Page A02

NEW YORK, April 27—As a political dissident in China, Wang Dan had few options. A former student leader, he was not allowed to finish college after the Chinese Army crushed the 1989 Tiananmen Square democracy movement. He spent much of his twenties in jail because of his pro-democracy activities.

But since his release and flight into U.S. exile nine days ago, Wang has experienced more choices than he dreamed of in his 29 years. He is mulling several top U.S. universities that he would like to attend to complete an undergraduate degree in Chinese history. He is eager to carve out his own niche to promote democracy in China. If possible, he would love to meet golf star Tiger Woods and singer Michael Jackson, maybe even have a girlfriend.

"I really like the freedom here in America, the chances for individuals to make their own choices, to make the most of opportunities," he said in an interview today following a meeting with an official from the University of California at Berkeley.

College is a top priority for the slim, boyish-looking Wang, who was a freshman at prestigious Beijing University when he became a student leader in the 1989 democracy movement. Wang's friends are also contacting Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and Brown on his behalf.

Wang also wants to move beyond his image as a "1989 student" and create a new role as an independent, free-thinking intellectual who can push for democratic change in China and keep up international pressure. As a start, he said, China has much to learn from Western values respecting and honoring individual rights.

"There is a big contradiction between Chinese culture and democracy," he said, speaking in Mandarin.

Chinese culture is rooted in patriarchy and authoritarianism. So for democracy to take hold, China must adopt "really human, universal values," he said.

In the United States, for example, Wang said he has been struck by sidewalk curb-cuts that make it easier for the disabled to cross the street and hospital machines that "allow the person inside to push a button if they feel panicked."

Exactly how he plans to juggle his democracy work and academic studies, he is not sure. "I want to have some balance; I need to go my own way," he said. In fact, Wang's life has been so filled with politics that he acknowledged with a self-conscious laugh that he has never had a girlfriend -- even though he was flooded with marriage proposals from the public during the height of the student revolution -- and is still a virgin.

Since his release on "medical parole" from a Chinese prison April 18 and immediate exile to the United States, Wang has had little time for reflection. Instead, he has been caught up in the "celebrity cyclotron" that gives high-profile dissidents the impression that "the world is coming to your feet," said Orville Schell, dean of Berkeley's graduate school of journalism, who met with Wang on behalf of the university to discuss possible enrollment.

In addition, Wang has been pursued by the media, particularly from Hong Kong and Taiwan. Last Friday, he gave 20 interviews to Chinese-language publications and broadcast stations. At times, he felt uncomfortable because he was asked about Taiwan and Tibet, "issues I know little about."

Asked about President Clinton's June trip to China, however, Wang said it is important for U.S. policy to promote progress not just in the economy but in human rights, and for U.S. policy to maintain "its own moral principles."

Since his arrival in Manhattan last week, Wang has only seen the Statue of Liberty from a corner office in the Empire State Building, quarters of the New York-based Human Rights in China group, which is helping him get settled.

"I'd love to go for a walk alone," said Wang, turning somewhat wistful during an hour-long interview in the wood-paneled Grill Room of the Harvard Club in midtown Manhattan.

He does not look much different from the description of him when he topped the Chinese government's most wanted list: "Approximately 1.73 meters tall. Has a pointed lower jaw, relatively thin hair, cavities on his front teeth, and relatively thin physical features."

Wang has a one-year tourist visa and hopes to support himself through a combination of scholarship and campus jobs. Human Rights in China is paying many of his living expenses; he also has about $6,000 from awards and donations to the group. He plans to learn English by taking a summer school course and to save money by living with friends in New York.

Because he was given only a few hours notice about his release, he left China with no money -- only two bags carrying 20 to 30 political philosophy books and some clothes. Before he boarded a nonstop Northwest Airlines flight to Detroit, his father, a Beijing University geology professor, slipped off his own Chinese-made quartz watch and gave it to his only son.

Last week, an associate at Human Rights Watch, another New York-based organization, took him shopping at Macy's for a blue wool suit, white shirt, blue tie, and black socks. The clothes were paid for by the human rights group and a friend of Wang's.

"I still haven't got a cent in my pocket," he said with a smile.

Wang was released almost nine years to the day after massive student-led protests for democracy began in Beijing and other Chinese cities. He spent a total of about 6 1/2 years in jail: 3 1/2 years immediately following the 1989 crackdown, the remainder after his second arrest in May of 1995 on subversion charges. (One of the crimes he was charged with was taking a Berkeley correspondence course.) During the last stint, at the Jinzhou prison in Liaoning Province, he received special treatment, he said. The other prisoners sometimes cooked for him, he could listen to pop music and learned all about the stars of the movie "Titanic."

When authorities released Wang this month, they summoned his parents to the prison, more than a 10-hour train ride away, but did not tell them right away that their son was being released. Authorities then drove Wang and his parents back to Beijing through the night in an 11-car motorcade. But his parents were not allowed to ride with him. They had about three hours together at the Beijing airport before he stepped on the plane.

"They were torturing us for the last time," he said.