Zhibo: The Great Qipao Kerfuffle of 2018

Zhibo is a weekly column in which Beijing-based American Taylor Hartwell documents his journey down the rabbit hole of Chinese livestreaming app YingKe (Inke). If you know nothing about the livestreaming (直播; “zhibo”) phenomenon in China, start here.

Survey of the Week Whadda Y’all Think of this Qipao Nonsense?

Twitter, I love you. But you can be real dumb sometimes.

If you’re not caught up with the insanity here’s a wonderful primer written by Fan Shuhong right here on RADII.

If you’d like the short version, here it is: a not-Chinese girl wore a traditional Chinese dress to her prom and Twitter did what it does best.

Like this, but with more “RT IF U AGREE”

I’m not here to throw yet another hot take on the smoldering slag heap of hot takes. The rants and the counter-rants and the post-rant think-pieces have already been written and commented on and this whole thing that never needed to be a thing has already been litigated and re-litigated into the ground. Plenty of genuinely thoughtful pieces have already been written about how Asian-Americans and, erm, Asian-Asians have very different experiences in terms of being in the minority vs. the majority. As a white guy, I don’t have a whole lot to contribute to that.

No, I’m here to offer up my column’s one USP: the frank and unfiltered thoughts of the youthful, internet-using Chinese masses. So this week, I explained what was going on in the twitterverse and asked my audience the following:

Do you think there’s anything wrong with this girl who wore a qipao to prom? What do you think of the idea that she’s “appropriating” Chinese culture?

Here are just a few of the responses:

wear what you love

why can’t she wear what she wants?

I welcome the fact that she likes our culture

wear what you want, don’t disparage/smear others

totally fine

she can wear whatever she wants


if you love it, wear it. it’s no one else’s business.

And my personal favorite:

This commenter is saying in essence that the guy who kicked all this off must have too much free time and thus is poking his nose into other people’s business. But what I particularly love is the idiom he used: 狗拿耗子 (gou na haozi) means a dog trying to catch mice, i.e. someone who isn’t even qualified to do the thing they’re interfering with in the first place.

Of course, it’s already been made clear by the angry parties that the feelings of, you know, actual Chinese people are irrelevant to the question of what counts as offensive and/or cultural appropriation (of Chinese culture). And that’s a fight I don’t really feel like diving into, because I’ve already had my fill of dog food and don’t feel like going after any mice today.

But hey, angry Twitter guy: My culture – being an angry white guy hiding behind a computer screen making up stuff to get mad about – isn’t your goddamn tweet.

Weirdly Frequent Request Dating Advice (for Women)

I’ve written before about how interested my Inke fans seem to be in my relationship status, but as of late there’s been a new type of relationship question popping up: how do I *insert foreigner-related desire and/or relationship problem here*?

And I’m not talking about – as I’ve also mentioned before – creepy dudes asking me to introduce them to foreign girls. What I’ve been seeing more and more of is Chinese women asking me questions about how to go about things with foreign guys. For example:

  • how do I ask out a foreign man?
  • my boyfriend and I don’t communicate well because foreigners have a different culture. what should I do?
  • what do foreigners want to do for dates?
  • what should I talk about with an American man?

I don’t know when these women started getting the idea that I might be a good source of relationship advice, but it’s pretty amusing. See, this is what happens when you assume that all foreigners are all secretly the same person.

Then again, maybe I’m missing out on a golden opportunity. Check back next week to see if I’ve started embracing my inner…um…

*note to self: figure out a famous dating/relationship advice talk show host you can use as the punchline here before publishing this*

Quote of the Week your stupidity is accountable to poor intelligence and understanding

 

I mean, probably. I’d like to think there’s a dash of laziness in there as well.

Strangest Moment of the Week “Donald Trump” Asking About My Salary

Just ignore that other comment. That’s…like, a whole different thing.

As you might expect, El Presidente comes up fairly often in a conversation between one American and many thousands of Chinese people. I’ve even seen a good number of Trumpian monikers on Inke. But “Donald Trump” asking if he “might inquire” about my salary was, even for Inke, a particularly strange thing to see floating across the screen. The combination of the Tangerine Tornado’s moniker and the politeness with which we proceeded to chat really stuck in my head.

can’t imagine why

Being asked about money, however, is not even remotely unusual in China. I get asked about my rent all the time on Inke – I do stream from my living room, after all – and this isn’t just a topic limited to the internet. Anyone who’s spent time in China is probably familiar with routinely being asked seemingly intrusive money questions. Phones, clothes, watches, cars, your salary – nothing is off the table, nor does anyone seem to get why it should be.

But, erm…why should it be off the table, again?

I spend a lot of time going on about the preconceived notions and unquestioned cultural habits I run into in China, but this is a good moment to turn the microscope back on our own culture: why is money a taboo? I’m perfectly comfortable talking about sex and drugs and rock and roll. I curse entirely too much. So why, when someone asks me about my rent, is my instinctual reaction to wag my finger and respond that they’re neither my landlord nor my mother? Why do I respond to questions of how much I paid for stuff with an uncomfortable pause followed by “pshhhh, it’s not important”?

It makes no sense, after all. Salary transparency leads to fairer pay. Discussing how much you paid for stuff leads to everyone finding better deals. Talking about rent helps other people to make informed decisions of their own about where to live. So why would we all rather publish our internet search history than tell people about our finances?

Is it because I’m a privileged white kid? Is the discomfort I feel the knowledge that I started off in the game of life roughly a million points ahead of the vast, VAST majority of all humans who have ever lived? Probably in part – but there are plenty of Chinese people now growing up with phenomenal wealth and privilege who aren’t suddenly feeling like they shouldn’t talk about money. Is it the ever-present Anglo-Saxon/Puritan ancestry that comes with a bit of a guilt complex? I’d assume a bit, yeah.

Do I have any real answers?

Doubtful.

Existential-Crisis-Provoking Question of the Week Can you mature a little?

 

See above.

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Photo of the Day: Spicy Chicken

As the Met Gala sets tongues wagging about US celebs and their outfits — and following Nick Kapur’s fantastic thread on Chinese names for NBA players — we’re using our weekly photo theme to dig into some of the more unusual Mandarin Monikers for Foreign Stars.

Let’s kick off with a singer who’s no stranger to these pages, thanks to her, err, interesting relationship with the Chinese language and culture: Nicki Minaj.

In case you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the video for her new single “Chun Li”, complete with traditional Chinese character subtitles, fierce-looking douli wearers, and Nicki with her aforelinked “Chinese ink on”.

But hey, we’re not here to “get on our fuckin’ keyboard” and make Nicki the “bad guy” today, we’re here to talk about Spicy Chicken, Nicki’s nickname in Mandarin. While some Chinese fan names for non-Chinese celebrities can be pretty convoluted (hello, Steph “Fucks the Sky” Curry), this one’s really quite simple. Spicy Chicken, or 麻辣鸡 malaji, is a near-homonym for Minaj, with the added bonus of the spiciness seeming to suit her character.

And Nicki, if you want to cop some chopsticks and dig in to your namesake meal, we know where you can get some authentic Sichuan food.

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Music Residency Found Sound China Announces Artist Selection

You might remember Found Sound China, a “music diplomacy fellowship” that put out an open call in February to find three Chinese and three American musicians to meet up in beautiful, rural southwestern China for a brief meet-and-greet-and-beat-making orientation, followed by three pairs splitting off to different corners of the country to dip deeper into diverse sonic territories:

They’ll spend two weeks traveling and collecting sounds (“traditional instruments, nature sounds, car horns, folk operas, prayer bells, freestyles in the local dialect, and more”), before reconvening in Beijing for five days to produce, perform, and ultimately assemble their tracks into a badass, one-of-a-kind album for release in both US and China.

Well, the finalists have just been announced, and we’re quite excited. We’ll be keeping our eyes and ears on this residency as it unfolds in July, but for now here is the lowdown on the six participating artists, so that you can start looking forward to what they’ll sound like smashed together. (All photos and text below provided by Found Sound China.)

YAO (姚春旸)

Yao is an electronic musician of Naxi descent, born in Lijiang, Yunnan. She graduated from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music with a Master’s in Theory and Composition. She composes art songs, choral music, and chamber music. She is currently experimenting with combining her native Naxi language, field recording, and synthesizers to create an improvised live performance in the vein of Music Concrète, Noise, and Drone.

 

SUSUSU (苏泽尘)

sususu is a 90’s music fanatic, all-around creative, producer, and beatmaker. He began playing music when he formed a band in middle school, and later went on to major in Music Business in college. His believes that the art of sampling is just as expressive as analog sound-making, as it allows each individual can express themselves uniquely. His creative process often combines the intricacies of production software with sampling and synthesis.

 

CHACHA

A unique Chinese artist that wears many hats and refuses to be categorized, ChaCha sees herself as a collector of song and sound. She uses music to create her own one-of-a-kind universe, constantly pushing the limits of musical possibility. In 2017, she released a full-length album under her alter-ego Faded Ghost, called “Moon Mad”. The album drew from samples from her travels around the world over a period of 5 years, influenced in particular by Southeast/South Asian sounds and culture.

JAMEL MIMS (JAM NO PEANUT)

Jamel Mims (Jam No Peanut) is a New York City-based rapper, interactive media artist, and revolutionary bringing trap music and technology to the fight against mass incarceration and state terror. In 2008, Jam No Peanut was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to study hip hop culture in China, and produced the multimedia ethnography, The Misdadventures of MC Tingbudong. Jam No Peanut’s internationalist politics and experience in China resonate in his music, as he switches between english and mandarin in politically charged verses.Born and raised in Washington DC, but known in NYC as the ‘Ratchet Revolutionary’, his work in music, technology, education and activism has been featured in the New York Times, The Nation,VICE, XXL, Complex, and more.

KAYLA BRIET

Kayla Briët is a 21-year-old artist exploring themes of identity in multiple mediums of storytelling: film, music, and virtual reality. In 2016, she directed, edited, and scored her short documentary, “Smoke That Travels,” which immerses viewers in her native Prairie Band Potawatomi heritage and explores fears that her culture may someday be forgotten. Through intimate live performances, she shares stories through wave-like vocals and live looping — mixing electronic beats with the strings of a Chinese guzheng zither and blending influences from her Chinese/Dutch-Indonesian heritage. In an experiment to preserve memories and emotions we humans project onto objects, she is currently creating a room-scale VR time capsule called “Trove.” Her work has been exhibited by the Smithsonian Institute, the White House, MoMA, National Geographic, PBS, film festivals, and recently, Kayla was named a 2017 TED Fellow, Adobe Creativity Scholar, Oculus Launchpad Artist, and a Sundance Film Festival Ignite Fellow.

 

TRAVON HENRY (eu IV)

Travon Henry, aka “eu-IV” is a beatmaker, photographer, and painter, born and raised in Baltimore, MD. His production style blends classic off-kilter J Dilla beats, the west-coast acrobatics of Knxwledge, and the psychedelic R&B of Frank Ocean, while staying rooted in the vibrant Baltimore underground scene. With almost 20,000 followers on soundcloud, he’s established himself as an up-and-coming hip hop producer, collaborating with vocalist Claire Reneé, Austin Bey, and Fly Anakin. As part of the collective label Flow-Fi (and independently), he has released four far-reaching projects: Pearl, Close Your Eyes, Supernova and SHINELIKETHESUN.

Cover image: Found Sound China/China Residencies

How Theatre is Transforming Lives for Beijing’s Migrant Workers

In a Beijing studio, three voices compete for the space: a CEO, a manager, and a new hire. The conversation fluctuates between aggression, fear, practicality, and emotion. After 15 minutes, everyone stops, switches roles, and starts over. The studio is Hua Dan, a nonprofit that builds community among China’s migrant workers, and the actors are all new arrivals in Beijing.

China’s first-tier cities have migrant workers to thank for nearly every modern convenience. Shanghai and Beijing’s quality of life and overall economic success both rely on workers from rural provinces coming to take less desirable jobs. People from the countryside pour into major cities for the chance to earn higher salaries, and to send some of that back home.

But it’s not easy to do, and making that switch comes with a host of diverse challenges: navigating new surroundings, communicating with families back home, feelings of isolation and intra-China cultural differences all constitute huge obstacles for migrant workers.

Group exercises at a Hua Dan workshop

There are a handful of key social programs and organizations that help workers bridge that gap, but maybe none more interesting than Hua Dan. The project is the brainchild of Caroline Watson, a Hong Kong-born Brit who started Hua Dan in 2004, and now works in Paris helping migrant communities around the world explore the Hua Dan model.

We talked to Caroline about Hua Dan, their process, and why theatre could be a key component in healing the world.

Can you start by explaining a bit about Hua Dan and the work it does?

Basically, Hua Dan uses participatory theatre as a tool to empower China’s migrant worker population with important life skills, so they can overcome the challenges of moving to the city, and take advantage of the opportunities. We do role play and creative games to build confidence, self-esteem, communication skills and leadership ability, and to explore the issues that migrants face when moving to the city. We focus especially on working with women and children.

How did you end up running with this idea? Was it the plan all along?

I studied theatre at university, and came to China in 2001 wanting to share and apply those techniques. I first started working with a migrant woman’s shelter in Beijing, where we ran weekly workshops where migrant women could share their experiences working in the city. Or their experiences in marriage, or being far away from home, etc. When we got our first grant from the Swiss Embassy in Beijing, we started to train the migrant women themselves to lead our workshops, and since then it’s become a core part of our model, and allowed us to affect huge numbers of people.

Hua Dan’s approach to the migrant worker’s struggle is definitely novel. What kinds of change can an educational theatre experience create, that might not be achievable through more standard routes?

We believe that each individual holds infinite potential to learn, but that traditional approaches to education are very didactic and “top down” in how they approach learning. Our techniques start from the standpoint that individuals already know how best to solve their own challenges — we just facilitate the sharing of people’s life experiences in an emotionally safe and mutually trusting environment, and look at alternative solutions to the challenges they face. It develops creativity and entrepreneurial leadership, and improves self-esteem. It really gives them the confidence to deal with life’s challenges, and the self-awareness to realize they can do anything.

Can you tell us any anecdotes or success stories you’ve witnessed via Hua Dan?

In one of our very first workshops, we had a young woman come along who was experiencing a lot of conflict in her marriage (she was away working in Beijing and her husband was back in the countryside looking after the children). They were fighting all the time. In one workshop, we offered to role play the issues she was facing. In the first scene, the woman played herself, having a telephone conversation with her husband, played by another workshop participant. After we watched the argument between this woman and her husband, I asked her to swap roles with the woman playing her husband, so that she could experience things from his point of view. She had to really put herself in her husband’s shoes.

The effect was transformative. She started to understand things from his perspective — she realized what he was going through in the separation, and it allowed her to better articulate her needs for support. She told us that, when she went home, she was able to have a much more compassionate, understanding relationship with her husband after changing the way she thought about their relationship.

We’ve seen countless other transformations, where people are challenged to “shift their thinking,” and bring that renewed understanding to better actions and behavior in real life. In our corporate work, we once lead a group of private equity investors through an immersive theatre experience where they took on the role of a migrant woman who was being harassed by her boss.

One woman, the head of her company, took on the role of Lan Lan. While interacting with the fictional ‘boss’ of her restaurant, she tried to avoid the harassment Lan Lan was facing. Our actors are trained to give participants the “real-life” experience of being in that kind of situation, and this woman was completely blown away after being shouted at and harassed by her “boss.” She said that it had been a long time since she had been treated like that, and it made her reflect on her own role as a boss, now that she was head of the company. You could see the whole thing brought about a greater empathy and understanding, but also practical action points in how she treated her own staff. These are just a few transformations we’ve seen at Hua Dan.

Our very first participant, a young woman from Yunnan called Dong Fen, now leads and manages our organization in China. So we’ve seen first hand how the confidence, leadership skills, and creativity that we inspire in our workshops can enable women to be global leaders of creative companies like ours.

What are some things you learned about migrant workers’ struggles in your years running Hua Dan?

Migrant workers have been instrumental in building China, often at the cost of maintaining a family life and their relationships with their children. Although many migrant children come with their parents to Beijing, the schooling offered is not always as ideal as it would be in the village. But, if they leave their children in the villages with their grandparents, they’re often separated for many years, which is not good for family life and children’s emotional security. The problem of “left-behind children” is becoming a well-documented issue. We try to address this issue by providing psychosocial support for children, and also by running our very successful summer camp program, which enables children and parents to come together for a week of quality time.

Why do you see theatre as a tool for social change?

Really, we need a radically different approach to change. You can build all the right external systems, policies, institutions etc., but if you don’t fundamentally shift hearts and minds about how people learn and progress, it’s difficult to change a society as a whole. Especially as our world is changing so quickly, the skills needed now are not so much new knowledge, but the intellectual and emotional capacity to deal with change. Skills such as creativity, resilience, collaboration, personal leadership. I really believe that participation in the arts offers a way to balance the heart-mind-body equation.

Can you tell us about what you’re doing now?

Sure. We’ve seen a real demand for the corporate side of our work, that is, character and story-based global leadership training for corporate executives. We consult other non-profits in using theatre to communicate messages with their beneficiaries, and we develop innovative after-school programs and summer camps that bring migrant and city children together with their parents — we’re keen to partner with local governments as we roll out these innovations. Now, we’re exporting our model to other migrant and refugee populations around the world. We have projects in Europe, the Middle East, North America, and other parts of Asia. We’re excited to be a global social enterprise with its roots in China!

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Drones to the Rescue, Restore Great Wall of China

Drones. We love ’em. You love ’em. They’re everything we wanted fifteen years ago, and now they’re helping rebuild the Great Wall.

I know what you’re imagining, because it’s the same thing I imagined, which is hella drones buzzing around carrying massive ropeloads of stone slabs. So it’s not quite that, actually, but it’s still cool. The drones are being deployed to take super high-detail 3D scans of the collapsing Jiankou segment of the wall in mountainous northern Beijing.

The Great Wall is more than 13,000 miles long, and a lot of that is in areas of steep mountain and heavy vegetation. In these areas, it’s nearly impossible for a team of researchers to conduct analysis themselves. While the rebuilding itself will be a human-driven effort (woo! not obsolete yet!), the 3D scanning by drones will be a crucial part of the process, saving hundreds of man hours, and allowing restoration teams to cut straight to the chase.

The drones are a collaboration between Intel and the China Foundation for Cultural Heritage Conservation. We wish them the best of luck in their dangerous and thrilling mission.

Not to drone on, but:

How Community Supported Agriculture is Taking Root in China

On a chilly spring afternoon, Zhao Wenjuan throws one more layer of soil around the green seedling with her bare hands, and bursts out a big smile. A round-faced 24-year-old, she’s excited about working on her own piece of land at Little Donkey Farm for the second year.

Sitting at the bottom of Phoenix Hill in Beijing, near the dusty West 6th Ring Road, this 130-acre farm has attracted over 1,000 households to rent land and experience agricultural work since 2008. In the last decade, 10,000 people have visited the site, and over 500,000 kilograms of vegetables have been produced.

On average, more than 200 urban families come to Little Donkey Farm regularly every year. Spending a few thousand RMB to rent a 30sqm plot of land, they literally get their hands dirty by doing everything from seeding to fertilizing to picking fresh produce.

Little Donkey Farm

Photo credit: Little Donkey Farm

The farm has become a beacon for China’s fledgling Community Supported Agriculture movement, and is attracting an increasingly young crowd of would-be growers.

Randomly pick a farmer in the United States, and there’s a good chance you’ll find somebody in their 60s. According to the latest national survey, the average age for American farmers is 58.3, a figure which has been rising in recent years. In China, farming — especially of the organic, community-supported variety — might be going in the opposite direction.

Pioneering Community Supported Agriculture in China

Beijing’s sprawling urbanization has come with significant costs for farmers on the city’s periphery. The city has sucked away land and talent, and agricultural work often carries little appeal for younger generations in rural areas.

Recognizing the importance of finding new ways of developing agriculture — and developing the countryside – the founders of Little Donkey Farm took over a remote piece of land outside the capital from the government ten years ago. In addition to pairing up farmers and urban dwellers, they have placed food safety and sustainable growth at the center of their operations. They’ve raised chickens and pigs to help create fertilizer, and introduced certain natural methods to control pests rather than using chemical pesticides.

Little Donkey Farm

Zhao Wenjuan and her boyfriend Wang Yilong, about to transport some seedlings from a green house to the field. Photo credit: Cici Zhang

Soon after their experiments began, the 2008 toxic milk powder scandal — where excessive levels of melamine were discovered in China-produced milk products — helped garner increased attention for Little Donkey. People wanted to know where their food came from. And one of the best ways to do this is to grow food themselves, without any harmful chemicals.

Essentially a B2C business, this model is called Community Supported Agriculture (CSA). It also helps to minimize environmental pollution that comes from long-haul transport and fossil fuel burning.

On a CSA farm, farmers and customers work alongside each other, sharing risks and profits, linked by the same plot of land beneath their feet. At Little Donkey Farm, urban dwellers can rent a small piece of land, pay an annual fee up front, and hire additional help if they are too busy to tend to the land themselves. Many bring their kids along, making it an educational experience as well.

Little Donkey Farm

A family harvesting fresh vegetables. Photo credit: Little Donkey Farm

“We’ve Developed Emotional Ties to this Land”

Having driven more than 50km to the farm, Ms Chen and her husband are watering their vegetables when I interrupt them on a Sunday afternoon in early April. They started coming to Little Donkey Farm because they wanted their child to experience growing their own food. Now in her sixth year of tending a plot on the farm, Ms Chen says her child has started school and stopped coming. But the parents couldn’t stop. “We’ve developed emotional ties to this land,” she says.

For Huang Zhiyou, a slim, thirty-something gentleman with wind cracked lips who has devoted more than ten years to finding new ways of re-building the countryside, this is exactly the kind of sentiment he hopes to foster. “It’s the land that connects people from the city and people from the villages,” he tells me as we stroll past some of the sparse-looking fenced fields. They will become much more green as the seasons progress.

Huang Zhiyou

Huang Zhiyou, manager of Little Donkey Farm. Photo credit: Cici Zhang

As one of the founding members of Little Donkey Farm, Huang hopes in the next ten years CSA farms will be seen in many more small towns besides big cities — and that more Chinese customers will support local producers whenever possible. Since the arrival of CSA in China in 2005, the number of places like Little Donkey Farm has grown to 500. By contrast, according to a 2011 NPR story, there were at least 4,000 CSA farms in the US at the start of this decade.

Growing Rewards

People come to farms like Little Donkey for a variety of reasons – but nearly all stay. During her time at the farm, Zhao Wenjuan says she has seen, visitors who want to bring their kids closer to nature and to the soil, who were born and grew up in villages and have now enjoy tending to crops in their retirement, and those who have suffered illness and chosen to eat healthy organic foods that they can be confident in the origins of.

Little Donkey Farm

Customers checking on their cucumbers. Photo credit: Little Donkey Farm

“Last year I harvested cabbages, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, okra, and chili peppers,” Zhao says excitedly. It’s clear she cares deeply about her land and still recalls with perceptible disappointment a time when she was on a business trip and some green-leaved vegetables went left unpicked.

“Seeing seeds become seedlings, which then become fruits, is really rewarding,” she says. “Even watering makes me happy.”

She is not alone. Zhao’s Weibo posts about her land regularly trigger a lot of excitement from her friends, she says, and she’s increasingly being joined by similarly minded young people. Since the initiation of its intern program in 2008, Little Donkey has seen more than 110 college graduates come to learn about this method of agriculture. Huang says interns have been students of agriculture, urban planning, logistics, marketing, and even literature.

In the future Huang also hopes to turn Little Donkey Farm into a base for scientific research and education, even building a hands-on museum to allow people to learn more about CSA. In China, he says, “Many growing up in the city look down on farmers.” As they buy vegetables from well-lit aisles in supermarkets they no longer interact with those responsible for farming and producing these vegetables, which creates a disconnect. By linking people based on food and land, Huang says, CSA is reconnecting a previously broken relationship. “To put it in a simple way, it’s like you have a new family member in the countryside.”

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