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Is There No Chinese Feminism?

Feminism and the role of women in today’s society are recurring topics on China’s social media platforms.

Manya Koetse



“China has no feminists” is an online post that ignited much debate on China’s social media. Since the arrest of the so-called Feminist Five, feminism and the role of women in today’s society are recurring topics on China’s social media platforms. Is there no Chinese Feminism? 

Women’s rights and Chinese feminism are much-discussed topics this year, especially since   five female activists were detained by Chinese authorities in March 2015 after trying to start a campaign against sexual harassment on public transport. The arrest of these women, now called the “Five Feminist Sisters” (五名女权姐妹), increased awareness on women’s issues – both within China and internationally. Hillary Clinton and other politicians spoke out against the detainment, that was based on charges of “picking quarrels and provoking trouble”. Although the five women were released on April 13, their arrest and the position of women at large remain well-discussed topics on China’s social media platforms, with some claiming that China has no feminism.


“Feminism was never a taboo topic in China”


Recently, the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference made known that 87% of recent female college graduates say there is still gender discrimination on the job market. According to the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report (2014), China ranks 87 amongst 142 countries in terms of political empowerment and economic participation of women, positioned in between Venezuela and Uganda. The resurgence of traditional gender norms, domestic abuse and declining labor force participation are recurring issues in discussions on women’s rights and gender equality in Chinese society.

These findings might seem out of place for a country where Mao Zedong once turned “women hold up half the sky” and “what men can do, women can do” into national slogans. Emancipation of women was a key goal of the Communist Revolution, and the first female tractor driver and locomotive operator were praised as national icons. But the 1980s post-Mao era brought rapid economic developments and drastic changes for the lives of women. In present-day China, feminism seemingly has become a somewhat uncomfortable term. “Feminism was never a taboo topic in China,” women’s rights activist Meili Xiao writes in the New York Times. She explains: “Before, our messages were consistent with those of the government, which calls itself an advocate of women’s rights.” That sentiment is changing now, as many women perhaps no longer want what the government wants for them. In the last two decades or so, the Confucian-based traditional family is promoted as the pillar of Chinese society. State-led media often portray women as good housewives and sweet mothers – no longer as tractor drivers or engineers.


Because of the one-child policy and illegal sex-selective abortions due to the preference for boys, there are currently more Chinese men than women under the age of 30 (Fincher 2014, 4). This surplus of men, estimated at 20 million, has created a problem in the marriage market: many eligible men are left without a partner. While most of these “leftover men” reside in China’s rural areas, there is also a large group of single women under the age of 30 that live in China’s urban parts. They have become world famous as the so-called “leftover women“, a term defined by the China’s Women’s Federation in 2007 to describe these women from around the age of 25-27 who postpone married life to work on their education or career. With a decline in births, an ageing society and an abundance of single men, there are many writers and activists that urge China’s single women to get married instead of choosing their own path, asking: “For the country, for society, for parents, can’t you let go a bit of ‘personal happiness?”

State-led media repeatedly represent the educated and career-driven “leftover women” in negative ways. With direct and indirect pressure from state, society and family, it seems like women only have two options: either to fight for their career and be stigmatised as “leftovers”, or to marry early and become a stay-at-home mother. The latter option generally means not acquiring any economic power; most residential property in China is solely owned by men (Fincher 2014, 46).


“Being a good housewife and mother is the greatest skill of a woman”


One Chinese netizen posted an article on Sina Weibo last month that included a picture (image below) of a poster in a marriage registration office in Beijing’s Xicheng District. It is directed at women, saying:

Being a good housewife and mother is the greatest skill of a woman. Why do you insist on competing like crazy with men, taking their place and resources?” (做一个好主妇、好母亲是一个女人最大的本事, 为什么非要削尖了脑袋、累吐了血跟男人争资源、抢地盘呀?).


The netizen, ‘Beishan Nanren’, wrote an article on Weibo focused on the propaganda poster and female emancipation, titled ‘Giving a Voice to Female Compatriots‘ (为妇女同胞发声). In the article, Beishan argues that men’s dominance in marriage is a simple consequence of their economic domination. The resurgence of traditional family values, as promoted in the poster, takes away female independence. Women’s economic power, he says, is more important than their political rights. He mentions that women in Afghanistan have a right to vote, but are in no way equal to men. What is lacking, he argues, is independent economic power: money gives freedom. “It’s easy,” he says: “jobs are usually more important than voting.” According to Beishan, the poster by the Beijing Xicheng district is not only sexist, it is also an infringement of women’s economic equality rights.

The Weibo article by Beishan was viewed over 900.000 times and received over 13500 comments, with some criticising Beishan and remarking that women’s economic empowerment is not enough for female emancipation: something also needs to change in the gendered division of household labor. “I will exhaust myself to death if I work and still need to take care of the family by myself,” one female netizen says: “I also want my husband to take care of the baby and do the household.”


“There are no Chinese feminists. Struggling for basic human rights does not make you a feminist.”


Another article that ignited much online discussion was that by a user called ‘Xiao Ban’ on Douban Forum, titled: “There are no Chinese FeministsYou’re Just Seeing Ghosts,” (“中国根本没有女权主义者。你们那都是见到鬼了). According to the author, there is no ‘feminism’ in China, just two different types of women within the women’s rights discourse. One side is just happy that she was never aborted or given away as a child, that she no longer needs to bind her feet, has enjoyed education and has the ability to work. All the rest is not important, “a bit of sexism” is not worth complaining about, and certainly no reason to interrupt China’s “harmonious society”. Then there is the other side: women who think about all those girls that actually were aborted, given away, and cut off from education or work, and then want to do their best to fight for their rights. But, Xiao Ban argues, struggling for basic human rights does not make you a feminist.

Countries like Sweden are way ahead in feminism, says Xiao Ban, as feminists there are actually preoccupied with changing how gender is shaped by society. Saying a boy cannot play with dolls, or a girl cannot study mathematics is considered gender discrimination, and is not allowed. It has led to women having high positions within politics. This awareness has not taken root in China, according to Xiao Ban: a woman’s worth is still based on what men make it out to be.

“If we try hard enough, and are courageous enough, awake enough, we can maybe become the first generation of Chinese feminists,” Xiao Ban says.


“The key to personal independence lies in economic self-reliance”


There are no Chinese feminists” received many reactions. The article, originally published in late February 2015, was shared on different websites and forums, from Weibo to Baidu, and is still being discussed today. As online discussions on women’s issues continue, they also become more specific: people question why Chinese non-governmental women’s rights organisations are not influential yet, and whether or not there truly is one feminism (“In the eyes of 1000 feminists, there are 1000 feminisms“, says one netizen).

This week, women’s rights NGO Feminist’s Voice (女权之声) published an interview with Wang Zhang on its Weibo account on May 16. Wang Zhang is a feminist and associate professor at the University of Michigan, who has participated in the Chinese feminist movement. In the interview, she shares her worries about the detained feminists: “I’m happy they are released,” she says: “but they should not have been arrested in the first place. If women are already being arrested when they are only raising awareness for a cause such as this [sexual harassment], then what can we expect in the future?” “Worst of all,” she says: “they were treated as criminals by the police.” One of the five, Wu Rongrong, was scolded and threatened by a policeman during her detainment; he said he would throw her in the men’s prison to be gang raped.

Despite the setbacks, Wang is pleased with the development of feminism in China – there are indeed feminists (although they are not ‘mainstream’), she says, and the new generations also includes some young men who participate in the debate on women’s issues. According to Wang, there is not one unified message, as Chinese women choose different paths. “I don’t want all women to be successful career women – everyone has their own choice,” she says: “But I agree with the older generation of feminists that the key to personal independence lies in economic self-reliance.” Her message his clear: women need to be their own boss, and not put their life in the hands of a man.

In present-day China, many women are struggling for political visibility and recognition. China’s online platforms play an important role in getting their voices heard and shaping the current feminist debate. Weibo, Weixin and other internet forums allow netizens and grassroots movements to exchange their views on the status quo of feminism. China might not have the feminism as it is known in Europe or the US, but it does have its own feminisms – and online, they are blossoming.

“I am male,” Beishan says, after expressing his anger about the “good housewife” Beijing Xicheng poster: “But at the same time,” he writes: “I am also the son of my mother, the brother of my sister, the husband of my wife, the father of my daughter. For my mother, sister, wife, daughter, I would like to tell Beijing Xicheng District’s marriage registration office something: You’re full of shit!”


By Manya Koetse
Follow What’s on Weibo on Twitter

©2015 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at

Manya Koetse is the editor-in-chief of She is a writer and consultant (Sinologist, MPhil) on social trends in China, with a focus on social media and digital developments, popular culture, and gender issues. Contact at, or follow on Twitter.


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‘Good Doctor’, Digital Hospitals: How Mobile Apps Are Alleviating China’s Healthcare Problems

With the rapid digitalization of China’s healthcare, Chinese patients now have more ways than one to receive medical assistance.

Manya Koetse



China’s healthcare industry is facing some serious challenges. As Chinese society is rapidly digitalizing, mobile apps now provide innovative solutions to alleviate pressing problems in the country’s health services sector.

This is the “WE…WEI…WHAT?” column by Manya Koetse, originally published in German by Goethe Institut China on “Good-Doctor Apps und Digitale Krankenhäuser.” 

Social Credit System, artificial intelligence, surveillance cameras; these are some of the hottest topics making headlines in mainstream Western media when discussing China-related developments recently.

With the rapid digitalization of Chinese society, these topics certainly have come to play a more important role in social media discussions within the People’s Republic of China (PRC). But if there is one issue that seems to concern Chinese social media users the most, it is not facial recognition nor their ‘Sesame score’: it is the topic of healthcare.

In December of 2017, a photo showing a crying mother kneeling down beside a toddler on the sidewalk in front of a Shanghai hospital went viral overnight. The moment was captured on camera by a reporter who was visiting Shanghai’s Children’s Hospital.

The photo of Guo Yinzhen and her son that went viral in China (image via NetEase, source:

The mother, Guo Yinzhen, is a single parent who had traveled from a remote village to seek medical help for her 3-old-son, who was suffering from congenital hydrocephalus or ‘water on the brain.’ Already having traveled to the city multiple times and spending all her money on medical bills, Guo could not afford the additional 100.000 yuan (€ 12.600) for medical procedures needed to save her son’s life.

Guo’s story struck a chord with Chinese netizens, who continue to share the heartbreaking photo on social media to this day. It has become emblematic of China’s healthcare problems.


Crowded Hospitals and ‘Healthcare Disturbance’


The key to an adequate healthcare system, no matter where in the world, is that there is a right balancing in the “iron triangle” of efficiency/cost containment, high quality care, and patient access.[1] China, however, struggles with all three sides of this triangle.

Guo’s case is an extreme example, but many people in China dealing with less serious health issues and needing basic medical services also struggle to afford and access the healthcare they need.

Over 95% of people in China have health insurance, but people from different regions do not enjoy the same benefits and their out-of-pocket expenses can vary greatly. Uncovered medical costs can sometimes be catastrophic and simply unaffordable for patients and their families.

As more money flows are going to healthcare facilities in China’s cities, there is also the issue of varying levels of providers’ medical education and the overall healthcare quality, with the substantial majority of modern hospitals still existing in urban areas.

Easy access to the right kind of healthcare can be especially problematic for China’s rural population, as people often need to travel long distances and have to go through the lengthy process of registering and waiting for their doctor’s appointment, which sometimes requires them to stay in the city overnight.

For all of these reasons, China’s bigger public hospitals can get super crowded, sometimes resembling shopping malls on an end-of-season sales day. On social media, both patients and medical workers often complain about the stress brought about by the huge crowds and the shortage of doctors in hospitals across the country.

Perhaps it is no wonder that China even has a word to describe outbursts of violence between patients and doctors: ‘Yī nào’ (医闹, literally: “healthcare disturbance”).

Weibo user ‘Sunscreen’ complains about the crowds at Huashan Hospital.

One major problem within China’s healthcare conundrum is the lack of local family or primary-care doctors, which often makes bigger hospitals the first stop to any kind of medical treatment for Chinese patients.

The reasons for this issue are manifold. There is a general lack of trust in private and smaller local healthcare clinics, for example, and patients often choose to go directly to a bigger hospital to avoid making extra costs.

This makes it extra difficult for many community health care centers – that are already struggling – to make enough money and to retain qualified staff. In a society that is rapidly aging, the challenges facing China’s healthcare industry are only becoming more pressing.


A Doctor Today, Just an App Away


As China’s online environment is thriving, new innovative online apps are popping up on a daily basis. Some of these apps, that have found their ways into China’s most popular app rankings, are offering solutions to some of the country’s most pressing healthcare problems.

One of these apps is Ping’an Good Doctor (平安好医生), which was developed by health insurance provider Ping’an in 2015 and calls itself China’s “one-stop healthcare ecosystem.”

“Ping’an Good Doctor” promotional image by Ping’an.

Employing some 1000 medical staff in its in-house team, contracting over 5,200 external doctors, and collaborating with 3000 hospitals and thousands of pharmacy outlets across the country, the app is somewhat of an “online hospital.”

Through the app, users can look through an online database of medical professionals, order medicine at nearby pharmacies, get 24/7 online medical consultancy, search for information about both Western and Chinese Traditional Medicine, etc., but they can also use Ping’an Good Doctor as a fitness app to track their own health.

Screenshot of Ping’an app screen, by author.

When looking for a specific doctor for a one-on-one consult, the app first lets users select an area of expertise (e.g. dermatology or gynecology), and then offers a list of different specialists in various price categories.

Doctors from well-known hospitals, for example, or those with excellent ratings, have a one-time consultation fee of 100 yuan (€ 12,60). Other doctors can be consulted starting from 30 yuan (€3,70). All costs can be paid efficiently via online payment apps.

Doctors to pick from within the app’s various price categories.

Ping’an Good Doctor uses an AI-driven system to ask patients various questions about their symptoms and to automatically create a user’s medical record to save time. Based on the AI-generated record and the conversation with the patients – files such as photos can also be uploaded to the app -, the doctors can prescribe medicine or refer the patient to a hospital for an offline appointment if needed.

Ping’an recently announced that its number of registered users exceeded 300 million users, with 62 million monthly active users. Because the app keeps building on its AI-driven system, Ping’an Good Doctor can be expected to only become a ‘smarter’ smart health app the more popular it gets.

Although Ping’an is now leading within China’s medical app category, there are many other apps providing similar services, such as Chunyu Yisheng (春雨医生), Haodafu Online (好大夫在线), or DingXiang Doctor (丁香医生).

The emergence of these apps is just one of the many ways in which China’s digital developments, online media, and tech giants are impacting the healthcare industry, profoundly changing how patients receive healthcare information and access medical services now and in the future.

List of recommended medical apps in the Tencent app store.

In a way, China’s medical consultation apps fill the void in offline primary care. Patients who would otherwise turn to hospital care as their first stop can now  access medical consultations any time, any day, at a relatively low cost. Those who suffer from relatively harmless conditions could be diagnosed by a medical specialist via the app and get the medicine they need within a matter of minutes. With the growing popularity of these kinds of apps, many patients no longer need to visit a hospital at all.

Are smart health apps such as Ping’an Good Doctor the solution to China’s healthcare problems? No, they’re not. Struggling mums like Guo Yinzhen will not find the help they need there. But they do contribute to a more efficient healthcare environment where crowd flows in hospitals can be reduced, and patients do not need to spend a lot of time and money to stand in hour-long queues to get five minutes of their doctor’s time.

Although smart health apps could not help Guo Yinzhen and her son, social media apps could. As soon as their story went viral in late 2017, Shanghai Children’s Welfare Foundation Xiaoxingxin offered to cover medical treatments for the little boy, with a notable pediatric neurosurgeon operating the child. According to the latest updates, the boy’s situation was “looking good.”

Hopefully, the same holds true for the challenging sides of China’s healthcare industry.

By Manya Koetse
Follow @whatsonweibo

[1] Burns & Liu, 2017: 3-4.

References/Linked Sources

Burns, Lawton Robert, and Gordon G. Liu. 2017. “Introduction.” In China’s Healthcare Industry: A System Perspective, Lawton Robert Burns and Gordon G. Liu (eds), pp-1-116. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Economist, 2017. “China needs many more primary-care doctors.” The Economist, May 11 [20.10.19].

Zhou, Viola. 2018. “Does China Have Universal Healthcare? A Long (And Better) Answer.” Inkstone, Oct 10

This text was first published by Goethe-Institut China under a CC-BY-NC-ND-4.0-DE license (Creative Commons) as part of a monthly column in collaboration with What’s On Weibo.

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How Chinese Kuaishou Rebel ‘Pangzai’ Became a Twitter King

He’s been called a ‘Twitter king’, but how did the unexpected online fame of this ‘Hebei Pangzai’ start?

Jessica Colwell



Twitter has fallen in love with a Chinese farmer after his drinking videos on Kuaishou were cross-posted abroad and went viral. He has embraced his new fans and Western social media, arguably becoming one of China’s most successful cultural ambassadors of the year.

He describes himself as the “inventor of tornado beer drinking style” and as an “ordinary peasant from China.” ‘Hebei Pangzai’ only joined Twitter in August of 2019, but he already has a Twitter following of more than 111.6K.

Although his account is temporarily restricted by Twitter at time of writing (“due to suspicious activity”), his popularity is only growing. Some Twitterers, such as the China twitterer Carl Zha (@CarlZha), are even initiating a “#FreePangzai campaign” to restore the account of the “one true King.”

But where and when did the online fame of ‘Hebei Pangzai’ start?

Let’s begin our introduction to Pangzai with one tweet from March of this year, when Twitter user ‘Hunnaban Trenchboss’ posted a video from Chinese short video app Kuaishou (快手) showing a man – ‘Pangzai’ – wearing sunglasses and smoking a cigarette while preparing an incredible mixed drink.

The man in the video smoothly pops the cap off a bottle of beer with a chopstick, pours some in a large jar, then twirls the bottle and propels the rest of the beer in a tornado of force down his throat.

He follows that up by pouring in more beer, some blue liquor, an egg, some Pepsi, and a hefty glass of baijiu – which he dumps in only after lighting it on fire, igniting his finger, and coolly lighting his cigarette. He then chugs the entire concoction in a matter of seconds.

“How do I become as cool as this guy, The Coolest Guy?”, the tweet said.

The same video was shared again in August by a few Russian accounts, was retweeted by an American account, and then went completely viral, racking up millions of views and tens of thousands of retweets.

That video has now been viewed almost 12 million times on Twitter, and has inspired tens of thousands of fans who herald him as ‘king.’

The man in the video referred to as ‘Pangzai’ (胖仔, ‘chubby dude’) is Liu Shichao (刘世超), a 33-year-old farmer and small-time Chinese internet celebrity from a city called Xingtai in Hebei Province.

According to an interview with Technode, he found out about the video on Twitter when some of his new foreign fans opened Chinese social media accounts to find him and tell him about his overnight online fame.

“One message told me that I was a celebrity now in America,” he told Technode: “So I chatted with the person [who sent the message] for a whole day, with the help of translation software.”

Within two days of his video going viral, Pangzai had figured out how to use a VPN, opened his own Twitter account and started uploading videos.

He even posted a reply on the original viral video to alert everybody to his account.

Liu’s early response to his viral video on Twitter.

Since then, Liu ‘Pangzai’ has amassed over 111,000 followers and has posted many more videos of everything from drinking, to cooking, to exploring his countryside hometown.

But it was the drinking videos specifically that earned him his following, both abroad and in China.



“Pangzai epitomizes the typical Kuaishou account.”


Liu began his internet career three years ago on Kuaishou, a Chinese short video app massively popular among China’s lower-tier cities and countryside.

In contrast to the polished, celeb-heavy platform Douyin, which is most popular among urban youths, Kuaishou is a platform for the masses. Its users are known for their crazy antics and general disregard for personal safety.

Liu Shichao’s Kuaishou account has 354,000 followers, but the majority of his videos have been removed.

Pangzai epitomizes the typical Kuaishou account. Posting under the handle “Chubby Dude from Hebei” (@河北胖仔), he uploads videos of himself eating and drinking in eye-popping combinations, or sometimes smashing things – from bricks to unopened water bottles – with his bare hands.

Liu’s video of breaking bricks with his hands was also popular on Twitter.

Liu also gained notoriety, and a couple hundred thousand followers, from his mastery of the so-called ‘beer tornado technique’ (小旋风 xiǎo xuànfēng).

According to an interview with the BBC, he peaked at 470,000 followers on Kuaishou and was monetizing his online fame with some 10,000 RMB ($1420) per month.

Liu’s signature beer tornado technique features in the first video he posted to Twitter.

Unfortunately for Liu, China’s Cyberspace Administration announced a crackdown on vulgar and illegal content across multiple social media platforms in spring of 2018, with a focus on Douyin, Kuaishou, and its sister news company Jinri Toutiao. Kuaishou was pulled from app stores until it cleaned up its act.

It is unclear just how many videos and accounts have been removed as a result of the cleanup. We can get a rough idea from an announcement by Kuaishou earlier this year that in March of 2019 alone, it removed an average of over 11,000 videos and blocked almost 1,000 accounts every day.

The result for Liu was that his account was suspended for four months and the majority of his most popular videos, including the one that went viral abroad, were removed for promoting ‘unhealthy drinking habits.’

When you look at his Kuaishou account today, you won’t see many videos focused solely on baijiu and beer chugging.

The videos that remain on his account do include drinking (and his signature tornado move) but it is always accompanied by eating food or some other activity (such as sitting deep in a field of corn, munching on roast duck and dribbling baijiu down a corn leaf into a glass.)

In a video posted to Kuaishou, Liu pours baijiu into a glass from a corn leaf, before then lighting it on fire and chugging it.

Liu still has 354,000 followers on Kuaishou. His Chinese fans, like his foreign ones, marvel at his cool and collected manner as he eats and drinks all sorts of disgusting things.

Canned herring features heavily in his most popular recent videos, where he can be seen sipping the juice directly from the can.

In one of his videos on Kuaishou, Liu eating herring directly from the can, to the disgust of his fans.

“This has to be the most unaffected anyone has ever been by eating canned herring,” says one fan. “The flavor is disgusting! 99.9% of people who try this would vomit,” another online commenter replies.



“Liu is like many young men from the countryside of Northern China: open, friendly, humble, and genuinely excited to share his life.”


This year, Liu seems to have embraced his newfound international stardom with grace and savvy.

He uses Twitter’s in-app translation to help him communicate with fans and has been highly interactive on the platform.

Liu ‘Pangzai’ was also quick to open up a Paypal account and share it with followers, and has recently made YouTube and Instagram accounts to prevent scams pretending to be him. He has also collaborated with a Twitter fan to sell T-shirts online in America.

Many online fans have dubbed him ‘king’, perhaps the highest praise one can receive on the internet today.

But in contrast to the sunglasses and chill demeanor of his videos, Liu does not appear to be an internet celebrity overly obsessed with being cool.

Instead, he is like many young men from the countryside of Northern China: open, friendly, humble, and genuinely excited to share his life (and drinking habits) with the rest of the world.

Liu began using translation software to communicate with fans soon after joining Twitter.

After reposting all of his old drinking videos from Kuaishou, Liu started asking Twitter fans what they would like to see from him. Many responded that they wanted more about his life in rural China.

He has since followed up with videos showing him fixing a pipe with his friends, exploring his local market, cooking sweet potatoes, and, of course, a tutorial on how to master the ‘tornado beer’ technique.

Liu explaining on Twitter how to perform the tornado beer technique that helped make him famous.

Many have expressed concern for his health in light of his drinking habits, but he has assured everybody that everything he does is “within his ability” and that he doesn’t drink like that very often.

Liu is grateful for all the support and praise he has received from abroad. “It’s crazy to have all of these foreign friends all of a sudden,” he recently said in an interview with Deadspin: “I really have to thank them a lot. If I have a chance I will find them and we can drink together.”

Seemingly to that end, Liu has recently organized a party to be held near his hometown in China, exciting fans all over the world and spurring many to apply for passports and visas.

Once Liu began inviting people to his party, he changed the date and location in order to accommodate more attendees.

The date is set for December 14, 2019 in Zhuamadian City, Hebei Province; too soon for many to make it, but he promises another party in the spring. There is talk also of organizing a visit for Liu ‘Pangzai’ to go to America.



“Liu’s growing notoriety abroad seems to have flown completely under the radar of the Chinese internet.”


Although there are many vloggers like Pangzai in China, he stands out on Twitter as some sort of window into Chinese social media, especially because this online world is usually so separate from the Western realms of social media.

The recent explosive growth of Chinese social media apps such as TikTok has not done much to facilitate this kind of cultural interaction between China and the West.

Although Tiktok is, in fact, a Chinese app (called Douyin 抖音 in China), there are actually two different versions of the same app in mainland China and abroad, meaning that the other ‘Pangzais’ of the Chinese internet still remain within the social media spheres of the PRC, rarely gaining fame outside of the Great Firewall.

In China, aside from his fans on Kuaishou, Liu’s growing notoriety abroad seems to have flown completely under the radar of the Chinese internet. He is mentioned only one or two times across Weibo, and searches for his name and handle on WeChat, Baidu, and various Chinese tech news sites bring up nothing.

Liu is a rare example of genuine soft power coming out of China. A pure, grassroots man of the people with strong cultural appeal who sincerely enjoys sharing his life and his culture with the rest of the world. His tweets are full of affection and appreciation for his fans, as well as frequent prompts for followers to share their own lives and customs of their home countries.

To watch his introduction to Twitter and rise to fame is to see the best of the internet: cultural interaction, genuinely shared delight, and mutual admiration inspired by hilarious antics caught on camera.

His Twitter fans express their hope that Twitter Support will soon lift the temporary ban on their ‘Twitter king.’ To them, it’s perfectly clear: this online king is nowhere near dead, long live Pangzai!

Follow the #FreePangzai hashtag on Twitter.

Update: Panghaizi is out of Twitter jail!

Want to read more about unexpected online celebrities from China? Also see:
The Story of Two Farmers Who Became Internet Celebrities;
The “Vagrant Shanghai Professor”;
From Farmgirl to Fashionista: Weibo Celebrity Fairy Wang.


By Jessica Colwell
Follow @whatsonweibo

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