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Social Media in Times of China’s Flood Disaster: Participation, Profits, and Propaganda

Manya Koetse

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Posters issued by People's Daily during the Henan floods.

The social media trends during China’s heavy rainfall and floods in July of 2021 show the multidimensionality of online communication in times of disaster. Facing the devastating downpours, Weibo became a site for participation, propaganda, and some controversial profiting.

 
This is the “WE…WEI…WHAT?” column by Manya Koetse, original publication in German by Goethe Institut China, visit Yi Magazin: WE…WEI…WHAT? Manya Koetse erklärt das chinesische Internet. Read this article in German here.
 

Starting on July 17, 2021, China’s Henan Province experienced extreme rain that led to record-breaking flooding and soon forced thousands of people to leave their homes, completely disrupting normal life.

Several places in the region saw unprecedented rainfall. From 8pm on July 19 to 8pm on July 20, the provincial capital Zhengzhou experienced 552.2 mm of rainfall, which is 3.5 times more rain than Germany saw during its heaviest rainfall in 75 years on July 14-15 of this year.

The death toll from the torrential rainfall has risen to at least 302 people, with many remaining missing.

As emergency situations occurred across the region, social media came to play an important role in the response to the natural disaster. Weibo, one of China’s biggest social media sites, was utilized as a communication tool during the floods by regular netizens, official channels, and companies.

While the extreme weather continued, the Henan flood disaster played out on social media in various ways. There were those helping, those profiting, and then there were those profiting from helping. We will highlight some of these dimensions within the social media responses to Henan’s catastrophic floods here.

 

People Helping People


 

There is one hashtag on Weibo that was breaking records in July: ‘Help Each Other During Henan Rainstorm’ (#河南暴雨互助#) received a staggering 16.9 billion clicks just a week after it was first launched.

By creating an online ‘Henan Help’ community, Weibo facilitated active public participation in providing immediate assistance to those affected by the extreme weather and flooding.

As described by Wendy Huang for What’s on Weibo (link), an enormous volume of messages starting pouring in on Chinese social media since the start of the heavy rainfall from people disseminating relevant information on available resources and from those seeking and providing assistance.

Rather than being a messy collection of individual posts, netizens collectively participated in verifying, summarizing, highlighting, and spreading the online help requests posted by people from different locations. In doing so, they helped in speeding up the rescue work.

This is not the first time for Weibo to play an important role during a crisis or emergency. When Sichuan Province was hit by a deadly earthquake in 2013, social media enabled a fast and free grass-roots response to the disaster. The Sina Weibo platform allowed for efficient, immediate crisis communication, leading to teams of volunteers – organized via Weibo – heading out to the disaster zone to deliver donated tents, blankets, water, etc. and provide other forms of assistance (Levin 2013).

During the early stages of the Wuhan COVID19 outbreak, social media platforms such as Weibo and WeChat were also used as practical communication tools for organizations and individuals to spread information or to ask for help. One example is how Weibo helped local volunteers organize teams to assist in taking care of people’s left-behind pets when they were unable to return to their homes due to quarantine or hospitalization.

As soon as the scale of the floods in Henan province became clear, social media users started donating money for flood relief efforts. By July 21st, while the videos of the devastating impact of the heavy rainfalls went viral, Weibo users had already contributed 20 million yuan ($3 million). That number soon rose significantly as more netizens, social influencers, and celebrities also started to donate and promote charity foundations.

Simply posting, replying, forwarding, and making comments itself was also a way of public participation during the Henan floods. While many news reports and social media posts were focused on what was going on in the provincial capital of Zhengzhou, the people in the more rural areas such as Weihui in Xinxiang started sounding the alarm by July 21st, pleading for netizens to pay more attention to their situation so that it would also enter the top trending lists. Sharing these posts to draw more attention to them also became a way of providing assistance.

By July 21st, half of Weibo’s top trending topics were related to the Henan floods.

 

Showing Support and Showing Off


 

Chinese netizens made a huge impact on how the Henan flood disaster was handled in the early stages, but companies in China also contributed to flooding relief efforts in many ways, while their actions simultaneously served PR goals.

On July 21st, one major company after the other announced its donation via social media. Tech giants Pinduoduo, Tencent, Meituan, Didi, and Bytedance all donated 100 million yuan ($15.4 million) each to help the rescue operations in Henan. Alibaba topped the list with a 150 million ($23 million) donation.

Besides donating 30 million yuan ($4.6 million), Chinese tech giant Huawei also sent a team of 187 engineers to provide assistance on the front line and 68 of their R&D experts worked on helping local operators in their network repair and maintenance work to ensure a smooth communication network in the disaster area.

The Henan floods also provided an opportunity for Western brands in China to win back public favor. Many Western companies triggered outrage in China earlier this year over their ban on cotton from Xinjiang (link). In light of the Henan catastrophe, Nike and Adidas each contributed 20 million yuan ($3 million), Uniqlo 10 million ($1.5 million), PUMA 5 million ($773,000), Burberry 1.5 million yuan ($230,000), and Zara and H&M each donated 1 million ($155,000).

Adidas, Nike, and Burberry announcing their donations via social media.

Their contributions, however, did not seem to do much for their public image. The donations barely received media coverage, and some social media users who did know about them complained that Zara and H&M did not give enough money. There were also many netizens who praised Chinese sportswear brands for donating money and condemned Nike for giving “zero yuan,” even though the company had already announced donating 20 million yuan.

The company that really managed to win the public’s favor through their Henan donation is Erke (鸿星尔克 ), a relatively small and low-key Chinese sportswear company that seemingly was not doing too well over the past year facing great domestic competition.

When Erke donated 50 million yuan ($7.7 million) to the Henan flood relief efforts, it attracted major attention on Chinese social media. The sportswear brand donated an amount that was ten times higher than, for example, the donation made by major coffee company Starbucks.

Erke announcing its donation via social media (Weibo).

After people found out that the Erke brand donated such a high amount of money to help the people in Henan despite its own losses, its sales went through the roof – everyone wanted to support this generous ‘patriotic brand.’ While netizens rushed to the online shops selling Erke, the brand’s physical shops also ran out of products with so many people coming to buy their sportswear. Some sales assistants were moved to tears when the store suddenly filled up with customers.

People lining up at an Erke shop, photo via UDN.com.

The Erke hype even went so far that Chinese livestream sellers of Nike and Adidas notified their viewers that they actually supported the domestic Erke brand.

Adidas livestream sellers supporting Erke.

Erke profited from helping Henan, but there were also those companies that wanted to profit from the Henan floods without actually helping.

One ad by the local real estate company Kangqiao Real Estate promoting its ‘high lands’ properties led to online controversy. The Kangqiao Group poster highlighted the height advantage to its real estate locations, using the slogan: “Highland – live in the highland and only let the wind and rain be your scenery.”

The company apologized for its insensitive marketing campaign on July 21st, the hashtag (#康桥地产致歉#) received over 130 million views, but the damage to its reputation had already been done. In a similar fashion, two other companies also promoted their “safe” real estate and parking lots during the Henan floodings, with one company using a photo of a flooded car in Henan to suggest what could happen when not using their services. It led to online outrage that these companies would use such a disastrous time for their own marketing purposes.

Other examples of people using the floods for their own publicity also went trending on social media, such as a group of Chinese online influencers who came to affected areas to record themselves, making a show out of the floods (photos below).

On July 27, some online influencers even went one step further to promote their channels and boost viewership. They traveled to Weihui, one of the province’s worst affected areas, and shamelessly stole a rescue boat, and headed into the waters without actually helping anyone. The incident prevented actual aid workers from doing their job and delayed the rescue work by four hours. It caused controversy on Weibo (#网红为拍视频偷救生艇谎称去救人#), with many wondering why these people would want to profit from a situation that was still so critical.

There were also online discussions on situations in which it was less clear to what extent people were in it for ‘the show.’ Chinese celebrities Han Hong (韩红) and Wang Yibo (王一博) both traveled to the affected areas for their charity work, but they were then accused of using the disaster for their own PR benefits. Many did not agree, saying they were “moved by their patriotism.”

 

Official Media Promoting National Solidarity

 

Most hashtags, videos, and trending topics on Weibo from the early moments of the rainfall and floods were initiated by regular netizens. Many people in the affected regions posted photos and videos of the local scenes themselves.

When the cars of the Zhengzhou subway line 5 were submerged in water due to flash floods on July 20, over 500 passengers were trapped. Footage of people in the carriages standing in chest-deep water that was still rising circulated on social media as rescue efforts were underway. Some hours later, rescuers managed to get people out safely, but 14 people did not make it out alive.

These kinds of unfolding events and tragedies were posted and reported on social media in real time by bloggers. Although official media channels and government accounts were also active in reporting incidents and releasing timely information, they soon focused on sending out a message of national unity and emphasized successful rescue operations and the competency of China’s relief efforts.

A similar approach to crisis communication on social media was seen during the outbreak of COVID19 and in other emergency situations – it is a route that has been taken for many years in the Party’s partnership with the media. In Media Politics in China (2017), author Maria Repnikova writes about the response to the Wenchuan earthquake (2008) when she points out how most official coverage concerning crisis management positively portrays the state’s rescue efforts and utilizes emotional projection of national unity and resilience, conveying an overall positive and people-centered narrative (118-121).

This patriotic discourse was also adopted in the social media coverage of the Henan floods by official channels. State media outlets were in unison in promoting hashtags such as “Stand Strong, Henan, We’re Coming” (#河南挺住我们来了#), “Zhengzhou, Hold On!” (#郑州挺住#), or “Shouldering Together with Henan” (#和河南一起扛#).

Online posters for the Henan Floods by CCTV, People’s Daily, and Xinhua.

In their news reporting, official media channels especially spotlighted people-centered stories. Some examples include the story of a 17-year-old boy who cried as he hugged the firefighter who rescued him, the news item on a 3-month old baby who was pulled from the ruins of a collapsed house in Xingyang, or the account of a Zhengzhou policeman who was so dedicated to his work that he hadn’t returned home in over 30 hours.

By July 21st, official Party newspaper People’s Daily had launched a hashtag titled “Touching Scenes of People Helping Each Other” (#河南暴雨中的感人互助画面#), which showed photos and videos of citizens working together in rescuing people from the water.

Another Weibo hashtag was titled “The Power of China during the Henan Rainstorms” (#河南暴雨中的中国力量#), which focused on the solidarity and compassion of the thousands of volunteers and rescue workers, stressing the idea that the people of China are able to get through difficulties together.

“We can get through this together,” online posters by People’s Daily.

The main message that is propagated by Chinese official media and government on social media is one that resonates with the general Weibo audience. Standing together with Henan and uniting in times of disaster is a sentiment that is strongly supported, not just by official channels, but by netizens, celebrities, and companies alike.

As the floods and relief efforts are still continuing in various parts of Henan Province, the messages of support and online assistance are ongoing. “Come on, Henan!” is the slogan that is sent out everywhere on Weibo, with people staying positive: “We can do this together. Everything is going to be alright.”

 

By Manya Koetse
Follow @whatsonweibo

References:

Levin, Dan. 2013. “Social Media in China Fuel Citizen Response to Quake.” New York Times, May 11 https://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/12/world/asia/quake-response.html [7.30.21].

Repnikova, Maria. 2017. Media Politics in China: Improvising Power under Authoritarianism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

This text was written for 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.

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.

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China Brands, Marketing & Consumers

Quack Like a Goose: Why Beijing Street Vendor “Auntie Goose Legs” Sparked a Nationwide Debate

After the first complaints surfaced, Auntie Goose Legs admitted the truth about her business: she ha been selling duck legs all along.

Manya Koetse

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🔥 Originally published in Eye on Digital China.
My premium newsletter covering the stories, memes, debates, and viral moments shaping online conversations in China. Subscribe here to receive future editions.

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it might still be a goose – or the other way around. That, at least, is the takeaway from two stories that recently went viral on Chinese social media.

The woman at the center of it all is Beijing street-food vendor Chen Xiufeng (陈秀凤), better known as “Auntie Goose Legs” (鹅腿阿姨). Over the years, she became something of a local celebrity in Beijing’s university district. Originally from Jiangsu, the migrant vendor had been selling her famous roasted goose legs to students since 2011.

She skyrocketed to national fame in 2023 , but became the target of widespread criticism last week after it was revealed that her celebrated goose legs – sold for 16 yuan ($2.20) per piece – were actually duck meat all along.

The controversy came up after the vendor ventured beyond the university area into Beijing’s business district. At the universities, she enjoyed a loyal customer base and dedicated WeChat groups. In her new market, however, customers proved more skeptical. Some noticed that the meat looked suspiciously duck-like; others complained that the color seemed off.

In the university district, Auntie Goose Legs she enjoyed a loyal customer base and dedicated WeChat groups.

After the first complaints surfaced, Auntie Goose Legs admitted the truth on WeChat on June 9.

“The ingredients I originally used were goose legs,” she wrote, “but they have been out of stock for more than fifteen years. The current ingredient is duck legs.”

It turned out that she had only sold goose legs, the product that made her famous, for two months back in 2011 before switching to the much cheaper duck. “Did geese become extinct without us knowing?” some netizens joked.

The revelation quickly exploded online. The hashtag “What Auntie Goose Legs is Selling Turns Out to be Duck Legs” (#鹅腿阿姨卖的是鸭腿#) became the top trending on Weibo for an entire day, with millions of people discussing the topic.

 

Why did millions of people become so outraged over a single Beijing street vendor selling duck instead of goose?

 

Piggybacking on the debate, Anhui-based commentators pointed out that a beloved regional specialty has the exact opposite ‘problem.’ Wuwei smoked duck (无为板鸭) is branded as duck, but is usually goose. According to local standards, however, goose products may be sold under this name, prompting discussions about “hanging up a goat’s head, while selling dog meat“ (挂羊头卖狗肉): advertising one thing while selling another.

Because geese are more expensive than ducks in China, and generally considered tastier, the Anhui duck-is-goose story, unlike the Auntie Goose Legs controversy, did not provoke online anger. Instead, many people saw it as an example of sellers prioritizing flavor over cost. Auntie Goose Legs is seen as doing the exact opposite.

But why did millions of people actually become so outraged over a single Beijing street vendor selling duck instead of goose, especially when there were no indications that anyone became ill? The answer has little to do with poultry and everything to do with trust.

Auntie Goose Legs during the prime time in Beijing’s University District in late 2023 (image via Lianhe Zaobao 联合早报).

Food fraud and mislabeling have been longstanding concerns in China. Earlier surveys found that food safety worries even outweighed concerns about public security and environmental issues, and while China’s food safety record has improved in recent years, public trust remains fragile.

Part of these concerns are immediate and practical. Major scandals in the past involving melamine-tainted infant formula or recycled “gutter oil” have posed serious risks to public health. But the issue goes beyond health risks alone.

 

If a goose can be a duck, then what exactly is the duck?

 

Whereas food safety concerns in many Western countries often focus on contamination, Chinese consumers are frequently just as concerned with economic deception. It is unfair to pay for a more expensive goose and receive a duck. Even if no one gets sick, Chinese consumer law still treats it as fraud.

More important, however, is what such deception does to confidence in the broader food system. If a goose can be a duck, then what exactly is the duck?

As a major 2023 college canteen scandal demonstrated, the build-up of deceit can reach a breaking point among the public. During that somewhat Kafkaesque “rat head or duck neck” (鼠头or鸭脖”事件) controversy, officials insisted a rat head found in a student’s rice was merely a “duck neck,” even though everyone could clearly see the snout and teeth of a rodent.

This kind of gaslighting shatters social trust and reinforces a generalized sense that, as a consumer, you are entirely on your own. When regulators fail to step in honestly, even a seemingly isolated incident comes to symbolize more dangerous forms of systemic food fraud.

And this is where the Auntie Goose Legs story stings the most.

People did not come to her simply because her food was good. Over the years, she had become part of local student life, and she felt safe and authentic. Her pink scooter helmet, which she continued to wear while working, became an iconic symbol of her no-nonsense and humble image. Her success was built on word of mouth and, above all, on the trust her customers placed in her.

That this particular “auntie” deceived her customers by selling a different product than the one she advertised is no longer really about her. If duck is goose, goose is duck, and your local auntie has deceived you for years, then who can you trust anymore?

 

  • Read more about how Auntie Goose Legs rose to fame in 2023 here.

 

By Manya Koetse
(follow on X, LinkedIn, or Instagram)

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

©2026 Eye on Digital China/Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

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Chapter Dive

My Mum Has Two Husbands: The OPPO Mother’s Day Fiasco and 7 Other Gender Marketing Fails in China

Inside OPPO’s Mother’s Day PR fiasco and other failed marketing campaigns in China’s gender minefield

Manya Koetse

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The backlash to OPPO’s Mother’s Day ad came from multiple directions, from grassroots netizens to official organizations. Here’s a closer look at the controversy, along with 7 other cases that show how gender-related marketing has become a recurring minefield for brands in China.

Mother’s Day is over, but OPPO is still recovering. The Chinese smartphone brand went viral over the weekend for a Mother’s Day marketing campaign that failed spectacularly. In the campaign, OPPO used the slogan: “My mom has two ‘husbands.’”

The accompanying text read:

My mom has two ‘husbands.’ One is my dad, and the other one she sees twice a year. She barely dresses up for dates with my dad, but when she sees the other one, she’d wear a wedding dress if she could.” (“我妈有两个‘老公’,一个是我爸,另一个一年见两回。跟我爸约会基本不打扮,见另一个,她恨不得穿婚纱。”)

The OPPO ad was published online on May 8, 2026.

With this ad, OPPO was likely trying to tap into digital culture and resonate with younger consumers by using online slang.

In Chinese fandom subcultures, female fans sometimes refer to their idols as their “husband” (老公, lǎogōng) to express their devotion. It is part of a broader online joke, with some fans even incorporating life-size cardboard cutouts of their favorite celebrities into their weddings.

The phrase “real husband” (真老公) gained wider mainstream attention in late 2025 after a young Chinese bride unexpectedly ran into rapper and singer Jackson Wang on her wedding day and posted:

💬 “Who understands this? I met my real husband on my wedding day!” (“谁懂啊!婚礼当天遇到了真老公!!”)

The ‘real husband’ post that went viral in late 2025 and early 2026.

Although some commenters found it funny, the bride was heavily criticized for publicly calling a celebrity her “real husband” on her wedding day, using the same word (老公) that refers to her literal spouse, as if she were placing her idol above her actual groom.

💬 “This makes it seem as though she does not truly regard the man she is legally marrying as her husband at all,” one among many commenters wrote.

While OPPO was probably aiming for a tongue-in-cheek campaign featuring an energetic and youthful mother who adores her idol, the company appears to have badly misread the room.

After the ad was posted on Weibo and other social media channels ahead of Mother’s Day, backlash quickly followed.

Many netizens were confused and did not understand the reference to fan culture. Some said they were simply “baffled” by what they saw as an inappropriate message suggesting that mom was cheating—and on Mother’s Day, no less!

💬 “Without reading the comments, I thought the ad was saying the mother was cheating and didn’t love her husband, but had a side lover she was crazy about,” one Xiaohongshu commenter wrote.

Others asked whether the creators would have been willing to run a similar Father’s Day campaign with the line: “My dad has two wives.”

Fan culture remains far removed from the everyday experience of many ordinary Chinese netizens, creating not just a gender divide but also a generational and social one.

Even when people understand that an “idol husband” is purely fictional, the term 老公 (lǎogōng) still carries the literal meaning of “husband” and implies emotional devotion to someone outside the marriage. For some, that feels disrespectful.

Many also questioned the contrast at the heart of the campaign: why does mum barely dress up for dates with her husband, yet would supposedly wear a wedding dress to see a celebrity?

Others believe celebrity fandom in China has already gone too far, and felt that using this language in a mainstream advertising campaign was especially misplaced.

As one marketing commentator on Xiaohongshu Cathy聊品牌热点) put it, OPPO had managed to offend almost every relevant audience: male consumers who saw the ad as disrespectful to husbands, fandom communities who did not want their inside jokes dragged into mainstream advertising, women who support gender equality, and many others who hold strong views about traditional family values.

 

Emotional Infidelity as a Form of Female Self-Expression

 

The brand quickly took the campaign offline and apologized. But in their initial apology post, OPPO explained that it had merely intended to challenge gender stereotypes and present a “more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers,” women who can enjoy celebrity fandoms and pursue hobbies beyond their roles as wives and mothers.

OPPO’s first apology: “Our original intention was to break stereotypes and present a more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers.”

That explanation sparked another wave of criticism, with many arguing that OPPO had completely missed the point. Few people objected to the idea that mothers can have celebrity idols or personal passions. What many found problematic was the suggestion of romantic involvement outside the marriage.

One Weibo commenter (@甲申鬼友), who called the entire episode a “PR disaster”, suggested that the problem was that OPPO framed emotional infidelity as a form of female self-expression.

They wrote:

💬 “The controversial slogan “My mom has two husbands” was not about challenging stereotypes about mothers. Instead, it glorified the tacky behavior of a married woman calling a celebrity “husband” and wanting to wear a wedding dress to see him, presenting it as a form of female self-expression. Implicitly, it suggested that a real husband should unconditionally accept his wife’s “emotional infidelity.” (…). The message conveyed by the campaign was clear enough: it alienated men and mothers who still value loyalty and commitment in relationships.”

It soon became clear that OPPO’s handling of the issue was turning into a bigger problem than the ad itself.

As netizens continued to criticize the campaign, the controversy was amplified by blogs, mainstream media, and state-affiliated organizations.

The China Advertising Association (CAA), the country’s leading advertising body operating under state supervision, weighed in, along with the All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF), China’s main state-linked women’s organization.

Both organizations echoed familiar Party messaging, criticizing marketing that crosses the boundaries of public morality, deviates from core socialist values, violates traditional family ethics, or “misleads the public, especially young people, about social values.”

As the controversy escalated, attention also turned to OPPO’s China region brand strategy director, Yu Siyue (余思月), a graduate of Wuhan University’s School of Chinese Language and Literature.

The university itself then entered the discussion by posting a statement on Weibo saying it was “shocked” by the campaign. It said it “strongly disagrees with the content (..) and the values conveyed,” distancing itself from both the campaign and its alumna. (In a detail I found unintentionally amusing, the statement also noted that Yu had once been praised for helping an elderly passenger on a bus.)

Wuhan University itself was also criticized for inserting itself into a controversy that had little to do with the university. Chinese media outlet Yicai asked: “Who forced Wuhan University into this disastrous move?” Even political commentator Hu Xijin called the statement an overreaction and a sign of “public opinion anxiety syndrome” (舆情焦虑症).

In the end, OPPO apologizedc a second time on Monday, this time stating that both the campaign and its initial response reflected serious shortcomings in the company’s values and judgment. The company said it had lost sight of “upholding the boundaries of China’s core socialist values.”

OPPO said the incident had led to disciplinary measures against those responsible, and the company promised it would ensure that future campaigns better align with “mainstream values.”

 

Lessons to Be Learned

 

There are a few things to be learned from OPPO’s PR nightmare:

🔍 1. Marketing fails are often about the response

Once a marketing controversy breaks out, the company’s response often matters more than the original mistake. If the response fails to address the actual criticism, the fallout can become much worse than the initial problem.

🔍 2. In China, PR controversies quickly become political issues

In China, public relations is inherently political. What begins as criticism from netizens can quickly be amplified by state media and official organizations. In the process, a relatively minor marketing controversy can be reframed as a broader debate about morality and family values. Once that happens, the issue is no longer just about a poorly judged advertisement but becomes a tool for boosting official narratives and reinforcing broader Party priorities.

🔍 3. In China’s cancel culture, everyone rushes to distance themselves

Chinese online backlash can be intense and unforgiving. Once a controversy takes off, everyone rushes to distance themselves from it. The fact that OPPO’s brand director became a target, and that even Wuhan University felt compelled to issue a public statement, illustrates this dynamic. At the same time, such overreactions can backfire, especially when an organization emphasizes that it is “not involved” by publicly engaging in the controversy. Sometimes, silence really is golden.

🔍 4. Gender-related marketing in China is a minefield

This episode is another reminder of how difficult it can be for brands to engage with gender-related themes in China. Companies eager to appear youthful and relatable may underestimate just how sensitive these issues are, and how quickly a seemingly playful campaign can turn into a major controversy.

 

Not Just OPPO: When Gender-Related Marketing Goes Wrong

 

OPPO is far from alone.

In recent years, language, jokes, and messaging related to gender, feminism, and male-female relationships have become some of the most sensitive issues in Chinese advertising.

In a rapidly changing China, gender roles are evolving, identities are shifting, and ideas about what is considered feminine or masculine are increasingly contested.

Expectations around what female consumers want and what male consumers value are also in flux. Younger and older generations, and especially male and female netizens, often disagree about what is socially acceptable amid women’s growing assertiveness, persistent patriarchal attitudes, and changing global trends.

For advertisers and creative directors, this creates a particularly difficult environment. Brands are trying to tap into consumers’ purchasing power and keep up with shifting social norms, while also staying within the bounds of official values and political priorities. As a result, it is easy to misread the mood and miss the mark.

Campaigns can inadvertently reinforce traditional gender hierarchies, sexualize women, portray men in ways that spark backlash, or rely on outdated stereotypes.

And, as the OPPO case shows, even campaigns that genuinely aim to challenge stereotypes can end up provoking criticism instead.

Below are seven other examples of brand campaigns in China that backfired over the past decade.


 

💥 #1 Blue Moon: Mother’s Day Marketing Backfires

Marketing campaign (2024): “Let Mom Do the Laundry More Easily”
Main problem: Reinforcing outdated gender stereotypes

China’s household cleaning giant Blue Moon (蓝月亮) also found itself at the center of a marketing controversy after a 2024 Mother’s Day elevator ad campaign promoting its premium laundry detergent with the slogans “Let mom do the laundry more easily” (“让妈妈洗衣更轻松”) and “Mom, you use it first” (“妈妈您先用”).

Many users objected to the message, arguing that it portrayed doing laundry as something that naturally belongs to mothers and reinforced traditional gender stereotypes. As part of a Mother’s Day campaign, critics said the messaging was particularly inappropriate.

As in OPPO’s case, Blue Moon’s crisis management made matters worse. The company’s initial response suggested the controversy was merely a “misunderstanding” and said the campaign was intended to express gratitude to mothers. Many netizens disagreed, arguing that Mother’s Day and mothers doing the laundry had nothing to do with each other.


 

💥 #2 Fuyanjie: “Too Dark and Stinky”

Marketing campaign (2022): “83% of men are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky”
Main problem: Straightforwardly sexist

In 2022, the well-known Chinese feminine hygiene brand Fuyanjie (妇炎洁) promoted a pink-colored intimate wash by claiming that “surveys show that 83% of men from South Korea, Japan, and China are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky” (“中日韩三国社会调查显示:83%的男性不愿意给伴侣口爱的原因竟然是太黑太难闻下不去嘴”).

Besides promising to make the genital area pinker, the campaign also suggested that hyperpigmentation could be caused by wearing tight pants and having too much sex.

The brand drew widespread criticism for being vulgar, insulting to women, and completely unscientific. Some netizens suggested that the ad makers should focus on turning their own penises pink instead.

Fuyanjie apologized and took both the campaign and the product offline.

(Remarkably, this was the brand’s second major controversy. In 2016, one of its intimate wash products carried the slogan: “I can’t wash away your past, but I can wash your future clean” (“我不能洗掉你的过去,但我能洗干净你的未来”), a line widely criticized as slut-shaming.)


 

💥 #3 Coconut Palm: Big Boobs, Short Skirts, and a Marketing Strategy Built on Controversy

Marketing campaign (2022): Busty women in tight tops and shorts dancing on livestream
Main problem: Objectification of women & crossing official lines

During China’s National Day holiday in the 2022 Covid & livestream year, Chinese coconut drink brand Coconut Palm (椰树椰汁) found itself at the center of controversy over a series of promotional streams on Douyin.

The company had already been fined twice by authorities for advertisements and packaging suggesting that drinking Coconut Palm could promote breast enlargement.

The 2022 livestreams featured several attractive, busty women in tight tops and short shorts dancing in front of the camera. The broadcasts drew even more attention when they were repeatedly interrupted and cut off by the platform.

There was little new about the campaign. Coconut Palm’s marketing has revolved around voluptuous women and sexually suggestive slogans for more than 25 years.

One of the company’s most famous slogans was “I’ve been drinking it since I was little” (“我从小喝到大”). While literally meaning “I’ve been drinking it since childhood,” the phrase can also be interpreted as “I grew big [breasts] by drinking it.”

The livestreams reignited debate on Chinese social media about the objectification of women in advertising and online culture. Coconut Palm is the only example on this list where controversy appears to be a core part of the brand’s marketing strategy. And while regulators have repeatedly taken issue with its approach, many consumers seem to appreciate the brand precisely for its refusal to change.


 

💥 #4 Ubras: “Underwear That Helps Women Win in the Workplace”

Marketing campaign (2021): Underwear so comfortable that it can “help women lie down and win in the workplace”
Main problem: Sexist and offensive

Popular talk show host and comedian Li Dan (李诞) sparked controversy on Chinese social media in 2021 over a promotional slogan for the Chinese women’s underwear brand Ubras. Their slogan (“让女性轻松躺赢职场”) can be loosely translated as “make it easy for women to win in the workplace lying down.”

The phrase was widely interpreted as suggesting that women could use their bodies or sexuality to gain an advantage at work. According to the brand, the intended message was simply that Ubras bras are so comfortable that women could “lie down and win.” The full slogan was: “一个让女性躺赢职场的装备” — “equipment that helps women lie down and win in the workplace.”

Many people felt it was inappropriate not only for a male celebrity to promote women’s underwear, but also for the campaign to draw a connection between lingerie and workplace success.

Ubras and Li Dan both apologized for the “inappropriate wording,” and all related promotional content was removed.


 

💥 #5 Intel: When a Brand Ambassador Becomes the Controversy

Marketing campaign (2021): “Intel’s standards are even higher than mine when choosing a partner”
Main problem: Caught in China’s gender wars

Tech company Intel sparked controversy in 2021 by appointing Chinese comedian Yang Li (杨笠) as a brand ambassador in China. Yang Li had become a polarizing figure because of her jokes about men, including her famous line: “Men are adorable, but mysterious. After all, they can look so average and yet be so full of confidence.”

In Intel’s campaign, Yang said: “Intel’s standards are so high — even higher than mine when choosing a partner.” (“英特尔的眼光太高了,比我挑对象的眼光都高。”)

The line itself was relatively harmless. What triggered the backlash was Yang’s public persona.

Some male netizens accused Yang of being sexist and argued that Intel, a company selling laptops and computer chips, should not be represented by a comedian known for mocking men — especially when men were seen as a key target audience.

Intel subsequently deleted the advertisement from its social media channels and ended its collaboration with Yang Li.

That decision, however, sparked a second wave of criticism. Many female netizens accused Intel of caving to online pressure and asked what had happened to the company’s commitment to diversity and inclusion. Others mocked Intel for changing its marketing strategy to appease China’s “ordinary yet confident” men.


 

💥 #6 Juewei Duck Neck: “Tender, Juicy — Want Some?”

Marketing campaign (2017): Sexually suggestive Singles’ Day poster
Main problem: Vulgar and objectifying

Ahead of the 2017 Singles’ Day shopping festival, Chinese snack chain Juewei Duck Neck (绝味鸭脖), one of China’s largest duck neck and marinated meat brands, published a promotional poster on its Tmall store showing a cartoon woman in short shorts lying on a bed with chains around her ankles and her legs spread apart, with one of the company’s products placed in front of her.

The slogan read: “Tender, juicy — want some?” (“鲜嫩多汁,想要吗”). The sexually suggestive image triggered immediate controversy and widespread criticism.

Juewei Duck Neck later issued a nationwide apology, and both the company and the advertising agency responsible for the campaign were fined 600,000 yuan (approximately US$88,000) each.


 

💥 #7 IKEA: “If You Don’t Bring Back a Boyfriend, Don’t Call Me Mom”

Marketing campaign (2017): Turning parental pressure to marry into a lifestyle ad Main problem: Reinforcing social pressure on unmarried women

A 30-second IKEA commercial sparked controversy in China in 2017 for portraying parental pressure on an unmarried daughter to find a boyfriend.

In the ad, a mother tells her daughter at the dinner table: “If you don’t bring back a boyfriend next time, then don’t call me Mom.” (“再不带男朋友回来,就别叫我妈,”)

The doorbell then rings, and a young man holding flowers appears. The parents immediately brighten, make the living room more welcoming, and set out IKEA tableware for a celebratory meal. The tagline reads: “Celebrate everyday life easily” (“轻松庆祝每一天”).

The ad drew widespread criticism, especially because it aired at a time when many women in China were pushing back against intense social pressure to marry by a certain age. Critics argued that IKEA was trivializing this while reinforcing outdated expectations about marriage and filial duty.

IKEA apologized and removed the commercial.\


Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access. 

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