The Changing Face of Masculinity in China

I really enjoyed reading this June 12, 2019 piece in the New York Times by Helen Gao on the emergence of gender fluid forms of masculinity in China.

China is definitely changing—not unrelated to China's growing affluence and power, internationally.  At  least in the big cities like Beijing and Shanghai, lots of folks there drive Peugeots, BMWs, Ferraris, and Mercedes Benz.  A noticeable number.  

My point though is that inasmuch as affluence equates to greater openness  to ideas, not only are cultural shifts occurring, but how they are seen by the public writ large, is changing, too.  Nowhere more clear is this than in the cultural realm involving Chinese millennials where notions of masculinity are taking a turn as evidenced by the meteoric popularity and stardom of male, gender-fluid artists like Cai XuKun and LuHan referred to endearingly as  "Little Fresh Meat."

Check out these videos to hear their star power for yourself.  I'm a fan!

Cai XuKun 蔡徐坤 - FMV 《It's You》

LuHan鹿晗_On Call_Official Music Video

During our travels there last month, my husband, Emilio and I, could only guess about the social impacts of the over three decades-long, one-child-per-family policy mentioned herein that resulted in a significant gender imbalance that favored boys over girls.  We did see young men wearing makeup and two bullet train officers openly holding hands. This Wikipedia source on the policy seems pretty decent if you'd like to learn more about it.

One young man we spoke to shared with us that the gender imbalance has given women more power.  A young woman we spoke to shared with us that  it has resulted in social ineptness among men, with many not knowing how to please a woman.  Perhaps that is what is meant by Gao’s comment on “a generation of timid and self-centered male youth ill equipped to fulfill their social responsibilities.”  On top of this are anxieties about marriage that men, in particular, have when finding a marital partner is that much more difficult.

Not only does one disproportionately see men everywhere, but groups of them without women, too.  When in Shanghai, we asked our tour guide about homosexuality and the degree to which it is accepted.  She said that at least among the younger generations, it is very much accepted and that they have a very large gay community that is thriving.  We heard as much about Beijing.

Rather than their versions of Harmony.com or Match.com in a culture that still very much values arranged marriages, the Chinese opt for "marriage markets"—at least in the big cities.  At the market, parents post their unmarried children's resumes on their umbrellas as parents shop around.  Resumes post children's ages, occupation, education, horoscope, and so on to get their sons and sometimes their daughters, married.  Here's a Youtube video that shows you what this looks like in Shanghai.  

I thought about this alot.  Maybe we in the West can't imagine parents shopping around for our future wives or husbands and setting up dates with a potential candidate, but I think we can all certainly imagine the importance of parents liking our marital choice in the interest of family harmony and well-being.  It's all so fascinating.  

I can't help but wonder about the role of ideas and politics.  To what extent are Chinese feminism and feminists also responsible for these shifting notions of masculinity that we know are positive both for China and the world? And what impacts have these had on women's sexuality, gender expression, and identities?  There is much to learn—most  especially, for the Chinese.

-Angela Valenzuela

‘Little Fresh Meat’ and the Changing Face of Masculinity in China

The embrace of a more fluid form of masculinity shows that many Chinese are frustrated with the traditional ideas pushed by the establishment.

By Helen Gao

Contributing Opinion Writer

June 12, 2019

The singer Cai Xukun performing in Beijing.CreditCreditVCG/Getty Images

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BEIJING — In late April, The Beijing News, a popular daily, ran a collection of profiles on Chinese millennials in celebration of the May Fourth youth holiday commemorating a 1919 student movement. Alongside a best-selling writer, an amateur architecture historian and a producer of popular science videos there was Cai Xukun, a 20-something male pop singer with such a huge following that a recent social media post of his was viewed more than 800 million times.

Mr. Cai belongs to the tribe of “little fresh meat,” a nickname, coined by fans, for young, delicate-featured, makeup-clad male entertainers. These well-groomed celebrities star in blockbuster movies, and advertise for cosmetic brands and top music charts. Their rise has been one of the biggest cultural trends of the past decade. Their image — antithetical to the patriarchal and stoic qualities traditionally associated with Chinese men — is changing the face of masculinity in China.

Innocent as they may seem, the little fresh meat have powerful critics. The state news agency Xinhua denounces what it calls “niangpao,” or “sissy pants,” culture as “pathological” and said in an editorial last September that its popularity is eroding social order. The Beijing newspaper’s decision to include Mr. Cai in its profiles apparently prompted the Communist Youth League to release its own list of young icons: patriotic athletes and scientists, whom it called the “true embodiment” of the spirit of Communist youth.

The government attacks on this evolving idea of masculinity have triggered a strong counter-backlash from fans of the celebrities. And in online essays and posts, defenders of the young men make clear that their preference is more than a youthful countercultural fad. At its heart, the embrace of a more modern, less rigid form of masculinity represents frustration with traditional ideas of manhood.

 “The ridiculous condemnation of ‘sissy pants’ men shows the gender ideology of a patriarchal society that equates toughness with men and fragility with women,” a journalist who goes by the name Wusi wrote in an online essay in September, voicing a widely shared opinion.

The official push of traditional masculinity — including reinvented school curriculums and the sponsorship of boys-only clubs — is motivated in part by worries that the decades-long one-child policy produced a generation of timid and self-centered male youth ill equipped to fulfill their social responsibilities.

And in the context of China’s increasing power, the establishment’s preoccupation with promoting old-fashioned, Hollywood-style manliness also has a political message. Just as patriotic intellectuals a century ago argued that national strength derives from the virile energy of the youth, present-day Chinese nationalists see their ambitions take the shape of a macho willingness to fight for righteous causes.

This vision is on display in the 2017 action thriller “Wolf Warrior 2.” The movie, featuring a former People’s Liberation Army soldier caught in an African civil war, showed him putting the lives of local civilians above his own while single-handedly beating American-led mercenaries. The goal of the story, said Wu Jing, its director and lead actor, in media interviews, is to “inspire men to be real men.” The movie went on to become China’s top-grossing film in history.

There is little question about who in real life is meant to best personify the masculine chauvinism characterizing the official line today: Take a stroll down a city street or switch on the television at news hour — and you are greeted by the face of President Xi Jinping with a perennial look of self-assurance and determination.

The fans of the little fresh meat are much like their global peers in having the world at their fingertips. The Great Firewall has done a good job of keeping overtly politically sensitive information out of China but has had the effect of directing young people’s attention to the realm of culture. With an appreciation for everything from Japanese cosplay to American art-house films, many young Chinese people, like their counterparts around the world, see gender norms as intrinsically fluid and the insistence on prizing traditional masculine traits hopelessly out of date.

Chinese feminists have joined in supporting the shifting ideal of masculinity. Many of these feminists are successful women with large disposable incomes; their tastes and purchasing power have contributed to the rise of the young idols. In their eyes, the appeal of those idols is defined primarily in the negative, by their lack of the attitudes and behaviors symptomatic of entrenched male privilege.

Both the cultural hipsters and feminists appear united in their conviction that gender expression is unequivocally a matter of individual choice. And this flies in the face of the refrain from state media that holds that traditional masculinity is the bedrock of national strength and that this masculinity “crisis” bodes ill for the country’s future. An article posted on the WeChat account of a major Communist Party committee last fall argued that at a time when China is bedeviled by nuclear threats at its border and a trade war from across the Pacific, the country does not want to see its men “shrieking while refreshing their makeup.”

In the past few weeks, with state media awash in patriotic rhetoric urging China to “man up” in the face of the escalating trade war, the little fresh meat fever has continued unabated.

The Konka Group, a Chinese maker of home electronics, an industry embroiled in the trade dispute with President Trump, released a commercial last month starring Lu Han, one of the best-known idols. Zhou Bin, the company’s chief executive, said in media interviews that the decision was prompted by Mr. Lu’s enormous popularity among millennials, who have become its core consumer group.

The commercial was widely applauded on social media. Fans quipped that the popularity of little fresh meat, rather than a sign of national weakness, may signal the foundation of its strength. “Youthful, modern and fashionable,” one user summed up the idols’ appeal in a post on Weibo. “That is what we love.”

Helen Gao is a contributing opinion writer.

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