The Spotlight, the Sunlight: A Close-Up on Chinese Drag Performers Underground

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If you are interested in gender issues and also a film enthusiast, M. Butterfly should be no stranger to you. In the film, French diplomat Gallimard becomes deeply enamored with the "Eastern beauty" Song, a Peking opera performer who is, in fact, a Chinese spy. Gallimard turns a blind eye to the unusual circumstances surrounding his relationship with Song, choosing self-deception and clinging tightly to his oriental fantasy. It is this self-deceiving behavior that leads to his downfall, as he fails to reconcile his fantasy with Song's sex identity.

This adaptation, based on a real affair from decades ago, has reflected back into the contemporary reality.

A still shot from M. Butterfly

The Shock of "Red Sis" and Public Reaction

In early July, a wave of public outcry surged online following a police report from the Jiangning District of Nanjing, Jiangsu, eastern China. The report announced that a 38-year-old man from outside the province, identified as Jiao, was detained on charges of distributing obscene materials.

But why did such a routine official statement trigger such a massive public reaction? The answer lies in the fact that, even before the official notice, the name "Red Uncle"/"Red Sister" had already become widely known in certain circles.

"Red Sis" is the aforementioned Jiao, who in videos introduces himself as "阿红, Red" while dressed in a floral dress, wearing a wig, and a mask to greet visitors. Luring men with "free sexual service," he attracted various individuals, including young white-collar workers, fitness trainers, and university students. Jiao secretly filmed the encounters, uploading the videos to a paid platform for profit.

In the videos, Jiao, with a delicate voice, red lipstick, and a soothing tone, reassures the hesitant visitors. Even when the men realized that "Red Sis" is, in fact, a man, they chose to stay and willingly completed the sexual services.

Because no money was exchanged throughout the process, the police were unable to arrest those involved on charges of prostitution, and instead, only charged them with "distributing obscene materials."

This incident sparked public discussions. It showed the sexual acceptance among straight men was much higher than expected, with some attributing this to the pervasive sexual repression in the Chinese society. But at the same time, this universal surprised reaction, along with the public’s teasing of Jiao’s appearance, could reflect the low level of acceptance of the LGBTQ community in China, where many still hold outdated views of trans and gay individuals, influenced largely by social media or the idealized characters from BL (Boys' Love) literature.

If the "Red Sister" incident exposes the complex social attitudes toward gender and desire, on the other end of the spectrum, a group of drag performers is using art and performance to confront and deconstruct this tension.

Entering the Drag Scene

I searched on Xiaohongshu, globally known as RedNote, for active drag queen influencers, and found that many were based in economically developed cities such as Chongqing, Chengdu, Shanghai, and Shenzhen, with around 70% of users hailing from Chongqing and Chengdu.

In fact, the Sichuan-Chongqing region, located in the south-west part of China, is known to have a relatively high concentration of sexual minorities, largely due to the local diversity and the region’s openness and acceptance of emerging cultures.

In August, I visited a drag performer called Blue. She was going to perform at a show hosted at a live house venue at the city’s bustling area. Yet, stepping inside, it felt like entering an air raid shelter—far from the noise of the outside world. It was, quite literally, underground.

The space was small, with a stage featuring a simple lift system. When I entered, a performer dressed in casual clothing was rehearsing. And on the opposite side, three rock-styled male staff members were conducting light and sound checks as per the performer’s requests.

One wall of the venue displayed a banner with a slogan that was anything but conventional: “Stay Angry, qnmd (it's the abbreviation of 去你妈的, ‘fuck you’, don’t learn it).” In China, rock music is often associated with a rebellious culture that stands in contrast to the country’s mainstream values.

Backstage, Blue was sprawled on a sofa, scrolling through her phone wearing a loose blue T-shirt and shorts. When seeing me, she immediately stood up and greeted me, shyly covering her mouth with a smile under a pair of large-framed glasses.

Blue looked different from the first time I saw her performance at a drag show in another southern city, where she was performing a song by Ariana Grande. On stage Blue was confident, shiny, as if the lyrics were designed for her. But without dressing up, she talked in a lower voice, and smiled like a quiet girl next door.

Drag performances are not fixed events. There are usually more than two performances each month. Sometimes Blue has shows in different cities within one month, yet she often preparing at least 10 days in advance, which includes rehearsing songs, selecting costumes, and planning the performance style.

While in China, it’s not common for individuals to openly declare their pronouns, but Blue and the performers of the day would refer to each other as “sister.” So I called her sis as well.

Tickets for a performance generally cost between 100 to 150 yuan (about $20), and there’s no tipping culture in China. After splitting the earnings with the venue and staff, the performers don’t take home much. Moreover, performers have to provide their own costumes. Some of Blue’s outfits were designed by one of her friends, with rhinestones sewn on by hand by herself one after one, and the material costs alone range from 300 to 500 yuan. For many drag queens, performing is still “for the love of the art.”

Blue is primping for the show.

Blue is now a full-time drag performer, but clearly, the performance fees alone are insufficient to support her daily life. She also works as a live-streamer, occasionally posting dance and makeup videos on Douyin, China’s version of TikTok.

Webcast platforms such as Douyin offer direct income through “gifts” from viewers, while regular videos mainly serve to expand her influence rather than provide financial support, unless she can secure advertising deals.

“Domestic platforms have become much stricter with live-streaming regulations,” Blue explains. “Punishments for actions like squatting are no longer allowed.”

According to the Douyin’s “Webcast Ban Protocol”, “deliberately shaking the chest, squeezing the chest, touching sensitive areas, squatting and touching the thighs, or imitating sexual positions” are considered medium-level violations. The platform issues warnings, and may suspend their livestreaming rights for a period ranging from one day to permanently. Repeat offenders may see their earnings capped, or have settlement payouts suspended.

Blue recently posted a tutorial about “tucking” (referred to as “塞阴” in Chinese), but due to the directness of the Chinese term and the risk of the platform banning the content, she preferred to use the English term. To avoid having the video taken down, she employs numerous euphemisms, such as using “lychee” for testicles and “peach” for buttocks.

Whether online or offline, the sexual culture is not a topic okay to be openly discussed in China.

The event could be canceled at any time due to malicious reports. You might assume that the informants are haters hostile to LGBTQ+, but sometimes, the “enemy” comes from within.

“There was a drag performer who, unable to bear seeing our event succeed, took our event poster to the police, which led to us having to cancel that performance.”

Blue’s story shattered my previous assumptions. I had thought that drag in China was a small subculture, where everyone kept their heads down and sought solidarity. I didn’t expect that someone would throw a wrench in the works, especially from someone who shared dishes at the same table.

As told by an insider, according to local regulations from the culture department and the public security bureau, event organizers must submit documents of activity details to the street office, which then reviews the qualifications of the organizers. However, this is not specific to drag performances. The reason for the event’s suspension is not directly linked to “drag” or “gender,” but rather because the police receive reports alleging that the event involves “prostitution, gambling, or drugs,” which forces them to halt the performance for investigation.

He also added that, the drag culture in China hasn’t been placed at “a level where it couldn’t be openly discussed.” As long as offline events do not violate fundamental principles—such as engaging in illegal activities like prostitution, gambling, or drugs—they would not face obstacles.

The Different Lives of Drag Performers

When I was in elementary and high school, I would occasionally encounter a tall, slender woman at the market. She stood out in the crowd, her solid frame making her appear striking, dressed in a bright red dress and high heels, her slightly disheveled long hair cascading down, with an awkward demeanor, often hunched over and hiding her face behind a stray lock of hair. I always found it odd that I would only see her during the early morning when the market opened or in the late evening, just before closing time. Yet, no matter the hour, she would always be wearing dresses in vibrant colors with extravagant makeups.

That was my first, most direct impression of the LGBTQ+ community, or cross-dressing.

Blue said, “Many people equate drag with sexual orientation, but drag is about artistry focused on self-expression. It’s not just about dance performances; there’s also stand-up comedy, DJ, and more. Drag is still developing slowly in China, and it’s still considered an underground activity, a ‘subculture.’”

Born in 2005, Blue began experimenting with makeup in 2019, dropped out of vocational high school then, and participated in her first drag performance in 2023. It was a senior performer, also a freelance makeup artist, who introduced Blue to the culture.

Mia, one of the youngest performers, was born in 2008. She was inspired to get into drag by the American TV series Pose and performed her first offline show last year. Despite having just one year of experience, Mia’s performance style was impressive and professional, a result of her rigorous practice. Outside of her monthly performances, she would take dance classes, where she often practiced Vogue, a dance style that originated in queer spaces in the late 20th century. The documentary about drag, Paris Is Burning, showcases a lot of Vogue dancing.

A still shot from Paris Is Burning.

Blue’s family supported her career, but Mia’s family held more traditional views, which had caused her to feel somewhat estranged from the concept of “home.”

Mia comes from an ethnic minority region in southwestern Yunnan, a quiet and isolated place few people in China even know of.

For urban dwellers, escaping the concrete jungle and the glitzy nightlife often feels like a way to disconnect from the troubles of the world, yearning for a place untouched by the wheels of modern development.

However, for Mia, this was not the case. “There are no drag shows in all of Yunnan, let alone in that small region. I had an event organizer from another city who wanted to invite me, but once they heard I was from Yunnan, they said, ‘oh sorry, it’s too far.’”

Some China’s drag collectives have provided platforms for rookies like Mia to showcase their talents. Blue and Mia only met through the community in the past two years, but their bond has been stronger than that of long-time friends.

The day before the performance, Mia stayed at Blue’s place, and the two discussing the details of the show.

“I’m afraid of being alone,” Mia confessed. “I can’t stay by myself; otherwise, I don’t know what I might do.”

After leaving Blue’s house that morning, Mia once again resorted to self-harming behavior, which only ended when the blood started flowing. She then hurriedly bandaged herself.

Even in the dim backstage light, I noticed the deep and shallow scars on the inner sides of Mia’s forearms, some of which were still fresh and red.

Intuition urged me to follow the scars deeper, but empathy held me back.

Under the spotlight, audiences are drawn to their vibrant performances, but just as the Little Mermaid’s every step on her new legs felt like walking on sharp knives, a drag queen’s performance is built on many painful steps of preparation.

The technique, tucking, requires medical tape to be applied directly to the body, and if the performer’s body hair isn’t properly removed, removing the tape feels like torture. Some performers even wear corsets, tightening their waists to 50 cm to create an exaggerated feminine silhouette.

Blue has some personal professional principles, such as never wearing stockings. She believes it’s a matter of performance style. Some performers prefer stockings, thinking they are sexier or can hide skin imperfections, but Blue feels that exposed skin feels more authentic, and the shake of her thighs can also be a form of sensuality.

Drag culture has not had a long history in China. According to Blue and Mia, makeup artist Lian Longqing is considered the drag icon in mainland China. In 2022, she created a drag community, known as the Linglong Family, and in 2023, she filmed a documentary about their group.

When they stood on stage, it seemed as though all their concerns, including their genitalia, had been tucked away. When I first met Blue, she shyly covered her mouth and smiled, but under the spotlight, she transformed into a dazzling drag queen—confident, shiny, fully embracing the attention and applause from the audience.

The Spotlight, The Sunlight

Last year, when I returned to my hometown, I heard a tragic story about a man from a nearby town. The middle-aged, single man had hanged himself using a rope tied to a door handle, and his body was only discovered days later. I couldn’t imagine the degree of desperation that must have driven him to that act, until I found most people’s focus was placed not on his tragic death, but rather on the female clothing, including “qipao”, found in his wardrobe. Many hastily concluded that he had “mental health issues.”

And as for Red Sis, there was no report uncovering the motivations or stories behind her actions. In a predominantly conservative Chinese political and cultural landscape, “sexual minorities” are generally treated as anomalies, often condemned as deviants influenced by Western values.

It suddenly came to me that, with the sneaky figure I had seen in the market, we had locked eyes for a brief, quick moment, but somehow, she as an adult was the one who looked away first.

On the ground, under the sun, many people lack the courage and opportunity to express themselves. The spotlight and the sunlight—it's hard to tell which is more blinding.

The show began at 11 p.m., but Blue and the other performers arrived at the venue at 7 p.m. to do rehearsals, paying close attention to every detail—from the entrance to the lighting.

“Please make sure to shine just a beam of white light when I first step onstage, and when I reach the center, make sure the purple light hits from behind.”

“I’ll start with a solo downstage and then interact with the audience. So I need a chair at the center.”

They prepared much for their performance, and one performer even hired four burly men to help create the best possible stage effect. But that night, the audience barely numbered forty persons.