Dancing Queen

Everyone in Beijing is accustomed to seeing elderly women, usually over forty, dance niuyangge in the neighborhood and streets. Most often it's accompanied by clashing cymbals and barrel-sized drums keeping beat with the silk fan waving and prancing. (Althought, in recent years, niuyangge groups have had to relocate to underneath overpasses due to noise complaints.) Just another day in the neighborhood. Or so we think.

This evening I saw a man dressed in a traditional women's silk outfit with a fake bun wig decorated with little red flowers and lipstick and eye shadow under his spectacles dancing along with the gray-haired Chinese women. Maybe it was because he was keeping good time with the cymbals, or because he shook his booty as well as any of the others, or because he was always there, but the rest of the people on the street didn't seem to notice that one of these grannies was not like the others. Perhaps they noticed but couldn't decide what to do about it. This queen defied my stereotypes and assumptions about old Beijingers. As much as I thought I was starting to understand China, I had no idea a queen here could be so liberated.

There are those who would argue that there's a long history of accepting or even revering queens here: from traditional Beijing opera stars to, um, okay just traditional Beijing opera stars. The other night I even saw a dongbei style drag show with gaudy costumes and some very convincing queens. But the difference is that the drag show was on the fringe of Beijing society, tucked away upstairs of an unknown gay bar. Niuyangge groups put themselves out in the middle of neighborhoods and next to busy intersections to be seen. The cymbals and drums are not just for the dancers but are to attract audiences. The only explanation I have at the moment is that those women allow him to be a part of their group because they can see that he loves to dance just as they love to dance. A superb reason, I think.