Lü Pin's last memory of the Feminist Voices office ended in a conversation with Wang Man as she was leaving. This was in a small, 30 square meter room, located in the Xintiandi Building at Beijing’s Liufang Station. At that time, Wang Man planned to return to the feminist activist group and participate in women's rights volunteer activities on Women's Day. Lü Pin was very happy after hearing this and encouraged her to do so. A few days later, Lü Pin and a few friends flew to New York to attend a meeting of the UN Commission on the Status of Women. On their second day, five feminist activists were arrested in China, Wang Man among them. This was the case of the Feminist Five that later rose to fame. 37 days later, the Feminist Five were released, but Lü Pin remained in the United States for what was intended as a temporary stay. This stay has lasted six years. In recent years, Lü Pin has often been asked why she wanted to stay in the United States. She responded that this was not a decision because there was no other choice. Feminist Voices was the earliest and most influential, independently-published, media platform for women's rights in China. As the founder and mentor of the Youth Feminist Action Group, Lü Pin had long foreseen that she would be the person responsible for this case. A series of subsequent signals––the interrogation of acquaintances and break-ins of their Beijing homes gradually confirmed this speculation. After the Feminist Five were released, Lü Pin received a voicemail from Zheng Churan saying, “You must never come back.” In order to maintain her legal status while in exile in the United States, Lü Pin rotated between visiting scholar and student visas over the years. At the age of 49, she is currently one year into her PhD, living alone and in near poverty in New York. Lü Pin disappointedly thought that the Feminist Five case would cause the Chinese feminist movement to wither away and that the banning of Feminist Voices three years later would be the fatal blow. She had long been aware of the overseas existence of the Chinese feminist movement, but after losing everything, she hesitated, wondering if she still had the energy and courage to create a project in the United States like Feminist Voices. She wanted to let the outside world know what happened to the Chinese youth movement––this became the motivation that hardened her resolve. This strength of resistance supported Lü Pin to devote herself to public speaking, preparing feminist workshops, and training overseas communities. After the Feminist Five were released, the case gradually faded out of public view. However, trouble for the activists didn’t stop. The public welfare organizations they worked at closed down one after another, and each of the members were repeatedly harassed by the police and pressured by their parents. Soon, some of them made the same choice–– opting to go overseas. Looking back, Lü Pin’s stay in the US precluded the fleeing of the Youth Feminist Action Group. Members were either forced to leave or voluntarily left China, but they did not remain silent about it. Highly motivated to pass on their experiences, they seized this momentum to throw back the curtain and reveal the overseas Chinese feminist movement. Demonstration movement Before she went to the UK for a master's degree in 2017, Li Tingting set three goals. Two of those have been achieved: establishing a Chinese feminist association in the UK and giving speeches to draw the world's attention to the Chinese feminist movement. But because of the focus on these, she spent too much energy, leaving little time for her third goal of writing a book. She is more widely known by another name: Li Maizi. As one of the Feminist Five, after she regained her freedom, she was often invited to speak around the world. In the second week of her master’s degree in the UK, she took a train to London where she gathered with a dozen of friends she made in Britain six months ago, mostly Chinese students, and said to them: “I announce that VaChina (Vagina China) will be established today. You are all co-founders.” Almost without exception, Chinese feminists from all over performed plays overseas to open the door on Chinese women's rights. In the group’s first year, VaChina succeeded in performing the drama “The Way of the Vagina” in the UK. The script was adapted by the Beijing BCome volunteer group from the American drama “The Vagina Monologues.” At one point, the original author Eve Ensler spoke out in support of the Feminist Five. At that time, many feminist activist groups participated in the adaptation and performance of the play. Compared with boring lectures, public education on feminism through artistic expression could attract more people, "because no one likes preaching," said Li Maizi. A year later, Xiao Meili also came to the UK and began to assist in play rehearsals. At that time, she had recovered her former vitality and optimism. Earlier, after being harassed by the Guangzhou police several times and forced to move, she fled to Canada with a travel visa and by chance applied for a language class. The teacher's sexist remarks led her to complain to the school. Although the problem was not completely resolved, it allowed her to regain her basic sense of security as an individual in society––“If you suffer injustice, you can still appeal through legitimate legal channels.” In the group’s first two years, Li Maizi, Zhang Leilei, and Xiao Meili all arrived, and their halo of influence made VaChina famous. As the first president, Li Maizi was quite capable of leadership, but there were internal disagreements, and her approach was sometimes tough. “Feminist activists groups’ viewpoints are not easily understood by others. There was only one year and our goal was to perform a play, so there were definitely disagreements there.” Since university, Li Maizi has organized sex education classes at universities in Xi'an and participated in iconic feminist protests such as the Bloody Bride [a protest in which activists wore wedding dresses splattered in red paint to symbolize the plight of abused women] and the Occupy Men’s Room campaign. Years of experience taught her how to build an organization, and it also made her stubborn on some opinions. When the group was first established, everyone was divided on whether it should be characterized as a Chinese exchange student or a female exchange student group. Li Maizi insisted on emphasizing women's right to speak. “That’s how you do things like that.” As she recalled the event, her tone was still very firm. Compared with other Chinese students, the feminist activists who witnessed the government's suppression of the feminist movement were more aware of the hard-won security and freedom of speech, and they had a stronger sense of mission. “I just cherished that little bit of time when I was abroad. I could influence others and was influenced myself." A year later, Li Maizi graduated and returned to Beijing. Due to economic pressure and the political environment, she gradually faded out of the activist circle after two years. The #MeToo movement that emerged in 2018 surprised activists who thought that the feminist movement had stalled. After an initial shock, they eagerly embraced the movement, but now were no longer leaders, just part of the forces behind the movement. Liang Xiaomen discovered that the online pan-feminist community was enormously influential, but the offline space for action was becoming more and more restricted. A movement can't remain verbal; it must have action. At that time, the Liu Jingyao vs. Liu Qiangdong sexual assault case was being hotly debated. The criminal lawsuit for this case was withdrawn in the United States. Liu Jingyao then filed a civil lawsuit against Liu Qiangdong and JD.com. The first trial was held in Minnesota in September 2019. Liang Xiaomen had been in New York for three years. After the Feminist Five case, the organization she worked for was forced to close down. Under pressure from the police and her family, she decided to go to law school in the United States. By organizing performances, women's marches, and a #MeToo New York event, Liang Xiaomen soon established a Chinese feminist community in North America. Upon learning of the trial, Liang Xiaomen decided to fly out to support Liu Jingyao. She said that as a Chinese feminist, she had an obligation to be on the scene. Blue Jade (online pseudonym) from Washington, DC and two local supporters also went to Minnesota after hearing the news. These four women held a banner supporting Liu Jingyao at the courthouse entrance. The banner was made from a cheap tablecloth with a message written the night before. "It's not difficult, and it's not that scary." They took pictures and posted them on Weibo, and attention on the case skyrocketed. Liang Xiaomen suddenly realized that the internet could never replace the impact of action. “Since everyone wants to do this at home but can't do it, then I must do this demonstration abroad.” Liang Xiaomen wanted Chinese students who were naturally afraid of street campaigns to know that it’s not that risky. Multiple battlefields, running across the world On a Saturday in February 2021, Chinese feminist movement organizers from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada held a Zoom discussion on Chinese people supporting Black Lives Matter. “We want to span races and build an alliance against social discrimination, not deepen the barriers between different peoples of color.” 25-year-old Mei Qiqi was the host, and graduated from Columbia University with a master's degree last year. She went to an all-girls high school in the United States, and her experience in university classrooms and clubs helped her establish a perspective on feminism and sexism. After participating in the New York #MeToo exhibit and Lü Pin’s feminist workshops, she quickly established contact with Chinese feminists in the United States. Mei Qiqi regards Liang Xiaomen as the big sister of the feminist movement. The two met during the Liu Jingyao case last January. That was their second trial. The number of supporters on the scene grew from 4 to over 20. Liang Xiaomen organized netizens from all over the country to take photos in support. In Hangzhou, Mei Qiqi hoped to find more people to take group photos and take the opportunity to communicate offline. Liang Xiaomen contacted Mei Qiqi and told her that although the risk was low, she as an organizer should consider the safety of participants and prepare a plan B. In this decentralized movement, the boundaries of roles are blurred. Although most emerging overseas feminist organizers are not aware of their role in it, they are more likely to be compassionate and sympathetic to each other because they have to take on higher risks. Mei Qiqi is one such organizer. Her Chinese and Western upbringing helped her form a transnational, multi-faceted, and flexible identity. She likes to share experiences from both sides. When the Xianzi case [the case of Zhou Xiaoxuan, a screenwriter who, at the height of the #MeToo movement in 2018, made allegations on social media that Zhu Jun, a famous Chinese TV host, had sexually harassed her] began, her first reaction was that “someone in the English media must know about this.” She volunteered to post photos of the trial in both Chinese and English to Instagram and Facebook. By participating in various activities, she found that people have more in common than not. “I want to spread the idea that Chinese people can also support the black rights movement, and support for the black movement is closely related to the rights of the Chinese.” Liang Xiaomen is the founder of Chinese Supporting Black Lives Matter and a New York organizer. She lives in Flushing, a predominantly ethnically Chinese neighborhood in New York. Last year, as marches broke out nationwide supporting black rights, she went out once to see people holding up Black Lives Matter (BLM) signs. Only a few Chinese stood on the sidelines whispering curiously about these protesters, asking each other “what are they protesting against?” Liang Xiaomen thought that while WeChat was flooded with articles about black “thugs” beating, smashing, looting and burning, the oppression and discrimination suffered by African Americans was never explained. So she came up with an idea: lobbying Chinese stores to post posters supporting the BLM movement. “I hoped that by lobbying, I could convey the concepts of racial equality.” Liang Xiaomen proposed her idea in a North American feminist WeChat group, and many people responded. She spent several days designing posters, writing flyers, and starting the first wave of lobbying. Mei Qiqi was also in the group, but she hesitated: go to Chinatown to lobby businessmen? Her first reaction was that the younger first-generation Chinese were definitely more suitable for this than Chinese students. “But, you know? Actions are really a very good thing.” Recalling this a year later, Mei Qiqi still had excitement in her eyes: "You will want to act, to do it, and then take it all in.” Despite the hesitation, Mei Qiqi joined and started campaigning in Manhattan, where she lived. She learned from previous rounds of lobbying, and an online version of the poster was reposted. She found that compared with second-generation immigrants, international students were familiar with Chinese culture and could communicate on a deeper level with first-generation immigrants. “If it's not us, then who will it be?” She sighed as she sat in her circle of friends. Events were also held in Boston and Vancouver. They created an Instagram account titled “Chinese for Black Lives." The profile used Chinese and English, identifying the group as “Chinese feminists who support the black rights movement.” In the overseas Chinese women's rights movement, local communities are particularly important. Many people join them because they desire a sense of community. But Mei Qiqi is an exception. She has no domestic feminist movement experience and no overseas community support. She considers herself an outsider, and has a rare sense of mission for the Chinese feminist movement. Since the beginning of the #MeToo movement in China, she "fought alone" in Vancouver, both starting and persisting in spreading the #MeToo movement in China on Weibo. During her first year studying in Canada, Mei Qiqi suffered from depression and she went from 80 kg to 160 kg. The change in attitude of the people around her made Mei Qiqi think about patriarchal society’s judgments and norms for women. She decided to establish a community with a few friends in China, calling it "Catchup Sisters for Gender Equality" to advocate gender equality. In January 2018, Luo Xixi’s report had just come out on the Chen Xiaowu incident [considered China's first widely-shared #MeToo moment with Luo accusing Professor Chen of sexual misconduct while she was a student] and it was going viral. At that time, the #MeToo movement was raging like a wildfire abroad, but there were only a handful of domestic followers, and the topic was categorized on Weibo in the European and American entertainment circles. Mei Qiqi wanted to introduce #MeToo to China and was excited to share the movement with her peers in China who unexpectedly had not been keeping track of it, thinking that Chinese society did not allow any room for discussion. While skeptical, Mei Qiqi began researching on Weibo that night. She learned from others' experiences, from generating ideas, creating slogans, designing posters, to writing the first five posts. She didn't sleep a bit that night, spending more than 30 hours creating the well-known label “MeToo in China.” Over the next week, she managed the thread wholeheartedly. A victim would share their experience, and she would repost it and take a screenshot as soon as possible, fearing that it would be deleted the next second. Because of jet lag, her days and nights were turned upside down and she almost never had a full night’s sleep. In less than 10 days, the topic "MeToo in China" made it into the top 10 Weibo social good trending list. When several feminist WeChat groups Mei Qiqi belonged to started discussing the viral Weibo topic, she would say, “Oh, I’m managing that thread. If you have content you can send it to me.” After that, the name “Qiqi” gradually became a familiar one. In this internet-based movement, everyone tacitly calls each other by their internet nickname [in this case, she used a homonym of her name 奇琦 (Qiqi), replacing the characters with 七七, meaning seven seven but also pronounced qiqi]. Mei Qiqi often felt exhausted. There were countless battlefields abroad: racial discrimination, gender inequality, and domestic women's rights, each one separate. “As a feminist, of course you see all kinds of injustices, and you want to stand up and fight against one of these. It became multiple battlefields, running across the world.” Mei Qiqi enjoyed this feeling of running between battles. She was concerned about racial discrimination in the United States and the feminist movement in China. She discovered that what she was fighting against was oppression itself, and through her participation in social movements time and time again, she was seeking her identity and sense of belonging. Lone warrior Compared with those who fight out in the field, Lü Pin appears withdrawn and ignorant. She only focuses on the Chinese feminist movement. She doesn’t seem to know or be curious about the movement in the United States. She said that American social justice movements already have too many participants. In contrast, Chinese social movements are frail and impoverished, and they need more attention. Lü Pin chats with domestic youth activists almost every day. Xiao Meili asked Lü Pin jokingly how she was always talking, as if she never slept. Lü Pin said that because she was very concerned about the situation domestically; if the phone rang she couldn't help but wake up and answer it. "While in the United States, spending a lot of time caring about China's affairs is not good for my survival in the US, but it’s still very important to me." In fact, people who are engaged on different battlefields also face loneliness and difficulties. “Chinese students studying abroad are actually very isolated and helpless.” A Leilei, one of the organizers of VaChina, smiled bitterly at the computer screen. British social movements are mostly initiated by white British people. Chinese peoples’ political power has always been weak, and the resources that can be mobilized are very limited. After Li Maizi left, VaChina found a new development path––public study groups, book clubs, etc. Last year, then-President Trump issued his China virus theory, triggering protests by Chinese people all over the world. VaChina rallied throngs of members who gathered in London’s Trafalgar Square and launched a Chinese anti-discrimination march for the first time. They contacted other ethnic minority communities in advance and were surprised to learn that these communities showed up with their own posters to promote the Chinese anti-discrimination stance. Lü Pin believes that international student groups are not, or have not yet been, accepted by mainstream society. They are extremely marginalized in society. Now they want to use their Chinese identity to participate in local social movements and integrate into the local community in an alternative way. “I have no interest in that. I never wanted to be a member of American society. I can be sure of that.” Where is the overseas feminist battlefield? Who are you fighting for? This is a problem that overseas feminist activists have to face. “But why did I come back then? It's because being abroad is too indirect,” Li Maizi said. Xiao Meili moved to Canada, Britain, and eventually back to China. She said that although it is possible to go to the frontline online, it’s not enough for her. "I am afraid that sooner or later I will be alienated from the land I care about." Feminist activists who remain overseas suffer from the anxiety of separation from their home. Liang Xiaomen said that her knowledge of China is frozen in the year she left China. She is terrified of being out of touch with China. In the past few years, she has constantly reminded herself to keep up with domestic feminist partners and always pay attention to domestic trends. "If you don't hurry, you’ll fall behind." After leaving China, Liang Xiaomen admitted that life was much easier. Having a respectable job without the pressure of political risk, no overtime and more time to devote to Chinese feminism. But because of this, she is left with a kind of “guilt of not being there to do what should be done.” Almost every overseas feminist who knows the Feminist Five has experienced this complex emotion similar to survivor’s guilt. Nancy Tang met Li Maizi before she was arrested. They ate hot pot, chatted, and participated together in workshops. That summer, the feminist ideas that Nancy Tang learned in the United States actually manifested. One year later, when she learned of the arrests while in the United States, she fell into a “dark moment in life.” She often thought, why were they arrested? Obviously, they were doing the right thing, but suffering from systematic state violence. Nancy Tang was involved in a lot of writing works at the time and published their stories on a local feminist website, but this sense of shame of “watching the fire from across the bank” haunted her for several months. Absence is the biggest dilemma of the overseas Chinese feminist movement. Every catastrophic feminist event in China has exacerbated their powerlessness and shame. They have to work especially hard to feel that their international fame is by no means from supporting Chinese women's rights, it’s from individual suffering reaped from being in the movement. "Everyone's mission is different. I undoubtedly believe that the Chinese feminist movement needs me, but the United States doesn’t need me." Over the years, the Chinese police have directly and indirectly sent signals to Lü Pin. She has been waiting, waiting for a suitable time to return to China “without causing trouble to others,” but that day has not yet come. Incomprehensible idealism “You’re welcome to add my WeChat. I’ll put it in the chat box.” At the end of the two-hour discussion, Liang Xiaomen signed off WeChat as usual, hoping that people would find like-minded individuals among themselves. Since 2012, she has been following this simple logic when organizing events–– “Who am I and what do I want to do; please come and add me.” She put herself in the spotlight, but realized in the past two years that because of this, she put herself in a vulnerable position. Liang Xiaomen is aware of a terrible crisis: there are more and more pan-feminists, but it is getting harder and harder to find people with a common understanding. Last year, there was a serious conflict between North American feminist groups, which has caused the community to stagnate. Liang Xiaomen and Lü Pin were involved in this dispute over allegations of sexual harassment of group members, and suffered a lot of online violence: “Liang Xiaomen's sudden death is the greatest contribution to the Chinese feminist movement.” Vicious remarks smacked her in the face, and her personal information was also exposed. She felt that she was being dehumanized: “It seems that as long as I am a feminist, a feminist who speaks with her real name, I don't deserve this kind of privacy.” Liang Xiaomen's trust in this community was completely broken. This kind of trust and friendship had been found in the Youth Feminist Action Group. When she left China, she was most reluctant to give it up, and she wanted to regain it in the North American feminist group. It's a shame that compared to fighting side by side day and night, the intimacy established on the internet is broken in a few keystrokes. “Feminism has its own use.“ Lü Pin analyzed this issue from the perspective of social class. Young people of the international student class are basically set in their lives. They can be very selfish. Some people use feminism to pursue fairness and justice, but for these people “feminism is self-serving.” Even though there is dissatisfaction with the movement, the pioneers of the Chinese feminist movement still strive to stay active in the movement. Even if they know that their names have been gradually forgotten, no one will associate their street activism movements with policy changes in a few years. Liang Xiaomen thinks every day, "How can I contribute more to the Chinese feminist movement?" This sense of responsibility, which is difficult for many people to understand, is actually an important way for her to deal with loss. "It's not that the feminist movement needs me, but that I need the feminist movement." Wainao asked each interviewee the same question. Who had the greatest influence on her feminist thinking? The answer without exception is Lü Pin. In their assessment, Lü Pin exudes a mystical aura, but in fact she is a particularly kind, generous, ageless person. Lü Pin also confidently admits that she is a strategist in this movement. But she believes that where you place yourself is not important. Years of experience taught her that this Chinese feminist movement has no resources and no one can profit from it. This kind of stubbornness without self-interest arises as it satisfies Lü Pin's own idealism––to transform China. In the 1990s, when she resigned from a bright career at China Women's Daily, Lü Pin said that she was weary of a life where she was looking through a pinhole. Just like this feminist movement, Lü Pin doesn't know what it will be like in the future. The only certainty is that the movement succeeded in creating instability in Chinese society. Today, public spaces are gradually closing off and people’s voices are gradually homogenized. Feminism still calls out with dissatisfied voices, and they are getting louder and louder. This is the most important thing.
