Abstract
Danmei is the Chinese term for boys’ love, a genre of male–male romance created by and for women and sexual minorities. This commentary focuses on Xianqing, a well-known danmei forum established under the aegis of a women-oriented literature website in 2003. Although mainly dedicated to popular media consumption, Xianqing has over the years become both a part of the larger online public sphere in China and a unique queer public sphere that defies any simple classification, offering pleasures, meanings, and identities to numerous diehard danmei fans residing in and out of China, despite recurrent technical problems, managerial failures, and increasing censorship. Through revealing some of the paradoxes and ambiguities of this alternative public sphere, we seek to highlight the understudied gendered dimension of the online public sphere in China and question the rigid distinction between politics and entertainment in academic discourse.
With the popularization of the Internet and social media in China, the digital transformation of public life and the potentials of online public spheres have attracted increasing scholarly attention (e.g., Rauchfleisch & Schäfer, 2015; Tong, 2015; G. Yang, 2009). This commentary focuses on Xianqing (闲情, “Leisurely Mood” in English), a renowned women-oriented online discussion board, in an attempt to highlight the understudied gendered dimension of online public spheres in China. As one of the first open-access danmei (耽美) forums in China, Xianqing has catered to both fannish interests and broader socio-political concerns, particularly on issues related to gender and sexuality. We seek to reveal some of the paradoxes and ambiguities of this alternative public sphere: how it positions itself both in and out of the mainstream ideology; how it negotiates with the contesting claims of dominant culture, women’s culture, and queer culture; and how it transgresses the boundary between the fantasy world and the real world, weaving together a massive discursive web that extends from the most intimate and personal to the most public and political.
The workings of a fannish public sphere
Danmei is the Chinese term for boys’ love, a genre of male–male romance created by and for women and sexual minorities. First emerged in Japanese girls’ comics in 1970s, the genre was introduced to China in early 1990s via the influx of Japanese manga and anime and has gradually developed into an immensely popular Internet-based and fan-oriented cultural form. Despite its boom on the Internet, however, Chinese danmei fandom is constantly at risk of prosecution as the genre contains abundant graphic depictions of homosexuality, which puts it squarely at odds with the conservative sexual morales of the party state (L. Yang & Xu, in press-b). Keenly aware of the social prejudices against homosexuality and women’s erotica, early danmei forums used to strictly regulate the admittance of new members so as to hide from the general public and state censors. Yet Xianqing has functioned as a public sphere ever since it was established in 2003 by Jinjiang Literature City, “one of the earliest and most influential women’s literature websites” (Feng, 2009, p. 2) in China. First, Xianqing does not require users to be registered or logged in to comment so that every Internet user is allowed to join the discussion on Xianqing as long as he or she can locate the forum. This rule of anonymity not only guarantees user safety but also effectively eliminates any regard for status. Second, the forum has gradually broadened the range of its concerns with the increase of traffic. Danmei fans initially congregated at Xianqing to chat about character pairings in Japanese manga and anime, post reviews of danmei works, and publish their own danmei stories. Later on, after a separate danmei archive and book review section were set up, Xianqing became more like a coffee house for like-minded fans to meet, socialize, and discuss their fan objects and everyday topics like jobs, relationships, and current events. Due to the pro-homosexual nature of danmei genre, there are also numerous discussions about domestic and foreign queer celebrities, gay and lesbian circles, alternative sexualities, and gay videos. Yet like all online forums in China, Xianqing has closely monitored content posted on its website in order to comply with government regulations. It even changed its name from “Danmei Xianqing” into “Xianqing” during the 2014 government crackdown on Internet pornography to cover up its association with the ill-reputed danmei genre (L. Yang & Xu, in press-b).
Apart from fostering exchange and interaction among danmei fans, Xianqing is the site where extensive public debates about communal issues have been carried out. Danmei writers used to write for free, motivated only by the desire to share their love of the genre and the encouragement of readers, who often posted lengthy reviews and comments to reward their beloved writers. Yet in 2008, following the footsteps of other major literature websites, Jinjiang announced a scheme of VIP readership, allowing writers to charge readers viewing fees and gain a decent share of the revenue. Many danmei writers were solicited to sign a writing contract with Jinjiang. The imminent commercialization of danmei immediately ignited a public debate about the pros and cons of the VIP system on Xianqing. Many opponents worried that the lure of financial gains would lower the quality of danmei writings, weaken the radical messages of the genre, and drive away its core readers. Supporters, however, argued that writers were entitled to economic compensation for their labor and the new source of income would help them devote more time and energy to writing. The intense debate was forcefully put to an end by the Jinjiang management who was determined to implement the VIP system regardless of fan objection. Yet as a gesture of conciliation, Jinjiang allowed the danmei archive affiliated with Xianqing to continue its policy of sharing for free.
Although public discussions on Xianqing have limited impact on the business decision of Jinjiang, they are more effective in formulating and upholding a communal code of ethics. Many fans have used Xianqing as a public tribunal to publicize inappropriate behaviors, usually plagiarism and profiteering from fanzines, or incorrect world views and values presented in certain danmei works. Such kind of posting, called “hanging on the wall” (gua qiangtou 挂墙头) in fan jargon, often receives a considerable amount of attention among Xianqing users, who would then use their collective reasoning to examine the evidence, collect additional information, form a majority opinion, and call for possible actions, such as circulating the incident on social media, collective boycotts, or reporting to the authorities. In some cases, the overwhelming public opinion could even give rise to a new standard of conduct for the whole community.
For instance, in December 2011, a fan “hung” on Xianqing a commercial danmei fiction that appeared in the weekly editor’s recommendation list of Jinjiang. The then still on-going novel narrates in an admiring tone the love affair between two second-generation rich kids. One of them runs down and kills a passer-by in his sports car but gets away with the murder because of his family wealth, while the other rapes a 10-year-old girl and kills her afterwards because he feels disgusted by women (Anonymous, 2011). The exposé immediately stirred up a great deal of anger from Xianqing users as the novel touched on two hot-button issues simultaneously. The characterization of morally corrupted rich kids triggered the prevailing resentment toward the powerful and privileged on Chinese Internet (Tong, 2015), whereas the plot of child rape violated the communal consensus against pedophilia fiction (liantong wen 恋童文), a subgenre of danmei that centers on sexual relationship between adults/adolescents and children (L. Yang & Xu, in press-b). At first, one fan tried to defend the author by resorting to the right to freedom of expression, despite the fact that the majority of fans were more interested in how to remove the work from the Internet. But the lone apologist soon fell into silence when several survivors of childhood sexual abuse came out and testified to the tremendously harmful effects of such abuse on young children. Due to fierce protests from readers, the work was quickly “locked up” by Jinjiang, that is, removed from public viewing, and the 19-year-old author was also forced to give up her writing career. Since 2013, major danmei literature websites in China have all put a ban on depiction of sexual contacts or acts with minors.
The queering of a women’s space
If Xianqing does not necessarily constitute a “counterpublic” that is characterized by persistent “tension with a larger public” and conflicts with the authority and social conventions (Warner, 2002, p. 56), it does provide a platform for the public performance of queer identities and open discussion of non-normative sexualities for its predominantly female users. Like slash fans studied by Western scholars (Lothian, Busse, & Reid, 2007), Xianqing fans are highly reflexive about their attachment to danmei and its connection to sexual identity. As early as 2004, there were some posts dealing with the sexual orientation of danmei fans. While some assumed that fan girls were all straight because they were attracted to good-looking men and two men were better than one, others explicitly identified themselves as bisexual, lesbian, queer, questioning, or asexual. As more posts revealed the sexual diversity of Xianqing fandom, fans started to wonder about the influence of danmei on one’s sexual orientation and the possibility of “bending” (baiwan 掰弯), that is, turning from straight into homosexual. Threads devoted to the issue of bending used to bear eye-catching titles like “I’ve finally become lesbian after five years’ of reading danmei,” “My classmate became gay after being introduced to danmei,” “Does this count as bending a straight guy?” or “Is it morally wrong to deliberately lure an adult into homosexuality?” Apparently, bending is not only a common plot device in Chinese danmei fiction that often portrays the love affair between a self-conscious gay man and a straight man, but a dramatic turning point in real life. Although most fans now believe that danmei only serves as a catalyst in the process of self-discovery, more than a few are anxious that early exposure to the genre might cause unnecessary confusion and agony over one’s potential homosexuality, especially in light of the fluidity of young people’s sexual identity. Regardless of the controversy, danmei has been generally recognized as opening up a magical new world whereby one can express and explore transgressive fantasies, desires, and identities that are formerly unknown and unspeakable. This exhilarating sense of freedom and empowerment are particularly valued by young female fans, who imbued with evangelical zeal, have played a crucial role in the grassroots dissemination of danmei.
For some Xianqing fans, however, their interests in queer knowledge have resulted in more, rather than less, negative attitudes toward the gay community. While many fan girls are willing to befriend gay men and support gay rights, some have adhered to the motto “cherish danmei and stay away from gays,” a parody of Chinese government’s anti-drug slogan “cherish life and stay away from drugs.” Those cynics like to emphasize the difference between the idealized one-on-one relationship in danmei and the promiscuous, HIV-risky gay lifestyle in reality, as well as the ingrained sexism among Chinese gay men, which has partly contributed to the widespread phenomenon of gay wife (tongqi 同妻). According to scholarly estimates, there are 16 million gay men in China who will marry a woman under social pressure to carry on the family name. Most of the women enter into the gay–straight marriage unknowingly and are likely to experience various kinds of emotional and physical abuse (Huang, 2015). The plight of a gay wife has made many Xianqing fan girls to realize that although gay men are subject to social discriminations, as long as they hide their sexual orientation, they could still enjoy many more privileges than women. In the end, it is always women who suffer most in the heterosexual patriarchal society.
The high-profile breakup of a notable female danmei writer and a veteran gay voice actor of danmei audio drama in 2013 has further served as a cautionary tale to homophilic fan girls. Fueled by the common interest in danmei, the writer fell in love with the actor who told her that he was bisexual. Before they were about to get married, the girl found out that her fiancé cheated on her with other men and she was used by him to get back at his former lover. The incident not only spread far and wide in danmei fandom but even made it into the trending topic charts on Sina Weibo, China’s leading social media platform. After the whole brouhaha, both the writer and the actor retired from fandom.
In recent years, Xianqing fans have strongly opposed the behavior of deceiving women into straight–gay marriage whether it happens in reality or in the fictional world. In 2014, when a well-known fan artist released a danmei fanzine in which the main character marries a woman to produce an heir so that he can reunite with his true love, she was immediately accused by Xianqing fans for advocating sham marriage. The post that publicized this wrongdoing garnered over 2400 replies, mostly indignant censure, within a few days. The surge of feminist consciousness in the community has also forced danmei writers to take greater care not to debase any female characters in their works, although women could only play a supporting role in danmei narratives, which by definition foregrounds male–male relationship.
Since Xianqing has been generally tolerant of topics unrelated to danmei, from time to time, official politics, especially political events or decisions that directly affect fans’ personal lives, also become hot topics. Given the fact that Xianqing users are made up mostly by women, it is hence no surprise that the Chinese government’s easing of the one-child policy in October 2015 generated heated discussions on Xianqing. Contrary to some male-dominated online forums that joyfully welcomed the new regulation that allows each family to have two children, the majority of Xianqing fan girls were deeply concerned with its potential negative impacts on the social and economic well-being of women. For a start, fans argued that women of child-bearing age will become more disadvantaged in the sexist job market because they have to spend more time and efforts rearing a second child. Since the state has failed to provide adequate social support to childcare, women have to shoulder the burden of child rearing mostly by themselves. Moreover, as many veteran danmei fans were born in the 1980s and belong to the generation of only children, they have come to regard the three-decade-old one-child policy as the single most important, albeit totally unintended, official boost to women’s rights in China since the reform era. For despite the inherent violence against women in its implementation (forced abortions are performed only on women’s bodies, so are forced sterilization in most cases), many women believe that the policy nevertheless creates an entire generation of ambitious, assertive, and independent urban female-only children who have enjoyed the full support of their families. Once a family could have two children, however, the son is likely to receive more care and resources than the daughter due to the traditional preference for male heirs in the Chinese culture. If the first child happens to be a daughter, then the family would make sure that the second child is a son by aborting the female fetus, consequently leading to more gender imbalance, which has already been a serious social problem in China.
While most Xianqing fans hold a progressive pro-feminist position on women’s issues, their attitudes toward other political issues are more varied. Despite or precisely because of the transnational background of danmei, especially its association with Japanese popular culture, some Xianqing fans have demonstrated a strong nationalistic and pro-government stance in political discussions (L. Yang & Xu, in press-a), as if to compensate for the sense of guilt of consuming a culturally transgressive genre. Any group or individual that challenges the legitimacy of the one-party rule or threatens the stability of the Chinese government has all been vehemently denounced on Xianqing. At least two popular Japanese manga and anime series have been banned from discussion on Xianqing due to their alleged whitewashing of Japanese aggression against China or belittling of Chinese culture. Some domestically produced danmei works have also been heavily criticized for their unorthodox representations of history. To prevent Xianqing from sliding dangerously into a political forum, the management of Jinjiang temporarily suspended political discussions on Xianqing in September 2010 until those politically committed ultra-nationalists moved out of Xianqing and established their own online forum.
Conclusion
Scholars have been divided on “the emergence and chances of public spheres in China,” as most topics discussed on the Internet are based on “apolitical” entertainment due to tight government censorship (Rauchfleisch & Schäfer, 2015, p. 142). The complex intersections of transgressive entertainment, queer identification, feminist consciousness, and state politics in the day-to-day workings of Xianqing, however, suggest that the rigid distinction between politics and entertainment largely arises from “a bias towards sweeping and dichotomous analytical categories” (G. Yang, 2014, p. 136) that could not fully capture the mesh of complicity, resistance, contention, and ambivalence of the Chinese cyberspace. Although mainly dedicated to popular media consumption, Xianqing has over the years become both a part of the larger online public sphere in China and a unique queer public sphere that defies any simple classification, offering pleasures, meanings, and identities to numerous diehard danmei fans residing in and out of China despite recurrent technical problems, managerial failures, and increasing censorship. Further investigation of the history of Xianqing and its interactions with other fannish, queer, and mainstream virtual spaces will shed more light on how online queer fandoms mediate between state control, communal interests, and private desires and contribute to changes in gender and sexual norms in contemporary China.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank Prof. Wanning Sun for helpful suggestions on an earlier draft.
Funding
This research is supported by the Fundamental Research Funds for the Central Universities (0640-ZK1079).
