Kwok's Girls are redefining lion dance in Hong Kong with all-women troupe
On a weekday night, beneath the gritty underbelly of a bypass in the Tai Kok Tsui area of Kowloon, Hong Kong, two lions – one dressed in green and the other in purple – hop up and down on a metal platform, their bright manes swaying with each movement.
Inside these vibrant costumes are four young women, a rarity in the city's lion dance scene, who have dedicated more than half their lives to mastering this traditional art form.
They are the Kwok's Girls, female members of the Kwok's Kung Fu and Dragon Lion Dance Team, which was founded in 1969. Between the working hours of their day jobs, they practise at least once a week.
They have gained a notable online presence in recent years. One of their videos gained 2 million views on their Instagram page, which has more than 30,000 followers.
Their videos have shone a spotlight on the blood, sweat and tears that go into the practice of this distinctive and difficult art form. In one clip, one of the girls lifts another above her head and does three spins, while another shows two coordinated performers leaping from one tall pole to another.
'When I successfully challenge myself with movements we weren't able to do before, there is a great sense of accomplishment,' Lam Hoi-hei, 25, said.
'What I love most is competing together, from when we were small to now. We have been doing this for over 10 years, and I hope it will continue until we are old.'
Hong Kong university uses virtual reality and AI to preserve traditions
Lion dance performances have been an indispensable feature of traditional celebrations in Hong Kong such as the Mid-Autumn Festival and during the Lunar New Year holiday, as well as celebratory occasions such as opening ceremonies and weddings.
It is a custom going back more than 1,000 years, traditionally performed to bring good luck for the coming lunar year and to scare away evil spirits.
In the past, women were not allowed to become lion dancers. The lion and dragon costumes were consecrated, and females were seen as 'unclean' in certain Chinese religions and forbidden to touch holy items.
Things have since changed, with such outdated beliefs no longer applying to most modern ceremonies. More lion dance troupes are accepting female students.
But women in lion dance still have to overcome certain gender differences and are often pitted against physically more powerful male dancers in competitions.
'The differences between us and male dancers are physical strength, as this sport is quite demanding, requiring courage and height,' Lai Yun-ting, 28, said.
She said the advantages of female performers over male ones were that they were lighter and nimbler, and often paid more attention to detail.
Li Tsz-yan, 25, said that rather than focusing on victory in any one competition as a goal, they aimed to qualify for various competitions, including those overseas, such as the one held in the Genting Highlands in Malaysia.
'We will probably lose to male dancers, but we look so cool, and often receive more applause than them,' she said. 'The moment we show up on stage, it feels like we've already won.'
Having such confidence was what pushed the girls to persevere despite challenging routines and frequent injuries.
'I never think I'm not capable of doing certain moves, I simply have not learned them. And I will simply keep practising,' Li said.
'Our coach often instils in us the belief that we're able to do it,' Lai chimed in. 'It's just a matter of time, and whether you work hard or not. We keep this faith in our minds.'
These inspiring female lion dancers are revitalising the traditional art, racking up millions of views and defying gender norms. Photo: Edmond So
Yeung Nga-man, 23, said lion dance had honed their willpower, enabling them to cope better with adversities in life.
'What I am doing in lion dance is already so difficult and I've managed to persist for so long. It makes other problems seem so trivial,' she said.
'The confidence comes from here, especially when people tell me it's impressive that I'm the one controlling the lion's head.'
Andy Kwok Man-lung, the head coach and team leader of Kwok's Kung Fu and Dragon Lion Dance Team, said he treated all his students equally, regardless of their sex.
'For example, it is quite dangerous to perform on poles, which requires skill and psychological strength. You have to reach a certain level before you can learn it,' he said.
'If you reach that level, I will not stop you [from progressing] because you are a girl.'
He said having more women join the lion dance scene could further promote and elevate the standards of the art form.
'I hope that they will be able to achieve what male dancers have achieved. If a girl is able to complete a certain move … not only will other girls be encouraged to improve themselves, but it can also motivate other boys to do the same.'
The Kwok's Girls said they hoped their dedication would not only keep the art form alive, but also serve as an inspiration for other young women.
'It shows that women can also do this. Before getting to know my fellow members, I didn't think I was capable enough. But seeing what they can do made me realise that I can do the same,' Lai said.
'I hope that when we have children, we can also introduce them to lion dance.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
HKFP
5 days ago
- HKFP
Kai Tak Sports Park drew 590,000 concertgoers in first 3 months since opening, Hong Kong gov't says
Around 590,000 people attended concerts held at Hong Kong's Kai Tak Sports Park in the first three months after it opened, with over half of them tourists, the government has said. Secretary for Culture, Sports and Tourism Rosanna Law said in a written reply to lawmakers on Wednesday that 15 large-scale concerts had been held at Kai Tak Stadium and Kai Tak Arena since the sprawling sports park officially opened on March 1. As of May 31, the two Kai Tak facilities welcomed about 590,000 concertgoers, more than the total attendance in the first five months this year at two other major concert venues in the city, Law said. Around 221,000 people attended concerts held at the AsiaWorld-Expo, near the International Airport, from January to May, while concerts at the Hong Kong Coliseum in Hung Hom over the same period attracted about 275,000. Law also said more than half of Kai Tak's concertgoers came from mainland China and overseas, whereas tourists comprised over 30 per cent of the concertgoers at the AsiaWorld-Expo. The government estimated that around 285 large-scale pop concerts would be held throughout 2024 and the first half of 2025, drawing 3.9 million spectators, including 1.4 million tourists, she said. The tourists would spend an estimated HK$3.4 billion in the city, Law added. Transport plans When asked how to ensure mainland Chinese concertgoers could cross the border smoothly after each concert, Law said the Leisure and Cultural Services Department, the police, and the Transport Department would work closely with event organisers, venue management, and public transport operators. She said that the number of cross-boundary coaches on the night of May 24, when Singaporean pop star JJ Lin took the stage at Kai Tak Stadium, was double the figure on normal days. About 3,300 passengers who purchased tickets in advance were transported within one hour after the concert ended, Law said. The 50,000-seat Kai Tak Stadium has seen international and local acts, such as British band Coldplay, Taiwanese band Mayday, and Hong Kong pop star Nicholas Tse. Taiwanese superstar Jay Chou is set to perform for three nights at the end of June at the venue.
South China Morning Post
15-06-2025
- South China Morning Post
China's AI-generated pet dramas take the internet by storm, with one amassing 100 million views.
Pet dramas generated by artificial intelligence (AI) have become a fresh hit on short video social media platforms, with many clips attracting millions of views. Advertisement In April, an AI-generated video of a ginger cat took one platform by storm. It had amassed almost 150 million views by the time of writing. The 59-second video tells the story of a poor ginger cat that is laughed at by a white cat and her rich dog boyfriend. The artificial intelligence-generated clips place cute animals in human situations. Photo: handout However, the put-upon pussy works hard as a construction worker and window cleaner, becomes rich and shocks the mocking pair. The account attracted more than a million followers in less than two months. The person who runs the account, a Chinese man who goes by the name Ansheng, said he owns several AI-generated cat drama accounts, two of which have more than a million followers and several others with 500,000. Advertisement He said he could make between 1,200 and 2,000 yuan (US$170 and US$280) from one video with more than 10 million views, generating an income of 20,000 yuan (US$3,000) a month.
Asia Times
10-06-2025
- Asia Times
Eternal Queen of Asian Pop's last encore from beyond the grave
Several years ago, an employee at Universal Music came across a cassette tape in a Tokyo warehouse while sorting through archival materials. On it was a recording by the late Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng that had never been released; the pop ballad, likely recorded in the mid-1980s while Teng was living and performing in Japan, was a collaboration between composer Takashi Miki and lyricist Toyohisa Araki. Now, to the delight of her millions of fans, the track titled 'Love Songs Are Best in the Foggy Night' will appear on an album set to be released on June 25, 2025. Teng died 30 years ago. Most Westerners know little about her life and her body of work. Yet the ballads of Teng, who could sing in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese and Indonesian, continue to echo through karaoke rooms, on Spotify playlists, at tribute concerts and at family gatherings across Asia and beyond. I study how pop music has served as a tool of soft power, and I've spent the past several years researching Teng's music and its legacy. I've found that Teng's influence endures not just because of her voice, but also because her music transcends Asia's political fault lines. Born in 1953 in Yunlin, Taiwan, Teresa Teng grew up in one of the many villages that were built to house soldiers and their families who had fled mainland China in 1949 after the Communists claimed victory in the Chinese civil war. Her early exposure to traditional Chinese music and opera laid the foundation for her singing career. By age 6, she was taking voice lessons. She soon began winning local singing competitions. 'It wasn't adults who wanted me to sing,' Teng wrote in her memoir. 'I wanted to sing. As long as I could sing, I was happy.' At 14, Teng dropped out of high school to focus entirely on music, signing with the local label Yeu Jow Records. Soon thereafter, she released her first album, 'Fengyang Flower Drum.' In the 1970s, she toured and recorded across Taiwan, Hong Kong, Japan and Southeast Asia, becoming one of Asia's first truly transnational pop stars. Teng's career flourished in the late 1970s and 1980s. She released some of her most iconic tracks, such as her covers of Chinese singer Zhou Xuan's 1937 hit 'When Will You Return?' and Taiwanese singer Chen Fen-lan's 'The Moon Represents My Heart,' and toured widely across Asia, sparking what came to be known as 'Teresa Teng Fever.' In the early 1990s, Teng was forced to stop performing for health reasons. She died suddenly of an asthma attack on May 8, 1995, while on vacation in Chiang Mai, Thailand, at the age of 42. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Teng's story is that Teng Fever peaked in China. Teng was ethnically Chinese, with ancestral roots in China's Shandong province. But the political divide between China and Taiwan following the Chinese civil war had led to decades of hostility, with each side refusing to recognize the legitimacy of the other. During the late 1970s and 1980s, however, China began to relax its political control under Deng Xiaoping's Reform and Opening Up policy. This sweeping initiative shifted China toward a market-oriented economy, encouraged foreign trade and investment and cautiously reintroduced global cultural influences after decades of isolation. Pop music from other parts of the world began trickling in, including Teng's tender ballads. Her songs could be heard in coastal provinces such as Guangdong and Shanghai, inland cities such as Beijing and Tianjin, and even in remote regions such as Tibet. Shanghai's propaganda department wrote an internal memo in 1980 noting that her music had spread to the city's public parks, restaurants, nursing homes and wedding halls. Teng's immense popularity in China was no accident; it reflected a time in the country's history when its people were particularly eager for emotionally resonant art after decades of cultural propaganda and censorship. For a society that had been awash in rote, revolutionary songs like 'The East is Red' and 'Union is Strength,' Teng's music offered something entirely different. It was personal, tender and deeply human. Her gentle, approachable style – often described as 'angelic' or like that of 'a girl next door' – provided solace and a sense of intimacy that had long been absent from public life. Teng's music was also admired for her ability to bridge eras. Her 1983 album 'Light Exquisite Feeling' fused classical Chinese poetry with contemporary Western pop melodies, showcasing her gift for blending the traditional and the modern. It cemented her reputation not just as a pop star but as a cultural innovator. It's no secret why audiences across China and Asia were so deeply drawn to her and her music. She was fluent in multiple languages; she was elegant but humble, polite and relatable; she was involved in various charities; and she spoke out in support of democratic values. Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the Chinese immigrant population in the United States grew to over 1.1 million. Teng's music has also deeply embedded itself within Chinese diasporic communities across the country. In cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York, Chinese immigrants played her music at family gatherings, during holidays and at community events. Walk through any Chinatown during Lunar New Year and you're bound to hear her voice wafting through the streets. Teng visits New York City's Chinatown during her 1980 concert tour in the U.S. Wikimedia Commons For younger Chinese Americans and even non-Chinese audiences, Teng's music has become a window into Chinese culture. When I was studying in the US, I often met Asian American students who belted out her songs at karaoke nights or during cultural festivals. Many had grown up hearing her music through their parents' playlists or local community celebrations. The release of her recently discovered song is a reminder that some voices do not fade – they evolve, migrate and live on in the hearts of people scattered across the world. In an age when global politics drive different cultures apart, Teng's enduring appeal reminds us of something quieter yet more lasting: the power of voice to transmit emotion across time and space, the way a melody can build a bridge between continents and generations. I recently rewatched the YouTube video for Teng's iconic 1977 ballad 'The Moon Represents My Heart.' As I read the comments section, one perfectly encapsulated what I had discovered about Teresa Teng in my own research: 'Teng's music opened a window to a culture I never knew I needed.' Xianda Huang is a PhD student in Asian languages and cultures, University of California, Los Angeles. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
