Wait, is this Wuh-Luh-Wuh? Gender, performance, and queerness in Zhejiang’s Yue Opera

In 2024, 31 year-old opera singer, Chen Lijun and her opera partner, Li Yunxiao exploded across China’s web platforms when a clip of the two actresses spinning across the stage in each other’s arms took C-net by a storm.

The clip was taking from the two actress’ performance of the Yue-opera adaptation of the classic film New Dragon Gate Inn (新龙门客栈) with their opera troupe Xiaobaihua. Though the two actresses’ characters, Jia Ting, played by Chen Lijun, and Jin Xiangyu, played by Li Yunxiao, did not have a romantic plotline within the opera, they had played several other romantic roles across from each other in various other operas. This was the history they were referencing at the curtain call of New Dragon Gate Inn, where the two actresses, dressed in their respective roles, play a flirtatious game of cat-and-mouse that ends with Chen sweeping Li into her arms.

Yue opera is another branch of traditional Chinese opera. Originating in Zhejiang, the province of my parents, it differs from Beijing opera in that it is sung in the Wu dialect. But more notably perhaps, its performers are traditionally all women

This is the moment that has attracted so many young Chinese into the theatres of Yue opera. A somewhat dying art form, traditional Chinese opera is a mode of entertainment often associated with grandparents or great-grandparents. They vary greatly from area to area within China, with the most popular being Beijing opera- largely owing to the free, regular state-funded Beijing opera performances given within villages and towns in China. Yue opera is another branch of traditional Chinese opera. Originating in Zhejiang, the province of my parents, it differs from Beijing opera in that it is sung in the Wu dialect. But more notably perhaps, its performers are traditionally all women.

Beginning training in Yue opera at the age of 13, Chen Lijun has been particularly favoured by the young women of the internet for her striking cross-gender performance as the handsome court eunuch, Jia Ting. From her singing, to fighting stunts, down to her walk and mannerisms, Chen’s performance is truly magnetic. But what I think really captured me, and the hearts of so many netizens, is how Chen’s Jia Ting is masculine, yet feminine, yet so masculine. In her easy gestures, the swing of a hand, the binary of gender almost melts away. She could be anything she wants. Jack of all trades, handsome or beautiful and both.

In their performances, the actresses tread down the arbitrary roles of gender expression. They show how one can be women or men if one wished, the love that they act out is thus one that is also deeply queer

On a personal level, one I’m sure is shared by many young queer people in China, this presentation of gender expression is another reason as to why Yue opera has my heart. In their performances, the actresses tread down the arbitrary roles of gender expression. They show how one can be either woman or man, the love that they act out is thus one that is also deeply queer.

Perhaps the Li and Chen’s flirtation on stage is not a precious crumb of viral sapphic chemistry to some, but a love between a canonically cis, fictional man and fictional woman

However, it is not merely Yue opera, the arts have always been a site of rupture and resistance given its ability to be interpreted and re-interpreted in ways that may not appear so obvious. Perhaps cis-straight people do not see what queers might see, perhaps Chen’s Jia Ting is merely a celebration of China’s rich cultural heritage, not a bending of the rules of gender. Perhaps the Li and Chen’s flirtation on stage is not a precious crumb of viral sapphic chemistry to some, but a love between a canonically cis, fictional man and fictional woman.

This year in the CCP’s annual Spring Gala, Chen appeared once again as the representative for Yue opera, playing the role of Xu Xian, from the folk-tale Legend of the White Snake. Alongside her were the actresses Angie Chiu and Cecilia Yip who had played the lead couple Bai Suzhen (Chiu) and Xu Xian (Yip) in the hugely popular 1992 TV adaptation of the legend. A hugely famous tale, the story tells of a doomed love between a snake demon, Bai Suzhen and her human husband, Xu Xian. Walking onto stage, hand in hand, Chiu and Yip are once again a show of how queerness can exist in the imaginaries of those who care to find it.

Yes, the queers deserve more than covert, subtextual representation. But in a country such as China, where queerness is still faced with government censorship, surveillance and oppression, the arts to me is a comforting space in which, undetected by the average eye, queerness can grow between the cracks. Seeping through, we’re still here, no matter what.