AI Translated (for reference only):
With the acceleration of global flows of information and people, we may begin to notice that boundaries once defined, regulated, or separated are gradually becoming blurred. For more than two decades since I first arrived in Peninsular Malaysia, my reflections on being a “(Chinese) person” have not faded with time, but instead accumulated. Is dance ever just about dancing? Perhaps not.
When we are urged to “preserve tradition” and “safeguard culture,” we often find ourselves situated within an invisible yet constantly shifting framework. When we undergo professional bodily training in pursuit of creative breakthroughs, our sensibilities are frequently negotiated — if not diminished — between fixed structures and technical aesthetics. Even when we set aside formalities and engage in artistic discourse, we remain entangled in realities such as market demands, budgets, and competition. We seem to long for innovation, yet fear losing our roots.
Under the banner of “protecting tradition,” some institutions invite “top” or “excellent” dancers from abroad to elevate local Chinese dance culture. Over time, audiences have also grown accustomed to a fixed set of aesthetic standards and hierarchies. It almost appears that by sustaining such cycles, “tradition” is preserved.
Earlier this year, I was struck by a comment: “Adding batik elements to Chinese dance feels somewhat out of place.” It made me realize that, at times, we rely primarily on linguistic labels to recognize one another. Meanwhile, message groups’ remarks about yet another wave of “Chinese-style” programmes circulate with a mix of irony and fatigue. Even when one attempts to seriously reflect on “Chinese dance,” “cultural identity,” and “artistic value,” such efforts are often dismissed as detached from masses or reality. It seems that dance can be lightly discussed, but rarely deeply examined. Caught in the tension of wanting everything at once, what is strained — or even sidelined — in our creative processes may not only be our original intentions (to dance), but also the very sensibility that once allowed movement to remain alive.
Yet such misalignments are not unique to me. We encounter educators who detach dance from its cultural contexts, creators who overlook embodied interpretation in performances, and choreographers who equate Western contemporary dance with local expression. In this space — where practices go unexamined, interpretations remain unarticulated, and reflection is often bypassed — dance begins to show signs of dislocation, or a kind of cultural “misfit.” Reflecting on the question “why do (Chinese) people dance?” has also made me realize that what we call Chinese dance is far more than simply manipulating forms like tarian kipas. As the fan flickers ever more brightly, one might wonder: does the wind it produces truly feel any cooler?
Returning to a more specific concern: in many discussions, “Huazu (ethnic Chinese) dance” is still habitually conflated with “Zhongguo (China / nation Chinese) dance.” “Chinese dance” is often treated as a finished/store-bought genre, while “Huazu dance” is casually translated as Chinese dance. Though convenient, such usages flatten what are in fact complex cultural layers. In our current moment, “complexity” itself seems to have become a cost—something frequently avoided. What, then, are we so busy preserving?
Perhaps this text will not shift existing perceptions overnight. Yet the next time we use these terms, could we pause to consider: are these labels accurate? And more importantly, is such accuracy always necessary? It may be precisely through these small moments of reflection that we preserve space for future reinterpretation.
The sequence of terms in the diagram reflects the layers of understanding I have navigated in unpacking my own identity and Chinese cultural dance. Can the distinctions between these terms be clearly recognized? When we speak of “Chinese dance,” at which level are we situating “Chinese,” and within what kind of imagination?
As previous research has noted, Chinese dance is not an ideal direct translation of “Huazu wu (dance)” (Hii Ing Fung, 2021). In practice, the category of “Zhonghua minzu dance” does not directly correspond to the lived cultural realities of local Chinese communities. When ethnic Han and minority dances from China are subsumed under the implicit framework of “Huazu dance,” it may lead to a misalignment of cultural belonging (Hii Ing Fung, 2016).
“Huazu (华族)” is a concept of cultural identity; it is not naturally given, but historically constructed and continuously negotiated. The term “Hua (华)” originates from “Huaxia (华夏)” and “Zhonghua (中华),” pointing to a civilizational and cultural consciousness rather than a modern national identity. In other words, “Hua” (as culture) precedes “China” (as nation-state).
Conceptually, “Huazu” refers to an ethnic or cultural community shaped by shared history, memory, and cultural belonging. In modern societies, identity is no longer defined solely by language or ancestry, but by layered forms of collective identity, including social relations and historical experience. Particularly in Southeast Asia’s multi-ethnic contexts, “Huazu” also carries political implications—it is an intersection of cultural identification, historical formation, and social classification. In this sense, is it not an oversimplification to equate Huazu dance directly with dances from China?
It is also worth noting that many Chinese families in Malaysia have undergone generations of localization. Their language, foodways, rituals, and lived experiences have diverged significantly from earlier cultural forms. Colonial histories and nation-building processes have further shaped these identities. From this perspective, “Huazu wu (华族舞)” is not fixed, but an evolving cultural and embodied practice.
As a form that reflects lived experience and thought, dance — whether or not it adopts codified vocabularies or compositional methods — should perhaps not be reduced to fulfilling external expectations or conforming to pre-existing frameworks. “Malaysian society is indeed a society formed through migration; this is a historical reality we need not find strange,” a lecturer gently reminded us in a recent Zoom class. “If others are surprised that our theatre works can accommodate so many languages, yet all the performers are Malaysian, then we should take pride in the richness of our cultural diversity,” a theatre practitioner likewise encouraged in the forum today.
I am inclined to believe that we may be gradually moving beyond a stage where everything must be represented and objectified. The pandemic reminded us that while life is singular, ways of living are not. “Tradition” emerges within time and space, and continues to transform (or pivot) within them. Even if a collective embodied expression has yet to fully take shape, we can still begin again here — allowing local cultural dance to grow slowly, shaped by the equatorial environment we inhabit.
If misunderstandings and divisions persist, it may be because our capacity for communication and empathy remains insufficient. If society continues to hold misaligned perceptions of dance, it may be because we have yet to create and express enough. So perhaps it is time to say, simply: let’s talk about arts and dance, more. Shall we?
If one were to offer a working definition of “Huazu wu,” perhaps it can be understood as a cultural practice that carries elements of Chinese civilization while continuously being shaped by historical, political, and social flows. Precisely because of its complexity and richness, it deserves careful engagement rather than reduction. At the same time, we should not forget that notions of “purity” and rigid norms are not historical necessities, nor is entertainment value a prerequisite for art. We move, as culture moves—through shifts, negotiations, and transformations.
My engagement with “Huazu wu” has never been about defining it, but about continually adjusting how I understand the relationship between body and culture. This reflection is not meant to conclude, nor does it need to. Let us keep thinking, keep questioning, and keep practicing.
#KeepDancing #InReflection
