LAUSR

Back in 2015, when I was preparing for fieldwork for my research on contemporary Chinese feminism, I was quite concerned that feminist activists would decline my request for interviews since I was a complete outsider to Chinese feminist circles. I was equally worried that my gender identity as a man could pose another layer of difficulty for my entry into the field. For fear that a failed initiative via social media might close the door on possibilities for future contact, I decided to seek help from a friend named Qin Qian. Qin and I had been members of a Marxism Study Group back in college, and in 2015 she already worked for Groundbreaking (Potu, or 破土), a Beijing-based Marxist non-governmental organization (NGO) set up to critique the influence of neoliberalism in China and to represent socially disadvantaged groups such as migrant workers. Groundbreaking also featured a “gender/ difference” column on its website and interacted regularly with feminist groups, while Qin had close personal relationships with feminists in both Beijing and Guangzhou, two cities that have been hubs of Chinese feminist activism. Such social relationships proved to be necessary for fieldwork in China, especially when researching a relatively closed circle and a politically delicate subject (Heimer and Thøgersen 2006; Yang 1994). Early in 2015, “feminism” (nüquanzhuyi, or 女权主义) suddenly became a sensitive topic in China when five Chinese feminists were detained by the police. Following domestic and international pressure, they were eventually released after a 37-day detention, but the political atmosphere remained restrictive for social activism (Wang 2015). Understandably, Chinese feminists became more discreet in their contact with outsiders. Even with an introduction from Qin, Jing, the director of a major feminist group, Feminist Voice (Nüquan zhisheng, or 女