How South Korea Impacted the Narrative of Chinese Feminism
In the global narrative of feminism, the movements of the West are often most prevalent within society. However, within East Asia, a revolution just as impactful has been unfolding, with an unexpected epicenter; South Korea. Over the past decade, Korea has advocated throughout intense gender politics and has not only found a receptive audience in China but also provided the foundational elements to empower a new generation of Chinese women.
The influence of South Korea is not one of direct organizational partnership as such cross-border activism is often unsuccessful in the current social political climate. In contrast, it operates through the powerful conduits of popular culture and digital media. China has been the primary consumer of Korean TV dramas, K-pop, and beauty trends throughout history. Yet alongside the social media tends and exports came a raw, unfiltered undercurrent; the online discourse of Korean feminists. Through platforms once accessible in China, Chinese women witnessed their Korean counterparts illustrate powerful concepts including the "4B" or the "4B Movement", represented as the four no's: no dating, no sex, no marriage, and no childbirth with males. This radical framework provided a stark, actionable vocabulary for resisting patriarchal pressures that are deeply familiar in China, from the marriage imperative to the crushing burdens of childcare and career.
Furthermore, Korean feminism exported potent symbols of resistance. The digital practice of "Megalia" and later "Womad," though controversial, introduced tactics like "mirroring"— turning misogynistic rhetoric back on men. More lastingly, Korean feminists popularized tangible symbols such as the digital "escape bag" and the act of leaving a red pepper emoji to mark locations where covert photos were taken. These small, shareable acts created a sense of solidarity and a practical toolkit for resistance that resonated deeply with Chinese women facing similar issues of digital sexual harassment and public safety.
Perhaps the most important import, though, has been this spirit of collective, data-driven action. Korean feminists are experts in targeted evidence-based campaigns: they famously crowdfunded to buy a giant billboard in Seoul's Gangnam Station exposing spy-cam crimes. The model inspired Chinese feminists to launch their own very successful crowdfunding campaigns. Most remarkably, in 2018, activists raised funds for ads against domestic violence on Shenzhen and Beijing's busy subway lines-a direct echo of the Korean tactic adapted into a local context.
Yet this influence exists within a paradox: as the Chinese state has grown more wary of any organized social movement, it has cracked down on domestic feminist activism, including the #MeToo movement, and clamped down on the very digital bridges that allowed this cross-pollination. The recent restrictions on Korean cultural imports-the "Hallyu ban"-make this exchange more difficult, but not impossible. The ideas have already taken root. The lesson from this transnational flow is therefore clear: feminism travels best not as an abstract Western import but through culturally adjacent narratives. Chinese women saw in the Korean struggle a reflection of their own battles—against workplace discrimination, sexual violence, and the state's pro-natalist pressures. There was no need to borrow from distant cultures; they found a mirror in a neighbor whose popular culture they were already consuming and whose social struggles felt intimately familiar. Korean feminism imposing such an impact on China is representative of the power of regional solidarity. The quest for equality finds a way, even in the most fragmented digital world, constructing unlikely bridges, hence arming a new generation with words to name their oppression and to imagine another future.
Written by: Victoria Liao
