Most narratives I read about China were reductive and simplistic. They fail to capture the society that I live in in all its complexity. Chinese cyberspace—rich with innovation, and yet constrained by a unique form of repressive governance—can feel like a free-wheeling carnival and a barren cage all at once. In this context, I found myself gravitating to the individuals who embodied these contradictions, those who worked within the system all while challenging its boundaries—a process often described as “dancing with shackles on.”

I came to call them Wall Dancers, individuals in China who are pushing for change, openness and freedom from inside the Great Firewall. Who are they, what do they believe in, and how has the internet both liberated and constrained the person that they’ve become?

In the Rest of World column, I steer away from big-picture geopolitics, observed from a birds-eye view, and focus on human-centered narratives, absorbed at the ground level. This does not mean that my subjects are niche or marginal, but that they always have deep and rippling effects on the lives of every people.

In general, I take a specific incident that captures the pulse of the moment – say, a protest by Meituan food delivery workers, the rising popularity of a new online psychology app – then weave the story together with a bigger structural problem – say, algorithmic labour exploitation, or the growing mental health crisis.

Absolutely. We are both attempting to write and live truthfully, creatively, and with integrity in the same environment, under similar constraints. Because of this, we are fascinated by similar subjects: most notably, the digital divide, the effects of automation, a growing turn towards the spiritual.

The key difference between their work and mine is that science-fiction writers are able to shroud themselves under the ambiguity of genre – writing speculative fiction allows for multiple interpretations. As a non-fiction writer, I have to be more straightforward and direct in my writing.