Meet the Women Making Lion and Dragon Dancing More Inclusive

When lion dance troupes became more inclusive, women were still only allowed to play the cymbals or gongs because of cultural taboos, Tan says. Many different Asian cultures believe that menstrual blood brings bad luck. This belief unofficially barred women from even touching the lion costume.

“It was part of the tradition,” Tan says. Because of period stigma, “women don’t touch the head [of the lion].”

But in 1998, while watching a lion dance performance, she thought, I can do that, too. Tan persuaded 10 of her AAPI female friends to create a troupe. At first, audiences were unimpressed by Gund Kwok’s novel presence, she says.

“They were shocked because we were doing actually harder moves than the guys were doing,” Tan says with a chuckle.

Gund Kwok, which means “heroine” in Cantonese, is one of the longest-standing all-female AAPI lion dance troupes. More female lion dancers are finding success and space in mixed-gender troupes, but an all-female troupe with staying power is still rare.

Goodbye, age restrictions

The lion dance, with its colorful costume, can easily be misidentified as a dragon. Here’s how to tell the difference: The lion dance is always composed of two people locked in dynamic choreography. The dragon is long and sinuous with a crew of nine or more dancers.

Gund Kwok members range in age from 12 to 66. Some female lion dancers not only shatter gender stereotypes but also defy age norms by participating in an activity whose performers are generally younger. This activity demands that performers lift a lion mask (estimated to weigh more than 5 pounds) and perform “horse stance,” a deep and wide squat used in martial arts, throughout the performance.

“Put your arms up 45 degrees and see how long you can hold it up without any weights,” Tan says. “You will find just holding up your arms in horse stance is a workout.”

These days, Yee prefers teaching but occasionally hops into costume to dance with her troupe.

“I guess it’s the passion,” Yee says. “I really love it.”

Lion dancing transforms women’s lives by building physical strength, mental resilience and self-esteem.

Gund Kwok’s mission is to empower women, Tan says. To keep herself strong, she does daily push-ups and walks up 22 stories to her office five times.

Every time Aiping Schneider performs, she feels empowered.

“You dance like the lion, so you think that you are strong,” says Schneider, 59. “You have a power.”

In 2018, she started lion dancing with Gund Kwok to connect to the local AAPI community and her culture. Since then, the strength and confidence she gained through the discipline have inspired her to work toward many different goals. Last year, she completed her first 5K, 10K and half marathon races.

“Lion dance really inspired me to do a lot more things that I never thought,” Schneider says. In her native China and in Boston, where she lives, she has always heard messages of what women shouldn’t do — lion dancing was one of them.

“But with proper training and enough exercise, I can do it,” Schneider says.

Women’s radical presence in lion dancing challenges internalized oppression.

“Some people say, ‘Oh, you’re not strong enough to do this. You’re not smart to do that,’ ” Schneider says. “If you really want to do it, you put your heart into it. Yeah, you can do it.”