China’s MeToo Movement Finds New Ways to Survive

Published: 21 September 2026. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online.

When Jasmine organises feminist activities in Beijing these days, she rarely describes them publicly as feminist events. Instead, gatherings may be presented as cultural or artistic activities, with details shared privately among trusted contacts rather than advertised openly on social media.

For activists who remember the early years of China’s MeToo movement, the change is striking. What was once an increasingly visible campaign in which survivors publicly shared experiences of sexual harassment and abuse has moved into a much more cautious and private phase.

The release of journalist and MeToo activist Sophia Huang Xueqin after five years in prison has brought renewed attention to how dramatically that environment has changed. Huang became one of the most prominent figures associated with China’s MeToo movement through her reporting on survivors and sexual harassment. She was detained in Guangzhou in September 2021, shortly before she was due to travel to Britain to begin postgraduate study.

Huang was convicted in 2024 alongside labour activist Wang Jianbing on a charge of “inciting subversion of state power”. Amnesty International has said Huang received a five-year prison sentence, while Wang was sentenced to three years and six months. Wang was released in March 2025, while Huang remained imprisoned until the completion of her sentence in September 2026.

Her release comes at a moment when the feminist movement she helped bring into public view has changed considerably. Activists and researchers describe a landscape in which open mobilisation has become substantially more difficult, while younger feminists are finding different ways to discuss gender, sexual harassment and women’s rights.

The original MeToo movement in China emerged as survivors increasingly used social media to tell their stories and draw attention to allegations of sexual harassment. Some cases generated national discussion and encouraged other women to speak publicly. The movement also reached universities and workplaces, where questions about harassment and institutional responsibility became harder to ignore.

But the space for such public campaigning has narrowed. Activists say hashtags associated with MeToo and related feminist campaigns have increasingly disappeared from Chinese social-media platforms, while discussions that might once have been conducted openly are now often moved into private networks.

Eva Liu, a researcher focusing on Chinese feminism and digital media, has described younger digital-native feminists as having less exposure to the movement’s earlier history because of the disappearance of previous online discussions. Activists now frequently experiment with alternative language to avoid automated censorship.

The process has been described as a continuing contest between those seeking to communicate and systems designed to identify and restrict sensitive content. Feminist groups have developed new expressions and indirect references, while researchers say censorship systems can quickly incorporate emerging terms into keyword lists.

For activists, this has changed not only how they communicate but also how they organise.

Jasmine says openly advertising an event about feminism or LGBT issues in Beijing can create a risk that authorities will shut it down. As a result, organisers sometimes use neutral descriptions that do not reveal the political or social themes that will be discussed once participants are together.

Such tactics reflect a broader transformation in Chinese civil society. Public mobilisation is more difficult, but activists have not necessarily disappeared. Instead, some have moved their activities into smaller communities where participants know one another and information can be shared with greater discretion.

The case of Huang illustrates the risks surrounding this environment. According to Amnesty International, she and Wang were arrested on 19 September 2021 and held for more than five months without normal access to the outside world. The organisation says their conviction followed allegations relating to private gatherings, online activities and material considered sensitive by Chinese authorities.

Human-rights organisations have criticised the prosecution and conviction. In a statement issued before Huang’s expected release, Amnesty International and other organisations called on Chinese authorities to ensure that she would be able to continue her journalism and human-rights work without surveillance, harassment or other restrictions. Amnesty also highlighted the additional four-year period of “deprivation of political rights” imposed on Huang.

The circumstances surrounding her release have therefore remained a concern for supporters. Activists have said they were uncertain about her situation and worried about the possibility of continued surveillance or restrictions after her imprisonment ended.

The Chinese government presents a different picture of women’s rights. Chinese authorities have said the country has made major progress in areas including women’s health, employment and participation in the economy, while also pledging stronger protection against sexual harassment and sexual violence.

The debate over China’s MeToo movement consequently involves both measurable changes and sharp disagreement about the political and social environment in which those changes have taken place.

For supporters of the movement, one of its most significant achievements was bringing sexual harassment into mainstream public discussion. Even where legal cases did not produce the outcomes activists sought, the willingness of women to discuss experiences of harassment changed the conversation around gender and personal rights.

Chinese feminist activist Lu Pin, who is based in New York, has argued that MeToo significantly increased awareness among women, particularly younger women, despite the difficult environment in which the movement operated.

One visible area of impact has been universities. Activists have pointed to institutional policy changes and increased awareness of sexual harassment, although they argue that progress has been more limited when cases move into the formal legal system.

The experience of Zhou Xiaoxuan became another important example of the challenges facing Chinese women who pursued sexual-harassment claims. Her case against a television presenter attracted considerable public attention, but she ultimately lost her legal action. Such cases contributed to an understanding among activists that public attention alone does not necessarily translate into legal accountability.

For the younger generation of feminists now entering the movement, the internet is also a different environment from the one that existed when MeToo first gained momentum.

Social media remains important for sharing information, documenting cases and connecting people, but activists have become more cautious about the permanence and visibility of online activity. Public posts can disappear, accounts can be restricted and keywords can become difficult to use.

That has encouraged a more fragmented form of activism. Instead of relying on a single national campaign or widely used hashtag, individuals and small networks may concentrate on supporting survivors, sharing legal information or organising discreet meetings.

The transformation does not necessarily mean that feminist activism has ended. Rather, its methods have changed in response to the conditions surrounding it.

In Beijing, Jasmine remains in contact with people who have experienced sexual harassment. She believes survivors can still receive assistance through publicity, legal support and personal networks, although those providing help must carefully consider how visible their activities should be.

The same caution can be seen in the language activists use. Terms that once openly identified feminist campaigns can be replaced by indirect expressions, cultural references or neutral descriptions. What appears to be an ordinary discussion or artistic gathering can sometimes provide a space for conversations that would be difficult to hold publicly under a more explicit label.

For observers of Chinese feminism, Huang’s release therefore represents more than the end of an individual prison sentence. It also provides an opportunity to assess how a movement that once relied heavily on public visibility has adapted to a much more restrictive digital and organisational environment.

The movement’s early activists had expected the internet to provide a powerful space for survivors to speak, connect and mobilise. Over time, many discovered that the same technology could also be closely monitored and controlled.

That lesson has shaped the new generation.

China’s MeToo movement today is less visible than it was during its most prominent period, but conversations about sexual harassment, women’s rights and gender inequality continue through smaller networks and less conspicuous forms of communication. The movement has lost some of its earlier public openness, yet the experiences and awareness generated during its rise remain part of China’s social debate.

Huang’s return comes against that complicated background. The journalist who once helped amplify survivors’ voices is now entering a feminist landscape that has been reshaped by censorship, legal pressure, changing technology and a generation of activists who have learned to operate with greater caution.

The central question is no longer simply whether women in China can speak about MeToo publicly. Increasingly, it is how those conversations can continue when the public spaces in which they once flourished have become far more difficult to navigate.