When I was younger, I had a silver-blue cheongsam that I LOVED. I was obsessed with the shiny fabric, the intricate flower designs, and the button-up neck— but perhaps its biggest allure was the special occasions I got to wear it at. One such occasion was the annual cultural event at school, where students were encouraged to wear their families’ traditional clothing. I was proud to show off my culture with such a beautiful garment. There was also a real feeling of connection in being surrounded by so much diversity. Another big occasion was Chinese New Year, where my extended family would come to visit for huge, indulgent meals together. I felt at home in my body, my clothing, and my family.
The cheongsam or qi pao (旗袍) is a traditional Chinese dress that originated in Shanghai but is mostly recognized as a part of Cantonese culture. The garment used to be commonly worn in Hong Kong, but it faded out of style in the 1970s and is now mostly worn only for special occasions. Traditionally they were made with silk, embroidered and decorated with hand made Pankou knots, but all the ones that are produced today are polyester and machine-made.
It’s hard for me to maintain the same relationship I had with the cheongsam as I did as a child. Although I still have a lot of nostalgia connected to it, wearing it doesn’t give me the same sense of pride. I am all too aware of the sexualization and exotification of the garment due to the treatment from the American audience. Wearing one now makes me feel all too fetishized by the colonialist gaze.
Ironically, as the cheongsam decreased in popularity in Hong Kong, the popularity of this style began to rise in the United States. Perhaps “style” is the wrong term, as most of the cheongsam’s appearance and elements had been used in appropriating manners: the popularization of the “mandarin collar”, the usage of cheongsam fabric in other types of clothing, the usage of dragon and phoenix imagery, and simply wearing the cheongsam as a “costume” are just a few examples of such appropriation. It is also often used as fetishwear in “oriental” sections of porn websites.
I started this piece by recreating the cheongsam I remember wearing as a kid. All the feelings of home and belonging came rushing back, looking at this tiny garment that I used to wear so proudly. I resized this garment to fit my body now, and in the process expressed my changing relationship with the cheongsam into the final work. The child’s garment is stretched out to fit an adult woman. The spaces between the original fabric form the character 美, meaning beautiful. 美 also references the term for the United States, 美国, meaning “beautiful country”. The revealing nature of the dress as well as the use of black lace asks: is this garment really perceived as more beautiful? Or just more American?
