Dancing in the Sunset: The Origins & Present of China's Square Dance Culture

If you have ever lived in China, you have probably experienced this: as evening falls, music starts playing in a public square somewhere—in a city or a village—and a group of people begin to move in synchronised steps. For many returning expatriates, this is a unique form of homesickness. “When I see the aunties dancing at the entrance of my neighbourhood,” one might say, “I know I am home."

The melody of square dancing has long been woven into the fabric of China’s social development. Its evolution parallels the country’s economic take-off, urbanisation, and the arrival of an ageing society. Today, let us explore this uniquely Chinese grassroots cultural phenomenon-its origins, its transformations, and the new stories now unfolding.

1. From Fitness Routines to Square Dance: A Grassroots Cultural Awakening

The roots of square dancing can be traced back to much older folk dance traditions. Professor Wang Haifeng, a dance scholar at the Shenyang Conservatory of Music, notes that in northeast China, the earliest forms of square dance may be linked to yangge (a festive rural folk dance), which dates back hundreds of years or more. However, the specific term “square dance” only emerged in the early 21st century.

The modern incarnation of square dance as we know it began around 1990. At that time, people gathered in squares to practise Tai Ji, qigong, or simple aerobics. To encourage fitness participation, local Women’s Federations even held aerobics competitions. With no internet and few instructional resources, some teachers started choreographing their own moves, and aerobics gradually evolved into dance.

Huang Fengzhen, an 89-year-old “Auntie Huang” from Shenyang, remembers it vividly: in 1990, shortly after undergoing surgery, she led her community in what was then still called “fitness dance.” In Nanjing, Yuan Heping, a social sports instructor, recalls that after 1990 she began teaching fitness routines, but it was around 2000—when urbanisation and public squares became widespread—that these activities truly blossomed into a nationwide, spontaneous fitness,and entertainment movement.

By 2000, forms like fitness yangge and step dance had emerged. By 2010, square dancing had gained broad social recognition. From that point on, it swept across China—from megacities to small towns and rural villages—with an unstoppable momentum.

2. One Billion Moves: The Social Portrait Behind the Numbers

How large is square dancing today? Based on interviews with organisers in Liaoning, Jiangsu, Hunan, and Guangxi, local estimates suggest that roughly 10% of the population in their areas participates. Extrapolating nationally, that translates to about 100 million people—the vast majority being women between 50 and 70 years old.

Why do so many choose to dance? A retired female official from Jiangsu put it candidly: “Just after retirement, one day I was speaking at a meeting, and the next I was stuck at home mopping the floor. That sense of loss was crushing. Thank goodness for square dance.” For many, it offers a way to reintegrate into society—not just as physical exercise, but as a source of social connection and emotional belonging.

Liu Rong, vice president of the Jiangsu Square Fitness Dance Association, has been dancing for over 30 years. She says, “Some call it an ‘open-air hospital’.” And she is not exaggerating—research shows that square dancing stimulates dopamine release, helping to regulate mood and, under the influence of hormones and the nervous system, making people more open to communication with others.

The rapid spread of smartphones has also brought square dance to every corner. On platforms like Douyin (TikTok in China), Bilibili, and WeChat Channels, influencers teach newly choreographed routines, allowing dancers in remote areas to learn the latest moves in real time. Space and time have been compressed like never before.

3. A New Face for Square Dance: The Young Generation Redefines It

For a long time, square dancing was stereotyped as “exclusively for middle-aged and elderly people,” and even dismissed as “rustic” or “cheesy”. But in recent years, that image has been thoroughly disrupted.

At the cultural square of Beijing Foreign Studies University, music starts at 8 p.m. every evening. What began with a handful of people now attracts up to a hundred—students from various majors, international exchange students, graduates, and faculty families. Over the past five years, this spontaneous campus dance group has stripped away the “senior-only” label.

In Chongqing, Zhang Yifei, a doctoral student in psychology at Southwest University, leads dances at Jinyun Square every weekend. He recalls: “I used to think square dancing was just for grandparents, but then I realised many young people enjoy it too.” For him, square dancing acts as a “social buffer” —within the collective rhythm, individuals can blend into the group without the pressure of direct eye contact.

The younger crowd has brought fresh energy. At BFSU, three USB drives hold over 300 tracks—not only classic “earworm” hits like The Red Salang but also Mandarin pop, Chinese-style instrumental pieces, anime soundtracks, and even the theme song from Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf. A Burmese student, Yue Zhenzhen, remarked: “Many of these songs have strong northeastern dialects—different from textbook Chinese—and they help me understand the language better.” In fact, the square has become an informal “Chinese corner” for international students.

As Zhang Yifei puts it: “Actually, it is square dance that is embracing young people. There are no fixed rules about who can dance or how—everyone is free to show off their own style!”

4. From "Aunties Only" to a Cultural Symbol for All

Beyond fitness, square dancing has evolved over decades into a cultural vehicle with broad social impact. It is no longer just a pastime for the “sunset years”; the diversity of participants now mirrors a miniature social spectrum.

Of course, square dancing has faced real challenges—noise complaints and conflicts over public space, for example. Some localities have begun experimenting with solutions, such as directional sound systems installed in the square of Matian Street in Shenzhen’s Guangming District, which confine the music to a defined area.

By the end of 2024, China had 220 million people aged 65 and above, accounting for 15.6% of the total population—officially a moderately ageing society. As this trend continues, square dancing will attract even more participants. At the same time, the influx of young dancers is injecting new vitality and creative possibilities into the movement.

From the “fitness dance” in a Shenyang neighbourhood in 1990 to the nationwide, cross‑generational activity it is today, square dancing has spent over thirty years telling a story of individuals blending into communities, and tradition embracing modernity. It may not be polished or avant-garde, but it is genuine, passionate, and full of life—much like the people who live and strive on this land.