Who speaks for
the Mosuo?

Deep in the mountains on the border between Yunnan and Sichuan provinces in China, among lakes and mountains, lives a group long “isolated” from the outside world: the Mosuo people. They are one of the last matriarchal societies in the world, with women occupying a central position in family and community life, and children named after their mothers. For centuries, they have quietly passed down their culture in villages through a fundamental way: elders teach young people. In recent years, however, social media, travel blogs, and video-sharing platforms have brought the Mosuo people into the global spotlight. With a quick scroll through social media platforms can see countless videos of their embroidery, impressive performances in traditional costumes, and exaggerated comments about 'walking marriages'. This attention has helped preserve parts of Mosuo cultural heritage that might otherwise be gradually disappearing, but it has also led to widespread misunderstandings. 

It is worth noting that Mosuo culture was under pressure long before the rise of the internet. In the 20th century, a growing number of young people left the mountain villages for cities to pursue educational opportunities and employment. This migration has continuously weakened the oral transmission chain that preserves the culture of the Mosuo people for generations. Elders who remembered the community's history - such as the Daba texts, seasonal celebration rituals, and the complex knowledge of local customs and embroidery - found that fewer young people were willing to stay, learn, and pass on these traditions. This phenomenon is not unique to the Mosuo people but is a common problem among indigenous communities worldwide. Therefore, it has created a real sense of urgency: If no intervention is taken, this cultural knowledge will inevitably disappear.

In this context, digital tools have become a practical protective mechanism. One compelling example is the digitization of Daba texts. Dafa Luruo, born in 1933 in Yanyuan County, represents the 20th generation of a family lineage with profound knowledge of the Daba religion. Starting from 2001, Luruo collaborated with researcher Latami Wangyong to document 39 core ritual texts across 38 video files. The archive, now documented in The Pangloss Collection- which offers linguistic audio documents, with a specialization in rare or less-studied languages- ensures that even if no younger Mosuo ever learns to recite these daba texts orally, the knowledge will not vanish entirely. Beyond formal archives, the daily posts made by the local Mosuo people on social media, short videos of a family ceremony, and photos of traditional clothing all serve as a link that connects the younger generation with the culture.

However, this technology for preserving culture can also cause distortion. The vast amount of information about the Mosuo people that is widely circulated on the internet does not come from the Mosuo people themselves. Instead, it originates from tourists, travel bloggers, and media professionals who are seeking to captivate stories. At the 2025 Tianfu Forum, Chinese Writers Association Vice President Bai Gengsheng directly addressed this phenomenon. He pointed out that descriptions of the Mosuo people on the internet often exaggerate their matriarchal social structure and "walking marriages". Bai Gengsheng emphasized that the Mosuo society is neither in a primitive state of "knowing only the mother but not the father", nor is it a simple "female supremacy" society. Instead, it is a manifestation of "harmony between men and women" that emerged under specific natural conditions and a certain level of productivity.

The Jiaosuo Circle Dance offers a particularly educational case. This traditional dance, whose name means “dance for a beautiful time," is a communal practice imbued with profound cultural significance - performed during harvest celebrations, religious rituals, and festivals - reinforcing social bonds and collective identity. In 2025, the Lugu Lake "Turning the Mountain and Sea" Festival, which featured the dance prominently, received a total of 49,207 visitors, an increase of 451.67% compared to the previous year. Moreover, videos of the performance spread through social media platforms. The vast majority of such posts offer no background explanations, however, regarding the cultural significance of the dance. When viewers browse through the post, they only see the colorful costumes and the synchronized movements, completely detached from the meaning of the practices. Dance is reduced to a visual performance rather than being presented as a cultural expression.

A 2023 study on minority documentary production highlighted a deeper structural issue. It found that individual tourists and independent content creators have become the primary producers of Mosuo-related media, typically presenting the community through the lens of "the mysterious other." These creators decide which scenes to capture, what to leave out, and how to frame the narrative for maximum attention. The Mosuo themselves, meanwhile, often lack the resources to effectively spread their own culture. This causes a major issue: the audience cannot really capture effective information; instead, they are likely to fall into the media trap.

Nevertheless, these challenges do not mean that digital intervention should be abandoned; instead they point to an action that some Mosuo individuals have already begun to pursue. A compelling example is the Mosuo Museum in Lugu Lake. Founded in 1997 and opened to the public in 2001 by two local Mosuo villagers, Eryun and Duoji, it remains one of the few museums in China established and operated entirely by members of the ethnic group it represents. In recent years, the museum has extended its mission into the digital sphere. Its Redbook account has gained over 19,000 followers, while its Tiktok presence has attracted more than 4,000 followers, making it a significant voice in online discussions about Mosuo culture. Although this kind of influence is still relatively limited compared to viral tourism videos, the digital presence of the museum has created something more lasting: an anti-narrative based on community history, culture, and knowledge rather than external observation. Visibility thus becomes the result of the community's active choice, rather than a condition imposed passively from the outside.

The experiences of the Mosuo people reflect a common reality for indigenous and minority communities around the world. High viewership and online shares do not equal successful cultural preservation - they only show how much attention a culture receives online. The central debate is no longer whether digital platforms help protect cultural heritage, but rather who controls the stories shared with global audiences and under what conditions these narratives are created. In the digital era, cultural preservation means more than simply defending traditions from fading away. It also requires local communities to actively represent their own cultures. While social media connects marginalized traditions to global viewers, digital networks often simplify complex cultures into superficial, eye-catching content. For audiences who only interact with minority cultures through screens, it is necessary to question the sources of this online content, who tells these cultural stories, and which voices are ignored. 

Digital technology has created unprecedented opportunities for cross-national cultural exchanges, but it also requires individuals to pay more attention to how online platforms mediate, simplify, and sometimes even misconstrue cultural traditions. Ultimately, increased visibility is not an unqualified good; the critical question is who controls the narrative, and who bears the consequences when a culture is repackaged for global digital consumption.

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