[ENG] A Cross-Dressing Man, 1,691 Young Men, and the “Sinful” Queerness

Within just a few days, Vietnamese social media was flooded with news about “Sister Hong of Nanjing”, a 38-year-old man from China who disguised himself as a woman and reportedly engaged in intimate relationships with 1,691 men. The staggering numbers, cinematic twists, and endlessly shared videos quickly propelled the incident to the top of trending searches, capturing the public’s attention with a mix of shock, curiosity, and moral judgment.

A Lonely World Behind the Screen

On July 8, police in Nanjing, Jiangsu Province (China) announced the arrest of Mr. Jiao, also known by his online alias "Sister Hong", following reports that he had distributed explicit videos on social media.

According to the investigation, the 38-year-old man had used photo editing apps, worn wigs, silicone breast implants, and trained himself to speak in a feminine voice, all while claiming to be a divorced woman in search of companionship. Over a span of three years, he connected and went on dates with hundreds of men, including university students, office workers, and even foreign nationals. Many of these intimate encounters were filmed inside his modest rented room.

The case shocked the public not only because of the staggering number of individuals involved, but also because it spotlighted a deeper, more troubling phenomenon: the anonymous world of social media has become a refuge for individuals adrift in loneliness, yearning so deeply for connection that they place their trust in personas built from makeup, filters, and carefully curated clicks. These virtual relationships also come with growing risks to personal privacy and digital security.

In the digital realm, where text messages replace eye contact and avatars substitute for facial expressions, constructing an entirely new identity is effortless. But this ease of connection also makes relationships increasingly fragile, superficial, and emotionally vulnerable.

The story of "Sister Hong" exposes a symptom of our times: loneliness in an age of hyper-connectivity. As author Noreena Hertz has pointed out, over 20% of millennials in the United States report having no close friends, and nearly half of children aged 10 to 15 in the UK frequently feel lonely. Many people turn to online interactions as a substitute, believing in them, and eventually, believing they are real.

Meanwhile, the media and online communities have responded to the scandal with breathtaking speed. "Sister Hong" has been transformed into a meme, a target of mockery, and a symbol of gender and sexual deviance for public amusement.

As the anonymous spaces of social media grow ever more crowded, the risks associated with online dating continue to mount. These fleeting, simulated connections are slowly eroding trust and widening the emotional divide between individuals. Figures like “Sister Hong” may continue to emerge, not as anomalies, but as reflections of the profound sense of alienation that defines this lonely digital age.

Queer Perceptions and the Spectacle of Deviation

One of the questions that continues to trouble me is this: why do so many people find the images of “Sister Hong” and the men involved so laughable? What is it that makes an event like this fascinating to the public? The answer, it seems, lies in its “abnormality.” That which deviates from social norms, that which defies collective expectations, has always piqued human curiosity. After all, no one pays attention to a dog biting a man, but a man biting a dog? That still makes headlines. It's an old media adage that remains relevant today.

In this case, three elements contribute to the public’s obsession: first, the sheer number of individuals involved, more than 1,600 men; second, the exposure of their identities; and third, the perceived "perversity" of a man dressing as a woman (a practice known as cross-dressing) and engaging in same-sex relationships. In societies still entrenched in gender and sexual norms, such behavior is quickly labeled as deviant. Yet, when viewed through the lens of sexual autonomy, the right of adults to consensually express their sexuality, it is not inherently wrong.

Of course, we cannot be certain that all those men consented willingly. If there were any signs of coercion, the Nanjing police would have had a clear legal basis to prosecute the case as sexual assault. Yet to date, no information has emerged suggesting that such charges were ever pursued. What does that tell us?

Perhaps the only thing truly clear is that “Sister Hong” engaged in sexual relations with numerous men while presenting as a woman. To many, this continues to be seen as grotesque or morally reprehensible. But from a more open and inclusive perspective, this falls within what is now widely referred to as the queer spectrum, a term encompassing identities and sexualities that diverge from heteronormativity, the assumption that heterosexuality and binary gender roles are the societal default. Sister Hong may be a code dresser (someone who dresses in ways that defy gender norms), and those men may have simply found that appealing.

Yet rather than engage with the situation critically, social media turned queerness into spectacle. Users watched, judged, and spoke as though exercising free expression, but is that truly freedom? I would argue it is not. These reactions did not emerge from nuanced, informed perspectives, but from a deeply embedded framework of social prejudice.

Worse still, this framework is difficult to escape. Platforms like Facebook and Instagram are not designed to support thoughtful discourse; instead, they amplify what is most likely to generate engagement, often content that is sensational, simplistic, or humorous. Viral memes, short videos, and shallow entertainment dominate feeds because they align perfectly with the platforms’ business model: maximizing user attention for advertising profit.

Within this structure, users are transformed into passive consumers. They are rarely afforded the time or space to pause, reflect, or critically examine what they’re seeing. As a result, serious questions surrounding “Sister Hong” are pushed to the margins: the loneliness that drives people into virtual relationships, the hidden risks of online dating, and the vulnerability that comes with the loss of control over one’s digital image.

The issue here is not limited to this particular incident. Unless we begin to question how social media platforms are shaping public consciousness, most users will continue to only see the tip of the iceberg in sensational cases like this. The submerged layers, the psychological crises, the erosion of real human connection, will remain invisible, drowned out by the fleeting laughter of the crowd.