Nanjing, China – On the street, they are often the target of laughter or cruel whispers. Individually, they have all been denied jobs or their parents’ praise.
On stage, however, the four members of a singing group known as Qian Jin Zu He are strong and confident, belting out their signature rap song, “So What If I’m Fat,” passing out photographs of themselves and signing autographs.
The lead singer, 26-year-old Xiao Yang, is 375 pounds; the others in the group are between about 200 and 300 pounds. Together, they tour the country, performing at nightclubs, paint factories, garment-industry conventions and shopping malls.
Their success has been modest, but given the powerful discrimination against the obese in China, Xiao said her discovery by a talent agent has been “like a tree branch saving me in the water.”
The story of precisely how Xiao’s group came to be is a window to the challenges of being obese in a country where the ideal form of feminine beauty is delicate, girlish and small-boned. As China has grown more prosperous, the percentage of overweight citizens has also grown. Still, those who are obese continue to struggle in relative solitude. Only about 7 percent of the population in China is considered obese, compared with 30 percent of the population in the United States.
Not long ago, having overweight children in China was viewed as a sign of prosperity.
But chubby is no longer in fashion here, and image has become more important than ever. Summer boot camps for the overweight are springing up. In an increasingly competitive market, employers demand height and weight information from job candidates.
It was against this backdrop that Xiao struggled to make a life for herself. She took weight-loss pills at age 5. Her embarrassed parents refused to hold her hand in public and enrolled her in what she recalls as a “devil eating program” that allowed participants to eat only fruit and drink only water.
Four years ago, in desperation, Xiao placed an ad in a local newspaper, begging for someone to help her lose weight or find a job.
Hu Zhi, a public-relations agent based in Nanjing, saw it. He decided to add her to his talent roster.
Xiao “was educated, so I thought if I could dig out some potential performing skill, maybe I could help her and she might be a good resource for my company,” Hu said.
He gave her CDs and DVDs featuring various performers, as well as a coach, and asked her to study dance moves.
To build her confidence, Hu tried to find her a boyfriend. He knew that the relentless pressure from her family to lose weight was driven by fears she would never marry. He got the largest newspaper in the city, the Nanjing Evening News, to write up details of Xiao’s misfortune and seek prospective husbands.
Xiao wasn’t serious about getting married. But the story in March 2006 was a big boost to her confidence and drew 200 letters from interested men. It also attracted letters from more than 100 obese women from all over China who had had the same feelings and experiences. They all wanted to be friends with Xiao.
Hu and the newspaper formed a club for the women. That produced enough talented performers that Hu decided to form a band.
Dozens of people auditioned. The result was Qian Jin Zu He.
The group’s name is a play on words. One meaning refers to a courteous expression for another person’s daughter or, in ancient times, a thousand pieces of gold. But no one who sees the band perform can mistake its second meaning: 1,000 jin, a Chinese measurement that would translate to just over 1,000 pounds.
Through their performances, the group hopes to change stereotypes about the obese, said member Zhang Wen, 24, who weighs 209 pounds and is from Tianjin.
“Our original purpose for joining the band is to help other girls like us feel more confident, feel better about themselves, and to prove our capability in front of others,” she said.
