Gua sha: yet another niche that has surged into the mainstream, infiltrating millennials’ and Gen Z’s social media feeds. What was merely an ancient healing procedure in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) is now a superficial beauty trend consumed by the masses. According to John Storey (2006), popular culture can be characterized as “culture which originates from ‘the people’” that is “authentic”, “folk culture”, just like gua sha. Other definitions focus on the concept of mass consumption and commercialization, or the struggle between the resistance of subordinate groups in society and the forces of incorporation working in favour of dominant societal groups (Storey, 2006). Gua sha ticks all of these defining boxes. There is a common misconception that gua sha is a new, quirky phenomenon made to sooth and improve the appearance of your face; however this false impression utterly disregards the cultural, medicinal and historical reality of gua sha.
So, what really is gua sha and how did it evolve from the margins to the masses? The “new” beauty trend that influencers promote for a slimmer face is, in fact, as ancient as the Paleolithic era (Davids, 2020). While celebrities like the Kardashians, Lizzo and Jeniffer Anniston have endorsed gua sha, the practice is an integral part of TCM, ingrained in Eastern folk culture dating back to the 1300s. Gua sha was originally used to treat certain illnesses, relieve pain and tension, improve circulation and to maintain qi: “a vital energy that surrounds and courses through the body that supports life” (Li, 2021). According to Li (2021), gua sha is said to “nurture the body's yin and yang, the two different aspects of qi.” The practice involves lubricating an area on one’s body and thoroughly gliding a stone against the skin in a gentle, unidirectional motion, improving circulation and lymphatic drainage. Thanks to TikTok, facial gua sha has become far more than an ancient medicinal practice in Eastern culture. The hashtag #guasha has over 726 million views, and #guashatutorial has over 150 million views as of November 9th 2021.
So, what really is gua sha and how did it evolve from the margins to the masses? The “new” beauty trend that influencers promote for a slimmer face is, in fact, as ancient as the Paleolithic era (Davids, 2020). While celebrities like the Kardashians, Lizzo and Jeniffer Anniston have endorsed gua sha, the practice is an integral part of TCM, ingrained in Eastern folk culture dating back to the 1300s. Gua sha was originally used to treat certain illnesses, relieve pain and tension, improve circulation and to maintain qi: “a vital energy that surrounds and courses through the body that supports life” (Li, 2021). According to Li (2021), gua sha is said to “nurture the body's yin and yang, the two different aspects of qi.” The practice involves lubricating an area on one’s body and thoroughly gliding a stone against the skin in a gentle, unidirectional motion, improving circulation and lymphatic drainage. Thanks to TikTok, facial gua sha has become far more than an ancient medicinal practice in Eastern culture. The hashtag #guasha has over 726 million views, and #guashatutorial has over 150 million views as of November 9th 2021.
There are several reasons as to why gua sha has become so popular and it has a lot to do with capitalism, privilege and platform. We live in an instant gratification-seeking society where consumers’ “false needs” are prioritized over basic needs and women, in particular, are expected to look beautiful in the eyes of the heterosexual male. Gua sha is marketed in a way that taps into these exact values: It is easily tangible, and will instantly de-puff your face and make you look and feel better. Let’s be honest, we are suckers for instant beauty fixes. We are swarmed by the media with false needs, convinced to buy things that will make us prettier and skinnier. In her book “Feminism and Pop Culture”, Andi Ziesler (2008) , refers to the term “male gaze”, coined by Laura Mulvey, which defines this notion of even women being self-objectifying and perceiving themselves from the perspective of a man. It’s fundamentally (and arguably detrimentally) linked to capitalism: as a result of the societal norms and expectations surrounding women’s representation, more money is spent on beauty products; Men often capitalize off women’s insecurities and the social pressure inflicted upon us, supporting the rich, male-dominant capitalist order. This explains why so many females in particular are indulging in gua sha: a scientifically proven way to get a slimmer face, having medicinal benefits, and if that’s not enough, our favourite celebrities and beauty icons are embracing it too. In their most predominant text “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception”, Neo-Marxist critical theorists Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno argue that capitalism only works if there’s a constant flow of products and people buying them. This is why the beauty and culture industry capitalize off the male gaze: to maintain the hegemonic order and generate income from women’s insecurities and inflicted societal expectations. Adorno and Horkheimer argue that the culture industry is merely fulfilling consumer needs, particularly “false needs'' (Adorno, 1994). This accounts for the way that gua sha has been marketed and gained popularity: it wasn’t through practitioners’ advertisement of a traditional, medicinal procedure involving minor bleeding and bruising, but rather as a romanticized beauty trend promoted by influencers and celebrities, many of which have no genuine connection to TCM. It’s crucial to take note of the way in which gua sha rose to the masses and be critical of its subsequent portrayal. Primarily having celebrities or white beauty influencers with little, if any, expertise in TCM, diminishes the ingenuity of the practice, and highlights the privilege that comes with promoting products and dictating trends. What becomes “trendy” is largely determined by race and pre-existing status and platforms. This results in a distorted representation of counterculture, niche traditions and fuels the existing capitalist structure, perpetuating the exclusion of the marginalized.
This gives rise to a common paradox in popular culture between cultural appreciation and appropriation. Despite gua sha’s origin and cultural significance, “the beauty industry has co-opted the concept for its own fortune.” (Kelly, 2021). Aside from the issues of prioritizing false needs and capitalizing off the unjust expectation of women in society, the transition of gua sha into popular culture has also led to cultural appropriation. The tools are being mass-purchased from white sellers or influencers who have no relation to, nor give credit to, its origin. Kelly (2021) claims that “even beauty companies that sell actual gua sha tools often don't inform their customers on the cultural relevance of the practice within traditional Chinese medicine.”. The misinformation and exclusion of information regarding gua sha’s actual use and cultural history has raised concerns of appropriation, exacerbated by media platforms like TikTok.
On the other hand, the surge of gua sha has increased awareness and use of ancient Chinese culture and medicinal practice. This likely raises incomes for Chinese traditional practitioners or those who have used Gua sha professionally for years, even though some consumption is deviated towards white, wealthier and less experienced practitioners. Moreover, it has given a platform to Chinese practitioners. Even the wrong use of gua sha or disregard of its cultural context promotes education around the practice. This is evident in the number of tutorials and explanations of gua sha flooding through the internet. Ziesler (2008) emphasizes that in the case of feminism, the misrepresentation or oppression of women inspires people “to fight for more and better representations of themselves”. The same concept can be applied to the appropriation of gua sha. While its commodification and emergence into pop culture is somewhat detrimental, its misuse and appropriation inspires practitioners and authentic, Eastern users to educate others and cultivate a better portrayal. Popular culture essentially can inspire resistance. Platforms like TikTok in particular allow for, and even encourage this form of resistance, education and improved representation, especially of lower-class and marginalized groups (Sharma, 2021). TikTok is a platform that uplifts individuals and marginalized groups who previously struggled to access international markets; It allows individuals, of any social class, to communicate directly with millions of people, removing geographical limitations, where they can address consumers directly. The audience can become creators at any time and have significant agency. Allies and affiliates essentially have sufficient agency to turn the appropriation into appreciation, to some extent.
Within the wider context of popular culture, capitalism and media, it’s imperative to consider where we draw the line between cultural appreciation and appropriation; Although they starkly oppose each other, they operate simultaneously. We should use technology and platforms like TikTok to educate ourselves on the cultural context of commodities marketed towards us - although I must admit, this is easier said than done which is why the problem will persist, even for critical, open-minded consumers. It’s evident that social media plays an essential role in both the exploitation and promotion of cultural practices, highly (and often inequitably) dictated by gender, class and race. Nevertheless, social media has the potential to lead to social change and improve representations of marginalized groups or practices in society.
Adorno, T. (1994). Enlightenment as Mass Deception. In M Horkeimer (Ed.), Dialectic of Enlightenment. essay, Herder & Herder.
This gives rise to a common paradox in popular culture between cultural appreciation and appropriation. Despite gua sha’s origin and cultural significance, “the beauty industry has co-opted the concept for its own fortune.” (Kelly, 2021). Aside from the issues of prioritizing false needs and capitalizing off the unjust expectation of women in society, the transition of gua sha into popular culture has also led to cultural appropriation. The tools are being mass-purchased from white sellers or influencers who have no relation to, nor give credit to, its origin. Kelly (2021) claims that “even beauty companies that sell actual gua sha tools often don't inform their customers on the cultural relevance of the practice within traditional Chinese medicine.”. The misinformation and exclusion of information regarding gua sha’s actual use and cultural history has raised concerns of appropriation, exacerbated by media platforms like TikTok.
On the other hand, the surge of gua sha has increased awareness and use of ancient Chinese culture and medicinal practice. This likely raises incomes for Chinese traditional practitioners or those who have used Gua sha professionally for years, even though some consumption is deviated towards white, wealthier and less experienced practitioners. Moreover, it has given a platform to Chinese practitioners. Even the wrong use of gua sha or disregard of its cultural context promotes education around the practice. This is evident in the number of tutorials and explanations of gua sha flooding through the internet. Ziesler (2008) emphasizes that in the case of feminism, the misrepresentation or oppression of women inspires people “to fight for more and better representations of themselves”. The same concept can be applied to the appropriation of gua sha. While its commodification and emergence into pop culture is somewhat detrimental, its misuse and appropriation inspires practitioners and authentic, Eastern users to educate others and cultivate a better portrayal. Popular culture essentially can inspire resistance. Platforms like TikTok in particular allow for, and even encourage this form of resistance, education and improved representation, especially of lower-class and marginalized groups (Sharma, 2021). TikTok is a platform that uplifts individuals and marginalized groups who previously struggled to access international markets; It allows individuals, of any social class, to communicate directly with millions of people, removing geographical limitations, where they can address consumers directly. The audience can become creators at any time and have significant agency. Allies and affiliates essentially have sufficient agency to turn the appropriation into appreciation, to some extent.
Within the wider context of popular culture, capitalism and media, it’s imperative to consider where we draw the line between cultural appreciation and appropriation; Although they starkly oppose each other, they operate simultaneously. We should use technology and platforms like TikTok to educate ourselves on the cultural context of commodities marketed towards us - although I must admit, this is easier said than done which is why the problem will persist, even for critical, open-minded consumers. It’s evident that social media plays an essential role in both the exploitation and promotion of cultural practices, highly (and often inequitably) dictated by gender, class and race. Nevertheless, social media has the potential to lead to social change and improve representations of marginalized groups or practices in society.
Adorno, T. (1994). Enlightenment as Mass Deception. In M Horkeimer (Ed.), Dialectic of Enlightenment. essay, Herder & Herder.
Davids, L. (2021, July 9). Gua Sha massage: The history, benefits and side effects. The Skin Games. Retrieved November 8, 2021, from https://www.theskingames.com/gua-sha-the-history-benefits-and-side-effects/.
Kelly, A. (2021, April 8). The Cultural Significance of Gua Sha in Traditional Chinese Medicine - Skincare Tools. L’Officiel USA. Retrieved November 4, 2021, from https://www.lofficielusa.com/beauty/cultural-significance-gua-sha-traditional-chinese-medicine-skincare
Li, S. (2021, May 28). Gua Sha Is More Than Just Another TikTok Trend. Teen Vogue. https://www.teenvogue.com/story/what-is-gua-sha
Sharma, Y. (2021, October 28). Instagram has largely replaced TikTok in India, and erased working-class creators. Rest of World. https://restofworld.org/2021/instagram-and-class-in-india/?utm_source=pocket-newtab
Storey, J. (2006). Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: An Introduction (3rd ed.). University of Georgia Press.
Zeisler, A. (2008). Pop and Circumstance: Why Pop Culture Matters. In Feminism and pop culture (pp. 1–21). Seal Press.
Kelly, A. (2021, April 8). The Cultural Significance of Gua Sha in Traditional Chinese Medicine - Skincare Tools. L’Officiel USA. Retrieved November 4, 2021, from https://www.lofficielusa.com/beauty/cultural-significance-gua-sha-traditional-chinese-medicine-skincare
Li, S. (2021, May 28). Gua Sha Is More Than Just Another TikTok Trend. Teen Vogue. https://www.teenvogue.com/story/what-is-gua-sha
Sharma, Y. (2021, October 28). Instagram has largely replaced TikTok in India, and erased working-class creators. Rest of World. https://restofworld.org/2021/instagram-and-class-in-india/?utm_source=pocket-newtab
Storey, J. (2006). Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: An Introduction (3rd ed.). University of Georgia Press.
Zeisler, A. (2008). Pop and Circumstance: Why Pop Culture Matters. In Feminism and pop culture (pp. 1–21). Seal Press.
Hi Lia! Great and very informative article. I really appreciate the time that you spent explaining exactly what Gua Sha is and its application and uses. I have personally never heard of this technique, so I was thrilled that you went into such depth about it. Reading your article, I definitely understand your concerns about the popularity of Gua Sha. I agree with your argument that this ancient technique is being appropriated and exploited for capitalistic gain, which is a trend that keeps appearing in popular culture. This brings me back to our reading this week (11/29/2021) from Social Media Mob: Being Indigenous Online. Specifically, there was a comment in the reading from an Aboriginal woman who was interviewed about not wanting her sons' hunting techniques on the internet (Carlson and Frazer, 2018). Your post puts this comment into context for me. When techniques with deep cultural meaning are popularized in a way that gives no attribution to its original source, it makes sense for groups to act as a sort of gatekeeper to their cultural practices. I really liked the way that you presented both negative and positive perspectives to this post. I am curious how you feel the Gua Sha technique should interact with popular culture. Are you against the Gua Sha technique being brought to the mainstream in general, or do you feel strongly about the lack of recognition given to the history of the technique? I ask this because at times I personally feel the need to gatekeep certain aspects of my culture from the world, whereas at other times I feel a sense of pride when an aspect of my culture is given recognition and is attributed to the correct source.
ReplyDeleteHey Lia, I loved your post since I can relate to it! Growing up in China, my aunt used to gua sha my throat with a coin whenever I got sick, so I have thought of it as a traditional remedy rather than a beautification tool. I have always been a bit uneasy about the way the gua sha and the jade roller have risen to fame. It feels like part of its allure is due to the way it is marketed as exotic, coming from China. The gua sha stones are usually made with imitation jade or rose quartz for the Asian aesthetics, since there is no functional reason.
ReplyDeleteThis discussion of aesthetics reflects the artistic nature of the gua sha, which reminds me of Benjamin’s argument in The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction (1936). With each replication of the gua sha practice, it seems to lose its aura and authenticity, especially since it has been co-opted into Western culture and commodified by white influencers. Those 726 million people that viewed the gua sha tutorials on Tiktok didn’t know where it came from or the rich backstory of the practice, just that it will drain and slim the face to help them look closer to the beauty standard. However, it makes me happy that there are so many Chinese practitioners doing what they can to spread this information. In fact, their work informing the public can arguably preserve gua sha’s aura as they promote its traditional use without fetishizing its exoticness. Hopefully, Tiktok and other platforms can help curb appropriation by giving marginalized groups a chance to speak.
Hi Lia,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading your blog post! I agree with you that there has been a clear context collapse when Gua sha entered the mainstream market. This culturally rich practice has definitely been appropriated by the media. I similarly wrote on a practice that was essentialized into the mainstream to capitalize on what was considered a trend. Your post reminded me of our most recent reading, Carlson and Frazer’s research on indigenous social media. This research revealed that marginalized populations can use social media as a means for political participation. It can be a place where people can share micro-political acts, share online content that contradicts harmful content. However, I question when you wrote that social media “allows individuals, of any social class, to communicate directly with millions of people, removing geographical limitations, where they can address consumers directly.” I began to think back to Lorentzen’s writing on algorithms. All these social media platforms are programmed to push content you have liked in the past, creating these echo chambers of similar content. Personally, Gua sha has never popped up on my for you page on Tiktok. Social media pushes us to talk to people who have the same views as us, therefore there is a clear divide of who can be accessed and who can’t. Therefore, I don’t believe social media has the full capacity to remove divides to address consumers directly. I am interested in what your opinion is on this divide and how social media can be programmed differently to lead the social change you are fighting for.
Hi Lia,
ReplyDeleteWonderful job on your blog post! As a Malaysian-Chinese individual, I am grateful you were able to thoroughly explain what a gua sha is and the origins behind it; I am glad you are striving to get rid of the fact that it has been demeaned to a mere Tik Tok trend in the eyes of the majority of society today.
It was super educational to read about how you were able to connect the gua sha, the cultural implications it holds, and the economic effects it has had to our readings. Every single time you connected it to a topic from class, my immediate reaction was, “Yes! Preach.” I especially liked how you were able to connect your thoughts to feminist ideals and the male gaze. I completely agree that the gua sha is a tool used to meet “beauty standards” that really should not be in existence. The reason they exist, however, is — for the most part — to satisfy the “male gaze”, as Mulvey says. It goes to show that pushing insecurities on women are not only unjust, but they serve as driving forces of a capitalist economy built on false needs. Women “need” to be beautiful — whatever beautiful is societally defined as — and so many women strive to satisfy their false needs by buying instant beauty gratifying items, thus driving our economy. Essentially, it all is an intricate web of cultural neglection, gender inequality, unrealistic beauty standards, and more. It was truly interesting how the gua sha was able to bring so many issues to the table. Great job on your analysis!
- Rachel Ker