HONG KONG — The 65-year-old woman crouches in a field and holds up a head of cabbage. Behind her, two friends wave back and forth, cucumber and radish in their hands. “This rotten cabbage, let’s pull it out, eat it, achieve some gourmet freedom,” raps Guo Yifen, the woman with the cabbage, in a low and creaky voice in the song “Spicy Hot Pot Real Rap.”
The trio, known as Sister Wang Is Coming, is known for sharing playful videos on Douyin, the Chinese version of TikTok. Ms. Guo and her music partners, Wang Shuping, 64, and Wang Xiurong, 66, have more than half a million followers who watch their food-related music videos, which include jams like “Fried Mushrooms” and “Country Food Rap.”
The group is part of a growing number of elderly Chinese who have found viral success in sharing their daily lives online. In this corner of the Chinese internet, eighties, seventies tangos and gray-haired fashionistas hum down the catwalks, giving makeup tips to millions of fans. There’s even an 86-year-old man who just sits and plays video games like Call of Duty.
With more than 260 million people over the age of 60, China has the largest and fastest growing elderly population in the world. Nearly half are online, where some choose to pursue their professional dreams while others just have a little fun. Many find companionship through their fans, an antidote to an otherwise lonely life. They belong to a new generation of Chinese retirees who have fewer grandchildren than before and the financial freedom to pursue hobbies and share their experiences online.
The singers, dancers and casual celebrities are part of a global community of seniors who have embraced the highs and sometimes lows of social media.
In China, influencers are helping to dispel an entrenched stereotype that grandparents are expected to stay home or take care of their families by cleaning, cooking and taking care of their grandchildren while their adult children work. For some retirees, grandchildren play no role at all, while more young Chinese reject marriage or choose not to start a family.
“We look at our parents’ advanced age and we think we have to live in a different way,” said Sun Yang, 66. A former English teacher who retired more than a decade ago, Ms Sun and three of her friends are fashion influencers who go by the name Glamma Beijing. In their videos, they model vintage and modern clothes and weave style tips with everyday life advice.
“What we’re doing now is something we could only dream of when we were young,” she said. Many of Glamma Beijing’s more than two million followers are in their 50s and 60s. But there are also young people who ask the women about school and dating. Some say the tutorials have helped them overcome their fear of getting older, Ms Sun said.
The stars of Glamma Beijing will occasionally include family in their videos. Ms. Sun’s daughter-in-law manages the social media account, and her 6-year-old granddaughter often helps with filming. But most of all, the four women talk about traveling, walking and attending fashion show rehearsals.
Independence is a common theme in many of the influencers’ videos, as they oppose the idea that seniors should stay home when they retire and help raise the next generation.
In Sister Wang Is Coming’s music videos, Ms. Guo and her friends run through the fields, play pranks on each other, or lie in the grass daydreaming. They rap about their love of cooking and eating. It’s a world away from the daily routines they once had as mothers and wives with kids to raise and men to feed.
“Times are changing,” says Lin Wei, 67, another Glamma and a former nurse who has vowed to stay active in her old age. “We have to go along with society and integrate into it.”
China is facing numerous demographic challenges – including plummeting marriages and record births – which have contributed to changing the cultural norms around what it means to grow old. With one of the lowest retirement ages in the world — the average is 60 for men and 55 for women — Chinese seniors have plenty of time to pursue new creative endeavors online.
“For previous generations, their lives were more confined to family, watching TV, and taking care of children,” said Bei Wu, a professor of global health at New York University. “But now this generation, because they have less responsibilities for raising grandchildren, they have more free time, their activities extend beyond the family, and so the role of their friends and social life is greater.”
For the foodie rapping grannies living in a village near Beijing, the videos started as a way to pass the time during the pandemic. “It was just having fun and messing around,” said Wang Shuping. When the son of Mrs. Wang, Ren Jixin, came to visit during a Lunar New Year holiday, he thought he could help the women polish their act.
“We sing out of tune. We are tone-deaf,” said Ms. Guo. Mr. Ren, a composer for documentary films, suggested that the trio rap instead of sing, and he began writing lyrics for the group. This year, hundreds of thousands of people started following their Douyin account. Mr. Ren has moved back home and now spends several days a week writing, rehearsing and filming.
“It exercises our brains,” Ms. Guo said of the content they create.
There is also money in it. Sister Wang Is Coming earns about $1,400 a month through their Douyin account. It’s not enough to live on, but as their fan base grows, they’ve gotten more interest from companies willing to advertise with them.
For Glamma Beijing, streaming is much more lucrative. They can earn over $115,000 in advertising and sales commissions from just a handful of live streams. At one such event in August, the four grandmothers sat by a lake in a park in Beijing and talked about their childhood as 21,000 people watched online.
But success can have its challenges. Some of the country’s older influencers are managed by talent agencies that impose grueling quotas and require their clients to sell products and brands. Fans can be fickle, and social media platforms like Douyin can bombard users with channels more focused on selling products than telling a good story.
When Tang Shikun, 86, started filming himself singing in 2020, a thousand viewers tuned in to each session. Today, only about 20 people watch Mr. Tang at any time. Douyin has told his grandson, Tang Rui, who manages the account, that Mr. Tang’s content is too simple and therefore not promoted on the platform.
That hasn’t bothered Mr. Tang, who performs under the account name Grandpa Loves Singing. Mr. Tang is a former munitions inspector in a state factory and has been retired for 36 years. Music, he said, has fulfilled him since he moved from northeastern China to the tropical southern province of Hainan in 2019.
Mr. Tang, a widower, felt lonely when he first lived in a new city. “Now I play the keyboard for people on Douyin and I can get to know all the friends in the world,” he said. There are some regular customers in his daily sessions for whom Mr. Tang likes to play their favorite songs.
One fan, a 50-year-old contractor who goes by the name “Sunshine” online, loves the traditional Mongolian ballad “The Prairie Has a Blue River.” Another fan, a woman in her fifties from the southwestern province of Yunnan, once asked Mr. Tang for his bank account details. She sent him more than $2,000.
Mr. Tang said he had earned more than $68,000 in tips and donations since he started posting his videos online two years ago. “I play the keyboard and sing happily, and people who listen can also benefit from that happiness,” he said. “I think old people should have their own way of life,” he added, “not sitting idle every day, but finding their own hobbies to enjoy happiness.”
