Just in case you I didn't get the memo, everyone is feeling very Chinese these days. On social media, people proclaim that “You met me in a very Chinese time of my life,” while performing stereotypically Chinese-coded activities such as eating dim sum or wearing the viral Chinese Adidas jacket. The trend exploded so much in recent weeks that celebrities such as comedian Jimmy O Yang and influencer Hasan Piker even started using it. It has now evolved into variants such as 'Chinamaxxing' (acting more and more Chinese) and 'you will become Chinese tomorrow' (a kind of confirmation or blessing).
It's hard to quantify a zeitgeist, but here at WIRED, chronically online folks like us have noticed a distinct change in atmosphere when it comes to China over the past year. Despite all the tariffs, export controls and anti-China rhetoric, many people in the United States, especially younger generations, have fallen in love with Chinese technology, Chinese brands and Chinese cities, and are generally consuming more Chinese-made products than ever before. In a sense, the only logical thing left to do was to literally become Chinese.
“I noticed that many of you have not yet come to terms with your new Chinese identity,” influencer Chao Ban joked in a TikTok video that has racked up more than 340,000 likes. “Let me ask you this: Aren't you scrolling through this Chinese app, probably on a Chinese phone, wearing clothes made in China, collecting dolls that come from China?”
Everything is China
As is often the case with Western stories about China, these memes aren't really intended to paint an accurate picture of life in the country. Instead, they function as a projection of “all the undesirable aspects of American life — or the decline of the American dream,” says Tianyu Fang, a doctoral candidate at Harvard who studies science and technology in China.
At a moment when America's infrastructure is crumbling and once unthinkable forms of state violence are being normalized, China is starting to look pretty good in contrast. “When people say it's the Chinese century, part of it is this ironic defeat,” Fang says.
As the Trump administration reshaped the U.S. government in its own image and destroyed long-standing democratic norms, people began longing for an alternative role model, and they found a pretty good one in China. With its awe-inspiring skylines and abundant high-speed rail, the country serves as a symbol of many Americans' earnest and urgent desire for something completely different from their own reality.
Critics often point to China's massive investments in clean energy to highlight the failures of U.S. climate policy, or they point to its urban infrastructure development to shame the U.S. housing shortage. These stories tend to emphasize China's strengths while leaving out the uglier facets of its development – but that selectivity is what matters. China is used less as a real place than as an abstraction, a way to expose America's own shortcomings. As writer Minh Tran noted in a recent Substack post, “In the waning days of American empire, our Orientalism is not patronizing, but aspirational.”
Part of the reason everyone is thinking about China is that it has become totally unavoidable. No matter where you live in the world, you're probably surrounded by things made in China. Here at WIRED, we've documented that extensively: Your phone, laptop, or robot vacuum cleaner is made in China; your favorite AI slop joke was made in China; Labubu, the world's most coveted toy, is made in China; the solar panels that power the Global South are made in China; The world's best-selling EV brand, which Tesla officially overtook last year, is made in China. Even the most talked about open-source AI model comes from China. All these examples are the reason why this newsletter is called Made in China.
