China's gay dating app Blued, once boasting more users than Grindr, is now nowhere to be found in China. The company behind the platform, Blued Holdings, was removed from all mobile app stores in the country back in November last year. Months on and it remains unavailable.
Blued's founder, Ma Baoli, took a seemingly bold step to establish legitimacy for his platform when he met with Li Keqiang, the then executive vice premier of China, in 2012. The photos of their meeting were seen as evidence that Blued was not a threat, but rather a valuable asset.
However, things didn't quite play out that way. In recent years, Beijing has been tightening its grip on online freedom. The situation for tech companies like Ma Baoli is precarious, and failure to navigate the changing landscape can be disastrous.
The story of Ma Baoli and Blued serves as a microcosm of how Chinese internet users are forced to navigate the delicate game of controlling what's allowed and not allowed under stringent censorship.
Ma, who reportedly idolized Alibaba's founder Jack Ma, never expected his idol to become the target of such sweeping regulatory measures. Yet, like any skilled dancer, he was able to adapt and move on when Blued faced setbacks.
Liu's book profiles several other dancers, including a former social media content moderator who quit after being unable to bear the moral weight of conducting censorship. Others, such as a feminist activist and a rapper, have also been forced to retreat from the spotlight.
For many of these individuals, leaving China or taking themselves out of the system has become an act of protest – one that can be seen as a form of passive resistance when traditional voting mechanisms are limited.
The story of Blued serves as a reminder that in China's complex and ever-changing online landscape, it's essential to be adept at dancing on the thin line between control and freedom.
Blued's founder, Ma Baoli, took a seemingly bold step to establish legitimacy for his platform when he met with Li Keqiang, the then executive vice premier of China, in 2012. The photos of their meeting were seen as evidence that Blued was not a threat, but rather a valuable asset.
However, things didn't quite play out that way. In recent years, Beijing has been tightening its grip on online freedom. The situation for tech companies like Ma Baoli is precarious, and failure to navigate the changing landscape can be disastrous.
The story of Ma Baoli and Blued serves as a microcosm of how Chinese internet users are forced to navigate the delicate game of controlling what's allowed and not allowed under stringent censorship.
Ma, who reportedly idolized Alibaba's founder Jack Ma, never expected his idol to become the target of such sweeping regulatory measures. Yet, like any skilled dancer, he was able to adapt and move on when Blued faced setbacks.
Liu's book profiles several other dancers, including a former social media content moderator who quit after being unable to bear the moral weight of conducting censorship. Others, such as a feminist activist and a rapper, have also been forced to retreat from the spotlight.
For many of these individuals, leaving China or taking themselves out of the system has become an act of protest – one that can be seen as a form of passive resistance when traditional voting mechanisms are limited.
The story of Blued serves as a reminder that in China's complex and ever-changing online landscape, it's essential to be adept at dancing on the thin line between control and freedom.