A Foreigner’s Perspective on China’s Cultural Heritage: From Curiosity to Coexistence

Author’s Note: This piece is written from the perspective of a foreign observer who has lived in China for years and works in cross-cultural exchange. It explores an outsider’s genuine feelings and uncertainties about how China’s cultural heritage is presented overseas, capturing both moments of deep fascination and an elusive sense of distance.

I. At First, I Could Not Distinguish “Heritage” from “Performance”

My first encounter with Chinese cultural heritage was at a “Happy Chinese New Year” event in London. Dragon dances, paper-cutting stalls and calligraphy workshops filled the venue, creating a lively carnival atmosphere. My friends and I queued to write the Chinese character fu (福), sampled dumplings and took photos. Yet when the event was over, I found myself wondering: What had I really learned? I knew that an upside-down fu symbolised good fortune and that red was associated with celebration, but these fragments of knowledge never gave me a coherent understanding of Chinese culture. The experience felt more like a temporary cultural showcase: it arrived, dazzled and faded, leaving me with the impression that China had many ancient traditions without helping me understand the stories, values and beliefs behind them.

This is my honest feeling as a foreigner: overseas presentations of China’s cultural heritage can sometimes leave audiences feeling as though they are looking through glass. You may admire the exquisite craftsmanship, ancient origins and remarkable artistry, yet still struggle to feel involved. The culture is displayed for you to see, rather than shared in a way that allows you to participate.

II. What Brought Me Closer Were Experiences We Could Share

The turning point came after I moved to Chengdu. Every morning, an elderly resident in my neighbourhood practised Baduanjin, a traditional Chinese exercise routine, leading a group through a series of slow, gentle movements in the park. Out of curiosity, I joined them for a few days and eventually made it part of my routine. Nobody lectured me about traditional Chinese wellness culture or demanded that I understand the philosophy of qi. I simply followed the movements, noticed how my body responded over time, and eventually became curious enough to research the practice myself: where the sequence originated and why the movements were arranged as they were.

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That experience changed my perspective. For China’s cultural heritage to become part of people’s lives abroad, explanation alone is not enough; people must also be invited to participate. When someone says, “Come and try this with me,” I become much more willing to learn. The same principle applies when the Jingpo people’s Munao Zongge dance brings Chinese and Nigerian participants together. African dancers in their traditional attire join Chinese performers in the same circular rhythms, turning a cultural presentation into a shared celebration. At that moment, they are not merely learning about Chinese culture; they are participating in an experience on their own terms. That sense of involvement can be more powerful than any explanation.

III. I Do Not Need a “Perfect China” — I Need Real People

I have to be honest: much of the overseas promotion of China’s cultural heritage can feel overly polished. Stunning promotional films, grand stage productions and carefully scripted narrations may be beautiful, but they can also seem distant from the people who keep these traditions alive. I rarely see the early-morning training sessions that heritage practitioners attend day after day, the uncertainty surrounding whether younger generations will carry these crafts forward, or the challenges these traditions face in modern society.

Once, however, I came across a short video online that stayed with me. A young inheritor of Wuzhou kiln pottery was chatting with local ceramic artists at a market in Morocco, communicating in simple English. They exchanged gestures as they compared techniques, then carved small marks onto each other’s works. There was no voice-over or subtitles, and the footage was far from professionally produced, yet I watched it three times. What I saw was not two civilisations staging a cultural showcase, but two people genuinely exchanging ideas.

As a foreign viewer, I do not want simply to be overwhelmed; I want to feel that a genuine connection is being made. When a Chinese craft inheritor tells me candidly, “This craft nearly died out. My father’s generation went through so much hardship,” I feel a far stronger bond than I ever would when listening to grand narratives about a five-thousand-year-old civilisation. Cultural heritage is rooted in people, and people connect with one another through authenticity.

IV. Why Do I Forget So Much of This “Heritage”?

Having lived in China for years and visited numerous exhibitions of intangible cultural heritage, I have to admit that I quickly forget much of what I see. The reason is simple: many exhibitions explain what a tradition is, but fail to show me how it relates to my own life.

A few exceptions, however, have stayed with me. While visiting Quanzhou, a local young man took me to see Liyuan Opera. Before the performance, instead of launching into a history lesson, he asked me a question: “In your country’s traditional theatre, are there moments when one performer sings and the whole audience understands?” He then explained how a single gesture or glance in Liyuan Opera could silence an entire audience and encouraged me to watch for that particular moment.

Throughout the evening, I found myself waiting for that glance. After the performance, we talked for a long time about our respective theatrical traditions, the customs we had inherited and the things we had lost. Through that conversation, Liyuan Opera stopped being merely “something Chinese” and became something we could explore together.

That experience taught me that the biggest obstacle to sharing cultural heritage internationally is not language or the lack of distribution channels, but the absence of a meaningful point of connection. Foreign audiences need a bridge that helps them find their own way into an unfamiliar tradition. That bridge does not have to be grand. It might be a single question, a familiar experience or an activity people can enjoy side by side.

V. What I Would Recommend

As a foreigner, I would offer three suggestions for communicating China’s cultural heritage to international audiences.

First, focus less on “look how great we are” and more on “you can try this too.” Rather than trying to educate or astonish me, invite me to participate. A movement I can follow, a craft I can take home or a person I can continue talking with can all leave a more lasting impression than a lavish performance.

Second, offer fewer flawless showcases and more honest stories of struggle. I do not need China’s cultural heritage to appear faultless. I want to understand the challenges it faces, how heritage practitioners persevere and how younger generations are finding new ways to keep traditions alive. Authentic stories are often more memorable than polished images because they reveal the human experiences behind the culture.

Third, focus less on exporting culture and more on fostering coexistence. The most meaningful cultural exchange is not simply about bringing Chinese cultural products to other countries; it is about finding ways for these traditions to take root in new environments while remaining open to reinterpretation and adaptation. When Munao Zongge becomes a shared dance between Chinese and African communities, when Baduanjin becomes part of my morning routine, or when I write Spring Festival couplets alongside Chinese neighbours in my London community, China’s cultural heritage no longer feels exclusively “yours.” It becomes something we can share.

Conclusion

I often wonder why some aspects of China’s cultural heritage find a natural place in my life, while others remain forever at the level of “I know this is impressive.” I have come to believe that the traditions that truly stay with me are those that allow me to understand, participate in and adapt them in my own way. They do not require me to understand everything immediately or fear that I might interpret them differently. Instead, they leave room for genuine understanding to develop gradually through sustained interaction.

To my mind, the ultimate goal of sharing China’s cultural heritage beyond its borders is not to turn me into Chinese. It is to enrich my life and broaden my understanding of the world through meaningful engagement with another culture. That cannot be achieved through promotion alone. It can only grow through patience, mutual respect and the willingness to coexist.