Why Tiktok's "Becoming Chinese" Feels So Good

Picture this: a Gen Z creator clutches plain hot water like it's a personality trait, looks deadpan into the camera, and declares, "Tomorrow, you're turning Chinese." Welcome to the early-2026 phenomenon where Western TikTokers started playfully adopting everyday Chinese wellness habits. It's equal parts sincere self-care and absurdist roleplay, and it struck a nerve. This trend reveals what we're craving: comfort, rhythm, and permission to slow down.

What Is #BecomingChinese, Exactly?

The premise is simple: swap iced coffee for hot water, wear slippers indoors, eat congee for breakfast, practice gentle qigong. Users tag their journey with #BecomingChinese or #ChineseBaddie, posting transformations that trade raw salads for bone broth and cold drinks for boiled fruits. It's not about claiming Chinese identity. It's ironic-sincere roleplay where "I'm newly Chinese" means "I'm trying something that feels grounded." The timing helped: early 2026 brought winter chill, New Year reset energy, and the looming TikTok ban that primed users for cultural exchange.

Where It Came From

Chinese-American creator Sherry Zhu sparked the movement around January 5 with deadpan videos. Her signature line racked up millions of views, and her series has topped 20 million views across platforms. What made it spread? The format is endlessly remixable: "Day 1: hot water. Day 7: foot baths." Plus, there's the shock of discovering everyday choices can be reframed as wellness rituals. Zhu's dry humor made it feel like an inside joke everyone could join.

The "Hacks" Are Mostly Warmth and Rhythm

Let's strip away the mystique:

Hot water replaces iced drinks. Users say it aids digestion and circulation. One creator admitted, "I miss ice cold water, but this feels more grounded."

Slippers and foot baths keep feet warm. The logic: warm feet feel nice, and a nightly soak signals wind-down time to your nervous system.

Congee, bone broth, boiled fruits replace raw salads. Soft, warm foods feel easier to digest in cold months, and the comfort factor is real.

Tai chi or qigong reduces stress. Users report less burnout because it's exercise that invites you to move slowly and breathe, not punish yourself.

Beauty add-ons like gua sha and cupping appear too. One user called acupuncture and cupping "the painful but worthwhile step to becoming a Chinese baddie."

TCM Basics: The 60-Second Version

Traditional Chinese Medicine is a millennia-old system encompassing food therapy, herbs, acupuncture, and movement. The trend simplifies one core idea: avoid "han qi" (cold energy buildup) by prioritizing warmth and balance in winter. But here's the boundary: TCM isn't a monolith, and TikTok isn't a clinic. Many benefits likely come from basics like hydration, routine, mindful eating, and gentle movement. The warm water might help because hydration helps. The qigong might work because slow movement reduces cortisol. The cultural frame adds meaning, but the mechanics remain universal.

The Psychology: Why Gen Z Is Hooked

Four drivers explain the appeal:

Burnout relief. Gentle, repeatable practices offer care without performative intensity.

Cozy control. Warmth and ritual combat winter blues and algorithmic chaos. You can't control the feed, but you can control your mug.

Identity play with permission. Ironic sincerity lets you try a lifestyle without heavy commitment. You get to be "Chinese baddie" today and yourself tomorrow.

Belonging by remix. The algorithm rewards participation. Posting "day X of becoming Chinese" signals you're in on the joke, creating instant community.

Cultural Context: Appreciation, Not Costume

Chinese creators like Zhu have welcomed participation, framing it as "the more the merrier." But nuance matters: not all Chinese people follow these habits. A respectful approach means crediting origins, learning context beyond the hack, and never claiming an identity you don't hold. The trend's playful nature avoids appropriation when users treat it as cultural exchange, not costume. Given past sinophobia, seeing people proudly adopt Chinese habits feels potentially healing when done with respect.

The Skeptical Take

Every viral wellness trend risks fad-ification. Red flags include loss of nuance (TikTok flattens complex traditions into clips), consumerism creep (suddenly you "need" special gear), and overconfident health claims (hot water doesn't detox your body). Low-risk habits like hot water and slippers are harmless experiments. But deeper TCM treatments like cupping or moxibustion need qualified practitioners, not just trend momentum. The real trap is turning cultural practice into another 30-day transformation promise.

The Warm Takeaway

The best version of this trend is curiosity plus comfort plus respect. Try the harmless stuff. Keep what works. Stay skeptical of anything needing hype to function. If the internet demands a new personality, at least this one comes with slippers and something warm. The magic isn't in "becoming Chinese." It's in finding small, repeatable rituals that make you feel human again.