Beijing CNN  — 

Clad in a fur shawl, a black silk dress and blood-red six-inch heels, Chao Xiaomi struts down a Beijing alley.

Jaws drop. Some stare in awe. Others point and laugh. And some shake their heads and snicker.

But Chao, who is biologically male but identifies as “gender fluid” and goes as “she,” is used to it. She says a common question she gets from strangers is “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

She’s one of the few transgender people in China who isn’t afraid to live their lives openly and proudly.

The gay couple fighting for the right to marry in China

Touchy subject

It’s been 20 years since the Chinese government decriminalized homosexuality – and 16 years since it was declassified as a mental disorder.

Transgender rights in China

  • While China’s law allows transgender people to change their gender on ID cards, the procedures are difficult and only accessible to those who have gone through full sex-reassignment surgery.
  • In addition, gender change is not allowed on many official documents, such as university degrees and other education certificates.
  • This creates obstacles for transgender people in accessing employment and pursuing higher education.
  • Source: UN
  • But talk of gender identity and sexual orientation is still a touchy subject, especially among families.

    According to a 2016 study by the UN Development Program, only 17% of China’s LGBT population – lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender – have come out to their families, and just 5% are open at their school or workplace.

    Chao’s gender identity isn’t something her parents discuss with others.

    “They just stay silent when people ask questions about my personal life. I’m not sure if they can deal with the pressure brought on by society,” she says.

    Chao has also had friends suggest she go back to living as a man. Chao says she was once detained by security guards after using the ladies’ restroom in a Beijing shopping mall. The cleaning lady reported her and called her a “pervert,” she recalls.

    courtesy chao xiaomi
    Chao Xiaomi sits on a toilet with a toliet paper roll, which says "No embarrassment in bathroom and be convenient for everyone," to advocate establishing gender-friendly bathrooms in China (photo on left).

    Chinese law does allow people to change their gender on ID cards but only for those who have undertaken sex reassignment surgery – something Chao isn’t ready to do yet.

    China bans same-sex romance from TV screens

    Dress for success

    Chao owns a vintage dress shop in Beijing’s ancient Drum Tower area. She shot to fame after appearing on a debate program on Chinese TV last year to defend LGBT people and their rights.

    “I love her elegant appearance, which attracts people who aren’t aware of the issues, and more importantly I love her self-respect,” said Qian He, who became a fan of Chao after seeing her on the debate program – and traveled more than 1,200 kilometers from her home in Hangzhou to visit her in Beijing.

    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    In Mongolia, gay, lesbian and transsexual people endure violence, discrimination and social repression, which leads many of them to dream of life away from its borders. The community draws from a variety of social classes and professions -- teachers, social workers, tour guides -- but what they all have in common is a life of solitude and constant concealment of their true identity. Being revealed as transgender can cost a person their job, and lead their family to sever all ties with them.

    Spanish photographer Alvaro Laiz spent three and a half months documenting the lives of male to female transgender people in Ulaanbaatar, intrigued by how they saw themselves in the larger fiber of society. "I decided to travel to Mongolia because it's located in the junction in between three different worlds -- Russia, Europe and China, while still retaining its own identity," says Laiz. "The country is facing sudden changes after opening their borders to Western investment, but on the other hand, their nomadic and communist heritage still remains. It is this duplicity in their contemporary time that fascinated me," he explains.

    Interview by Milena Veselinovic
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    It took Laiz time to earn the confidence of the transgender community, and gain access to their inner circle: "I fully understand their cautions, because it is not easy to trust someone who has just arrived, especially in a place like Mongolia," he says.
    Courtesy Alvaro Laiz
    For transgender people in Ulaanbaatar, life goes on behind closed doors. The only places where they can safely express themselves are underground clubs and private parties, some of which Laiz was fortunate enough to be invited to:" Actually, I have to say they organize the best parties in the city," he points out. Here Nurbul, a professional dancer, prepares herself for a private show at a gay party in Ulaanbaatar.
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    Only a handful are not frightened to show who they are freely, such as Gambush, a well-known night club dancer who dares to walk in the streets of Ulaanbaatar in female dress. She is pictured here getting ready for a night's work with her personal make-up artist, in a brothel where she used to work as a prostitute, but now teaches striptease.
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    Naaram, a close friend of Gambush, spent most of her youth in Russia where she became an alcoholic. Now back in Mongolia, she has no work which makes it difficult for her to look after her adoptive son: "I took care of him since he was a baby, but because gay people can't legally adopt in Mongolia his official guardians are my sister and her husband."
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    Nyamka, a 20-year-old social worker, is representative of a generation of young transgender Mongolians who dream to escape to countries such as Japan and The Philippines, where attitudes are more tolerant, and where there is a possibility, no matter how faint, of a sex change.
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    Nyamka performs at underground parties as her alter ego "Vanity", but is careful to remove her make-up and change from female clothes in a taxi immediately after her performance. Men who dress like women in public often suffer harassment and even physical violence in Mongolia.
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    Baara, who is 55, lives in one of the poorest districts of Ulaanbaatar. He earns a low wage working for a local NGO, but struggles to get more lucrative employment due to being transgender: "Ulaanbaatar is very small. It's very difficult for me to get a job because everyone knows me," he says.
    Courtesy Álvaro Laiz
    After one of his subjects showed Laiz an old Mongolian queen dress, he decided to photograph the group clad in traditional garments outside Ulaanbaatar. "I wanted to take the viewer to a place far away from prejudices on transgender, so they can understand that these people are nothing but human beings who are trying to live their lives. There is nothing wrong about it," he explains.

    Chao expresses what she says is her true identity through her wardrobe – an array of elegant designer dresses from various continents and eras.

    One day she may dress like a European aristocrat complete with long sleeved black velvet gloves and a fascinator on her head with large plumes of feathers sticking out.

    The next day, she’s a classic Shanghai lady wearing a traditional figure-hugging qipao or cheongsam, popularized in China in the 1920s.

    At her dress shop, she sells clothing that she hopes will help others in the LGBT community express themselves. She’s also designed a few vintage-style dresses that she’s put up for sale.

    “You need to pour a lot of emotion into each vintage dress you design,” she says.

    Lesbian student sues over textbooks

    courtesy chao xiaomi
    Chao Xiaomi poses in a hand-made white lace dress from Taiwan.

    ‘Evil spirit’

    Chao says she’s found China’s young people are more open-minded and accepting of her – and that’s helped her self-confidence.

    In the past, she’s had some people from the older generation yell “yaojing” – meaning “evil spirit” – when they saw her. But not all of the older generation have been so harsh.

    When CNN filmed with Chao, an elderly woman in the neighborhood asked “Is that really a man? Wow. He can walk in heels better than I can. He’s awesome!”

    And it’s that kind of more open attitude Chao hopes she can encourage others to have when it comes to LGBT issues.

    But LGBT activists say there’s still a long way to go in educating much of China’s conservative society.

    “People’s don’t pay much attention to them or even acknowledge their existence,” said Xin Ying, from Beijing LGBT Center. “Every sexual minority who has attended our organization’s activities tells me going to a public toilet is a nightmare.”

    ‘Edge of society’

    Although Chao has come out to her parents, she says they face pressure from others who aren’t aware, and her parents are constantly questioned why their son is still single. Most of Chao’s former classmates are married with children.

    Friends of Chao’s parents have even tried to set her up on blind dates with women, but she tells them she’d rather focus on building her career than having a relationship.

    “They tell me ‘you can’t be so selfish. Your parents are waiting to hold a grandchild in their arms,’” she explains.

    But Chao says she’s not afraid of the tough road ahead – and she’s using her vintage clothing shop to help other LGBT people – hiring some to work in the store, and donating a portion of her income to LBGT support groups.

    “We live at the edge of the society, but we are also willing to stand in the sunshine,” she says.