In miniskirts that barely covered their hips, two girls energetically graced the neon-lit stage, moving to the pulsating pop music. Their task: to soothe the wandering spirits.
As the temple facade lit up with colors from the fireworks illuminating the Taiwanese night sky, the performance peaked with pole-dancing and striptease before an audience of men, women, and children.
“This is challenging work, but I need to earn a living,” said 18-year-old En En, panting after her performance at the recent religious festival.
En En had just made $100 for her act, which started on stage but concluded with her interacting with the audience, allowing men to touch her in exchange for tips.
In Taiwan, folk religion presents a distinct blend of the spiritual and the earthly, with one of its most compelling features being the hiring of showgirls for festivals, weddings, and even funerals.
The performers operate on “electronic flower cars,” specially crafted trucks fitted with sound and light gear that can transform into a stage, facilitating their travel to shows often held in smaller towns and rural regions.
“The groups attract attendees to our events, performing for the gods and the spirits to seek blessings,” noted Chen Chung-hsien, an official at Wu Fu Temple, a Taoist site in Taoyuan County, northern Taiwan.
“They have integrated into our religion and folk culture.”
At just 26, Chiang Pei-ying stands out as a seasoned performer with nearly two decades of experience. Traveling throughout Taiwan with her father and two sisters for their family business, she entertains audiences—both the living and the dead.
Ms. Chiang took the stage for the first time during her kindergarten years because of her passion for singing and dancing, and she has become a renowned performer alongside her sisters, earning up to Tw$80,000 for a 20-minute show.
She expresses joy in her profession, even if it means handling unusual requests from clients, like singing around coffins at funerals for the deceased.
“I’ve been witnessing this since childhood, so it’s not strange for me. Performing for the dead is just like performing for the living,” she stated.
“They loved to sing while alive, and their relatives believe they would appreciate a performance in their honor. For me, I receive good tips and hope to build up good karma too.”
Conversely, other performers earn significantly less and often maintain greater discretion about their work, especially those who continue to strip despite the risk of arrest.
Public nudity is seldom witnessed nowadays due to its classification as a criminal offence, but partial stripping still occurs at festivals, private gatherings, and funerals, according to those in the industry.
“Some enjoy hostess clubs, so when they pass away, their loved ones arrange striptease performances to reflect their interests while alive,” explained Chiang Wan-yuan, Pei-ying’s father and a 30-year veteran in the field.
It’s hard to envision a similar performance taking place outside a European village church, and some local critics have labeled the practice, which originated in the 1970s, as shocking and vulgar.
Nevertheless, others regard it as a natural extension of traditional folk culture, which typically lacks the strict segregation of sex and religion commonly seen in other cultures.
Marc Moskowitz, an anthropologist from the University of South Carolina, noted that the practice grew from the unique Chinese concept of “hot and noisy,” filled with positive implications.
“In traditional Chinese and contemporary Taiwanese culture, this signifies that for an event to be enjoyable or significant, it must be loud and crowded,” remarked Mr. Moskowitz, who produced the documentary “Dancing for the Dead” in 2011.
He found that most viewers of his work seemed to appreciate it and recognized the practice as an “interesting and unique cultural phenomenon” exclusive to Taiwan.
“As I observed these performances, I began to understand the notion of celebrating a person’s life to ease feelings of grief,” he shared.
by Sasha Dubronitz
