When China found its own rhythm

When Beijing won the right to host the 2008 Olympics on July 13, 2001, I was a girl with a dream and little sense of how profoundly that moment would shape my life.

Twenty-five years later, I have lived that transformation from several vantage points: as an athlete who won China's first Olympic silver medal in rhythmic gymnastics in 2008, and as the head coach who led the Chinese team to Olympic gold in Paris in 2024, ending more than four decades of European dominance in the event.

Yet the most important change was not the medal. It was the moment China stopped asking how to look more like everyone else.

For much of its history, rhythmic gymnastics was governed by a distinctly European aesthetic.

Movement, music and choreography were judged against conventions that emerged largely from Eastern Europe.

Like many latecomers to the sport, China began by studying those standards, hiring foreign choreographers and trying to narrow the gap.

It was a necessary stage of development. Before a country can contribute to a global language, it must first learn to speak it.

But eventually a different question emerged: If sport is a universal language, why must we speak it with a borrowed accent? Why could the world not encounter contemporary China through this sport?

The answer was not to drape routines in obvious national symbols. Cultural confidence is not costume design.

Over the years, my colleagues and I built a long-term archive of Chinese cultural materials: classical dance, traditional music, historical imagery and regional artistic traditions.

We took athletes to museums and historical sites, invited experts in Chinese dance and folk music into training camps, and studied international judging rules with equal intensity.

Our goal was not to make routines that looked "Chinese" at first glance. It was to create works whose emotional logic could be understood anywhere.

When audiences watch a routine inspired by Dunhuang murals or ancient Chinese poetry, they do not need prior knowledge of Chinese history.

They need to feel wonder, tension, serenity or strength.

Cultural expression succeeds internationally not when it demands explanation, but when it creates recognition.

That is why routines such as Flying Apsaras, Heroes of Heaven and Earth, Water Dragon's Chant and Phoenix Soaring to the Sky were designed around universal emotions while drawing on distinctly Chinese artistic traditions.

In recent years, I have noticed a subtle but meaningful shift in how international judges and coaches respond.

Chinese routines are no longer treated merely as interesting variations from the periphery. Increasingly, they are discussed as creative references in their own right.

This reflects a broader change in China's relationship with the world.

For a long time, Chinese culture was often observed, analyzed or categorized from the outside. Today, in some fields, it is beginning to influence how the conversation itself is conducted.

True confidence is not insisting that one's culture is unique. It is understanding global rules well enough to participate fully while still speaking in one's own voice.

That voice, however, would mean little without a second transformation: the move from heroic endurance to scientific training.

When I was preparing for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, success depended largely on relentless repetition and personal sacrifice. My generation owes an enormous debt to coaches who built the foundation of Chinese rhythmic gymnastics through sheer perseverance.

As a coach, I have come to see that modern elite sport requires more than determination. It requires evidence.

Today our program integrates physical conditioning, rehabilitation, sports science, nutrition and psychological support into a unified system.

Training decisions are increasingly guided by data rather than intuition alone.

Just as important, we pay closer attention to the long-term physical and mental well-being of athletes whose careers span childhood, adolescence and adulthood.

That shift has changed the meaning of coaching. A coach is not simply a technician correcting movements; a coach is a long-term guardian of human development.

I often tell my athletes that a group routine succeeds only when different personalities learn to move with one heartbeat. We do not train every athlete identically.

Each receives a development plan tailored to her technical weaknesses, temperament and future potential. The goal is not uniformity, but unity.

This evolution has also been accompanied by greater openness to the world.

China has benefited enormously from international exchange. We learn from foreign coaches, judges and training systems, while increasingly sharing our own experience with overseas colleagues who come to China to observe and collaborate.

Sport is one of the few arenas where civilizations can engage one another without requiring complete agreement.

A common set of rules creates space for different cultural expressions to coexist. China's contribution should not be to reject international standards, but to enrich the diversity that exists within them.

Looking back, the 25 years since Beijing's Olympic bid was approved trace not only my personal journey, but also the journey of Chinese women in sport.

More women now serve as head coaches, researchers, administrators and participants in international sports governance.

That change is not simply a sporting achievement; it reflects a broader expansion of opportunities for women in Chinese society.

When my athletes tell me they see in me a confident and capable Chinese woman, I regard that as a responsibility greater than any medal.

China once entered rhythmic gymnastics as a student. Today it enters as a participant with something of its own to say.

We will continue to learn from the world and to pursue scientific excellence. But we will also continue to present Chinese culture not as a museum piece, but as a living, evolving source of creativity.

Olympic gold may have announced our arrival. Finding our own voice is what made the journey worthwhile.

The author is the head coach of the Chinese Rhythmic Gymnastics Group Team.

The views don't necessarily reflect those of China Daily.