By Jerry Zhang
Delicate footsteps echoed in the quiet training hall as students shuffled under a lion pelt. Resting in the centre of the room, a vibrant lion head caught the light, its bold colours radiating—even in its stillness—as the master approached with a small brush dabbed in vermilion ink. All eyes followed his deliberate movements as he touched the brush to the lion’s eyes, ears and mouth then moved down to the back—a ritual bound in history.
This moment, solemn and precise, marks the lion’s symbolic awakening—a tradition often used to give it life. Once lifeless, the head now appears to beam a quiet energy ready to take on its role in the art of lion dancing. This is a centuries-old practice deeply rooted in Chinese culture that connects communities across generations—ever-evolving with time, yet still steadfast in its origins.
With Chinese New Year steadily approaching on Jan. 29, the centre court of Scarborough Town Centre buzzed with excitement on Jan. 25, just the time to prepare for the holiday. Crowds lined the edges murmuring anticipation while prospecting for the good fortune the lions would bring in the new year.
Amid the rhythmic chaos stood Charles Chang, general manager of Chung Wah Kung Fu International System, drenched in sweat from the demanding dance. On the sidelines, his daughter, Miwako Chang—a third-year creative industries student at Toronto Metropolitan University—watched intently, her eyes fixed on the volley of lions as she hammered the barrel drums with thunderous precision.
Charles explained that lion dancing is a widely practiced and varied tradition across East Asian countries.
“Lion dance has always been an entertainment piece to tell a story and to demonstrate or narrate an event,” Charles said. “What’s unique about traditional Chinese lion dance is that there’s an interconnection with the martial arts world […] all of the martial arts techniques, the footwork—they’re all integrated into the lion dance.”
Charles described the historical connection between the two, noting that during certain periods in China, ruling emperors banned martial arts out of fear of rebellion. “This…forced a lot of the masters to hide the martial arts inside the lion dance,” he said.
On the court, the history comes alive in the lion’s movements. Each sharp pivot, crouch and leap flourish with the footwork of martial arts, blending artistry and combat to preserve strength and tradition guised as a celebration.
Charles further underlined the importance of teaching martial arts and lion dancing together, highlighting the complementary benefits of each. “We teach it in conjunction, together, layered on top of each other,” he said. By combining the two, students not only develop the strength and precision required for martial arts but also build the condition and coordination needed to bring the heavy lion head to life.
The lion heads themselves are intricate works of art, rich with cultural and symbolic meaning. According to Charles, while the designs have evolved over time, there are two main styles.
“[The fut san lion] is rounder and more aggressive looking, while [the hok san lion] has a mouth that protrudes prominently like a duck bill, designed to evoke a softer, more approachable appearance,” he described.*
For Andrew Ganni, a lion dance coach and performer at Soaring Eagles Lion Dance, these performances extend far beyond the art form’s martial roots. It has been a transformative experience for him, boosting his confidence and teaching discipline and teamwork while connecting him with his culture.
As he spent more time in the lion dance community, Ganni found himself immersed in Chinese cultural traditions he may not have otherwise encountered, such as peeling a specific number of oranges or avoiding crossing his legs while walking sideways. “All of these aspects… are steeped in tradition. As you spend more time in the community, you really come to learn all these different things about your culture you would have never learned otherwise,” he said.
The artistry and symbolism behind lion dancing extend far beyond the performance itself as they are deeply rooted in superstition and visual storytelling. Hongbing Yu, an associate professor of culture and semiotics in the department of languages at TMU, explained that the choice of colours in a lion’s design plays a crucial role in creating both an artistic and ritualistic effect.
“Red would feature significantly in a visual design, and golden yellow and sometimes green [symbolizing] life. Red symbolizes the power of good fortune in Chinese cultural traditions and gold has everything to do with money,” he said.
These bright colours are carefully chosen and blended to create a striking visual display that adds to the celebratory atmosphere, imbuing the lions with a sense of power, magnificence and the promise of good fortune. Yu noted that on rare occasions, black and white lions appear but never for celebrations—they are reserved for solemn events like funerals to pay homage to the departed.
Charles shared that the lion is deeply entwined to superstition itself and represents more than just an animal—it is a guardian figure, believed to ward off evil spirits and bring good prosperity.
This attention to symbolic detail extends to every element of the performance, including the music. The booming drum beats, clashing cymbals and ringing gongs that accompany lion dancing aren’t just for dramatic effect—they play an essential role in the tradition.
Charles noted patterns they have to follow, “When the lion bows, there’s a very specific pattern that’s played. When the lion is excited and happy, then there’s another set that’s being played.”
These rhythms are not only functional but deeply symbolic. He added, “Traditionally, the loud music is meant to drive away bad spirits. It is about creating an energetic shift that makes room for good energy.”
The intergenerational aspect of lion dancing keeps the tradition alive. For Miwako, the tradition is familial. “My dad is a lion dance instructor,” she shared. “And then when I was born, [lion dancing] was a natural second home to me.”
She described the impact lion dancing had on her, both in reconnecting with her heritage and finding a sense of belonging. For Miwako, lion dancing is more than a performance—it’s a way to celebrate her heritage and take pride in her identity.
“It gives me an opportunity to publicly celebrate and have pride in my culture and my heritage and my Chinese background,” she explained.
Charles reflected on the importance of passing on the tradition to his daughter.
“When I was growing up, I was pretty much one of maybe one or two Chinese people in my entire school,” he said. “All you ever saw was every other culture represented but you didn’t ever [see] yourself…This was really important for me to carry on this tradition to the next generation that we have got these really cool traditions in Chinese culture.”
As lion dancing has spread across the globe into international dance competitions, it has adapted to new environments by balancing tradition with modern innovation. While traditional lion dancing emphasizes cultural rituals, international lion dancing often incorporates acrobatics for dramatic effect.
Ganni recalls one of his fondest memories of lion dancing: his first time performing on the high poles. With only an hour of practice, he found himself at a dim sum restaurant, staring up at a forest of towering poles.
Leaping from pole to pole, his foot slipped midway through. “I was scared out of my mind,” he remembered. But his tail caught him mid-air and bicep-curled him back up, “I think at the moment, it was really scary but thinking back on it, that was really fun.”
“Traditional lion dancing is only supposed to be done on the ground,” said Charles. “The poles you see in international lion dancing are new. They have stripped out a lot of the martial arts techniques, but then they put in lots more acrobatics and make it riskier.”
The new lions are adorned with LED panels from head to tail, pulsating with vivid hues. Each burst of light creates a kaleidoscope of dazzling colours, illuminating their already radiant design. Despite these changes, the core essence of lion dancing remains intact.
For Charles, it is about more than a spectacle. “The core concept of lion dance with the loud noise, the flashy movements and the costumes it’s all about shedding away a lot of the old energy and making room for new energy, welcoming new energy.”
Lion dancing goes beyond a performance for Miwako—it is a way to bring people together and foster a sense of community. “To see people… to come together and connect, for families to come out and to watch a performance…to see them enjoying the performance, to see kids enjoying the performance, is really rewarding.”
As younger generations take up the mantle, Miwako thinks the future of lion dancing looks bright. “I think it is very alive and thriving, and I think it’s growing,” she said. “There have been a lot of new styles that come out and a lot of the traditional styles that have remained. But it is those differences that really make this something interesting and a growing area, especially in Toronto.”
Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow, who attended the lion dance performance featuring Miwako and Charles Chang, emphasized the vibrant and celebratory spirit of the tradition.
“Lion dance brings forth goodwill, and it’s always celebratory, and it’s lots of energy,” she said in an interview with The Eyeopener.
“Whether it is opening a store, a birth or any kind of celebration, the lion will dance and bring forth good fortune and goodwill,” Chow continues.
The lion continues to spring with a sudden snap of the drum, its spirited head bobbing and shimmering through the air with vigor. The performers moved in perfect sync, the lion’s blinking and mouth animating as if it were alive. The audience watches in awe, reminded of the resilience and beauty of Chinese culture.
For Charles, Miwako, Yu, Ganni and many others, lion dancing is more than a performance—it is a living breathing art form that connects generations and celebrates the enduring spirit of the community.
*Correction: A previous version of this story in print switched the descriptions of the “hok san” and “fuk san” lions. The story has now been updated with the correct terms
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