(Photo by Dylan Todd)
Some people collect stamps, vinyl or vintage lunchboxes. Leo Andersen collects queer Chinese history — 2,000+ artifacts of it — and somehow makes it look effortless, joyful and world-changing all at once.
Born in northern China and later working in Beijing during what many still call the “golden age” of the queer movement, Leo wasn’t just nearby as history unfolded. He was in the meetings, backstage at the events, mentoring volunteers, running programs and building communities brick by brick.
Today, many prominent activists in China either worked directly with Leo or were trained by someone who once learned from him. He’s basically an entire gay family tree in human form.
But everything changed after 2012. As the political climate tightened under Xi Jinping, both online and offline queer spaces came under intense surveillance. Activists shifted to whispered strategies, coded posts and alternative methods of reaching their communities.
In 2021, student-led LGBTQ+ groups across China saw their social media accounts abruptly wiped out — vanished without warning. And during the pandemic, when gathering in person was nearly impossible, many long-standing queer organizations were quietly forced to close their doors. Among the most devastating was the Beijing LGBT Center, which shut down in 2023, just shy of its 16th anniversary.
By then, activism inside China had reached a near standstill. And more and more, queer Chinese voices had to find safety, visibility and community beyond national borders.
For Leo — who had poured his youth into building these spaces — the loss was heartbreaking. But heartbreak didn’t end the story. It redirected it.
After immigrating to the United States, Leo settled in Clearwater with our beloved dog and me. And while the sunshine was new, his mission wasn’t: if queer history in China could no longer be safeguarded at home, someone else had to step up.
So, Leo founded Silkpride, a nonprofit built around four deceptively simple words: Preserve. Participate. Pass On.
Silkpride has since grown into one of the largest queer Chinese diasporic archives in the world, with more than 2,000 artifacts, artworks and cultural treasures. But this isn’t a museum built on mourning — it’s built on hope. Leo created a pledge that sets Silkpride apart: every organization that donates its surviving materials will one day get them back when
China’s queer movement can openly thrive again. It’s archival work with optimism, stubborn faith and a long-term commitment to restoration, not ownership.
His award-winning exhibit, “Silkpride Around the World,” was invited to WorldPride DC this year and remains accessible online in VR (because yes, Leo has officially taken queer history into the metaverse).
He has spoken internationally — in the Netherlands, Taiwan, and New York — and is becoming a go-to guest lecturer for universities eager to understand queer Chinese culture beyond textbooks. Leo moves with passion and purpose. He believes queer Chinese history is not just worth saving — it’s worth celebrating, sharing and one day returning home.
Yet with all this gravitas, Leo remains far from solemn. He is a pun enthusiast and a nonstop question factory. At home, he has a daily quota for his “but why?” questions because, like a curious kid interrogating a very tired parent, he can — and will — ask endlessly.
To support SilkPride and help them reach 1,000 followers to livestream events, follow @Silkpride on social media. And if Leo asks you “but why?” — well… that’s just who he is.
View the full list of Watermark Out News’ Remarkable People of 2025 here.
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