Kunming is weird. If you’ve spent any time in China’s Yunnan province, you know the vibe—chilly mornings, flower markets everywhere, and a general sense of being "far away" from the Beijing grind. But tucked away on a hillside near the city is something that feels like it belongs in a different century, or at least a very different moral universe. It’s called the Kingdom of the Little People, and honestly, it’s one of those places that makes you feel a bit sick and fascinated all at the same time.
It’s a theme park.
Imagine a place where every single performer is under 130 centimeters tall. They live there. They perform there. They wear capes and tutus and pretend to be part of a mystical empire led by a "Dwarf King." To some, it’s a paycheck. To others, it’s a "freak show" that should have been shut down a decade ago. It’s complicated.
What is the Kingdom of the Little People anyway?
Back in 2009, a real estate mogul named Chen Mingjing had a "vision." He saw people with dwarfism struggling to find work in mainstream Chinese society. China can be brutal if you don’t fit the mold. Discrimination is rampant. So, Chen built this "Kingdom" as a way to provide employment. He poured millions of yuan into it. He built mushroom-shaped houses that look like they were ripped out of a Smurfs cartoon.
But here’s the thing. They don’t actually live in the mushroom houses. Those are just for show. The performers live in nearby dormitories that are basically standard Chinese worker housing. Twice a day, they march out, put on a variety show—singing, hip-hop dancing, scenes from Swan Lake—and then go back to their lives.
The "kingdom" isn't a sovereign state, obviously. It’s an attraction within the World Eco-Garden of Butterflies. You pay about 100 RMB to get in. You walk past the butterfly exhibits and suddenly you’re in a courtyard watching a 40-year-old man in a crown wave a scepter at a crowd of tourists holding iPhones.
The big debate: Empowerment or exploitation?
You can’t talk about the Kingdom of the Little People without mentioning the massive pushback from international advocacy groups. Organizations like Little People of America (LPA) and various disability rights activists have been shouting about this place for years. They call it a "human zoo." They argue that it isolates people from society, turning their physical condition into a commodity for the amusement of "average-sized" people. Gary Arnold, a former president of LPA, has been vocal about how this reinforces the "othering" of people with dwarfism.
But if you talk to the performers, the story gets messy.
Take a guy like Ou Jingsong. He’s been there for years. Before the park, he was likely looking at a life of begging or working back-breaking labor in a village where he’d be the butt of every joke. At the park, he has a salary. He has friends who look like him. He has a dormitory. In a country without a robust social safety net for the disabled, a job is a lifeline.
Is it exploitation if the person being "exploited" says they’re happy to be there? Honestly, it’s a grey area that Western perspectives often struggle with. In Kunming, the alternative isn't usually a high-paying office job with ADA-compliant restrooms. The alternative is often extreme poverty.
The daily life of a "Subject"
What’s a typical day like? It’s repetitive.
- Morning Prep: Performers get ready in their dorms. They put on heavy makeup and costumes that look like they came from a high school theater department.
- The Show: The "Dwarf King" leads a procession. There’s a lot of loud music. They do a slapstick version of Swan Lake. It’s not "high art." It’s spectacle.
- The Interaction: Between shows, tourists walk around and take selfies. This is the part that feels the most voyeuristic. You see people looming over the performers, grinning for a photo to post on WeChat.
- Off-Duty: When the gates close, the "magic" ends. They cook dinner. They play video games. They argue about chores.
The park even has its own "health department" and "public security" made up entirely of the residents. Chen Mingjing marketed this as a self-sustaining society. In reality, it’s a company town. They get paid, they spend their money at the local canteen, and the cycle continues.
Why tourists keep going
People go because it’s weird. It’s "Dark Tourism" 101.
Humans are naturally curious about things that feel "forbidden" or "politically incorrect." There is a certain segment of the traveling public that wants to see the things that shouldn't exist. There’s also a huge domestic tourism market in China. Families bring their kids to see the "funny little people."
There is no sugarcoating it: much of the audience is there to gawk. They aren't there to learn about the challenges of achondroplasia. They are there for the mushroom houses.
The "Kingdom" in 2026: Is it still a thing?
The world has changed since 2009. Social media has made the Kingdom of the Little People a viral target every few years. Every time a Western YouTuber "discovers" it, there’s a fresh wave of outrage. Yet, the park persists. Why? Because it makes money.
The Chinese government has a complicated relationship with it. On one hand, it provides jobs for a demographic that would otherwise be a "burden" on state resources. On the other hand, it’s a bit of an international PR nightmare.
However, the park has had to evolve. They’ve tried to lean more into the "butterfly garden" side of the business to appear more like a nature park and less like a circus. But the performers remain the main draw.
Let’s get real about the ethics
If you’re thinking about visiting, you have to ask yourself what you’re supporting.
If the park shuts down, where do these 100+ people go? They don’t have a union. They don’t have a pension. Most of them have been cut off from the mainstream job market for so long that they’d struggle to reintegrate.
But if the park stays open, it continues to tell the world—and specifically the Chinese public—that people with dwarfism are characters in a fairy tale rather than neighbors, colleagues, or friends. It’s the ultimate Catch-22.
What you need to know before you judge
Don’t go expecting a Disney-level production. It’s gritty. The costumes are often tattered. The "kingdom" is essentially a collection of concrete structures on a dusty hill.
- Location: About 40 minutes outside Kunming.
- Cost: Roughly $15 USD.
- The Vibe: Awkward. Very, very awkward.
Actionable steps for the ethical traveler
If you find yourself in Yunnan and you're considering a trip to the Kingdom of the Little People, do these three things first:
Research the current state of disability rights in China. Understanding the context of why this place exists is crucial. It’s easy to judge from a couch in London or New York, but much harder when you see the lack of accessibility in rural China.
Decide if your presence is helpful. Are you going to support the individuals, or are you going for a "crazy" photo? If it's the latter, maybe skip it. Your ticket price goes to the owner first, performers second.
Look for alternatives. If you want to support marginalized communities in Yunnan, there are plenty of social enterprises, like craft cooperatives for ethnic minorities or cafes that employ people with various disabilities in a non-performative environment.
The "Kingdom" isn't going anywhere soon, but the way we talk about it is shifting. It’s moving from a "quirky roadside attraction" to a case study in the ethics of tourism and the survival of the marginalized.
✨ Don't miss: South Carolina to Miami: Why Everyone Gets the Drive Wrong
If you decide to go, go with your eyes open. Observe the audience as much as the performers. That’s where the real story is.
Next Steps for Deep Research:
- Read the reporting by Sanne De Wilde. She’s a photographer who spent a lot of time there and captured the reality of the park without the "fairytale" filter.
- Look up the work of the Little People of America. They provide excellent resources on why performative parks like this can be damaging to the global community of people with dwarfism.
- Compare this to "The Dwarf Village" in the Philippines. This isn't the only place of its kind. Comparing the two can give you a better sense of whether this is a cultural anomaly or a recurring trend in developing economies.