Mazu Madness: The Winding Path of Taiwan’s Favourite Goddess

On an island off the coast of southern China, a fisherman weeps at the foot of a statue of the goddess of the sea. Further inland, firecrackers, drums, and throbbing electronic dance music soundtrack the streets. Stand-up comics, dancers, and opera singers perform on improvised stages. 

A cross-section of society forms the thronging crowd — from elderly folk in wheelchairs to crying babies in prams. Worshippers carry a wooden statue of the young goddess, frozen in time atop a colourful parade float. Onlookers snake their way alongside the moving procession, performing their duties to the deity. 

This is Taiwan, and these are the worshippers that make up one of the world’s largest religious pilgrimages. While religion is largely on the decline in most parts of the world, religious pilgrims in Taiwan are multiplying each year. The fanfare is all for Mazu — Taiwan’s celebrity goddess of the sea. 

Over the thousand years of Mazu (a photo of the statue on left) worship, this real woman turned deity has crossed oceans and set government agendas.

Each successive generation attempts to reinvent Mazu in their own image. But as with many deities, she resists capture in any one political project. Understanding the rise of Mazu worship is key to understanding Taiwan today — an island in the international spotlight increasingly tasked with facing its own complexity. This piece will unravel her winding story, recentering this powerful goddess in the cross-strait narrative she’s always been central to. 

Mazu statue along the pilgrimage route. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

Mazu’s beginnings

The story begins in the 10th century on Meizhou, an island off of mainland China, where Mazu herself is said to have lived and died. In her short life, she was a shamaness who used her powers to save her family from a deadly typhoon. 

Following her death, Mazu’s story spread through the coast of Fujian and beyond, enshrining her memory with the powers of water that governed local life. Fishermen, sea merchants, and farmers all prayed to the young and noble Mazu for prosperity.  

From a humble beginning on a tiny island, Mazu rose through the ranks of imperial religious titles. In the Song, Ming, and Qing dynasties, she was canonised by ruling elites as a protector and sanction of bureaucratic institutions, before coming east to another island – Taiwan – where an estimated sixty percent of Taiwanese continue to pray to her today.

A Mazu statue watching over the crowd on their pilgrimage. Image credits - Ruby Dalmer

Mazu arrives in Taiwan

In waves of migration from Fujian province during the Ming and Qing dynasties, all were forced to cross the Taiwan Strait, known then as the Black Ditch. The saying went, “Ten go, six die, three stay, one turns back” (十去六死三留一回頭), reflecting the peril of crossing this stretch of sea. When survivors reached the island, they thanked Mazu for their safe crossing by erecting shrines and temples. 

Some of the oldest temples in Taiwan represent the successive occupation of the island over the past 500 years. The Tianhou Temple of Luermen was originally built to honor Mazu’s role in the expulsion of Dutch colonizers by Ming loyalists in 1661. After the Qing gained control of Taiwan in 1683, they transformed a former Ming palace into the Tainan Grand Mazu Temple, a spectacular recognition of Mazu’s contributions to their triumph. Today, Mazu sits as the most central deity in modern day Taiwan, where the majority of Mazu temples are located.  

“Mazu rescues Lu Yundi's embassy returning from Korea,” dated between 1700 and 1800, currently displayed in the Rijksmuseum. The painting depicts the goddess Mazu granting an imperial envoy mission safe passage through a storm.

Beyond Taiwan, the map of sites dedicated to her worship spans Macau — a suspected namesake of Mazu herself; Hong Kong, where some 350 temples lie in honor of Mazu’s alter ego Tian Hou (天后); along with Malaysia, Vietnam, Japan, and beyond. Dotted throughout the world, these temples form constellations of living memory wherever overseas Chinese peoples landed. They mark offerings of gratitude for Mazu’s protection from the danger-stricken seas, where borders were crossed and dissolved.

Representatives from a nearby temple honouring Mazu in matching T-shirts. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

Throughout historic migration, conquests, and economic expansion, there was Mazu. Yet her significance has not been lost on generations today, who face a modern set of volatile political conditions, alongside the enduring challenges of personal life. Their prayers strike a parallel to the origins of Mazu worship: a noble woman called upon for strength in times of uncertainty, long before she ever became institutionalized as the protector of any national agenda.

Worship on the move — the Mazu Pilgrimage 

Central to this maze of Mazu belief in Taiwan is the annual Mazu Pilgrimage. Dating back as early as 1730, the event celebrates Mazu’s yearly return to her replica deities, located in offshoot temples that sprung up where worshippers settled. The tradition has survived decades of disruption from Japanese colonial rule and later Kuomintang (KMT) martial law, with pilgrims sometimes illegally skirting shifting borders.  

Today, worshippers in Taiwan journey for around nine days to nearly one hundred temples in twenty-one townships and districts. The pilgrimage spans a total length of approximately 300 kilometres and snakes its way across Taichung City, Changhua County, Yunlin County and Chiayi County. 

The Mazu Pilgrimage has earned its place in the cultural hall of fame. In 2008, the pilgrimage was officially named a significant intangible national cultural asset. Worship of the goddess is recognised by UNESCO as a part of the “Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity”. 

Colourful cardboard temple erected along the streets that worshippers pass by. Image credits - Ruby Dalmer

Changing faces of the Mazu Pilgrimage 

Over the last decade, Mazu worship has undergone radical transformation. In 2010, the Baishatun Mazu Pilgrimage saw just 5,000 officially registered worshippers. In 2026, this number has exploded — with a record 460,000 participants setting off from Miaoli on April 13th. 

As the size of the pilgrimage has changed, so too have the faces of its worshippers. In the local popular consciousness, Mazu worship used to be dominated by older people, primarily from rural districts of the island. This is no longer the case. Today, Mazu is for everyone. Taiwan’s Gen Z — in their teens and twenties now make up a significant segment of the pilgrim population. 

Mazu’s riches — the multi-billion dollar industry of belief 

When Mazu is on the move, island life is noticeably altered. Politicians mobilise around the goddess, business and industry hums, people pack like sardines into trains and buses — noisily chatting, sweating, and praying arm in arm. In this stretch of time, Mazu’s key role in shaping life on this island is brought into focus. 

Dog and owner in matching sunglasses - showing out for Mazu. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

Mazu temples are not simple religious meeting houses — they are wealthy and powerful institutions that organise life in Taiwan. Temples make money from donations, funerals, and services and carry critical significance to Taiwan’s social infrastructure. 

Beyond this, the pilgrimage itself has become a handsomely profitable economic affair. Scholars on Mazu worship point to its growing status as a tourism product or leisure activity. 

As the Mazu Pilgrimage experienced radical shifts in its popularity, it also saw mass flow-on effects in its accessibility and profitability. 

During April’s signature Mazu madness, Taipei Main Station’s lobby becomes flooded by a sea of Mazu tour groups. Mazu now has divine sponsorships with car dealerships — appearing as a kind of lucrative mascot, seamlessly converting belief into sales. 

And then there’s the Mazu Live App — a mobile app created for worshippers to track Mazu live on the pilgrimage, allowing them to conveniently participate at preferred stretches, instead of completing the entire route. Mazu is mediatised and TikTok-ified. 

The Mazu of today is increasingly accessible, convenient, and profitable for a wider consumer base. But this isn’t the whole story. The incredible popularity of Mazu isn’t just about a good marketing campaign. 

To understand her appeal and significance, we need to zoom out again — to analyse her role as an embodiment of cross-strait anxieties. Beyond her merchandisable ‘Mazu experience’, she is anxiety, sameness, and difference made manifest.  

Camp Mazu street performance involving big blow up balloon characters. Image Credits- Ruby Dalmer

Cross-strait cross-hairs 

Mazu worship is thoroughly caught in the cross-hairs of strained cross-strait relations. From the Chinese side, which claims Taiwan as its own renegade province, Mazu is a friendly bridge to reunification. 

The Chinese government uses Mazu to invoke shared religious traditions — in an attempt to appeal to Taiwanese. This emphatic Mazu embrace occurs despite the tight regulation of religion in mainland China. 

Mazu’s undeniable origins on the mainland — Meizhou Island, are key to this project. Praying to the same goddess is framed as evidence of familial cross-strait ties. Mother Mazu morphs into mother China. 

Beijing officially names Mazu haishang heping nüshen (Sea Goddess of Peace) or haixia liang’an heping nüshen (Cross-strait Goddess of Peace). In September 2023, authorities explicitly named Mazu in a drive for “integrated development in culture.” A report from China’s Xinhua News about the 2026 pilgrimage emphasises “longstanding cultural and historical ties across the Strait.” 

China heavily promotes Mazu-based cross-strait religious exchanges — focusing on Meizhou Island — where Mazu’s ancestral temple sits. This annual mainland pilgrimage is officially promoted as Mazu hui niangjia (Mazu returns to her natal home). In 2026, there were representatives from a reported 77 Taiwanese temples in attendance. 

From the Taiwanese side, Mazu is also framed as a Taiwanese goddess, despite her origins on the other side of the Strait. Attending the Mazu Pilgrimage is regularly thought of as a distinctly ‘Taiwanese’ thing to do. It is a performance of culture — a smattering of signs, symbols, and rituals that promote and invoke a distinct island identity. 

Since China’s cultural revolution (1966-76), Taiwan has cemented itself as the leader for everything Mazu. Taiwan, not the mainland, is now at the forefront — teaching and passing down legacy Mazu traditions. 

Temple representatives making their way through the pilgrimage. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

The goddess of peace in conflict  

Over decades, Mazu’s tangled relationship with both Taiwan and China has produced countless cross-strait scandals. 

In 1987, a Taiwanese temple travelled to Meizhou while Taipei and Beijing had severed all formal contact. During this time, the Mazu Pilgrimage was officially illegal. When word of the trip emerged, Taiwan — still in its martial law period, erupted into debate. 

After this 1987 watershed trip, religious pilgrims from Taiwan to China became the “largest and most visible groups of travellers” to the mainland — though they had to enter via Hong Kong. 

When a temple leader suggested a direct trip to Meizhou by sea in 2000, political debate around Mazu re-ignited. KMT party leaders, generally more China-friendly, supported the trip. Pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) leaders were decidedly anti — arguing the trip would dangerously emphasise Chinese roots. 

These scandals continue into today. In 2023, Taiwan banned a Chinese delegation from entering Taiwan for a Mazu event. Many critics argue these are transparent extensions of Beijing’s soft power pushes, ones that should be snuffed out wherever possible. 

Mazu also puts Beijing in a challenging political twist. It must attempt to delicately balance this embrace of shared religious identity with its tight national controls of grassroots religion. Unrestricted, unified, and powerful religious organisations are not in the CCP’s political interest.  

Political splits in Mazu’s Taiwan

Mazu is now embraced by both sides of Taiwan’s political spectrum — for different reasons. 

The independence-aligned DPP is keen to stress the distinctiveness of Taiwan’s Mazu Pilgrimage, framing it as evidence of something uniquely Taiwanese sprouting from admittedly cross-strait origins. 

In Taiwan, performing this religious identity now also symbolises a break from centuries of top-down political repression – where religion was heavily policed. Against this backdrop, Mazu worship becomes liberation – a celebration of modern, democratic Taiwan. 

The KMT party line more confidently refers to Mazu’s Meizhou origins. It is also more friendly to China-based Mazu trips. 

But whatever the political reason, one thing is certain: Mazu is at the heart of politics. During Mazu month, Taiwanese temples morph into informal political rallies — attracting politicians of all stripes. To come and show face for Mazu is to strengthen your political appeal to an island of at least 10 million Mazu worshippers. 

Reframing Mazu outside the state

Mazu shapes every key aspect of life in Taiwan. She is at the religious, economic, social, and political epicentre of life on this island. 

However, Mazu is also persistently the site of a great disjuncture — between her appropriation by the state and her role in the lives of ordinary people. 

A holy car dealership - Mazu approved. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

The idea of Mazu as a cross-strait political football misses the point. It prioritises macro-scale political projects at the expense of understanding everyday realities and the people that make them possible. 

For the average pilgrim, Mazu is not a contested symbol, caught up in identity politics. Instead, she is called on for her magical powers in solving everyday problems. 

The Mazu Pilgrimage is still first and foremost a religious event. And though the religious can never be fully teased apart from the political, spiritual protection is still the primary concern of most worshippers. Whether you are a fisherman in Song Dynasty China or a white collar worker in 2026 Taiwan, your allegiance to Mazu brings you protection. 

The motivations of individual pilgrims are often radically different to those of their respective states. For example, Taiwanese pilgrims embarking on a Meizhou Island Mazu trip may consider themselves to be ‘returning’ to Meizhou Island, as opposed to the modern political entity of China. 

Likewise, for many Chinese coastal peoples, Mazu trips are less about unification versus independence and more about personal faith. Through Mazu worship, religious experiences can be jointly cultivated outside existing political borders. Mazu is hyper politicised yet often non political in felt experience. 

In accepting the power of Mazu, many scholars frame her as a symbol or a representation of this cross-strait anxiety. This however, may not go far enough. Mazu as a metaphor denies her existence as a real entity who genuinely impacts people. She isn’t a metaphor, she is a representation of reality. The strait is very real in the lives of people. It’s an anxiety people have. It’s a literal place, a divider, a bridge, a promise, and a threat. 

Pilgrims enjoying free food and drink at one of many rest stops along the journey. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

Mazu is the strait 

Mazu and the Mazu pilgrimage authors a story about commonality and distinctiveness, about negotiating boundaries, about bridges and barriers. In Taiwan’s worship of the sea goddess, a complex island struggles to define itself.

Mazu has always promised peace in the strait. The context and characters have just changed over time. In the Song Dynasty, peace in the strait was about pirates. Later, it was about natural disasters. For people living with increasing cross-strait anxiety, Mazu may be a more attractive place to put hope and faith than any state on either side of the strait.

Faith in Mazu has made the pilgrimage a cultural institution. Mazu belief has never been stronger — on both sides of the strait. The twists and turns of Mazu’s story make one thing clear: any attempt to understand cross-strait relations is incomplete without Mazu.  

A singing performance on the pilgrimage. Image Credits - Ruby Dalmer

-Asia Media Centre

Banner Image - Little devotee in a colourful Mazu float. Image credits - Ruby Dalmer