Seconds after Alysa Liu captured gold at the 2026 Milano Cortina Games, her dad Arthur was seen gripping the American flag and clapping like a man whose heart had just burst wide open. The clip detonated across social media, racking up hundreds of thousands of views as fans obsessed over his unapologetic show of loyalty and love. But beneath the cheers lies a backstory tangled with migration, pressure, and international controversy that makes his celebration hit even harder.

Alysa Liu, the 20-year-old from the San Francisco Bay Area, delivered a dazzling free skate on February 19, 2026, at the Milano Ice Skating Arena, clinching the women’s singles figure skating gold medal for the United States. It marked the first Olympic gold for an American woman in the discipline since Sarah Hughes in 2002, ending a 24-year drought. Her performance was fearless and joyful, a stark contrast to the burnout that had forced her retirement after the 2022 Beijing Olympics.

Alysa had shocked the skating world by stepping away at 16, citing overwhelming pressure and even trauma from the intense demands of elite competition. Yet, after a two-year hiatus, she returned stronger, winning the 2025 World Championship before storming to Olympic glory. Her path was not just about technical mastery—triple Axels, quadruple jumps, and artistic flair—but about reclaiming her love for the sport on her own terms.

At the heart of this triumph stands Arthur Liu, Alysa’s father, whose raw emotion in the stands captured hearts worldwide. Clutching the Stars and Stripes, his applause was more than paternal pride; it was the culmination of decades of sacrifice and defiance. Arthur was born in 1964 in Mingxing, a remote mountain village in China’s Sichuan Province with just 200 residents, where electricity was scarce. One of six children, he grew up with a farmer mother and a government-worker father. Ambitious and studious, he earned degrees in China before his life changed irrevocably in 1989.

As a university student in Guangzhou, Arthur became deeply involved in the pro-democracy movement that swept China that spring. He helped organize protests and hunger strikes in the aftermath of the Tiananmen Square massacre, where the government cracked down violently on student-led demonstrations. Estimates of the death toll vary widely, but Arthur witnessed the horror firsthand. Soon after, he learned he was on a “most wanted” list.

Fearing imprisonment or worse, he escaped to Hong Kong— a move that could have landed him in prison or a labor camp if caught—and eventually made his way to the United States as a political refugee at age 25. Settling in the Bay Area, he rebuilt his life, earning an MBA and a law degree from prestigious California institutions. He founded his own law firm, Inter-Pacific Law Group, specializing in immigration, and dedicated himself to helping others navigate the system he had once desperately needed.

Arthur’s journey to fatherhood was as unconventional as his path to America. Determined to build a family despite being single, he welcomed five children through surrogacy and anonymous egg donors. Alysa, born August 8, 2005, is the eldest, followed by four younger siblings, including triplets. For years, his mother Shu moved from China to help raise them in a modest one-bedroom apartment, embodying the immigrant grit that defined their household. Arthur raised them alone for much of their childhood, pouring resources—reportedly nearly $1 million—into Alysa’s skating after spotting her prodigious talent at age five.

He initially coached her himself, pushing her toward extraordinary achievements. By 13, she was a senior national competitor; at 16, she competed at the 2022 Beijing Olympics. But the pressure took its toll. Alysa later revealed she had come to hate skating under the intense regimen, leading to her retirement. Arthur has since admitted regrets, acknowledging he didn’t fully realize her unhappiness until she quit. “In retrospect, I feel I made a mistake,” he told reporters after her 2026 gold, reflecting on the choices that once strained their bond.

When Alysa decided to return in 2024, she insisted on doing it her way—choosing her coaches, setting her pace—and Arthur stepped back respectfully, focusing more on his younger children while remaining her biggest supporter.

The Liu family’s story carries an extra layer of international tension. In 2022, as Alysa prepared for Beijing, the U.S. Justice Department revealed that Arthur and his daughter had been targeted in an alleged Chinese government-linked spying operation. Agents reportedly sought to intimidate Arthur for his ongoing criticism of the regime and even attempted to gather passport information under false pretenses. Arthur refused, and he shielded Alysa from the details to avoid distracting her.

The incident underscored the long shadow of his past activism, contrasting sharply with cases like Eileen Gu, another Bay Area-born skater of Chinese descent who chose to compete for China.

Against this backdrop, Arthur’s embrace of the American flag during Alysa’s victory feels profoundly symbolic. For a man who fled authoritarianism, risked everything for freedom, and built a new life in the U.S., watching his daughter triumph under the Stars and Stripes represented validation. Social media erupted with praise: fans called it “pure pride and joy,” highlighting the immigrant success story embodied in the moment. One viral comment noted how Arthur, once a protester facing persecution, now saw his daughter make America proud on the global stage.

Alysa’s gold is her second of the Games—she also contributed to the U.S. team event win—but it’s her individual triumph that resonates most. She skated with “peak happiness,” as she described it, free from the burdens that once crushed her. In the exhibition gala that followed, she closed the show with playful energy, a testament to her reclaimed joy.

Arthur’s celebration reminds us that Olympic moments are rarely just about the athlete. They carry family legacies, personal reinventions, and historical weight. For the Liu family, this gold medal is a full-circle victory: from a Sichuan village to Tiananmen Square, from refugee resettlement to Bay Area ice rinks, from burnout to redemption. Arthur’s clapping hands and gripped flag speak volumes— of resilience, love, and the American dream realized on frozen ice under bright lights. As Alysa stood on the podium, the national anthem playing, her father’s emotion in the stands echoed louder than any medal ceremony ever could.

It’s a story of migration and perseverance that makes the cheers feel earned, the pride unbreakable, and the love profoundly human.