tag:theconversation.com,2011:/global/topics/chinese-women-15385/articleschinese women – The Conversation2024-03-20T15:56:09Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2260362024-03-20T15:56:09Z2024-03-20T15:56:09ZMumpreneurs: a growing entrepreneurial force in Chinese society<p>While much ink has been poured over China’s economic growth in recent decades, the contributions of Chinese women often receive less attention. With the pressure of the <a href="https://www.ined.fr/en/publications/editions/population-and-societies/china-s-new-three-child-policy-what-effects-can-we-expect/">“three-child policy”</a>, being a mother isn’t a mere personal choice, it’s a part of national demographic strategy. To navigate their lives, many Chinese mothers are now turning to what has been referred to as “mumpreneurship”. A January 2024 search for “妈妈创业” (the term in Chinese) showed 69.9 million results on Baidu, China’s primary search engine, compared to just 2.6 million English results on Google.</p>
<p>The term <em>mompreneur</em> was coined in 1996 by Patricia Cobe and Ellen Parlapiano, two entrepreneurs who caught global attention with a <a href="http://www.mompreneursonline.com/">website</a> and <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/624570.Patricia_Cobe">books</a> on the theme. Unlike <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0016718510001284">female entrepreneurs</a>, mumpreneurs are motivated to achieve work-life harmony by merging the identities of <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0266242611435182">motherhood and business ownership</a>. It’s typical to observe the boundaries of two roles blurring.</p>
<p><a href="https://journals.openedition.org/travailemploi/10041/">Prior research</a> indicates that the mumpreneurs movement has its roots in the United States in the 1990s, and that it saw further growth in France in the 2000s, as the Internet gained strength. The researchers defined it as a “feminised form of non-salaried work, in which independence is considered the ideal way to combine work and family.”</p>
<h2>Mumpreneurship in China</h2>
<p>Our ongoing research focuses on mumpreneurs in Chinese urban areas. We find that most are between the ages of 31 and 45, resourceful, educated and digitally savvy. Chinese women’s age at first birth is getting older, <a href="https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202302/1285983.shtml">30.36 in Shanghai in 2022</a>. According to a <a href="https://www.199it.com/archives/1418770.html">2022 Chinese Female Entrepreneurs Research Report</a>, women start their businesses at a young age, 36% before 30, 50% between 31 to 40.</p>
<p>Covid-19 has played a key role in driving the growth of mumpreneurship. Many parents are stepping back from the corporate life due to the economic downturn in China. Mumpreneurs are most commonly found in urban regions such as Beijing, Shanghai and Great Bay area, notably Shenzhen, where robust support networks and resources exist. Preferred sectors are children’s education and social services, HR consulting, psychotherapy consulting, and beauty-related industries. Businesses typically have small teams of no more than 10. Many of their leaders actively engage and enjoy the popularity on social media like TikTok and Xiaohongshu. One of our interviewees, DanDan, has pioneered a <a href="http://xhslink.com/ARVTnC">“divorced companion mumpreneurial business model”</a> (离婚搭子创业 in Chinese) in education and social-media marketing services that has received significant attention. She and her business partner have recently been invited to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vb7MlUvMNhs"><em>Super Diva</em></a>, a show spotlighting Chinese mothers from diverse backgrounds.</p>
<p>Contrary to the promise of work-life balance, Chinese mumpreneurs are driven and <a href="https://new.qq.com/rain/a/20231205A054G400">relentlessly self-improving</a> and are often sleep-deprived. Support can come from a range of source, including their partner, parents, paid services such as nannies, cleaners and drivers, and sometimes company employees. Office and family space are frequently within walking distance or even overlapping.</p>
<p>As in other Asian countries, K–12 education in China is highly competitive. Chinese mothers are often perceived to face triple expectation from the society, family, and themselves, while Chinese fathers can have more leniency. Our study reveals that when it comes to education, some Chinese mumpreneurs disagree with both 鸡娃 (Ji Wa) <a href="https://www.npr.org/2021/09/06/1024804523/forget-tiger-moms-now-chinas-chicken-blood-parents-are-pushing-kids-to-succeed">Chicken Blood parenting</a> and traditional laissez-faire motherhood. Instead, they believe in a spiritual maternal role, working to strengthen the emotional and personal construction of their children. Annie, a mumpreneur who works in human resources, remarked:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“I disagree with cramming, stressful, and result-oriented education. It’s essential for me to nurture my son’s capacity for happiness. It pains me to witness the prevalence of depression among Chinese children.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>While mumpreneurs value motherhood, for them it doesn’t consistently rank as the top priority. Instead, there’s unanimous agreement on the importance of prioritising the “me” as an individual, encompassing financial, physical, and mental self-care. Additionally, there’s a recurring theme indicating that a woman’s awakening process is influenced by her education and the duration of her marriage. As for the role of “wife”, it’s often optional, and many mumpreneurs are single, divorced or cohabiting with partners to whom they are not married.</p>
<h2>A social movement</h2>
<p>The <a href="https://www-annualreviews-org.em-lyon.idm.oclc.org/doi/full/10.1146/annurev-polisci-052615-025801">rise of a social movement</a> is primarily facilitated by three key factors: more chances to influence politics, support networks, and shaping public opinion through messages. In China, the government has been making a strategic push to compensate for the country’s <a href="https://chinapower.csis.org/china-demographics-challenges/">demographic challenges</a>, which will become increasingly acute in the coming years. The country’s “one-child policy” was established in 1980, and it took more than a quarter-century to transit to the “two-child policy”, enacted in 2016. Less than five years later, the “three-child policy” came into force in 2021.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">“China pushes three-child policy” (NBC News).</span></figcaption>
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<p>The increasing female power in China is another catalyst for the mumpreneurship movement. Since 1949, there has been remarkable progress in the economic, educational, and health status of Chinese women. The changing social perceptions could be sensed in the language used to describe them, from 大婶 (Aunty) to 爷 (Ye) meaning lord or master, and 女王 (Nu Wang) meaning queen. Women are being progressively liberated from the expectation of a life centred on supporting her family, children, and husband. Women in China are embracing more diverse values and contributing to a more inclusive society.</p>
<p>The support ecosystem for mumpreneurs has matured. These include the <a href="http://mqcy.cwdf.org.cn/">“@SHE Entrepreneur Plan”</a>, which is operated by the China Women’s Development Foundation. It has grown increasingly influential over the last 28 years and now covers more than 20 provinces. At the grassroots level, <a href="https://www.huxiu.com/article/37107.html">mumpreneur communities</a> are spreading with the help of social media. Interesting examples include Lamabang.net.com, Babytree.com (a sort of Facebook for parents and kids), ci123.com and 研究生 Yan Jiu Sheng (which highlights research on pregnancy).</p>
<p>Given their presence, our study mainly focuses on the mumpreneurs in urban areas. Given that the country’s spatial disparity, future research could explore mumpreneurship in rural areas. This may reveal differences in entrepreneurial motivation, motherhood definition, social capital and social networking.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Special thanks to Chen Liu (DBA candidate from Durham University and EM Lyon Business School) and Hanrui Liu (MSc in international marketing and business development, EM Lyon Business School) for their contributions to the ongoing research project.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/226036/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lisa Xiong ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.</span></em></p>With the pressure of China’s “three-child policy”, many women are motivated to achieve work-life harmony by merging the identities of motherhood and business ownership.Lisa Xiong, Associate Professor in Strategy & Organization, EM Lyon Business SchoolLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1624142021-06-30T12:12:00Z2021-06-30T12:12:00ZChina’s ‘one-child policy’ left at least 1 million bereaved parents childless and alone in old age, with no one to take care of them<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407757/original/file-20210622-23-1iohzjj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C89%2C5000%2C3263&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">For four decades, the Chinese government has restricted family size.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/pedestrians-and-a-man-carrying-baskets-pass-by-a-huge-news-photo/158661292?adppopup=true">Peter Charlesworth/LightRocket via Getty Images </a></span></figcaption></figure><p>A child’s death is devastating to all parents. But for Chinese parents, losing an only child can add financial ruin to emotional devastation. </p>
<p>That’s one conclusion of a <a href="https://www.sixthtone.com/news/1006719/their-only-child-gone%2C-shidu-parents-shun-chinas-kid-centric-society">research project on parental grief I’ve conducted in China since 2016</a>.</p>
<p>From 1980 to 2015, the Chinese government limited couples to one child only. I have interviewed over 100 Chinese parents who started their families during this period and have since lost their only child – whether to illness, accident, suicide or murder. Having passed reproductive age at the time of their child’s death, these couples were unable to have another child. </p>
<p>In 2015, the Chinese government raised the birth limit to two, an effort to <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/31/world/asia/china-three-child-policy.html">reverse declining birthrates and to rejuvenate an aging population</a>. In May 2021, it announced that Chinese families could have up to three children. </p>
<p>The new “three-child policy” received generally <a href="https://theconversation.com/chinas-three-child-policy-is-unlikely-to-be-welcomed-by-working-women-162047">lukewarm responses in China</a>. Many Chinese couples say they prefer <a href="https://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=26948">not to have multiple children</a> due to the rising cost of child rearing, how it would complicate women’s professional aspirations and declining preference for a son. </p>
<p>The childless parents I interviewed told me they felt forgotten as their government moves further away from the birth-planning policy that left them bereaved, alone and precarious in their old age – in a country where <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/china-quarterly/article/abs/little-quilted-vests-to-warm-parents-hearts-redefining-the-gendered-practice-of-filial-piety-in-rural-northeastern-china/F6B2FD8F587F18AB4C30AE8C409AEF45">children are the main safety net for the elderly</a>.</p>
<h2>Having and losing an only child</h2>
<p>China’s one-child policy was a massive social engineering project launched to slow down rapid population growth and aid economic development efforts.</p>
<p>Until the early 1970s, most Chinese women <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.DYN.TFRT.IN?locations=CN">had at least five children</a>. By 1979, China’s population had nearly reached <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.POP.TOTL?locations=CN">1 billion</a> – <a href="http://www.gov.cn/gzdt/2009-09/11/content_1415054.htm#:%7E:text=1949%E5%B9%B4%EF%BC%8C%E5%85%A8%E5%9B%BD%E4%BA%BA%E5%8F%A3%E5%87%BA%E7%94%9F%E7%8E%87,%E6%80%BB%E4%BA%BA%E5%8F%A3%E4%B8%BA5.42%E4%BA%BF%E3%80%82">up from 542 million in 1949</a>. The Chinese government claimed that the one-child limit prevented 400 million births in China, although <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/j.1728-4457.2013.00555.x">this calculation has been disputed</a> as an exaggeration. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A mother wearing a straw hat pushes a buggy with a child sitting it. There are two other children walking near the buggy." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=510&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=510&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407759/original/file-20210622-13-xwv2i.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=510&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A family strolls in Beijing, 1972.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://newsroom.ap.org/detail/BeijingStreetScene/597761b4540c4080a71b9074a26e850c">AP Photo/Horst Faas</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The birth limit was unpopular at first. </p>
<p>“Back then, we wanted to have more children,” said a bereaved mother who was in her 60s when I interviewed her in 2017. “My parents had an even harder time accepting that we were allowed to have only one child.”</p>
<p>To enforce the unpopular one-child policy, the Chinese authorities designed <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s11013-013-9351-x">strict measures</a>, including mandatory contraception and, if all else failed, forced abortion. </p>
<p>Those who violated the policy paid a financial penalty, and children from <a href="https://anthrosource.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/maq.12352">unauthorized births often could not be registered for citizenship status and benefits</a>. Parents who worked for the government – and under China’s economic system, many urban workers did – risked losing their job if they had more than one child. </p>
<p>Several bereaved mothers told me that they had gotten pregnant with a second or third child in the 1980s or 1990s but had an abortion for fear of job loss. </p>
<p>The one-child policy, while painful, contributed to an age structure that benefited the economy: The large working-age population born before and after it grew rapidly compared to the country’s younger and older dependent population. </p>
<p>This “demographic dividend” accounted for <a href="https://catalog.ihsn.org/index.php/citations/63586">15% of China’s economic growth between 1982 and 2000</a>, according to a 2007 United Nations working paper. </p>
<h2>An uncertain old age</h2>
<p>Yet China’s one-child policy also created a risk for couples: the possibility of becoming childless in old age. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A baby is fed by its mother" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=508&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=508&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407764/original/file-20210622-21-qcxowc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=508&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The original caption of this 1994 photo accompanying an article on China’s one-child policy was: ‘A baby is fed by its mother. The child is probably never to have a sister or brother.’</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/baby-is-fed-by-its-mother-the-child-is-probably-never-to-news-photo/158661290?adppopup=true">Peter Charlesworth/LightRocket via Getty Images</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>“Families with an only child are walking on a tightrope. Every family can fall off the tightrope at any moment” if they lose their only child, one bereaved mother explained to me. </p>
<p>“We are the unlucky ones,” she said. </p>
<p>In China, where the <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/spol.12368">pension</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/10670564.2014.882617">health care</a> systems are patchy and highly stratified, adult children are the main safety net for many aging parents. Their financial support is often necessary after retirement. </p>
<p>It is estimated that 1 million Chinese families had <a href="http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/html/feature/lifeafterloss/index.html">lost their only child by 2010</a>. These childless, bereaved parents, now in their 50s and 60s, face an uncertain future. </p>
<p>Due to the country’s longstanding tradition of filial piety, <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/china-quarterly/article/abs/little-quilted-vests-to-warm-parents-hearts-redefining-the-gendered-practice-of-filial-piety-in-rural-northeastern-china/F6B2FD8F587F18AB4C30AE8C409AEF45">children also have a moral obligation to support their aging parents</a>. Parental care is actually the legal responsibility of children in China; it is written into the <a href="http://www.gov.cn/guoqing/2018-03/22/content_5276318.htm">Chinese Constitution</a>. </p>
<p>This safety net does not exist for parents who lost the only child the government would let them have. </p>
<h2>Help, but not enough</h2>
<p>Over the past decade, <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-protests/hundreds-of-bereaved-chinese-protest-over-one-child-compensation-idUSKCN0XF1KW">groups of bereaved parents have negotiated with the Chinese authorities</a> to demand financial support and access to affordable elder care facilities. Those I interviewed said they had fulfilled their obligation as citizens by abiding by the one-child rule and felt the government now had the responsibility to take care of them in their old age.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A woman shows a picture to the camera." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407763/original/file-20210622-25-b7rod7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A bereaved parent of the one-child era shows a picture of her late son.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/one-woman-who-lost-her-son-in-recent-years-traveled-from-news-photo/175849032?adppopup=true">William Wan/The Washington Post via Getty Images</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Eventually, the authorities responded to their grievances. </p>
<p>Starting in 2013, the government has initiated multiple programs for bereaved parents, most notably a monthly allowance, hospital care insurance and in some regions subsidized nursing home care. </p>
<p>However, bereaved parents told me that these programs were insufficient to meet their elder care needs. </p>
<p>For example, adult children often take care of their parents during hospitalization, bathing them and buying meals. Private care aides can charge up to US$46 a day, or 300 yuan, to do these tasks. In regions that now provide <a href="http://www.xinhuanet.com/2020-01/14/c_1125462230.htm">government-paid hospital care insurance for childless parents</a>, most plans cover between $15.50 to $31 – about 100 to 200 yuan – daily for a care aide, based on my research. </p>
<p>Other people I interviewed worried about the high cost and <a href="https://www.sixthtone.com/news/1006061/chinas-hidden-crisis-a-growing-elder-care-gap">limited availability</a> of quality nursing homes in many regions. China’s elder care facilities cannot meet the demand of its aging population, and living in these facilities is not covered by insurance.</p>
<p>China’s controversial one-child policy is history, but its legacy may depend on how the Chinese authorities treat the grieving parents left in its wake.</p>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lihong Shi receives funding from the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research. </span></em></p>China limited families to one child from 1980 to 2015 to curb population growth. The policy paid off economically for the country, but it left couples whose only child died grieving and impoverished.Lihong Shi, Associate Professor of Anthropology , Case Western Reserve UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1087442019-01-03T19:50:32Z2019-01-03T19:50:32ZHidden women of history: Hop Lin Jong, a Chinese immigrant in the early days of White Australia<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250585/original/file-20181214-178570-xlocz4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The family of Hop Lin Jong (who is pictured on the far left) at the wedding of her daughter, Ruby (third from right) in 1924. Ruby was murdered by her husband the following year. </span> </figcaption></figure><p><em>In a <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/hidden-women-of-history-64072">new series</a>, we look at under-acknowledged women through the ages.</em></p>
<p>There are “hidden women” in history who deserve to be known for the same reasons as we know about “great men”. The film Hidden Figures showed us a few of them: African-American women who did the mathematics for the first US space program. </p>
<p>And then there are the rest of us: ordinary people who at first glance look more like products than producers of their times. Hop Lin Jong was one of these, or should I say one of us: a turn-of-the-century immigrant whose arrival in Western Australia in 1901 was remarkable only because she was Chinese. Her life might have passed in obscurity if her daughter Ruby had not been murdered in 1925. </p>
<p>Hop Lin Jong was born in Guangzhou according to immigration records, but arrived in Australia on the S.S. Australind, which plied the Singapore-Fremantle route. Singapore was a hub for human trafficking from China, a multi-million dollar business that linked villages in South China to the world. Hop Lin Jong may have been a victim of this trade.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/hidden-women-of-history-petronella-oortman-and-her-giant-dolls-house-108248">Hidden women of history: Petronella Oortman and her giant dolls' house</a>
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<p>The year of her birth is uncertain: 1884 in the family genealogy, 1886 in her residential documents. When she disembarked in Fremantle she was somewhere between 15 and 17 years of age. Her surname was Jong or Jung. In Australia she was known as Lin or Lucy, or more formally as Mrs Lee Wood, for on arrival she was wed to James Lee Wood, butcher, merchant and a prominent member of the local Chinese community. The instability of names resulting from poor English rendering is typical for this generation of Chinese migrants. </p>
<p>Lin arrived at the very dawn of the White Australia era, when restrictions directed mainly at preventing Chinese immigration had just been brought into force across the country. How she crossed this colour line is unknown, except that minors were treated differently from adults. Her youth may have been a factor. </p>
<h2>Life in early 20th-century Perth</h2>
<p>Lin’s wedding photo, published on the <a href="http://www.chia.chinesemuseum.com.au/objects/D003738.htm">Chinese-Australian Historical Images</a> site, shows a well-dressed young woman in a ruffled blouse and tailored skirt. Ruffles must have been all the rage then. A second family photo shows her older daughters, May and Ruby, aged around two and three, dressed identically in ruffled dresses and little boots. She had five children in all, born between 1902 and 1910. </p>
<p>At that time there were few Chinese women in Perth. Census figures for 1901 show 18 women of Chinese nationality in the whole of Western Australia. But the European wives of Chinese men and their children added to the size of the local community. Lin undoubtedly knew Elizabeth Gipp, the wife of Charlie Ah You, and mother of the Gipp boys of Anzac fame. (George, Leslie, and Richard Gipp all served in the First World War.) These women must have supported each other during confinements: this was before the age of hospital births.</p>
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<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/hidden-women-of-history-lydia-chukovskaya-editor-writer-heroic-friend-108509">Hidden women of history: Lydia Chukovskaya, editor, writer, heroic friend</a>
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</em>
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<p>The Chinese community of Perth was centered in James St, Northbridge. The Chung Wah (Chinese) Society, established in 1909, had its premises in James St, and Lee Wood’s butcher shop occupied the ground floor of the same building. In 1914, the Lee Woods bought a house in Tiverton St, not far away. Family social and economic life appeared to have operated between the two poles of Tiverton and James Streets. There was a primary school in James St that was attended by the Gipp children. It is possible that the Lee Wood children, too, went there.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=841&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=841&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=841&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1057&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1057&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250588/original/file-20181214-178573-1rytx29.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1057&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lin Lee Wood, 1948.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Archives of Australia</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Lin was a seamstress, and took in sewing. She may have passed her skills onto Ruby, who became a dressmaker. She also worked when needed in the butcher shop. The marriage, however, was not happy. By the 1920s, she and Lee Wood were living apart, she in Tiverton St and he at the shop. Yet as an economic and social unit, the family remained intact. There were family photos, and family notices in the local newspaper. Both parents were involved in the marriages of the children: May’s to local merchant Timothy Chiew in 1922, and Ruby’s to recent immigrant Leong Yen in 1924. </p>
<h2>Death of a daughter</h2>
<p>Ordinary life with its ordinary problems changed forever in the middle of 1925. On the morning of 13 July that year, a Monday, Lin was working in the shop when Ruby called in to leave the house key with her. That night, when her daughter failed to return home, Lin knew immediately that something must have happened. On the Thursday she went to the police. On the next Thursday again, Ruby’s body was pulled from the harbour in Fremantle. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=913&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=913&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=913&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1147&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1147&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/250589/original/file-20181214-178579-11uxauq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1147&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Coverage of Ruby Yen’s murder in the Sunday Times Magazine in 1941.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Library of Australia</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There followed a coronial inquest, the arrest of Leong Yen for the murder of his young wife, and a trial presided over by Chief Justice Robert McMillan. The case meant an unusual degree of public exposure for a Chinese-Australian family. Newspaper reporting was detailed, giving close to verbatim accounts of the evidence. Perth was glued to the events. During the trial, the public gallery was packed, with women making up a large percentage of onlookers. </p>
<p>From the court records we learn that a local Chinese pharmacist, George Way, had served as matchmaker for Ruby’s marriage; that Leong and Ruby had lived with Lin after their wedding in 1924; and that at one stage Lin had thrown him out of the house. We know from the forensic report that the marriage had not been consummated, and from Leong’s evidence that the couple did not share the same bedroom. Perhaps due to these facts, the all-male jury felt sorry for Leong and while finding him guilty of manslaughter, recommended leniency. The judge obliged, with a sentence of two years hard labour. On expiry of the sentence, Leong was deported.</p>
<p>In later decades, the press periodically revisited the case in salacious and sometimes imagined detail (“as the taxi rattled towards Fremantle, thunder rumbled and rain lanced down in swirling flurries”). Quite recently, The West Australian carried a report on the “chilling coincidences” between the current “body-in-a-suitcase trial” centred on the death of Annabel Chen and the trial of Leong Yen more than 90 years ago.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/hidden-women-of-history-theroigne-de-mericourt-feminist-revolutionary-107802">Hidden women of history: Théroigne de Méricourt, feminist revolutionary</a>
</strong>
</em>
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<h2>After Ruby</h2>
<p>Between the obscurity of life as a Chinese working-class woman in a small Australian city and the glare of publicity surrounding her daughter’s death, Lin is just dimly visible to history. At only five foot high, she was smaller than any of her Australian children. The West Australian reported on her appearance in court, describing “a slight, frail woman, in deep mourning and weeping quietly.” But she was stalwart. According to her grandson Bill Chiew, she “used to work like hell.” </p>
<p>She was barely if at all literate, finding it difficult to sign her immigration papers. Her spoken English, however, was quite good, according to immigration records. In middle age she spent much time minding her grandchildren. Her English may have benefited from time with these second-generation Australians, who could hardly speak Chinese at all; and she may have taken comfort from them.</p>
<p>From the public record we can see that she was swept along in the course of Australian history. With the outbreak of World War II, her youngest son, William (“Boy”), joined the army. In the post-war years, the family enjoyed upward mobility. Granddaughter Irene graduated from university in 1952. And by the time Lin died in 1970, the White Australia Policy had effectively been dismantled. Citizenship had become possible for someone like her.</p>
<p>The last photo of her in the public record is attached to her application for renewal of residential status in 1948. It shows a woman in the ordinary dress of the post-war era, a button-through frock, her hair parted in the middle and done up at the sides. Her birthplace is given as Canton and her nationality as Chinese. By then she had lived in Perth for nearly 50 years. Not surprisingly, she looks Australian and Chinese at the same time.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/108744/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Antonia Finnane receives funding from the Australian Research Council. Part of this article originally appeared in text accompanying the "Locating Chinese Women" exhibition at the University of Wollongong in 2017.</span></em></p>Hop Lin Jong’s arrival in Western Australia in 1901 was remarkable only because she was Chinese. Her life might have passed in obscurity if not for the murder of her daughter in 1925.Antonia Finnane, Professor of Chinese History, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/655892016-10-24T09:16:37Z2016-10-24T09:16:37ZThe dangers of being a bridesmaid in China mean some brides now hire professionals<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/142538/original/image-20161020-8845-1ocpmf9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Are you ready?</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/orangetaki/3324662285/sizes/l">orangetaki/flickr.com</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Concern over traditional wedding practices in China being pushed too far has reached new heights following the <a href="http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2016-09/13/content_26783911.htm">death of a bridesmaid</a> in Wenchang, Hainan province in September. It was reported that the 28-year-old was pressured into drinking an excessive amount of alcohol on behalf of the bride. </p>
<p>This is far from an isolated instance. From the grassroots to renowned celebrities, Chinese bridesmaids are also vulnerable to <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/8bf9dcc2-089a-11e6-a623-b84d06a39ec2">verbal harassment, and physical and sexual abuse</a>. Video footage went viral on the Chinese internet showing groomsmen attempting to dump <a href="http://en.yibada.com/articles/114601/20160407/harassment-of-bridesmaid-sparks-online-debate-in-weibo.htm">Liu Yan</a>, a famous Chinese actress, into a swimming pool when she was a bridesmaid at her friend’s wedding. </p>
<p>In contemporary China, <a href="http://www.cambridge.org/gb/academic/subjects/sociology/political-sociology/politics-marriage-contemporary-china?format=PB&isbn=9780521130684">a typical wedding celebration</a> includes the get together of families, friends, colleagues and acquaintances, a luxurious motorcade, and a bounteous banquet to be followed by bedroom stunts that are infused with <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=2rweBAAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false">sexual and reproductive innuendos</a>. Bridesmaids play a key role throughout the whole process, from greeting guests at the wedding venue and posing for photo ops, to drinking wine on behalf of the bride and guarding the boudoir. </p>
<h2>A changing tradition</h2>
<p><a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=o8JlWxBYs40C&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false">Bridesmaid traditions</a> have a long history in China. In the feudal era centuries ago, when the female womb was seen as a precious resource for the production of an heir, brides were susceptible to kidnapping at weddings by rival clans and hooligans. Shouldering the responsibility to protect the bride, bridesmaids were dressed up like the bride to lower the risk that she might be identified and robbed. As legal protections for marriage were established, this was no longer necessary and the role of bridesmaid took a more symbolic turn.</p>
<p>Weddings today have become a <a href="http://www.demographic-research.org/volumes/vol35/20/35-20.pdf">social display</a> during which Chinese newlyweds receive recognition and blessings from acquaintances and families. But like the procession of a luxurious and high-profile wedding <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EO_Z5uh8in4">motorcade</a>, a bridesmaid is often objectified as part of the wedding display. The physical beauty and number of bridesmaids are often seen as a sign of the power and “face” of the families involved in the marriage. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/142544/original/image-20161020-8869-imomie.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lavish displays are a symbol.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamchu/12114918083/sizes/o/">chwimage.com/flickr.com</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Maid of ‘dishonour’</h2>
<p>Yet part of the protective function that bridesmaids used to have remains. They are expected to fend off drinking requests and in a lot of cases drink Chinese rice wine on behalf of the bride. It is a widespread tradition that the newlyweds should toast bottoms up to every wedding guest on an individual basis – meaning that the bridesmaid often ends up drinking on behalf of the bride and <a href="http://www.straitstimes.com/world/bridesmaid-dies-after-having-too-many-drinks">over-consuming alcohol</a>. In fulfilling their obligation, some of them suffer from alcohol poisoning or even risk death. </p>
<p>As bridesmaids also act as the last <a href="http://www.whatsonweibo.com/naohuntradition/">symbolic “hurdle”</a> before the groom can enter the bridal room, the groom and groomsmen can pull off stunts laced with sexual innuendo. In more civilised cases, such stunts could involve the presentation of gifts such as <a href="http://traditions.cultural-china.com/en/214Traditions11913.html">peanuts (<em>hua sheng</em>)</a>, which share an identical pronunciation with “giving birth” (<em>sheng</em>) in Chinese. It could also involve <a href="http://www.chinese-wedding-guide.com/chinese-wedding-games.html">licking a banana</a> in public. </p>
<p>In many cases, however, the stunts can go far beyond the mere symbolic. Although sex remains a taboo in the public sphere for most Chinese people, wedding occasions seem to legitimise the explicit expression of sexual desire for some men, which can result in sexual <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/8bf9dcc2-089a-11e6-a623-b84d06a39ec2">harassment and abuse</a> in some instances. This is exacerbated by the excessive consumption of alcohol by both bridesmaids and groomsmen. </p>
<p>In many cases, bridesmaids are unwillingly involved in <a href="http://www.chinahush.com/2011/02/25/outrageous-sexual-harassment-becomes-common-in-chinese-weddings/">sexual stunts</a> designed for the newlyweds. In extreme cases, <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/peoplesdaily/article-3334685/Wedding-antics-gone-far-Chinese-bridesmaid-breasts-groped-male-guests-crowd-cheers-touch-touch.html">some</a> are stripped of their clothes and molested, or <a href="http://news.iqilu.com/xinwenzongheng/20140324/1921627.shtml">attacked</a>.</p>
<p>There are, however, considerable regional variations in the way bridesmaids are treated. Most reports of alcohol poisoning, sexual harassment and abuse of bridesmaids are concentrated in rural areas and provinces such as <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/forced-drink-bridesmaid-chokes-death-vomit">Shandong and Hainan</a> where traditional gender norms hold sway. In <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1548-1425.2010.01272.x/full">urban environments and provinces</a> such as Sichuan and Shanghai, where more liberal gender norms are endorsed, stunts are sometimes played on the groomsmen instead of bridesmaids. </p>
<p>Those mistreating bridesmaids, if reported to the police, are subject to serious <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=aa9ZAAAAYAAJ&q=china+legal+prosecution+sexual+harassment&dq=china+legal+prosecution+sexual+harassment&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiuwMeyi6DPAhUJL8AKHebyBrMQ6AEIHDAA">legal prosecutions</a> in China. But women coming from more traditional backgrounds and in some parts of China are less likely than others to reveal their traumatic experiences, because of the differing levels of women’s empowerment across the country.</p>
<p>Fearing for their reputation and their prospect of being able to marry a man who places an emphasis on female <a href="http://www.jstor.org/stable/189208">“purity”</a> and <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/00224499.2015.1137272#.VvhMGRIrKV4">virginity</a>, victims may choose to remain silent. This makes it difficult to estimate how widespread instances of sexual assault at weddings are. </p>
<h2>A rising profession</h2>
<p>Against this backdrop it has become <a href="http://www.shanghaidaily.com/nation/Bridesmaids-for-hire-Chinas-latest-wedding-trend/shdaily.shtml">a huge ask</a> to invite someone to be a bridesmaid, while many would only agree to act as one reluctantly. Consequently, brides are hiring professional bridesmaids.</p>
<p>Professional bridesmaids have become a routine option for <a href="http://www.theweek.co.uk/72011/hiring-bridesmaids-is-chinas-latest-wedding-trend">wedding packages</a>, currently offered by more than 50 wedding planning firms in China. A professional bridesmaid would be required to act as the make-up artist, to drink alcohol and fend off rude guests on behalf of the bride, among many other tasks. They are required to perform what the sociologist Arlie Hochschild <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=whi61UWpoJ4C&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false">termed</a> “emotional labour”: fake smiles, engineering a joyous atmosphere, and taking part in traditional stunts that are otherwise considered too vulgar for many.</p>
<p>Depending on the level of “difficulty” of the services they provide, a professional bridesmaid is <a href="http://www.baike.com/wiki/%E8%81%8C%E4%B8%9A%E4%BC%B4%E5%A8%98">paid</a> between 200 yuan (around £22) and 800 yuan (around £90) per wedding. Many professional bridesmaids work on weekends, in addition to their routine weekday jobs, in order to generate extra income.</p>
<p>Professionalisation may provide a quick fix for the bride to outsource and offload the hit to a paid bridesmaid. But without proper legal and regulatory provision, the professionalisation of bridesmaids may do little to challenge the chauvinistic wedding traditions in some Chinese regions. On the contrary, it may even reinforce the idea that the female body can be an objectified commodity for sale.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/65589/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Yang Hu does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Excessive drinking, the risk of sexual assault … it can be dangerous work being a bridesmaid in China.Yang Hu, Senior Researcher, Department of Sociology, University of EssexLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/667722016-10-11T19:07:56Z2016-10-11T19:07:56ZSpeaking with: Alanna Kamp about the erasure of Chinese-Australian women from our history books<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/141055/original/image-20161010-2619-7bcpvq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Chinese Australians have been in Australia for more than a century, but they are invisible in our records.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock/The Conversation</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>We tend to think of Australia as having a largely European population in the years dominated by the White Australia policy. But the truth is Chinese-Australians have been contributing to our national character since the 1850s.</p>
<p>Women – and women from non-European backgrounds in particular – have often been excluded from both research and our historical records thanks to patriarchal attitudes to women’s work. And the hidden histories of Chinese-Australian women during the era of the White Australia policy – many of whom are still alive today – have a lot to tell us about the realities of migration and Australian culture.</p>
<p>Dallas Rogers speaks with the University of Western Sydney’s Alanna Kamp about her research on the forgotten lives of Chinese-Australian women in the 20th century, the silence in our census records about their experiences, and why it matters for our understanding of Australia’s national identity.</p>
<hr>
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<p><strong>Music</strong></p>
<ul>
<li><p>Audioblocks - <a href="https://www.audioblocks.com/stock-audio/che-thang-theme.html">Che Thang Theme</a></p></li>
<li><p>Audioblocks - <a href="https://www.audioblocks.com/stock-audio/china-town-full-1a.html">China Town</a></p></li>
<li><p>Audioblocks - <a href="https://www.audioblocks.com/stock-audio/spooky-tension-gong.html">Spooky Tension Gong</a></p></li>
<li><p>Free Music Archive - <a href="http://freemusicarchive.org/music/Blue_Dot_Sessions/The_Contessa/When_The_Guests_Have_Left">“When the Guests Have Left” by Blue Dot Sessions</a></p></li>
</ul><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/66772/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Dallas Rogers does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Dallas Rogers speaks with Alanna Kamp on how racism and sexism has excluded lives and experiences of Chinese-Australian women from our historical record.Dallas Rogers, Lecturer in Urban Studies, Western Sydney UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/387442015-03-19T09:35:23Z2015-03-19T09:35:23ZInequality in China and the impact on women’s rights<p>In 1995, China hosted the Fourth World Conference on Women, which produced the <a href="http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/beijing/platform/">Beijing Platform for Action</a>, a document outlining concrete measures to achieve gender equality worldwide. Last week, United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon declared “Women are not just victims; they are agents of progress and change,” at the 59th meeting of the UN Commission on the Status of Women in New York. </p>
<p>Yet today China’s authorities are actively thwarting women’s ability to act to achieve their goals. </p>
<p>On March 8, International Women’s Day, police detained five women’s rights activists planning an action to raise awareness about sexual harassment on public transportation. The United States has since demanded their <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2015/03/13/us-china-rights-usa-idUSKBN0M901N20150313">release. </a></p>
<p>Why are China’s authorities threatened by the efforts of these women?</p>
<h2>Overall inequity may disproportionately affect women</h2>
<p>Let’s put the answer in context. Chinese society is torn by widening inequality. China has one of the greatest economic divides among countries with advanced economies, surpassing the United States. (China’s <a href="http://www.pnas.org/content/111/19/6928.full.pdf">Gini coefficient</a>, a measure of income distribution, is .53, compared to .45 in the US and .34 in India). In a society that just over two decades ago was among the most equal, these new social divisions generate tensions and conflict. </p>
<p>In 2005, the last time the government released its count, 87,000 “mass incidents” or protests of various sorts were recorded. The nation’s president Xi Jinping recently moved to contain expressions of dissent. Social discontent stems from diverse sources, including ethnic tensions, housing and land displacement, pollution, and exploitative employment practices. One well-organized protest could spark a more widespread movement that might pose a threat to the political status quo.</p>
<p>Just two weeks ago, journalist Chai Jing released a sobering <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6X2uwlQGQM">documentary</a> about the blighted environment of China’s major cities, generated by over three decades of rapid economic growth. The exposé certainly struck fear into millions of citizens who were able to watch it before being removed from China’s internet platforms. While many citizens are concerned about air and food quality, mothers - who shop and prepare food for their children - are particularly disturbed. </p>
<p>Women’s solidarity around sexual harassment in public places may also catalyze their struggle for a clean environment, which in turn may inspire the environmental movement to action.</p>
<p>And let’s not forget that this all occurs in the shadow of the Hong Kong student democracy protests, which paralyzed that city center for weeks. </p>
<h2>Authorities warn that non-mothers will be society’s ‘leftovers’</h2>
<p>China’s women have plenty of additional reasons for discontent. The state-led Women’s Federation recently concluded a campaign that turned up the volume on the ticking biological and social clocks of successful professional women, warning that they would be “leftovers” (shengnu, in Mandarin) if they didn’t <a href="http://www.pri.org/stories/2013-01-28/china-investing-big-convincing-leftover-women-get-married">marry and procreate</a> by their mid-20s. </p>
<p>A state-invented discourse on suzhi or “quality” emphasizes mothers’ central role in ensuring the future success of their children. This is a thinly veiled campaign to encourage women to prioritize the domestic realm over career, while ignoring the role of men in the household. Moreover, a matrix of state laws have made it quite difficult for urban women to maintain claims to the value of housing in the event of divorce, according to Leta Hong Fincher, author of <a href="http://www.dissentmagazine.org/article/womens-rights-at-risk.">Leftover Women</a>. Rural women are also losing access to land rights.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the wage gap between men and women has grown steadily; urban women now earn 69 percent of male wages, largely due to occupational sex segregation. My book, <a href="http://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=18491">Markets and Bodies,</a> follows women as they are channeled into low-wage, low-status consumer service jobs, in which they are required to learn the fragile femininity that justifies their placement in these positions. </p>
<p>Retirement age is another source of inequality: Women are legally required to retire between ages 50 and 55, whereas men’s retirement age is 60, giving them between 5 and 10 more years of wage-earning.</p>
<p>Might all this add up to an attempt to mitigate men’s sense of inequality by ensuring their economic dominance over women? </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/75075/original/image-20150317-22271-5az6db.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Porcelain statues at Cat Street Antiques Market, Hong Kong. The statue in the center of the photo casts a light on how femininity was perceived in Communist China in the late 1960s.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Woman_in_Communist_China.jpg">Frank Schulenburg</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The Chinese Communist Party has always maintained a formal commitment to equality between women and men. In the 1950s it brought women en mass into the labor force, ended the practice of <a href="http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB125800116737444883">footbinding</a>, and dramatically improved female literacy. In her book <a href="http://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=5009">Only Hope</a>, Vanessa Fong argues that the one-child policy led to greater family investment in daughters, when there were no sons with whom to compete. </p>
<h2>Backtracks on original commitment to equality</h2>
<p>China <a href="http://www3.weforu.org/docs/GGGR14/GGGR_CompleteReport_2014.pdf">ranks </a>87th among the 142 countries studied in measures of gender gaps in economic, educational and political participation, as well as health, so its efforts toward parity surpasses many countries in the world.</p>
<p>But the Chinese Communist Party has a history of pragmatically prioritizing men’s over women’s interests, even while it made important strides to redress gender hierarchies. It put the brakes on implementation of its 1950 Marriage Law offering couples the right to divorce, when too many wives attempted to leave their husbands.</p>
<p>The party maintained men as the formal heads of household and women continued to shoulder a second shift. </p>
<p>Today Chinese leaders are dusting off <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/01/13/confucius-comes-home">Confucianism</a> and founding institutes abroad in the philosopher’s name while, promoting the framework at home. The reemergence of a philosophy founded on gender (as well as generational) hierarchies must be alarming to China’s feminists. It may very well be a strategy through which the state, to use its own slogan, “harmonizes” social inequality. </p>
<h2>Not just a return to the past</h2>
<p>But growing gender inequality in China is not simply a return to past practices and prejudices. This is a new age of wealth accumulation that is unprecedented in China’s history. Women are being made to bear an unfair burden of growing inequality to placate potentially more powerful and restive groups. </p>
<p>It is difficult to say what will happen next. Government authorities allowed Chai Jing’s documentary to circulate longer than anyone imagined. We can also find some hope in the fact that vocal feminists hold positions in major universities and agencies. For example, Li Yinhe, who recently <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/07/world/asia/chinese-advocate-of-sexuality-opens-door-into-her-own-private-life.html?_r=0,">revealed </a>that her partner is transsexual, is a member of the prestigious Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. At the same time, substantial dissent will remain invisible to most as the government regularly enlists an elaborate grassroots network to quell disputes before they gain momentum, in a process Ching Kwan Lee and Yonghong Zhang call <a href="http://www.sscnet.ucla.edu/soc/faculty/CKLee/AJS%202013.pdf">“bargained authoritarianism.”</a></p>
<p>In the end, the fate of women in China may be more likely to be “bargained” behind closed doors than fought over in the streets.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/38744/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Eileen Otis does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Once China claimed to lead the way in equality for women. Today, women are warned they will be “leftovers” if they don’t produce children.Eileen Otis, Associate Professor, University of OregonLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.