CHIN427 Springgrass

中国社会对性行为的传统观念在现代文化中仍未完全消失。虽然中国青年对性的态度逐渐开放了，但这些传统观念还成为许多人找对象的一个顾虑。尤其是女性农民工，城市和农村对性与婚姻不同的想法常常发生冲突，这样也会影响到妇女跟家人的关系。在《春草》这部小说中，性行为扮演着一个很重要的角色。春草在村里和城里的性经历很细腻地描述了那个时代的一些女性农民工对性的复杂观点。这些观点不仅影响了女性的爱情生活，而且在经济和社会方面具有重要性。

春草的性意识是怎么发展的呢？青少年时期，春草似乎没有跟其他村里的青年一样调情，而是“躲在一边，不和他们打堆”（58）。对我而言，春草的行为反映出她那个时候对婚姻的想法：因为她的梦想是离开家，通过努力来创造自己的家园，所以绝对不敢跟村里男人在一起。换句话说，春草在这个时期中早就把婚恋视为是改变生活的工具，而不是本身具有价值的生活的一部份。后来，因为春草坚决地拒绝村里所有向她提亲的男人，而且到了二十岁都没结婚，所以有不少人散布流言，说春草是“石女”。这种流言迅速地使春草在村里的社会地位下降了。从这个现象春草可能会发现性不仅是为了生育孩子，而且是女性的社会地位的一个决定性因素。

春草第一次的性经历其实不是她自愿经历的。只有十五岁的春草到堂伯家帮忙带孩子的时候，被堂伯欺负了几次。春草那个时候不太懂堂伯的行为，那个“连儿媳妇都有”的爷爷为什么要欺负她，她“实在是想不明白”（49）。然而，春草还是明白“她不能再在这个家里待下去了”。春草的这个想法说明她早已知道女性需要保护自己的贞洁，要说这个意识是从哪里学到的也不清楚，好像是社会观念中不言而喻的一个规则。不过，春草还是不敢跟堂婶直接地说出这件事情，而且她回家后还是缄口不言，连父母她也没告诉真情。笔者认为，春草不敢透露她被堂伯欺负这件事很值得讨论。姆妈一旦发现发生过这类的事情，她不会马上就为女儿打抱不平吗？有可能春草不想跟姆妈说出这件事仅仅是因为她“犟头倔脑”的个性，母亲没问她就不敢说。然而，我认为春草的决定与社会对女子的贞洁观有关：要是让别人知道她被欺负这件事，以后说不定其他男人会因怀疑她不是处女而不想向她提亲呢？春草在这时的行为说明了那个时代的农村女性一般如何反对传统社会对性行为的标准和规则。

春草成年之后，仍然不重视性，似乎觉得性行为不过是浪费时间的活动。春草和丈夫何水远一起在城市里打工的时候，作者描写了很多春草拒绝丈夫的挑逗的场景。虽然春草好像真的爱上了何水远，但她还是不敢把注意力转移到这种“娱乐”。从这一点来看，春草已经算是“现代女性”，她把工作放在前面，性则留在后面。后来有一次春草正在给孩子喂奶的时候，阿明突然来拜访她了，他想与春草发生关系。春草心里很想同意，但她为了保护自己的婚姻而最终拒绝；她又一次不敢因为享受乐趣而影响自己的未来。然而，在夫妻俩遇到倒霉事的时候，春草为了报答讨债者而求助于阿明，没想到他竟然没答应。此后春草在心里感到后悔，认为阿明之所以不敢帮她是因为春草以前拒绝他那件事。也就是说，春草感到后悔不是因为觉得她失去了跟阿明恋爱的机会，而是因为没有满足他的性要求而在日后失去了阿明的经济资助。

春草把性视为是改善经济情况的工具这一行为在小说中还有其他的例子。比如说，春草认识娄大哥的时候，把她倒霉的故事全部说出来，但“唯一没有告诉男人的，就是老公目前已经找到了，也在海州。她说不清是为什么，直觉告诉她还是先不说为好”（217）。一开始的时候，春草自己好像也不是故意地省略这个细节的，不过她的行为在自己的经验里大概有缘故。后来当春草给丈夫解释这件事时，她说是因为“我是想，我们孤儿寡母的，他才会愿意帮助”（219）。然而，我认为春草没说出有另外一个原因，那就是娄大哥大概看上她了。说不定春草也真的没想到这一点，就是心理上已经发现了性魅力的用处。后来春草很直接地用身体来“报答”娄大哥，然后她第一个反应是“她很有成就感”（243），而不是感到任何性快感。春草对性非常实际的想法在另外一句话中也很清楚地显示出来：“她跟娄大哥那样‘做’也是为了这个家，那是他们创业的一部分”（244-245）。春草把身体作为工具，甚至于把性视为是创业的一部分。她的身体，几乎没有一部分她不敢牺牲；只要能让她和家人生存，什么都可以忍受。

然而，我也认为春草这样自言自语有可能是给自己找借口。以前阿明追求她的时候，春草曾想“这让春草得到一种阿远那里不一样的满足”(185)。说不定春草之所以不想跟丈夫做爱并不是因为她很重视工作，而是因为真的没被丈夫吸引。如果从这个角度来看春草的行为，有可能她不是真的把身体作为工具，而是要享受更吸引她的男人。比方说，娄大哥的条件符合春草原来对男人的向往，而且他一直很善良地对待春草。春草跟这样的男人发生性关系不是能够满足自己的欲望吗？然而，春草的婚外情，无论在事实上到底是为了家庭还是为了自己，春草自己认为是前者。总的来说，春草的性意识的发展很复杂，不能简单地解释。春草这么复杂的性观点和性行为反映了那个时代的中国女性农民工在不同的压力下是怎么看待自己在社会上的地位和作用的。虽然用春草的观点来一概而论一般老百姓的想法不太可行，但类似春草的具有复杂的性意识的女性农民工在真实生活中一定存在。

所有国家都存在地域歧视的现象。无论是像澳洲这种地广人稀的国家还是像台湾这种人烟稠密的地方，人们在一定程度上都会出现对于一些地域的偏见。然而，中国广阔的土地还有它在共产党领导下所经历的历史过程把地域歧视的问题变得更严重了。尤其是现在对来自河南省的移民的刻板印象还有最近在疫情时期对于湖北人的歧视，都凸显出中国的地域歧视问题。为了强调中国地域歧视的特殊性，本文还会介绍据笔者所了解的在美国的地域歧视，然后把这两个国家的问题作一比较。

我的父母和祖父母都出生在美国南方，我也出生在美国南方，而且是在阿拉巴马州莫比尔市，阿拉巴马最南方的城市之一，这个地方属于美国的“深南部”。上学的时候，差不多一半的同学和老师都有典型的“南方口音”，而我外婆、母亲、和兄弟也有一点口音。然而，我自己从来没有这种口音，也不知道为何如此。有可能是跟自己小时每天看书有关，或者是因为喜欢读字典，也有可能是自己故意地追求老师的夸奖。

无论如何，美国人对南方人有很多刻板印象。主要的刻板印象是南方人都愚昧落后、不聪明而懒惰。因此，在南部之外，很多人一听到南方口音，就会笑，甚至于马上开始试图模仿那个人的口音，说什么笑话。举个例子，笔者的哥哥在进入海军的过程中，在战斗营时很多人笑他的口音。实际上，之前我以为哥哥的口音没那么明显，而北方人大概听不出来他来自南方。其实不然。这个口音也会影响到工作机会：虽然只是说话的声音而已，但面试的时候，要是老板认为那个口音是愚笨之人的口音，这种因素未尝不会影响老板的决定。除了外地人对南方人的偏见，南方人自身也对他们的口音经常有类似的刻板印象：就是那个人不聪明。因此，越来越多的南方人故意地通过训练把自己的口音改掉了。笔者认为这样的现象很令人惋惜；甚至于偶尔对于自己没有培养那种口音而感到后悔，现在已无法再学到。我认为，保持口音或方言等于是保存文化的一部分。随着越来越多的人改掉口音，文化也随之消失了。

除了地域歧视的形式以外，笔者也要分析这种歧视的来源。一般来说，刻板印象都把一件真实的事情进行夸张，变成对于所有那种人的偏见。举例来说，根据调查显示，美国南方的教育总体来说真的比北方差得多，南方也比较贫穷。然而，美国南方很多城市的平均教育水平和平均收入都很高；北部、西部很多地方则很贫穷，平均教育水平较低。因此，使用这种狭窄的角度来看整个人口不但不正确，而且会伤害那里的人的生活。

那么，美国的地域歧视跟中国的地域歧视有何不同？首先，中国的地域刻板印象不仅有“农民不聪明”这个想法，还有“河南人都是骗子”这个观念。根据本周材料的一则新闻报道，2019年在杭州一位河南女士在申请工作时，因她的出生地点而被拒绝，结果是这位女士控告那个公司对她有地域歧视。根据另一则新闻，许多中国媒体也会借用这样的偏见来吸引读者，比如说在题目里把“河南”跟“诈骗”放在一起，如此做法不过是在大家的观念中加强“河南人”和“诈骗”之间的关系。

《春草》这部小说也给读者描述了中国市民对农民工的地域歧视。在这部小说中，春草和何水远头一次到城市做买卖，路边的人向他们“侧目而视”（126），一看就知道他们不是本地人。后来春草开始在红光商场经营被面生意的时候，其他售货员都笑春草的口音和性格，一点也不相信春草可能会有什么能力。当她们看得出来春草的热情和能干带来的好处以后，还是看不起春草。

中国的地域歧视还有另外一个特殊之处：就是户口系统。出身于“农民”户口的人不能随便换成城市户口。很多“农民”已经在城市里打工好几年，也无法得到城市户口。换句话说，有“农民”户口的人，无论行业跟农业有没有任何关系，他们也属于“农民”这个身份。因为户口系统，农民毫无办法享受市民的就业和教育机会。因此，从五十年代起，城乡社会和经济差距越来越大了。实际上，中国人对河南人的偏见与美国人对南方人的偏见还有很多相同点。这些地域的经济条件和教育水平都不如国家其他地方。即使这些较贫困地域的人出去就业或学习，因为偏见的影响也难以成功；这是一种恶性循环。

本文开始时举的例子说明地域歧视不只是对于没受过教育的人的歧视，或是对穷人的歧视，而且也是对于那些来自“落后”地区的人的歧视。也就是说，消除这种根深蒂固的偏见不但需要有更平衡的社会和经济发展，而且要积极地改变社会观念。还有一个因素，就是规范化的教育制度。中国和美国都有规范化教育，这个教育系统也包括国语的规范化。既然政府把一种方言称为正确的“国语”，而把所有其他的方言看成是“错误”的，难怪大家认为具有其他口音的人愚昧无知。对我而言，尽管规范化能加强远远地方之间的交流和生意，但教育也应该保存当地文化、方言和口音。

总的来说，中国和美国都应该寻找解决地域歧视问题的方法。不过，不一定能把这两个国家的很不一样的问题当成一回事。有些批评人士会说，美国人对南方人的“歧视”算不上真的歧视，只是些笑话而已。然而，这些笑话还是会影响到大家对这群人的看法。这跟种族歧视、同性恋恐惧症等没什么不同：如果大家对一群人大部分的了解都来自于这种笑话，那这群人在大家的观念里也就会被视为是笑话罢了，而不是活生生的人。笔者认为，地域歧视与其他种歧视的来源完全一样：都是缺乏知识的结果。为了解决歧视问题，必定要加强对于不同人群的教育，也要培养大家对其他文化、口音、方言和习俗的尊重。

春草总是忙于工作不知停歇，却有一个不变的特殊的爱好——在乡下，她跑到山上的树林里，在城里，她带着孩子去夜晚的海边，对着山、对着海讲话。她每次总是独来独往，即使是何水远也不能加入。我们在之前的讨论中认为春草缺乏对自我内心的感知，麻木地献身于工作和家庭，但如此的独处时光也许是为数不多的反例。
春草看海更是小说中推动情节发展的重要桥段。书中，春草意识到了自己对于姆妈的复杂的爱，对着大海喊道“我爱姆妈”，然后取了钱为姆妈治病。春草与姆妈的关系是中国式的家庭关系的缩影，父母对子女的威权、子女对父母的义务在其中体现得极为鲜明。春草对母亲的爱无比复杂乃至扭曲，更是值得探讨的议题。于是，我在扩写的段落中尝试表现出春草的心理活动，阐释春草为母亲治病的决定。
同时，这也是极好的描写的练习，于是我决定以此为题。
…………
春草想了想，一把抱起万万，又牵上元元的手说：“走，姆妈带你们去个好地方耍耍。”元元对城里的生活已经见怪不怪了，而万万的到来又让她有所不满，于是表现出一副不感兴趣的样子。但元元也懂事，看到弟弟的到来让母亲如此快乐，甚至破天荒地要带着他们在夜里出门，也就跟着去了。
一路上，万万已然没有坐火车时的紧张，对路边的一切都充满了好奇。看到墙上的横幅、广告牌，他都要好奇地问春草，这上面写的是什么？春草回答不上来，只好用从何水远和娄大哥那儿听来的词汇，乱说一气。罢了又说：“你以后要在城里边读书！”元元知道母亲不识字，但也识相地没有戳穿。
春草连拖带拽的，把两个孩子带到了海边。站在了沙滩上，听着海水的哗哗声，两个孩子都安静了下来。城市里红红绿绿的灯光已经被广阔的黑暗取代，好像在乡下的时候，吃过晚饭，屋外很快就黑得伸手不见五指。海浪翻滚着冲上沙滩，化成白色的泡沫，又被卷进下一波浪底。低沉的水声仿佛如大海一般广阔，盖过了一切其他的声音，用一种崇高的宁静笼罩了这夜幕下的世界。有一瞬间，春草竟忘了她身处他乡，忘了她的炒货生意，忘了她需要给姆妈准备的手术费。她忘记了孩子们上学需要一大笔学费，两个孩子在她的身边，踩在松软的沙滩上，让她感到从未有过的安心和舒坦。
多云的晚上，星星都不见了，藏在了深远的夜空里。初升的月亮把背后的天空照成了青色，缕缕云烟飘过，又变成了冷灰色。月光洒在海面上，由远及近，连成了一条直到天边的小径，随着海水的跳跃而荡漾。
二月的海风，还是湿冷湿冷的，夹杂着咸涩的气味，微微吹起春草的长发。春草把手掌并拢，哈了一口气，白白的水汽顺着她的指尖向上蒸腾。她把脸埋进手掌心，面颊潮湿而温热。两个孩子也学着她的样子，伸出小手，哈出一团小小的雾气。这个夜晚让春草想起了无数个也是吹着风的，也是宁静的，在村后山坡上的午后。波光粼粼的海面如树影婆娑，海水冲刷、翻腾的声音好似风吹过树冠的沙沙声。站在山上远望脚下，绿油油的稻田有几只老牛。太阳、蓝天仿佛一张幕布，浮着几笔轻盈的云……虫子在叫，白天是蝉，晚上是蝈蝈……忽然有人走过来……是阿明吗？天黑了……
春草一时间有些恍惚，好像下午她还站在山坡的草地上，晚上她就来到了这片陌生的海滩，成了三十二岁的妇人了。那些挤火车、卖被面、搬炒货的日子，在她看来是多么的充实，现在她却一点都想不起来了。
春草以为，活儿总是做不完，日子也总是过不完，忙碌了一天之后又是新的一天。在不经意之间，时间却悄悄地溜走了。这中间，阿明俊俏的脸变得瘦黄了，厂子也倒了；大哥春阳去了西藏，两年没有回来了；春风受了重伤，像个小老头似的木讷而冷漠；阿爸也老了很多；春草自己也多了许多不能说的心事，包括和娄大哥……但何水远还是那样，脑子像抹了油一样灵活，遇到高兴的事情就四个字四个字地说话，让春草感到几分欣慰。
就连春草姆妈，那个总是气势汹汹、不依不饶的女人，竟也变得顺从而沉默了。春草不禁觉得她有些可怜。她又讨厌这个想法，她不同情姆妈，也不愿同情姆妈。她根本没有把春草当作自己的孩子。看着趴在地上玩着沙子的元元，春草无论如何也想不明白，为什么姆妈曾如此地憎恨自己。
为什么生活不能一切如旧？春草多希望永远停留在那个偶遇阿明的下午。姆妈最好永远是那样凶恶，这样春草对她的恨也可以更纯粹、更果断一些，而不是像现在这般蔫蔫的，让春草觉得自己是个恶人，必须忸怩地同情她。春草想了想，又觉得这个想法有些好笑。
元元已经脱了鞋子，用小脚丫踢着海滩上的细沙，扬到半空中。春草拉起元元，拉上万万，三个人在海滩上手拉手地走着，深一步浅一步。他们的影子长长的，好像踩了高跷，在白色的月光中，像是聚光灯下的杂技演员。元元快乐极了，撒开春草的手就往前跑了去，万万则胆怯地跟在春草的身旁。
这让春草不禁有些心疼。姆妈至少是对元元好的，她想，姆妈所有亏欠她的，都给了元元。春草顿时下定决心，要给母亲治病。

写在前面
春草坐火车是一个值得品味的桥段。我时常想，如果我们以一个还原的视角去看世界，比如说电脑，一个方方正正的盒子，插在墙壁上，就能变幻出五彩的图案，这难道不是一件很神奇的事情吗？如今，如果我们坐上火车，只会觉得是它是从一地到另一地的交通工具，是一段无聊的旅程，但当火车不再是“火车”，而是盘踞在大地上的钢铁巨龙，沿着两根直到天边的钢轨狂奔，这难道不是震撼的奇观吗？恰巧，借用作者在小说中使用的内聚焦的手法和基于春草的叙事视角，我们可以把春草的这一段火车旅程以这样的方式呈现。
火车
春草提着大大小小的油布袋子，从公共汽车里爬了出来，紧接着何水远也下了车。所谓的火车站就是两层水泥小楼，上面刷成了淡淡的粉红色，和下面一层的水泥灰相比显得有些突兀，玻璃窗灰绿灰绿的，看不清里面是什么，外面挂着一条横幅：“遵章守纪防事故，查纠隐患保安康”。何水远拿了钱，在窗口买了两张站票。所谓的站台就是站台门口的又高又长的水泥墩子。何水远走到站台的边缘，探头张望着两根胳膊粗的铁轨，春草不敢凑近看，好像那站台下面就是悬崖。站台上有稀稀落落的几个乘客，一声不吭地站着，比身旁的行李还要安静。
不一会儿，春草听见了火车的声音。起先只是低沉的震动，然后一声汽笛的长鸣把春草吓了一跳。火车越来越近了，像是一条看不到尾巴的钢铁巨龙，吐着白色的烟，由远及近，一节一节地驶过站台，车轮尖叫着，车上的人们吵闹着，从半掩着的窗户里探出头来，一时间盖过了火车的隆隆声。终于，火车停了下来，何水远一手拽着油布袋子，一手拖着春草，在车门口乘客的咒骂声中挤进了车厢。何水远把春草和行李留在门口，想挤进去找一个落脚的位置，可当他刚走出几步，人头就把他的身影挡住了，春草害怕地差点叫出声来，可是旁边这么多人，她还是忍住了。等火车开动了一会儿，何水远挤了回来，春草才放松了一些。
车厢里弥漫着一股说不清的气味，夹杂了人的脚臭汗臭狐臭、火车潮湿的铁锈味和霉味、和墙角污渍的以及陈年累积的饭菜的发酵味，浑浊闷热得让春草的脸上也冒出了湿乎乎粘腻腻的汗水。但窗外吹进来的风是春天的味道，有花蜜的香味，有青草的汁水味。春草和何水远站在两节车厢的连接处，总算有了一些活动的空间，但是火车每一次上下起伏，春草脚下的地板就高高低低地晃动着，发出咣当咣当的有节奏的声响。头顶的两个大铁壳子蠕动着摩擦着，发出刺耳的尖叫。春草不由得贴在了何水远的身上，拽着他的衣角。
转眼间，火车已经开出去了好远，春草透过发黄的玻璃窗，看见远处的一条大河。就算是长在江南，她这辈子都没有见过这么大的河。这里面得有多少鱼呀，她想。列车没有要停的意思，车头“呜——”地叫了一声，继续向前驶去。随着一阵车轮的撞击声和脚下的震动，春草惊奇地发现自己竟置身于大河之上，下面宽阔的水流徐徐流过，一座巨大的钢铁桥把火车托在半空，回头看去，有一截车尾巴还在岸上，而车头已经快到了河的中央。春草感觉浑身发软，平时以她的身板，上山下田都不在话下，可在这样巨大的力量面前也觉得渺小。她紧盯着窗外，数着桥上一排排铆钉，只期盼着火车赶紧到达对岸，她才好松一口气。
紧张着紧张着，春草就困了，于是半躺在行李上。袋子里装的是新进的被面，软乎乎的，还挺舒服的，就是脑袋靠在车厢上，震得嗡嗡的。等春草一觉醒来睁开眼睛，只见面前两条粗壮的腿，把她吓了一跳。环顾四周，原来火车已经过了几站，新的乘客上了车。中午上的车，现在已是傍晚。面前的大哥穿着一条沾了各色油漆的工装裤，和一双散发着橡胶味的橡胶靴子。旁边有几个人看来是他的同伴，已经在地上铺上了塑料纸坐了下来，他们的脸和姆妈一样，黑得发红、发亮，沉默地静坐着，像一尊尊铜像。旁边的座位上有一个抱着婴儿的女人，婴儿觉得不舒服就开始哭闹，然后像是被呛到了，忽地停了一下，然后哭得更响了。
有的乘客在交谈着，春草听不清也听不懂他们在讲些什么，于是她便知道，她已经离开家很远了。曾经她想要嫁得越远越好，现在也紧张起来，好在何水远还在春草的身边打着呼噜，平时屋里响亮的声音，在火车的隆隆声中显得柔和了许多，反倒让春草感到熟悉而安心。窗外，一望无际的平原农田渐渐变成了树林，火车在林中穿行，伸出来的枝丫偶尔劈里啪啦地划过玻璃窗。春草想着，何水远是高中生呢。走到哪儿，有他就够了。她还记得第一次和他在公共汽车上相遇，那个男人成了他的丈夫，如今他们一同在奔驰的火车上。她又开始憧憬未来的旅途了，接着又睡着了。
第二天一早，她是被何水远摇醒的。紧接着，车厢里面就开始骚动起来，春草被挤得快站不稳了。终于到站了，车厢里的人像潮水一般裹挟着春草，把她和何水远送到了月台上。何水远睡了一宿安稳觉，精神很足，便拎起了大包小包，春草跟在后面，看不见他的人头，只好紧抓着那几只油布袋子，跟着它们一路出了火车站。
车站的正门口是一片广场，人头攒动，熙熙攘攘，一阵冷风吹在脸上，夹杂着烧焦的煤渣的味道。春草一个个打量着路过的人，直到眼花了数不过来了。于是她明白了为什么城里人走路都是低着头，直勾勾地盯着脚下的。她抬头望了望天，却看见了两块巨幅广告牌悬在头顶，上面写着她看不懂的大字，画着一些汽车、轮胎和木头椅子的图案，比她见过的小洋楼还要高。春草紧张却又有几分兴奋，这么多顾客，他们的被面一定很快就能卖掉。如果不是旅途的劳累和何水远的催促，她恨不得直接在车站门口摆起摊位。

改革开放以来，中国的城市化进程迅速，成为了经济发展的重要驱动力。裘山山的小说《春草》正是以这样一个轰轰烈烈的年代作为背景，以一位农村女性的一生作为线索，反映了那个时代底层人民所面对的社会问题。在本周的阅读中，春草为了万万和元元能够按时入读小学，起早贪黑地做起了家政服务，又有林校长相助，最终如愿以偿地将孩子们送进了学校。与之形成鲜明对比的，是蔡大姐、曹主任、林校长家的孩子。他们没有经济压力与户口问题，接受较好的教育，让春草心生羡慕。
小说中有一个情节，林校长替春草免除了外地儿童入学的额外费用，让春草不胜感激。所谓“本地”与“外地”指的正是中国独特的户籍制度下人员的户籍地。截至2010年，全国流动儿童总数达3581万，加上滞留农村的6102万留守儿童，农民工子女已占全国儿童总数的三分之一。我从小接受中国的公立教育，小说中反映的外来务工人员子女接受教育的困难，让我联想到了许多身边的，或是道听途说的例子。我将结合我的亲身见闻以及多种渠道的资料，尝试讨论在中国的户籍政策下，外来务工人员子女的教育困境。
随着当今中国社会老龄化愈发严重，经济增速放缓，依靠人口红利的时代已经悄然过去。印度和其他东南亚国家依靠更低的人力成本，成为了更有潜力的新兴经济体。可以说，中国在过去几十年的成功，离不开丰富的劳动力资源，而他们在我们的口中有一个独特的名字——“农民工”。无论是“中国制造”还是“中国基建”，中国引以为傲的发展成果大多离不开这一群来自广袤的农村，背井离乡来到城市的劳动者。
2019年人口普查的结果显示，上海有42%的常住人口为外地户籍。然而，由于户籍制度，他们在居住地无法享受与本地人相同的社会福利，包括医疗、教育等方方面面。中国教育科学研究院研究员储朝晖解释道，目前，国家解决农民工子女教育问题的主要原则是以流入地解决为主，即义务教育经费主要由地方政府负担。如果生源跨省，流入地政府在财政压力加大的情况下就会提高门槛。京华时报2014年的报道指出，流动儿童教育机会政策甚至出现了倒退趋势，公立学校核准流动儿童入学资格严格审核五证，缺一不可，这凸显了中国户籍制度改革进程中大城市仍强力拒绝外来人口长期居住的倾向。因此许多家庭选择将孩子留在老家上学，成为了留守儿童。小学时接送我上下学的钟点工阿姨，她的儿子便留在了老家，由家里的老人抚养。她时常担心老人对于孩子过于溺爱，也担心老人的身体条件无法使他们精心于孩子的教育。在我升入初中后，她便回到老家，接受了一份收入较低但能陪伴在孩子身边的工作。
另一部分无法入读公立学校的民工子女转向了专门面向此群体的民办简易学校，但其办学资质与合法性难以保障。根据21世纪教育研究院的报告，以北京市为例，9.5万名儿童就读打工者创办的130所简易学校。其中，67所打工子弟学校持有教育行政部门颁发的办学许可证，其余无证的63所学校随时可能被取缔。
除了受教育的权利，外来务工人员子女所受教育的质量距离平均水平也有较大差距。在过去的十余年间，上海本地户口的新生儿数量逐年下降。在这样的背景下，上海已经放宽了外地户籍儿童入学条件。然而，优秀的学校竞争极为激烈，除了户籍之外，学区房也成为了优质教育的必需品。农民工负担不起大城市高昂的买房成本，只能将孩子送到人们口中所谓的“菜场小学”。“菜小”普遍师资匮乏，教学方式和教学条件落后。再加上“菜小“生源多为外来务工人员子女，父母工作繁忙，生活艰辛，难免有疏于管教、惹是生非之流，对学校风气、学校形象形成了负面的影响，进一步降低了学校吸引优秀师资的竞争力。《文化纵横》杂志记者李淼对打工子弟学校进行了深入的田野调查，发现打工子弟学校的教学实践充满随意性，表现为缺乏统一明确的教学进度安排、知识点教学点到为止、授课方式单调枯燥、课堂纪律涣散、考试作弊现象严重。
尽管外地户籍儿童在上海的入学条件有所放宽，他们依然无法参加上海本地的中考（高中入学考试）。我上初中时，班级里有几位外地的同学，由于父母工作的原因随之迁入上海，借读在我们学校。初三时，他们必须回到户口所在地参加中考、升入高中。由于考试大纲的不同，他们必须进行额外的准备。家庭富裕的学生拥有许多课外辅导的资源，但对于低收入的农民工家庭来说，这成为了制约孩子升入高中的重要因素。
对于农民工子弟学校，由于学生来自五湖四海，教学难以面面俱到，便更加随意散漫。学生的考试成绩难以横向比较，学校无法以升学成果作为考察教学质量的基准，导致教师普遍忽视流动儿童的学业成绩提升和心理发展。更为严峻的是，上海的中考是重要的分水岭，只有约50%的学生能够升入普通高中，剩余则分流进入职业教育学校。因此，即便打工子弟家庭获得了本地户口或居住证，他们也很难在激烈的竞争中脱颖而出。
平等的教育资源是维护社会流动性的重要因素，而外来务工人员子女的在教育上的不公直接或间接地影响了他们的发展前景。学龄农民工子女与其他社会底层群体一样，大多承受着三种教育结果：辍学、就读职业学校和从事底层工作。1995年起实施的《北京市外地来京务工经商人员管理条例》曾罗列了约200种可聘用外地人员的职业，全部是重体力、非技术类工作。虽然该政策已经在2005年被废止，但其背后所反映的经济学规律依然不可撼动。低学历和家庭的经济压力常常导致外来务工人员子女成为城市中最廉价的劳动力，从事可替代性强、低收入、不稳定的工作。此外，职业学校“吃回扣”的现象普遍，即便是习得一技之长，也难以在劳动力市场中争取到应有的权益。
在小说中，春草为了万万和元元的教育倾尽所有，其中有反映现实的一部分，也有理想化的一部分——绝大多数的外来务工人员没有多余的时间和精力以投入子女的教育，对于子女的期望不高。随着经济增速放缓，高端劳动力市场供大于求，青年失业率急剧攀升，“读书无用”的思想在底层百姓中越来越普遍，农民工子弟的受教育形势正在成为愈发严重的社会问题。

Spring Grass, just like her namesake, has grown to be hardy and resilient, even defying authority at times to stand her ground. In the past, her rebellion was limited to talking back to her mother or taking a hand warmer for herself instead of giving it to her brother. In chapters twenty and twenty-one of Spring Grass, Spring Grass commits her most defiant act yet, as she performs adultery with Big Brother Lowe, whilst being married to Rivers Ho. Her transgression stands out against her hard-working, diligent character. But beyond her infidelity, what makes Spring Grass’s actions so transgressive? Spring Grass’s relationship to sex is a complex one that involves the societal pressures she has faced in relation to her self-worth, her own marriage to Rivers, and her perception of her basic needs. Without attempting to make a moral judgment of Spring Grass, I argue that her adultery marks various shifts within her expectations and lived experiences regarding her sexuality.

Given her upbringing, it comes to no surprise that Spring Grass suffers from low self-worth and self-esteem, and sex, in turn, has challenged these notions by serving as an alternative manifestation of her value. Although Spring Grass has been constantly recognized for her work ethic in the past, she must be aware that the clock is ticking — she is approaching her thirties, she is married, and she has children. Gaetano states, “for most migrant women workers, continuing employment after marriage is anyway difficult because employers favored young and single women workers, and routinely dismissed pregnant workers who might otherwise negatively impact productivity or profit, demanding maternity leave or special benefits” (101). While Spring Grass is largely self-employed, for women whose whole lives have been dictated by the worth of their labor, their desirability in the labor market is bound to be heavily ingrained in their self-worth. Spring Grass, thus, does not need judgment from an employer or manager to feel that she is losing value in the economy over time. Beyond productive labor, however, women are also tasked with the burdens of reproductive labor. As Spring Grass becomes older, not only does her material output as a worker decrease, but she will be unable to fulfill the reproductive responsibilities of a woman. As long as Chinese culture continues to associate women’s self worth with both types of labor, Spring Grass’s self-worth is perpetually at odds against time.

On the other hand, she experiences an inverse relationship with her value through sex. To Big Brother Lowe, “[Spring Grass] just sincerely wanted to repay his favor. What else could she use to repay him, apart from her own body?” (Qiu, Chapter 21, 12). In comparison to Big Brother Lowe’s educated, urban identity, Spring Grass sees herself as reduced to a nobody with nothing to offer from her rural upbringing and lack of education. However, Spring Grass interprets sex as a universal tool that she is able to wield when she has nothing else. Because of the expectation within Chinese culture to properly express gratitude and give gifts, sex is Spring Grass’s way of showing thanks. As much as sex becomes the only resource that Spring Grass can fall back on, however, internally, she still experiences insecurity about sex, perhaps through understanding that her sexual desirability is one that is also fleeting through time. This is visible when her impulse reaction toward Big Brother Lowe’s initial refusal was self-doubt over her looks. Although we see that other aspects of her identity intersect in the realm of sex, as she worries that her countryside origin would impact her desirability, Spring Grass’s innate fear is that her sexuality is also in limbo.

Although her interaction with Big Brother Lowe wasn’t her first time Spring Grass was, in one way or another, exploited for sex, these chapters mark a prominent shift in which Spring Grass goes from a passive to an active participant in sex. In the past, when she was sexually harassed by her uncle and Robbie, Spring Grass internalized her sexual service as an expected duty of her, which resulted in her offering sex to Big Brother Lowe. However, her sexual act with Big Brother Lowe is different — she feels accomplished: “That a city man like big brother Lowe, a man who had gone to college, would take a fancy to her, really proved that she was someone out of the ordinary”. In contrast to her past activities, perhaps Spring Grass felt a sense of ownership over Big Brother Lowe after he succumbs to her. In a sense, sex has become an act of empowerment and agency here, after having lived her whole life under the ownership of her parents, Rivers, and Rivers’s parents. Spring Grass also feels inferior to Big Brother Lowe given her background, so a man like Big Brother Lowe appears to be unattainable. Thus, her ability to have sex with him challenges her inferiority and provides new doors of opportunity for Spring Grass. Unlike her past occurrences, she is the first to initiate here and take control. In addition, sex is evidently empowering for Spring Grass even after the act itself — following this incident, she develops the courage to confront Rivers and Phoebe, his employer, at the restaurant. As a character who is largely non-confrontational, this is a striking development where she is able to stand up for herself.

Big Brother Lowe also starkly contrasts Rivers in his background and character, which suggests that Spring Grass’s infidelity is a projection of the frustrations she feels toward her marriage. Spring Grass believes that she married Rivers out of love, but a key element of this story is that Spring Grass fell in love with the idea of a college-educated, city-boy Rivers. Big Brother Lowe is a manifestation of the type of man Spring Grass would actually develop feelings for, in opposition to the reality of Rivers. “If Rivers Ho had made it into college and gone into the city, would he have become a man like brother Lowe?” (Qiu, Chapter 21, 13). Internally, Spring Grass may have justified her adultery by viewing Big Brother Lowe as an alternative-universe, idealized version of Rivers. Thus, she is provided “the chance to imagine different futures that could be achieved through making a better match than would be available in the countryside” (Gaetano, 112). However, it can also be argued that Spring Grass’s values have changed as she navigates adulthood, such that she prioritizes financial stability now over educational prowess. Even under such criteria, though, Big Brother Lowe remains more of a desirable partner as he has demonstrated his ability to support her financially. Looking past the various ways in which Rivers pales as a husband in comparison to Big Brother Lowe, he is an unsupportive husband that demands more care from Spring Grass than he provides, further building distance between the married couple. 

The role of care in Spring Grass’s life is thus a complex one that leads to a consideration of her fundamental needs. In the past, Spring Grass has always understood financial stability to be the primary need of her life: “all she needed was to see the number in her savings booklet grow larger to feel like her toiling and her sorrow were being compensated” (Qiu, Chapter 21, 1). Thus, she puts her all into her labor to satiate this need. However, we know that financial stability is not the fundamental need of a human being’s survival, given  models like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and we are reminded of this when Spring Grass falls ill. At the end of the day, there is no use for Spring Grass to accumulate all of this money when she is unable to enjoy it for herself. Her sickness, then, brings her attention toward the basic needs that come before financial stability. As Big Brother Lowe takes care of her, Spring Grass realizes what it is like to have the basic, primal, bodily needs to be satisfied. Even though he only takes care of her sickness, Spring Grass’s need for genuine intimacy, sex, and pleasure becomes “unlocked” at this point. This is demonstrated by her dream of a man’s hand (Qiu, Chapter 20, 13). The hand caressing her face appears to be the starting point where Big Brother Lowe takes care of her health, and the transition toward her body suggests Spring Grass’s recognition of her desire for sexual pleasure. The fact that Spring Grass’s first thought of the hand belonging to Big Brother Lowe comes to show that only he is capable of providing such care and pleasure for her.

Spring Grass’s experience bathing at Big Brother Lowe’s house exemplifies her interactions with care in the context of sex. In the past, Spring Grass has always only been able to clean herself in the muddy waters used by her entire family. Bathing, as well as Big Brother Lowe’s invitations to come bathe in his home, symbolizes a novel process of purification and cleanliness. Through bathing, Spring Grass is able to wash away, even for a moment, the idea that the only way to survive is through toiling in the trenches. This provision of purification provides an interesting justification to her actions that follow. Spring Grass’s decision to express gratitude through sex may be considered a subconscious pursuit to satisfy her other bodily need for sexual pleasure. Putting the moral consequences of adultery aside, her sexual act may be considered to be not something filthy or tainting this newfound cleanliness, but another form of purity that serves to cleanse and ground Spring Grass in her corporeal needs. Interestingly, she still fails to extract herself from her responsibility to serve others, as this act is simultaneously driven by her bodily needs as well as her gratitude toward Big Brother Lowe.

Rivers’s acts of infidelity in his workplace leave little to be questioned, in contrast to Spring Grass’s contending with her sexuality. Her understanding of sex as a gift or a commodity to represent her value suggests the larger dependencies between Chinese women’s self-worth and their expectations to take up both productive and reproductive labor. Additionally, given Spring Grass’s positionality along the axes of geographic residence, education, and income, sex is an act that allows her to transcend these socioeconomic barriers and assert power and control. Her invitation to Big Brother Lowe thus marks a turning point in which Spring Grass takes greater agency over her body and her bodily needs while grappling with the realities of her marriage. This sexual act thus brings into question the dynamics posed by Spring Grass’s feelings of inferiority in the larger structures dictating her upbringing.

A couple months ago, Director Zhao fired the work unit’s janitor. That Director Zhao, I bet he had no good excuse to fire her either, but I guess that’s what you can do when you’re the mighty director. Rumor had it that the new janitor, Spring Grass, was hired through some sort of connection to the Director, but honestly, the old janitor didn’t seem to be that great at her job either, so no one really said anything.

Spring Grass has actually made quite a name for herself in the short time she’s been here. She’s always hurrying around, mopping the floors and wiping even the stair handrails over and over. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the floors as clean as now, during my entire time here in the mailroom. Sometimes, when I’m stopping by the offices, I’ll see her sweeping the floors and even cleaning the dust off the leaves of the cubicle plants — I don’t think that’s even part of the job, either. At the same time, she never seems to get in the way of anyone, always keeping her head low and smiling at everyone that passes by. What a diligent woman, I’ve never seen someone so passionate and devoted to their job as her, even though she’s merely a janitor. City women are never that hard-working, it seems… maybe she’s from the countryside or used to work in one of the factories a few kilometers out.

She has a bit of a peculiar way of going about her day, though. I’ll see her heating up water for all of the employees first thing in the morning. I always have to distribute the papers in the mailroom before everyone else clocks in, so it’s often merely the two of us in the office some mornings. Around noon, we all get our lunch boxes for the day. You know Spring Grass has some connections because she’ll get a lunch box too. I’ve never seen her eat with any employees, which I suppose is normal since she’s just a janitor. But the odd thing is, I don’t ever really see her in the building during our lunch breaks at all. Didn’t really seem like she was skipping her lunch break to work, either.

A few weeks back, I decided to eat my lunch box outside since the weather was nicer than usual. And there I saw her, Spring Grass was nearly running along the sidewalk toward the town center, lunch box in hand. I couldn’t even yell out to her to ask where she was going, because she was long gone in seconds. She seemed like she was in quite a rush. Just about an hour later, I see Spring Grass hurrying back to the office building out of breath, looking like she had just run a marathon. With ten minutes left in the lunch break, where had she even gone? She no longer had the lunch box in hand, either. Did she go somewhere else to eat her lunch?

Just as she was about to pass me on the way to the office, I stopped her.

“Where are you coming from?” I asked.

“Oh, I just stopped by home. I’m never too hungry at lunchtime anyways so I drop off my lunch box with my moppets at home every day,” said Spring Grass.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were a mother. How many do you have?”

“I have two moppets, they’re twins, actually. One boy and one girl,” she replied proudly.

“Wow! I have a little girl of my own, too, but my husband usually takes care of her during the day since he doesn’t have to go into the office until after noon,” I said.

I was shocked to learn that Spring Grass was actually a single mother. No wonder why she was always in a hurry to get her moppets lunch every day. She told me about how she lived in one of the tube buildings just around four kilometers away. A long way to walk, indeed, but I suppose if I were in her shoes, I’d run the whole way for my little girl, too. Wow, who would’ve thought that the office janitor lived such a busy life? After my conversation with her, I began to see her in a bit of a different light. She wasn’t just any diligent janitor — every floor she wiped was so that she could put food on the table for her little moppets. Such a pity that she’s probably working for such a low salary, though. I guess that’s as far as one can get without a college degree.

These days, I have been getting home from work pretty late, and by the time I finish making dinner for my moppet, she has to skip her lessons or go to them on an empty stomach. It’s such a critical time for her, her final year of middle school. It would be nice to have someone cook dinner before I get home, since her father is still in the office in the evening — I had the idea of asking Spring Grass to be my maid. After all, our house was on the way from the town center to the office, too, so if she lives near the town center, then it would be better for her to work closer to home, anyways. I was a bit peeved when she rejected my offer, because I was willing to match her salary, but I was also a bit impressed. She told me that her job wasn’t to be a maid and she was perfectly content with the job she had right now. I wonder how someone could be as happy as she is as a janitor. Oh well, maybe I can find another maid in the meantime. Spring Grass would’ve been the perfect candidate, though — I bet she can cook well, too.

————

Today is the Dragon Boat Festival! Quite exciting, Director Zhao went around and gave everyone ten zongzi and ten pickled eggs. It seems as though even Spring Grass got her share, too, she stopped by to drop off her bag in the mailroom. She told me she wanted to save the food for her moppets, so she wouldn’t have to cook dinner tonight. Later that day, the commissioner’s wife stopped by the mailroom. What was she even doing here? I rarely see her in the mailroom, she’s usually in one of the offices for most of the day. I heard she’s a powerful woman, because the commissioner will listen to anything she says. I gave her a polite smile and continued working quietly. God forbid anyone upset her, I remember when one of the employees down the hall was laid off after he got into an argument with her. 

Just then, Spring Grass walked in to get her food. Suddenly, the commissioner’s wife stops her, questioning what she was taking in the bag. Somehow, she had recognized Spring Grass as the janitor, and normally, workers like her usually don’t enjoy the privileges of Director Zhao’s gifts. The commissioner’s wife starts insinuating that Spring Grass is responsible for all the little things that have been going missing in the office. Oh, dear… I know Spring Grass isn’t a thief, but things won’t be good if I talk back to her. Spring Grass starts getting defensive and standing her ground, and even Director Zhao comes in. I can feel Spring Grass’s gaze toward me, and I feel so guilty. All these years, everyone has allowed the commissioner’s wife to act like a tyrant, but that’s just how life works in the office.

Spring Grass continues to be defensive. I’m worried for her — if she gets falsely accused of being a thief, the commissioner’s wife is sure to have her fired. Then how is she supposed to feed her moppets? I couldn’t sit and watch any longer in good conscience and remain a bystander. I finally mustered up the strength to say that I had seen Spring Grass stop by and set the bag down herself. The commissioner’s wife shoots a look at me and I pretend to go back to work. She starts going on about losing her wallet, and Director Zhao takes Spring Grass to his office. 

After a week, I see her mopping the floors again, this time without a smile on her face. At least she wasn’t fired — she’s done so much for the office and she’s got two mouths to feed at home, too… It must be so hard knowing that no matter how much work she does, people like the commissioner’s wife will always see her as nothing more than a janitor. I smile at her and ask how her moppets are. My smile soon drops as Spring Grass tells me about how the girl had suffered a burn and had to go to the hospital. In the midst of all of this, I can’t believe that she also has to worry about her poor moppet, too. She never seems to have it easy, does she.

That night, I scoured through our closet and picked out some old blankets and clothes that our moppet had outgrown but were still in good shape. It’s the least I could do, after all. I would’ve thrown out some of the clothes otherwise. I wasn’t brave enough to stand my ground against the commissioner’s wife that day, since at the end of the day, I’m just a mailroom worker, anyway. But as a mother myself, I can only imagine how much more of a burden she faces daily.

Spring Grass and Rivers strike it rich as they manage to establish a place for themselves in the urban market up north. While their move from the rural south posed countless risks as the two left their families and their lives on a business venture, their newfound financial stability depicts the lucrative potential of migrant workers. In the context of our discussion on the struggles of migrant workers, Spring Grass is an exception as she makes a handsome profit without encountering more than social ostracism as a rural citizen. However, the reality is that not only do rural workers, particularly farmers, experience structural barriers in terms of economic and legal restrictions, but the legacy of these structures have also resulted in a social construction of rural farmers centered around exclusion. As rural citizens grapple with their fixed labor identity, inherited from generations past, they are rendered as second-class citizens denied of rights, protection, and acceptance. Drawing from Renren and Peng, I argue that such discriminatory policies demonstrate the inextricable role of labor and the formation of an “other” in Chinese society, both in the past and present. With this framework centered around labor, the stratification of rural farmers in China parallels the critical role of labor in racial formation in the United States.

Agricultural workers have served as the backbone of development in China, yet they have been cast aside as a silent population majority exploited for its economic value. As China focused on the Soviet Union’s model for industrialization, the economic burden fell on farmers as China looked to cover capital costs by exporting food. Farmers were forced to sacrifice sizable amounts of produce as a result. Such economic demands also meant that farmers faced significant structural difficulty in leaving their rural homelands to pursue opportunities in industry. The movement towards a planned economy further posed a whole new set of challenges for farm workers. With the government’s control over the labor market, “people had no freedom to choose their means of livelihood, farmers were deprived of the ability to move freely to cities to earn a living” (Renren 42). Additionally, the government’s “anti-urbanization movements”, which concentrated skilled laborers in the countryside, created a surplus labor supply in rural areas. 

As rural bodies are only acknowledged for their value in labor, this creates the conditions for reinforcing the separation of farmers from society. In the United States, the formation of surplus labor supply has made workers vulnerable to market forces while erasing their individual identities. Historically, white capitalists have relied on an external labor force, through enslavement of African Americans, the importation of Chinese workers, and the bracero program following the legal exclusion of Asian immigrants. This association of race with labor has always defined non-white bodies as something separate from American society. The market was never concerned with who these individual laborers were; all that mattered was that there was an easily exploitable mass for capital development, in which workers could easily be removed or replaced. In China, rural residence defined a particular deindividualized status in which workers were just another cog in the wheel to be wielded by the government. The collective labor of rural farmers proved to be fundamental in Chinese industrialization, but they were never recognized for their role. In fact, rural farmers soon came to be constructed as a separate group of people who were denied acceptance into urban society.

With the reestablishment of the hukou system, rural farmers were denied a multitude of rights and services that socially made them perpetual “foreigners” in China. Renren lists some rights denied to farmers, such as “the same right to vote as urban residents… right of association… labour rights as provided under the Labour Law… social security rights” (32). Furthermore, one had little mobility in their status as a rural or urban resident as this status was inherited and the government enforced barriers against changing this status. Due to this permanent nature of second-class citizenship, farmers had no choice but to accept their subjugated position in society. Simply put, their needs mattered less to the government compared to urban residents. Although the dual social structure was facilitated first and foremost by such legal policies, the presence of an outsider holds a crucial role in the development of a collective social identity. 

In the context of American history, American identity has always been crafted in opposition to non-white people. Non-white people have been characterized as barbaric, subhuman, or unnatural, and in turn, contribute to the white consciousness of superiority. The association of Henan people with laziness and moral degeneracy (Peng, 2-3) arguably has little correlation to the actual actions of its residents. Rather, poverty rates in Henan and lasting perceptions of rural laborers as almost subhuman have in turn defined the urban identity as “the superior breed” (Renren 51) in comparison. Thus, the lack of this urban identity among Henan people paint them out to be an outsider upon which society projects its anxieties about morality and truth, particularly in the realm of news. This is demonstrated by Peng’s investigation of how presenting one’s location in media discourse contributes to ad hominem attacks on Henan residents’ origin and furthering existing stereotypes about Henan people (15). Here, labor has not only shaped the structural barriers of rural origins but also positioned farmers as a moral scapegoat.

The concept of an undefined but universally inferior rural class has subsequently constructed farmers and migrant workers as being backwards and undesirable. They are only included when their labor is necessary to fill up the demands of menial or difficult tasks; otherwise, the lack of anti-discrimination policies in China make society conducive to an environment of exclusion in terms of social relations and opportunities. Spring Grass is not exempt from how she is treated socially, either—despite her contributions to the Red Glory Department Store, the employees are reluctant at first to recognize her as a co-worker and only accept her upon recognizing her economic contributions to the store (Qiu, Chapter 14, 5). None of these conversations involve Spring Grass’s personality, morality, or actions beyond the context of labor. Even in a workplace setting, people are wary of hiring rural workers — the Wall Street Journal media report depicts the overt discrimination of Henan people in hiring practices: “When Ms. Wang was looking for a babysitter recently, she was surprised to hear the advice: Don’t hire people from Henan” (WSJ, 2-5). Such stereotypes further portray how the individual is erased when structures of labor and law make out rural farmers as an “other” through spatial association. It is not an uncommon practice in the United States for citizens to change their names, either, to avoid this geographical association. For instance, half-Chinese actress Chloe Bennet changed her last name from Wong to Bennet which allowed her to secure substantially more acting roles; a friend of mine recently told me how his Chinese family changed their surname from Wang to Lew while immigrating to America during Chinese exclusion such that their surname was still Chinese, but in a Jewish spelling. Even if many discriminatory structures no longer exist in China or the United States, such examples bring to light the social consequences of these structures.

The inherent association of rural communities with specifically agriculture-oriented labor has resulted in the stark division of Chinese society. The structural demands of China’s industrialization and development have made it incredibly difficult to not only grant equal rights and protections of all Chinese citizens, but also dismantle stereotypes and prejudice toward rural people. Ultimately, this construction of rural Chinese people as an “other” through labor mirrors the process of racialized labor in the United States. However, it remains difficult to imagine a future in Chinese society that has achieved even part of the progress that America has made thus far given the sheer amount of cultural, social, and legal precedent that lies in centuries of history. 

The first two words I ever learned were “Xiao Lan” – Little Lazy. That was my parents’ nickname for me ever since I was a baby. Apparently when I was little, all I did was sleep in my mother’s arms. Since then, that name kind of just caught on with the rest of my family – my parents always thought I was lazy because I didn’t do as well in school compared to my little sisters. I’ve always hated that nickname. I wasn’t lazy – I just wanted different things in life! Everyone in my family thinks that attending some prestigious university in the city is the sole path to success because my father is a famous teacher in our village, but I’ve never really believed in that. My best friend tested into the Beijing Aviation and Aerospace University, and despite his family going into debt to support him through college, he now only earns 100 yuan a month at a research station in the middle of nowhere. I don’t want to put my parents through that. So, entrance exam after entrance exam, I deliberately chose to score worse and worse in the hopes that my parents would catch the hint and let me pursue my own dreams, but entrance exam after entrance exam, the result is the same – they make me take it again. The only difference is that I can see their faith in me drain from their eyes.

The real money is in running my own business. Instead of being paid by some greedy employer who wants to pay me as little as possible, I am the employer. Instead of being a means of production, I am the producer. I knew that to make it big, I had to start my own business. And I wanted to make it big. So everyday, I scraped every mao I could get my hands on so that eventually, I could buy some merchandise and start my own merchandise stand. But, no one really believed in my ability to start my own business in my family. When I told my dad about my genius idea to sell merchandise, he gazed at me with reluctance. “Take the entrance exam again”, he ordered as he dismissed my dream, just like that. No one in my family believed in me: they thought I was this lazy, good-for-nothing bum who could never be successful on my own. I never really felt like I belonged in my own home.

Maybe that’s why when I first met Spring Grass, I felt the need to lie about who I was. I was ashamed of who I was. I wanted her to believe that I was who my parents wanted me to be. But when she accepted me for who I was even after she found out about the truth, I realized that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. I knew that I didn’t have to pretend anymore. She respected me for my values and dreams in a way my family never did, and I knew that my entrepreneurial dreams might actually come true if I stayed with her. So after some long and hard convincing of Spring Grass’s parents, we finally got married in 1985. The happiest day of my life. Together, I really thought that me and Grass could have it all.

And for a brief moment, it really felt we did have it all. Grass and I moved north to sell silk in cities where supply was scarce. At the time, it was a smashing success! Within a few years, we became a ten-thousand yuan family, something that was nearly unheard of for people who came from the countryside like us. Grass was pregnant with a set of twins – a boy and a girl – exactly how we dreamt our family would look like. And best of all, I was proving my parents wrong. They didn’t believe in my dream, but now I was living it.

But everything changed for us one evening when I tried to convince Grass to put our money in a savings account at a bank. Her initial reluctant look when I proposed this idea reminded me of the exact face my father shot me as he rejected my proposal to pursue doing business. I could feel the judgment, the condescension coming from the one person in this entire world that I thought believed in me. Even now I can’t fully describe what I felt in that moment – I was confused, I was shocked, but most of all, I felt severely betrayed. Though she eventually acquiesced to my request, I knew that our relationship was different now. She showed her true colors – she didn’t respect me. Maybe she looked at me the same way my parents did: as some stupid lackey with stupid ideas that could never make it.

Since that day, Grass started treating me and the business differently. She started calling our silk shop “her business”, not “our business” in front of customers, our friends, and even our family. That wasn’t just embarrassing – it was insulting. Who gave you the idea to move to the city for business in the first place when you were insistent on staying in Ho’s Cave? Who gave you the idea to sell silk as a business venture in the first place? This wasn’t “her business”, it was mine! It was all mine! But fine – if she wanted to call the business her own, she can have it! I wanted something that I could call my own too, so I decided to leave Spring Grass back home while she was pregnant and start a new coal selling business, where all the real money was. And I thought when I became rich, there was no way she would be able to take credit for MY successes. “I’ll show them, I’ll show all of them!”, I thought.

And that’s when I lost it all. All of our fortune.

To those who doubted me – Grass, the rest of my family – I proved them right. There was no way I could return home now – I didn’t need their patronization. So I decided that I wasn’t going to return home until I earned all my money back. I knew I could make it all back, I just needed time.

One day, as I was returning home from work, I stumbled into the silhouette of someone who looked eerily familiar. “Grass?” I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t seen her and the kids for so long I’ve almost forgotten what she looked like. I’ve missed her so much, and as she approached me for a hug, for a moment I forgot about all our worries, all our fights, all my insecurities. I became that little boy who met Grass for the very first time again, and I truly believed that everything will be okay again. Now that the whole family is together again, we can regroup together and create a good life for us and our kids again. Or so I thought. Even though she looked happy on the surface, Spring Grass wasn’t as enthusiastic about the future as I was, and gradually, she started spending much more time with this other guy she called “Big Brother Lowe” – she would go to him for business advice and have dinners with him here and there – and spending much less time with me. She even told me that she didn’t want to tell him that she’d found his husband in the city! Why? Was she sleeping with him? Was I not enough for her anymore? Out of everything that I thought I might lose, I never thought I would lose her. 

And from that point on, she lost complete respect for me. To her, I wasn’t the same person she adored when we first met. She didn’t tell me anything. She wouldn’t even tell me that her mother, my own mother-in-law, was diagnosed with cancer before sending her more than half of our savings to her for surgery. Did she think I was going to say no to sending that money back home? How badly did she not trust me? And when she broke her leg, I suggested that we hire a helper from the market just for her to not even give it a second thought before rejecting my idea. But of course, when our landlord gives her the exact same suggestion, asking her to hire his niece, Penny, as her helper, she agrees without hesitation. I felt like she didn’t respect me anymore. And maybe she shouldn’t. I felt like a fool. A fool who didn’t really belong in the family that he helped create anymore. It was just like I was back home, where everyone around me mocked me and refused to take me seriously.

So I guess when this Penny girl came along, I wanted Spring Grass to feel exactly how she’s been making me feel. So everyday, I would go spend time around the city with Penny, ignoring Spring Grass the same way she has been doing with Big Brother Lowe for years now. Penny and I would spend hours each day at the stock market, even though Spring Grass heavily objected to it. Penny told me that her uncle put a lot of his life savings into the venture, so obviously I was going to listen to her over Grass who doesn’t even know what a stock is. But part of me also wanted to do this so Spring Grass can feel how it feels to be ignored the same way she’s been ignoring me for all these years. I wanted payback for all my hurting.

Then, the stock prices started to rise: I was making hundreds and hundreds of yuan every single day! I started to see glimpses of our former glory days flash before my eyes. I wanted that lavish life back, and I wanted it back now. And that Penny girl, oh Penny, she made me feel like I was everything that I wanted Spring Grass to see me as. Day after day she would flower me with compliments, telling me how capable I was, how clever I was for putting money in the stock market, and I hadn’t felt that kind of love from Spring Grass in a long time. So of course I followed what Penny told me to do. I really thought that this could be my break. This could be our break. With that, I put all of our kids’ schools funds into playing the stock market. I wanted to strike rich, quick.

And then it happened again. I couldn’t do anything but watch as it all started crashing down right in front of my eyes. Everything that we worked so hard for, gone within a split of a second. What was wrong with me? I have always promised to the old man in the sky that I would do right by my family, no matter what. But this time, it doesn’t even matter whether Spring Grass still loves me or not, I’ve let the kids down. Now we’ll have no chance of paying their tuition on time. And for what? To get payback for some petty internal conflict that Spring Grass and I were having? To get a quick ego stroke from someone who I didn’t even know 2 months ago? To satiate my greed because we weren’t living the most luxurious life? I knew this was all my fault, and I realized that everytime my family had some sort of a major downfall, it was always caused by me. I was a parasite in this household, reaping the benefits of everyone else’s labor and leaving damage and destruction behind me everywhere I stepped foot. So for the sake of protecting my family, to keep my promise to the old man in the sky, as much as it pained me to do it, I had to protect my family from myself. That very same night, I packed my bags and moved far north with Penny, the only person who still had the smallest shred of belief in me. Calling Spring Grass that night was honestly the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do. I was so ashamed, the words barely escaped my mouth. And when I heard Grass’s desperate pleas for me to stay with the rest of the family as I hung up, time stopped. My heart was a piece of china that was just smashed onto the floor, and I could feel each and every piece of it gradually leaving my soul. I knew I could never ever face Spring Grass ever again, so I told myself no matter what happens, I can never return to the city. I can never see Grass and the kids again.

I’m now working in Xinjiang, but I’m not sure if I’m happy. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be happy.

In the outskirts of Anhui province, China, there came a woman named Xiao Zhang. Born into a family on the brink of poverty with 5 mouths to feed, Xiao Zhang was predestined to a life of domestication. Ever since she was able to speak, Xiao Zhang was taught the basics of how to be “the perfect woman” (or at least what was the standard in 1900s China): masterfully excelling at any household task imaginable. At 10, Xiao Zhang became the head of her house. At 18, she was married off to a family friend’s only son. Together, they had a vision for a better future for themselves and their family – a better education for their children, a bigger house for them to live in. “You’ll make double what you make here in a year in a month in the city”, they said, and Xiao Zhang listened. Enticed by the allures the big city came with, Xiao Zhang and her husband left their childhood home behind, left their two children in the care of their grandparents, and most of all, left practically everything they’ve ever known back in Anhui as they trekked southwards, towards the bustling streets of Shanghai. With nothing but a sack around her back, Xiao Zhang traversed door to door, asking homeowners if they needed any help in maintaining their households. While she faced rotten luck, facing rejection after rejection as families slammed their doors on her face, everything changed when she walked up to JianHe Road No. 2222. This is the story of how Xiao Zhang became our family’s 阿姨 (ayi, or a maid).

Xiao Zhang is a migrant worker in China, which are “farm workers… who leave home and enter urban areas to work (Jiang, 20).” This is not an uncommon story in China – families who are barely scraping by are sold this narrative that you can make money quickly in the cities. This is reflected in Spring Grass, where Rivers’ boasts a confident tone when expressing how successful he and Spring Grass would be in the city. He says things such as “If they can figure it out, can’t we? (Page 3, Chapter 11)”, highlighting how much of a sure bet Rivers expects making money in the city to be. This can also be seen throughout Chinese history, where organizations such as the national Women’s Federation encouraged rural workers to move to the cities so that they could “not only make money, but also improve their cultural quality due to the influence of urban civilization (Gaetano, 15).” For rural workers, migrating to the city seems like a deal almost too good to be true: migrant workers like Xiao Zhang are probably earning 2, 3 times more than they ever would have back in their home villages. But are all migrant workers as lucky as Xiao Zhang? How true is this “get rich quick in the city” narrative? And what costs does it come at for these migrant workers?

On the surface, it does seem like migrant workers experience higher levels of economic prosperity than they would have if they stayed in their hometowns. A study conducted by Li Ping and Li Wei finds that “migrant workers are not only making contributions to the Chinese economy… but they are also very satisfied with their economic and social status (Jiang, 26).” This line of reasoning seems to be supported by what we observe in Spring Grass, where during a conversation with the trading company manager in Haizhou, the manager only has to think for “a moment (Page 8, Chapter 11)” before coming up with an idea for Rivers and Spring Grass to make money. The deliberate choice by the author to use diction here that highlights a short period of time suggests that opportunities for any average individual to make money are so abundant that it doesn’t take him long to think of one. Armed with the comfort that there are many different avenues and opportunities they can pursue, it is no wonder that countless villagers make the decision to leave their homes for the cities in pursuit of a better life.

In reality, however, making money as a migrant worker is never that clear cut. The first, and perhaps the most damning, challenge migrant workers have to overcome is that of information asymmetry. According to the State Council Report, “most migrant workers have a general lack of information about labor markets (Jiang, 21).” This idea is further supported by Spring Grass, where in a conversation with their uncle, Rivers exposes how truly clueless about the cities he actually is when he didn’t know that he needed a business license in order to sell their silk pillow covers on the street (Page 8, Chapter 12). Their lack of information and knowledge about urban economies and industries is rooted in the fact that “88 percent of migrant workers are introduced to their urban jobs through… relatives or other people in their hometown (Jiang, 21).” In Spring Grass’s case, Rivers and Spring Grass chose to go to Shaanxi because they heard that Rivers had relatives there who they haven’t talked to in years. This, in turn, leads to limited information flow about urban labor as these relatives often come from similar, low-education backgrounds, which therefore make it rather difficult for them to explain every single nuance and intricacy of their work that an employer would expect them to have. Migrant workers’ lack of information on urban cities hurt them in two ways. Firstly, this affects their ability to find where jobs and other opportunities are in the first place, perhaps best highlighted in Rivers’ case in which they hauled tons of pillow covers across provinces just to be in risk of not being able to sell any of them. But more importantly, Jiang writes that their lack of knowledge causes them to “show less confidence at job agencies than their urban peers (Jiang, 21),” making them be hired or even be paid at lower rates compared to urban workers. This highlights how the incredibly high barriers of entry that exist within the urban job market for migrant workers make it incredibly difficult for them to actually achieve that prosperous life.

Even for those who are able to overcome these informational barriers, the immense implicit costs that come with being a migrant worker causes working in the cities to be hardly worth it for most. As a result of the implementation of the hukou system by the government in 1958, a policy that intended to disincentivize rural citizens from moving away from their homes, the government made many “basic insurance packages non-transferrable (Jiang, 25)” based on region. This meant the children of migrant workers were not allowed to attend public schools, and many migrant workers were unable to qualify for basic healthcare and other welfare benefits in the city simply because they were not originally from these cities. This idea is supported by the disturbing statistic that “only 12.9 percent of migrant workers are covered by disability insurance, while 10 percent have medical insurance (Jiang, 24).” Instead, these are costs that have to come straight out of a migrant worker’s personal pockets – having to pay for hospital bills that could be in the tens of thousands of RMB, or their own health insurance out of their monthly salary. This means that the amount of money migrant workers make in the city isn’t that much in reality, because much of their salary is re-invested in the high costs of living of being in the city in the first place and having to pay for services that they wouldn’t have had to pay for in their hometowns. 

This is assuming that migrant workers are paid well in the first place. Because “rural migrants cannot enter the official employment system in the city… without urban household registration (Jiang, 22)”, which many rural migrants do not have, this prevents many rural migrants from being protected by the labor laws of the city as they are not recognized by the state as workers to begin with. With employers often well aware of this fact, this leads to them reneging out of contracts, or short changing migrant workers out of the pay they deserve. As a result, “the hourly wage of migrant workers [are] only one fourth of that of urban workers (Jiang, 24).” And even worse than this, 13% of migrant workers don’t get paid at all because their employers weren’t contractually obligated to do so (Jiang, 25). Migrant workers are unable to do anything in retaliation as given most are working in these cities illegally and without urban registration, they are afraid to bring their employers to court as they would be conceding to legal authorities that they themselves had been breaking the law by working in these cities. But even those who are able to bring their employers to court for violating their contracts are mostly out of luck as “current labor dispute regulations impose a 60-day limitation period, barring many aggrieved workers from bringing their claims to court after 60 days have expired since the date when the alleged dispute occurred (Jiang, 24).” This highlights how migrant workers often live incredibly oppressed and silenced lives in the city, living off discriminatory and often incredibly unstable paychecks that might not even come month by month.

What’s more, with the supply of migrant workers at an all time high, each individual worker crucially becomes highly replaceable. Gaetano highlights how “rural migrant women are especially desirable because they can be worked hard for a few years, then dismissed without incurring long-term investment costs (Gaetano, 23).” With many Chinese factory plants aiming to be as profit maximizing as possible, this makes the income stability situation for migrant workers even more precarious as even if migrant workers are paid well, Gaetano shows how this is most likely only going to last for a few years, leaving migrant workers left out to dry once their services are no longer needed. Especially since China is moving towards a service economy and relying less and less on manufacturing, this is becoming increasingly true: with the supply of workers still at a high but with the demand of laborers slowly decreasing, this makes each individual worker at these factories less and less valuable and more and more replaceable to factory owners, creating a race to the bottom for wages in the process.

Putting the economics aside, migrant workers often have to sacrifice other physical and familial costs in order to pursue working in the city. Especially since migrant workers are hired for jobs that are seen as undesirable by the urban class, this is often “painstaking, exhausting, dirty and dangerous work (Jiang, 22).” This becomes especially problematic because since these workers are bound to state labor laws, employers often place these migrant workers in “poor working environments… which expose migrant workers to numerous hazardous substances (Jiang 25),” as employers want to lower cost as much as possible and know there aren’t any repercussions to doing so. As a result, over 700,000 cases of workplace accidents occur to migrant workers, and more than 6,000 migrant worker deaths are reported every single year (Jiang, 25), highlighting how being a migrant worker in the city could seriously come at a cost to one’s health. This is especially pernicious considering how few migrant workers have access to medical benefits and welfare, leading to many not receiving medical treatment for these accidents. Arguably, this could be seen as the worst implication of being a migrant worker as without an able and healthy body to enjoy spending all this money they earn, what’s the point of making money anyways?

Furthermore, the year long absences of migrant workers away from their families could form serious rifts between one another. In Last Train Home, we saw how even though the mother did not want to let go of her one year old baby, she was forced to as she had to return back to the city for work. As a result of this coerced abandonment from young, this led to the daughter, Qin, feeling immense resentment towards her parents, believing that they only cared about making money and themselves rather than loving her. In the end, this led to the relationship between daughter and parents being irreparably severed, with the mother left heartbroken because of their dysfunctional family. Perhaps the impacts of familial tensions are less severe in modern China with the rise of technology that connects individuals from far, as I see Xiao Zhang video calling her daughter all the time from our kitchen, but her psychological development and her feelings towards their parents that are formed would be undoubtedly be different than if Xiao Zhang was back home.

While the lights in the city shine bright, it’s important to understand the costs that are associated with working as a migrant worker in China. Although there are success stories such as that of Xiao Zhang, there are plenty more that have been far less fortunate, who have had to sleep in rooms with 10 other roommates and were forced to send their children to underfunded migrant schools. It is only through questioning these shiny societal narratives at face value and understanding the struggles many migrant workers face that we can create solutions that are empathetic in creating a more equitable China.