Source: The Daily Star
Whenever I ask my mother about her past as a rural Chinese woman, she always mentions her younger brother who she describes as the “prince” of the household. Growing up, every day my mother would wake up to the rooster’s crow and work through a series of unforgiving household chores that included carrying her family’s bucket of human waste to a neighboring waste dump. In one of my mother’s stories, she recounts carrying my two-year-old uncle on her back up the stairs and placing him on the flat ground only for my uncle to trip over his own legs and fall. The cries that poured from my uncle’s fall immediately alerted my grandmother and prompted her to rush to the scene and slap my mother across the face. No questions asked. A searing red handprint marked the beating that my mother remembers as an anecdote for her inferiority as a daughter to a family of one son. My mother’s story sheds light on the upsetting reality that has plagued the lives of countless Chinese daughters.
In essence, most Chinese daughters bear either the burden of living in their brother’s shadows or the thought that their existence is not ideal, sometimes a combination of both. This prejudice against Chinese daughters is not the source of the issue but rather the outcome of Chinese sons being valued significantly more throughout China’s history. From the economic structure of Imperial China that necessitated the biological physical strength of men over that of women to the modern social and cultural implications that stemmed from patriarchal traditional beliefs, the forces guiding Chinese daughters inferiority to sons still remain today, acting as formidable shackles that locked Chinese women away from fully liberating themselves from societal expectations.
The shackles were first crafted in Imperial China through the blending of societal structure and family beliefs with respect to sons holding the greater potential to provide for society and the economic framework thereof. Most available labor back then for peasants revolved around agriculture, which is a physically demanding field. Given the widespread perception that men are fundamentally stronger both physically and mentally than women, agrarian labor opportunities thus became reserved for men only. Since such labor was vital to maintaining a family’s financial security back then, parents viewed having a son as the only way of ensuring the financial stability of the family once they retire. Daughters faced an impossibly high uphill battle in this respect because the aforementioned traditional beliefs confined them to fulfilling their societal roles as filial daughters and well-equipped mothers and not as viable sources of family income. Even the money women made then through their weaving fell short of societal recognition and became a thoughtless duty. This separation of occupations between men and women became institutionalized when the government at the time required taxes to be paid every year through sufficient amounts of grain and cloth. In addition, the demand for effective plowing for grain production reinforced the preference for sons because the association of plowing with men became a social discourse [1]. Having a son thus served a vital economic function and piece in the mobility of Chinese society’s ever-growing labor demands.
These economic rationales were compounded by the perceived intellectual superiority of men over women for the sake of job opportunities and future prosperity. Some Chinese families believe that daughters deserve no further education than sons because the contributions daughters make for society are greatly limited by their responsibilities at home. As a matter of fact, the Civil Service Examination system that bureaucratically served as China’s “test of educational merit [and connection of] dynasty and literati culture” excluded women from the process [2]. Families thus valued their sons more as only they could be eligible and capable of succeeding in this grueling exam system and bringing honor to their family. Through generations of this practice in its traditional sense, the notion of greater educational capacity for men grew and paved the way for increased educational opportunities for men and not for women, as indicated by the late opening of higher education for women in China [3]. Although Spring Grass’s mother received an adequate education growing up, her belief in this traditional construct on education preference between sons and daughters still remained. She even precludes Spring Grass from attending school because of her perceived futility in women’s pursuit of education at the backdrop of their societal standing and responsibilities. It was not until Spring Grass risked dying from starvation did Spring Grass’s mother yield and allow Spring Grass to attend school. This series of events occur while Spring Grass’s younger brothers were already in school, further emphasizing the traditional preference for a son’s education over that of a daughter’s.
Such a collectively powerful belief system generated its momentum in the Chinese society through the generational perseverance of traditional ideologies that immediately prescribe a woman’s life upon entering this world. From learning to knit clothes for her family to knowing how to behave before, during, and after marriage, Chinese daughters seemingly have their lives already planned with no consideration for their own well-being–only for their family’s and eventually their in-law’s well-being [4]. This notion appears awfully like a game of chess where Chinese daughters are essentially the pawns of the family: moving through their calculated lives in servitude. For parents, this long-rooted tradition of treating daughters as voiceless helping hands and destined marriage materials undermines the value of having a daughter. As a matter of fact, the belief that a daughter’s service to her family is ephemeral upon marriage creates concerns over the livelihood of her parents because supposedly–without a son–no one would be there to take care of them at their old age as a filial son would otherwise. With traditional beliefs limiting the lives of daughters and transforming them into moving pieces of society, any perceived benefit associated with having a daughter is quickly diminished and replaced with an increased desire for a son.
This social issue follows the cultural significance of the son carrying forward the family’s surname, and by extension bloodline or lineage, already established itself in most Chinese families as an irrefutable rationale for having a son. In Chinese culture, the continuation of bloodline through surname signifies the power dynamics of the married couple. Because this belief has been well-ingrained in most Chinese households, the passing of the father’s surname to the child has remained commonplace, especially in rural China. The fact that mothers must not only bear the change of their own last name into that of their husbands but also yield to allow the husband to pass on his family’s surname highlights the dominance men play in Chinese households. Giving birth to a son thus brings comfort to the parents since the parents can then take pride in their more dominant offspring who would carry forth the legacy of the family down the bloodline. It is important to note that the dominance factor for men is embedded traditionally in Chinese culture and blends itself into the daily beliefs and actions of Chinese households. Therefore, naming a child by the father’s surname is an assertion of dominance and a thoughtless decision that forgoes the significance of the mother’s contribution and again stresses the preference for a son who would become said husband in the next generation,
These economic and social constructs amount to a noticeable difference in parental treatment between sons and daughters. For instance, even though both my sister and I are capable of great academic and career success, my mother always places greater emphasis on me achieving said accomplishments whereas my sister is deprived of any meaningful parental attention beyond that of instructing household chores. When I asked my mother why I am granted the better end of the stick while my sister is impeded with household responsibilities, my mother would always mention that my sister will be married off whereas I am expected to take care of my parents out of filial piety. This conversation is often followed up with an assertion that the family’s hopes and dreams all rest on my shoulders, meaning that the family’s financial future and social reputation depend on my success. From this perspective, it becomes clear that having a son also paves the path for parents to confidently move forward in their life because the ideals that motivate them to work each day–wealth, reputation, and survival–could be instilled into their sons without the looming concern of a spoiled effort after marriage, as is traditionally the case with daughters.
It is unfortunate that in Chinese society daughters are viewed as greatly inferior to sons on the mere basis of pre-existing economic and social structures that blatantly disregard women’s thoughts and feelings and swiftly place men on the pedestal of societal usefulness. Even my mother who experienced prejudice herself followed through with the traditional practice, which highlights the stronghold the belief system has. Chinese families need to recognize that the merits of having a child are not dependent on the child’s gender in modern society. The past economic structure that necessitated physical labor has shifted with the advent of 21st-century technology. Women and men are both capable of earning substantial income for the family without physical strength playing much of a role. The feudal belief that women must be housewives has already been and continues to be challenged by successful independent women who could now pursue higher education like their male counterparts. In a way, the only barrier stopping sons and daughters from being born into a world of gender equality is the traditional mindset that is very much still alive. I hope I could live up to the success my mom wishes from me but, more importantly, I hope my decision in the future of whether to want a son or a daughter will be non-existent because really that is the first sign of progress.
Work Cited:
[1] Hinsch, Bret. “The Origins of Separation of the Sexes in China.” Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. 123, no. 3, 2003, pp. 599-600. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/3217752.
[2] ELMAN, Benjamin A. “Civil Service Examinations.” Education in China: Educational History, Models, and Initiatives, edited by Qiang ZHA, by Ruth Hayhoe and Heidi Ross, 1st ed., Berkshire, Great Barrington, Massachusetts, 2013, pp. 52. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1j0pszw.14.
[3] Wong, Yin Lee. Women’s education in traditional and modern China. Women’s History Review 1995, 4:3, 356
[4] Wong, Yin Lee. Women’s education in traditional and modern China. Women’s History Review 1995, 4:3, 351