There have been really heated debates about the current status of Chinese women in relation to their male counterparts in the last couple of years.
Various commentators in academic publications, newspapers, journals and on social media have lamented a serious backlash against women on all fronts - economic, social, political and cultural.
And correctly so, as there were indeed severe setbacks on the long way to attain greater gender equality.
Curiously, it was the case of highly educated, professional urban women who were still unmarried in their late 20s that dominated much of Chinese discourse. Derogatorily named 'leftover women (sheng nü)', this group was vehemently attacked for being too picky, selfish or overambitious and strongly advised to lower standards.
The infamous campaign targeting successful female urbanites was started as early as 2007 by several state media, and even official agencies, such as the All-China Women's Federation or the Ministry of Education, joined in the rather hysterical chorus of disapproval. In view of a drastically unbalanced sex ratio, financially independent city women were pressured to finally marry and bear 'quality' children.
In foreign media outlets, the extremely controversial topic hit headlines with the release of the book 'Leftover Women: The Resurgence of Gender Inequality in China' (Zed Books) by noted journalist and PhD candidate at Tsinghua University Leta Hong Fincher in 2014 (for an instructive interview with the author, see here).
Subsequently, the pejorative term 'leftover women' became an actual buzzword quoted in a wide array of articles in the foreign press.
To be clear, I surely don't mean to trivialize the very real hardships many of these women have to bear. But in my opinion, the decidedly urban and middle-class sheng nü phenomenon has been overhyped beyond measure, concealing a much more pressing matter in the field of demographic transition and gender relations - in terms of scale, gravity and long-term repercussions.
Last month, the National Health and Family Planning Commission (Guojia Weisheng he Jihua Shengyu Weiyuanhui) released a statement conceding that the gender imbalance among the newborn in China is 'the most serious' and 'most prolonged' worldwide (the original statement has since been removed from the web site). The skewed sex ratio is so enormous that it is barely a surprise that the Commission maintains a separate division called 'Office of Gender Imbalance Correction' under the 'Department of Family Development'.
According to the latest data by the National Bureau of Statistics, the total sex ratio stood at 105.22 men to 100 women in 2013. In the age brackets 0-4 years, 5-9 years and 10-14 years, the ratio is even more disturbing: 117.30 men to 100 women, 118.68 men to 100 women and 117.86 men to 100 women, respectively.
If you are to believe official estimates, the surplus of men among young adults of marriageable age will reach gigantic 24 to 30 million by the year 2020.
Chinese men who do not marry and thus do not add branches to the family tree are commonly dubbed 'bare branches (guang gun)'.
The term is hardly any more positive than the equivalent used for well-educated, single city women. Overall, the special demographic group of guang gun has not received half the attention the numerically far fewer sheng nü have. As it is so often the case, urban conditions are considered much more newsworthy than circumstances in the vast Chinese countryside. This may be one of the reasons why the plight of the so-called 'bare branches' has been largely absent in recent debates about the future of China's gender relations.
It is well-known by now that the overwhelming majority of these involuntary bachelors live in rural hinterlands. And not surprisingly, guang gun are especially numerous in rather underdeveloped and poverty-ridden corners. Whole communities in different parts of the country have been called 'bachelor villages' due to the high percentage of unmarried male villagers residing there (for a heart-rending report about one of these villages in Hunan province, see here).
Marriage is a prerequisite to be fully accepted as an adult man in Chinese society, and even more so in still traditional rural realms. Sons are expected to care for their parents in old age and to continue the family lineage. Finding an adequate bride for their sons is the most sacred duty of rural parents and failing to do so is considered deeply embarrassing.
The stakes are high, and so are the costs. Bride prices have escalated in the reform period and many young women demand a house of their own along with a whole lot of presents.
Poorer families with several sons surely can't provide all their male offspring with the required sums and items to satisfy prospective wives. The whole family is affected when one or more sons are unable to marry because it means a shortage of family labour and thus economic loss and, equally significant, a serious loss of face vis-à-vis the village community.
The rural bachelors themselves have to cope with a rather shameful existence devoid of the essential social, economic and cultural capital bestowed by the acts of marriage and procreation.
Since the late 1980s, labour migration has presented both male and female villagers with an option to leave their rural homes, but the opportunities to find a suitable marriage partner outside the village seem to stand much better for women than for their male peers. Certainly, marriage has always been a viable strategy for social mobility for women while men are supposed to advance by their own efforts. Particularly for only sons, not even the option of migration does exist when parents are too old or frail to farm the land.
In the last decade, there has been a lot of speculation about the possibly disastrous consequences of an immense pool of underprivileged Chinese men deprived of a wife, children and family life.
The studies that are currently available are mostly small-scale and thus hardly representative of the whole picture (for a recent literature review, see here). Among the multiple negative results that are anticipated, further growth of the already flourishing illegal sex trade, rising rates of sexually transmitted diseases, increased trafficking in women and the creation of new marriage markets across national borders figure prominently. Many scholars also fear a sharp rise in reckless or even criminal behaviour, more violence, gambling, drinking and gang activities.
The Chinese government is perfectly aware of the potential threat millions upon millions of disgruntled unmarried men might pose, but has not found a coherent answer to this pressing matter so far.
Remedies, such as the campaign to boost acceptance of female progeny or the relaxation of strict family planning rules, have been piecemeal at best. There is still a lot to be done to ease the chilling effects of a dramatically skewed sex ratio and ultimately decrease the inherent risk of large-scale social instability.
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