Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure: Women, Labour, Leisure and Family in Lianhe Village, Central China, 1926–2013 [1st ed.] 9789811564376, 9789811564383

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Yuqin Huang

Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure Women, Labour, Leisure and Family in Lianhe Village, Central China, 1926–2013

Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure

Yuqin Huang

Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure Women, Labour, Leisure and Family in Lianhe Village, Central China, 1926–2013

123

Yuqin Huang East China University of Science and Technology Shanghai, China

ISBN 978-981-15-6437-6 ISBN 978-981-15-6438-3 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3

(eBook)

Jointly published with East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. The print edition is not for sale in China (Mainland). Customers from China (Mainland) please order the print book from: East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd.. © East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publishers, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publishers, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publishers nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publishers remain neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Acknowledgements

The trajectory to start this study is presented in the ‘Introduction’ of this book. The study began with an attempt to understand one’s journey from an academic perspective. This book can be traced back to my fieldwork in Lianhe Village in 2005–2006, where I completed my doctoral project in the University of Essex. With time, the study has been expanded and updated with repeated visits and continuous contacts with the villagers from Lianhe. I owe my deepest gratitude to the people of Lianhe Village who willingly accepted me. They shared their life stories without reservations. These stories are not only the basis and source of this book but also help accomplish my journey of self-exploration. At the beginning of 2019, Taoying passed away at the age of 81. In recent years, many of the first-generation women who participated in the research have passed away, and several of the second-generation women have departed young. The book serves as a memorial to them. I express my genuine appreciation to my former teachers and friends who have been with me throughout. The late Prof. Hansheng Wang, who supervised my Master thesis at Peking University, and Prof. Miriam Glucksmann, my supervisor of the Ph.D. project at the University of Essex, both active and accomplished scholars, have been my valuable mentors. My former colleagues at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity in Germany and current colleagues at the School of Social and Public Administration at East China University of Science and Technology have been great companions in my work and have accompanied, inspired and encouraged me throughout. I owe gratitude to my family, specifically the women in the family. The life wisdom one can see in their lives gives me a deeper understanding of the situation of women in the contemporary rural Chinese society. Their wisdom, life stories and support have greatly enriched me. Parts of Chaps. 4–6 appeared in ‘“To Jump out of the Agricultural Gate (Tiao chu nong men)”: Social Mobility and Gendered Intra-household Resource Distribution among Children in a Central Chinese Village, 1950–2012’, China Perspectives, Vol. 2012/4: 25–33.

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Acknowledgements

Parts of Chaps. 4–7 were published in ‘Transforming the gendered organisation of childcare: experiences of three generations of rural mothers in an inland Chinese village (1940s–2006)’, in Angela W. W. Ching, Maria Tam and Danning Wang (eds.) Gender and Family in East Asia, 2014, London & New York: Routledge. Some paragraphs of Chap. 7 were published in ‘From the “feminization of agriculture” to the “ageing of farming populations”: Demographic transition and farming in a central Chinese village’, Local Economy, 2012, 27(1): 19–32. Parts of Chap. 8 were published in ‘Changing intergenerational contracts: gender, cohorts and elder care in central rural China, 2005–2013’, Asian Population Studies, 2018, 14(1): 5–21. Parts of Chap. 9 appeared in ‘Labour, leisure, gender and generation: the organisation of “wan” and the notion of “gender equality” in contemporary rural China’, in Tamara Jacka and Sally Sargeson (eds.), Women, Gender and Development in Rural China, 2011, Edward Elgar Publishing Limited. Shanghai, China March 2020

Yuqin Huang

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Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1 Tracing a Research Trajectory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1.1 My Own Experiences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1.2 Rural Chinese Women’s Labour in the Existing Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2 Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women: Developing a ‘Double Comparison’ Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2.1 Generation: The ‘Co-existence’ of Different Generations and the ‘Intersection’ of Historical Generations and Biological Generations . . . . . . . . 1.2.2 A ‘Double Comparison’ Framework . . . . . . . . . . 1.3 Theorizing Rural Chinese Women’s Labour, Leisure and the Familial/Household Factors in Eras of Social Changes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3.1 An Intersectional Approach: ‘Local World’, ‘Moral Experiences’ and ‘Division of Labour’ . . . 1.3.2 Labour and Total Social Organisation of Labour (TSOL) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.4 Structure of the Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Insider or Outsider, Both or Neither: Researching Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women’s Lives . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1 The Settings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 Before Going to the Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3 In the Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.1 The Advantages of My Dual Role . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.2 The Disadvantages of My Role as an ‘Insider’ . . 2.3.3 Generations and the Construction of My Identity by the Researched . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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2.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part I 3

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Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Pre-collective Era (1926–1956)

Mother’s Daughter: Girls’ Labour and Leisure in the Pre-collective Era (1926–1956) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1 Historical Context and Previous Research on Rural Chinese Girls’ Labour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 Little Girls: Family, Classroom, Playground, Market and Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.1 ‘His Sons’ ‘Their Daughters’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.2 ‘A Shoulder Pole of Firewood to Hanshui Each Day’: Little Girls’ Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3 Mother’s Daughter: Older Girls’ Labour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.1 From ‘Land Reform’ to ‘Mutual-Aid Teams’ and ‘Lower-Stage Cooperatives’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.2 Precious Daughter, Precious Labour . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.3 Mother’s Daughter and Father’s Dinner Table . . . . . 3.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Divided Generation: Post-revolutionary Girl Baby Boomers . . . . . . 5.1 The Environment They Grew Up In . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 Older Sisters: Losses and Gains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Part II 4

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Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Collective Era (1956–1983)

Working Young Mothers in the Collective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1 A Total Picture: The Division of Labour in the Production Team . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Familial/Household Context of the Young Working Mothers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.1 Uxorilocal Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.2 From ‘Traditional Family Division’ to ‘Serial Family Division’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3 Family Corporate: Gendered and Generational Economies of Labour and Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3.1 Struggling for Survival . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3.2 ‘Working Daughters and Studying Sons’: Mechanism of Son Preference in the Collective . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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5.2.1 Classroom and Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2.2 ‘It Was Fun at that Time’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2.3 Marriage, Household Division and Childcare . . . . 5.3 Younger Sisters: Gains and Losses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.1 Pingfang . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.2 School Education and Non-farming Opportunities 5.3.3 Marriage, Household Division and Triple Task . . 5.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part III 6

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Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Reform Era (1983–2013)

The ‘Family Planning Generation’ Grows Up: Rural Daughters in the Reform Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1 ‘Jump Out of the Agricultural Gate’: The Complexity of Gender Equality in Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.1 Xiaqing’s Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.2 Gender Equality in Education in Rural China: Background and Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.3 ‘Leather Shoes or Straw Sandals?’: Education as an Avenue of Upward Social Mobility . . . . . . . . 6.1.4 Gender and the Educational Resources Allocation in the Rural Households . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.5 Is Higher Education Still a Social Mobility Ladder? . 6.2 Non-farming Labour, Chastity and Sweat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3 Labour Migration, Coexistence of Early Marriage and Late Marriage, Premarital Sex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.1 Within Hanshui: Bride Shortage, Early Marriage and Premarital Sex, Late Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.2 Out of Hanshui: Marry Far, Late Marriage, and Dangerous Romance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.3 Uxorilocal Marriages: Hard Choice, Groom Shortage and Rural-Rural Migration . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.4 Cooperative Family: A New Household Form . . . . . . . . . . . 6.5 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some Do This, Some Do That: Gender, Generation, Labour Division and Agricultural Development in the Reform Era . . . . 7.1 Some Do This, Some Do that: Different Patterns of Household Labour Division . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1.1 ‘Older Sisters’ Group: Farming Couples . . . . . . . . . 7.1.2 ‘Younger Sisters’ Group: Triple Task . . . . . . . . . . .

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7.1.3

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Ageing of Childcare and Farming: Division of Labour Within the Cooperative Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2 From the ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ to the ‘Ageing of Farming Populations’: Demographic Transition and Agricultural Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.1 ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ and Its Chinese Context: A Brief Review . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.2 From the ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ to the ‘Ageing of Farming Populations’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3 Rake and Basket? Cash Income Disparity Between Husband and Wife . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Silver-Haired Working Women: Intergenerational Contract, Elderly Care and Gender in Lianhe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1 The Story of Dongying: An Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.2 Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3 Understanding the Intergenerational Contract and Elderly Care in Rural China: A Review . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4 The Intergenerational Contract in the Collective Era . . . . . . 8.5 ‘Most Unlucky Generation’: Labour, Gender and Elderly Care of the ‘First Unbound Feet’ Generation in the Reform Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.5.1 Elderly Life, Gender and Power Relations . . . . . . . 8.5.2 What Have the Elders Been Doing for Their Adult Children? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.5.3 What Have Adult Children Been Doing for Their Old Parents’ Elderly Care? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.5.4 Development of the Rural Elder Care Crisis in the Reform Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.6 Intergenerational Contract in the Cooperative Family . . . . . 8.7 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Labour, Leisure, Gender and Generation: The Organisation of ‘Wan’ and the Notion of ‘Gender Equality’ in Lianhe . . . . . 9.1 Changing Relationship Between Labour and Leisure . . . . . . 9.2 Rural Chinese Women’s Leisure: A Theoretical Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3 Time, Money, Gender and Generation: The Organisation of ‘Wan’ in Lianhe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3.1 Age and Gender Divisions in ‘Wan’ . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3.2 From Self-sacrifice to Selective Self-sacrifice: Leisure Resources Distribution Between Husbands and Wives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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9.3.3

Between Labour and Leisure: Rural Husbands’ and Wives’ Understanding of Husband-Wife Fairness and Gender Equality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 9.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 Part IV

Political Participation in a Rural Society in Transition (1944–2013)

10 Political Participation of Two Generations of Women’s Director, 1944–2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.1 Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2 Women’s Directors: A Starting Point of Studying the Political Participation of Rural Chinese Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2.1 Study of the Role of Village Cadres . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2.2 Study on the Political Participation of Rural Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3 Political Participation of Two Generations of Women’s Directors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3.1 Brief Introduction of Two Generations of Women’s Directors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3.2 Entering Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3.3 Relationships with (Male) Colleagues/Superiors . . . . 10.3.4 Work–Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3.5 Benefits of Participating in Politics to the Family . . . 10.3.6 Significance of Political Participation to the Women Themselves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.4 Conclusion and Discussion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Conclusion and Discussion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1 What Changed, What Remained: Disparities, Continuities, Interdependence and Inequality Between Women . . . . . . . . . 11.1.1 Girlhood: The Change of the Mechanism of Son Preference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1.2 Young Motherhood: The Organisation of Childcare, Cash-Generating Work and Leisure . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1.3 Old Age: Elderly Care and the Changing Intergenerational Contract . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1.4 Interdependence and Inequality Between Women . . . 11.2 Intra-household Dynamics, Extra-household World and Gender Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.2.1 ‘The Priority to the Youth’: Intra-household Dynamics and Extra-household Changes . . . . . . . . .

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11.2.2 Girls’ Intra-household Gains and Extra-household Loses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.2.3 Wife’s Self-identity: From ‘Familial Self’ to ‘Selective Individualist’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.3 Women, Labour, Leisure and Family: Determinants of the Division of Rural Women’s Labour and Leisure . . . 11.3.1 External/Structural Factors, Familial/Household Factors and Their Interplay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.3.2 The Role of the State . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.3.3 The Applicability of TSOL Model to the Chinese Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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About the Author

Yuqin Huang is currently Professor of Sociology at East China University of Science and Technology. She was a Research Fellow at the Max Planck Institute for the Studies of Religious and Ethnic Diversity, Göttingen, Germany, between 2009 and 2013. Her research mainly focuses on gender and development, migration and religion. Her articles on these topics have been published in journals such as Asian Population Studies, The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, Sociological Studies, Social Compass, and in edited volumes published by Routledge, Brill and Edward Elgar. She also has published three books in Chinese.

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Abbreviations

CCP PLA

Chinese Communist Party People’s Liberation Army

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List of Figures

Fig. 1.1 Fig. 6.1

The individual, local world and remote world under an intersectional approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 School retention ratio of Chinese adolescents between 10 and 18 in 1990, 2000, and 2010, by age and sex. Source Based on data of population censuses of 1990, 2000, and 2010. The data of 1990 and 2000 refer to Zheng Zhenzhen, Rachel Connelly, 2008 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

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List of Tables

Table 1.1 Table 7.1 Table 7.2 Table 10.1

‘Double comparison framework’: the intersection of historical time and individual life cycle . . . . . . . . . Percentage of labourers working in non-farming occupations in Lianhe, 1995 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Percentage of labourers working in non-farming occupations in Lianhe, 2005 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Brief introduction of two generations of women’s directors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chapter 1

Introduction

Abstract This chapter provides an introduction to this book. It first traces a research trajectory, including both the experiences of the author and the existing research on rural Chinese women’s labour. It then proceeds to development a ‘double comparison’ framework and an intersectional approach. Last, the structure of the book is briefly introduced.

Great changes have taken place in the lives of rural Chinese women since the early twentieth century, and they have incurred great academic interests, both domestic and foreign, from both past and present. This research, however, still stands as distinctive in many ways. At a more general level, it is ethnography and life stories of three generations, 57 rural women in an inland Chinese village, tracing almost 90 years of history from 1926 to 2013. At a more concrete level, through a unique ‘double comparison’ framework, it parallels these three generations to explore how different forms of labour and leisure activities have been organised in the family/household context. Through these, it touches upon important themes for rural China such as gendered division of labour, gender equality in education, gendered distribution of resources and elderly care, and so on and so forth. It compares the women’s labour and leisure lives both diachronically and synchronically; the former along with historical time, that is, the pre-collective era (pre 1956), collective era (1956–1983) and reform era (post-1983) and the latter at the life stages such as girlhood, young motherhood and old age of each generation. It not only focuses on rural Chinese women’s ‘labour’ but also ‘leisure’ which has received little academic attention. Besides, it follows a Total Social Organisation of Labour (TSOL) model to view ‘labour’ and ‘leisure’ from a holistic and inter-relational perspective (Glucksmann 2000: 19–20). The ‘double comparison’ approach not only asks questions about the effects of the social transformations during that period, especially the socialist revolution in 1949 and the marketisation reform in 1983, on the labour and leisure lives of these rural women’s; it also concerns itself with how different generations have been experiencing the social transformations from the point of view of the women themselves. It explores continuities as well as changes, particularly stresses power relations within gender, that is, between women in relation to the social organisation of labour and leisure as well as relations © East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_1

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1 Introduction

between genders, and asks not only ‘what changes/continuities have happened’, but also ‘why/how changes/continuities have occurred’, that is, the mechanism of the changes/continuities. Furthermore, it uses an intersectional approach to detect the mechanism of the changes/continuities. It suggests the disparities, continuities and power relations have been caused by complex interplay between external/structural factors and familial/household factors. The former refers to socio-economic, political, demographic and cultural influences; while the latter includes factors at familial/household and individual levels. By analysing the interplay between different factors at different historical times and disparate life stages, this research explains the transformations of different labour and leisure patterns, summarizes the determinants of rural women’s labour and leisure, reveals interdependence and inequality between women, and traces the gender relations in both intra-household and extra-household loci, the transformation of the women’s self-identities and the understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality by both men and women. And finally, rather than simply presenting the final ‘results’ of the research, I open up the ‘before’ and ‘in-between’ stages (Glucksmann 2000: 1), that is, the development of my research interests, the formation of the research focuses, research framework and theoretical approach of the research; and I also reflect upon the construction of my fluid ‘insider and/or outsider’ roles during the ethnography, from my own and the interviewees’ perspectives respectively. Through these, this research also contributes to the methodological reflections on the context in which researchers study communities they themselves were originally from.

1.1 Tracing a Research Trajectory My own experience of growing up in the Chinese countryside and studying my own society serves to locate one of the sources of my interest in this subject, and further contributes to the formation of the research framework.

1.1.1 My Own Experiences As a girl who was born in the Chinese countryside in the late 1970s, I was urged, from the age of seven, to study hard to ‘jump out of the agricultural gate’ (Tiaochu Nongmen). High hopes and aspirations were placed on me as I was always able to achieve high marks at school. My mother’s lecture that ‘you have no choice but to study hard to get rid of your identity as a peasant’ accompanied me for over ten years till 1996 when I converted my household registration to an urban one upon entrance to the university. I was seldom asked to help my parents out with domestic chores after school, let alone farm work; while my parents strived in our small field plots

1.1 Tracing a Research Trajectory

3

to earn the education fees for my younger brother and me, and often had to borrow money from relatives and local banks. In September 1996 I passed the entrance examination for Peking University and became the first university student in my village. On the day the good news was revealed, my father and my grandfather lit up firecrackers on our ancestors’ graves, a ceremony to inform them of the good news, and also to claim that although I was a girl, I have ‘brought honour to my ancestors’ (Guangzong Yaozu). My grandfather even told me that he was stopped by strangers who asked about my facial features, as the old generation believed in certain associations between someone’s facial features and his/her fortune. He said he proudly told them that I had a broad forehead, a facial feature indicating high official status and big fortune. Four years later, when I was about to graduate, I got the news that my grandfather died of stomach cancer. When I got back home, my grandmother tearfully told me that during his last days my grandfather often muttered that if only I could become a cadre in charge of women’s issues in Hubei, my home Province. In my village the only official position accessible to women was a cadre in charge of women’s issues, thus possibly my grandfather thought that a cadre taking charge of women’s issue at a provincial level would be a realistic and very honourable position for a girl. In the end, my grandfather’s wish did not come true, but all the stories about my family’s aspirations for me and the resources devoted to me as a rural girl are of great interest for me. First of all, from a perspective of family history, my grandmother’s and mother’s life experiences are so different from mine. My grandmother never went to school. She and my grandfather were engaged when they were little. But due to some unknown reason, my grandmother’s father regretted and wanted to cancel the wedding. My grandfather, together with several his male cousins, snatched my grandmother, covered her with a quilt and took her back home when she got up in the night to use the toilet which was behind the courtyard. My mother was the eldest, with six siblings younger than her. She went to primary school during the collective era, and stayed there less than three years before her mother begged her to come back home to attend to younger siblings and took part in the collective labour later. But as for me, despite limited family resources, my parents had no hesitance to invest in my education as soon as I showed my potential in success in school. To my family, I could also ‘bring honour to the ancestors’ and may become the priority where the distribution of resources within family is concerned. Why do these intergenerational differences exist and how have they come into being? A ‘top–down’ perspective may consider them as what brought about by the historical transformation, political and policy changes. But the rhetoric is far more satisfactory, as it cannot explain how these transformation and policies have been/not been accepted by the villagers, and how the villagers have experienced the grand social–historical transformations. Or as Cohen has suggested, that Chinese rural households are not as passive as normally imagined while facing external impacts (1993). This more triggered my interests about ‘what’ changes have taken place and ‘how’ these have happened.

4

1 Introduction

1.1.2 Rural Chinese Women’s Labour in the Existing Research Looking back one can see that, to a large extent, the past one hundred years of history in rural China has involved great changes in the labour system: transfer of the ownership of land from the private to the public in 1956 (collective era), then part of the ownership going back to the private again in the early 1980s (reform era); changes of the way labour was/is organised; the emergence of occupational chances other than farming in the reform era, etc. This period of history is more crucial for the rural women than the men, for it represents a time when they had increasing participation in production. In the pre-revolution era before 1949, rural women’s role in agriculture was ‘rather a minor one’, despite regional disparities and the women’s participation on a seasonal basis (Davin 1976: 121). Daughters were seldom trained in farming techniques (Jacka 1997: 23). With the coming of the socialist revolution in 1949, rural women were mobilized on a large scale by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to participate in production for the collective. As a result, most able-bodied rural women worked in the fields, with the figure reaching 80–95%1 by the late 1950s. At the same time the numbers of days worked by women also increased substantially. With the dismantling of the People’s Commune and the introduction of the production responsibility system in the early 1980s, the reform era is characterised by more flexibility regarding women’s involvement in production, more possibilities for occupations other than farming, and specialisation in the rural economy. Throughout the whole of this period of history, however, household work has always been deemed as the women’s work (Croll 1985; Davin 1976; Jacka 1997; Judd 1994). Besides, due to the aforementioned changes in the labour system over the last century, women’s labour has, from the very beginning, been the focus of the scholarship on Chinese rural women. The existing literature on contemporary Chinese rural women is mainly a response to the women’s encounters with the whole processes of modernisation and industrialisation, particularly with two great social changes in China’s history: the socialist revolution in around 1949 and marketisation reform implemented in the early 1980s. Most of the research can be categorized into a ‘change—liberation’ model, in which the researchers evaluate Chinese women’s status as liberated or not by depicting what women have contributed by their labour and how they have been benefited from the social transformations. For the work focusing on the effects of either social change on rural women’s status, the following topics are normally covered: the labour activities the women were/are doing; their access to property, especially farmland; the gendered earning gap; how to deal with the conflicts between cash-generating labour and domestic chores/childcare;

1 The

figure was proposed by Marina Thorborg, refer to Jacka (1997). But I suggest that the figure itself is confusing, for there is no mention if it was calculated based on the rural women from all ages, or just those who were able to labour. Meanwhile, the figure offered by E. Croll is 90% in 1958.

1.1 Tracing a Research Trajectory

5

the validation of housework and care work; how the participation in the cashgenerating/public labour had/has impacted their power within household, which normally involves assessment given by certain indicators such as the power over income and important decisions for the family; different labour activities’ effects on the women’s social networks, and so on. Academic interests in the socialist revolution’s impacts on rural women’s labour life started in the 1970s when the scholarship on Chinese women just came into being in the western world (Wang 1997). After a period of low tide in the wake of marketisation reform since the late 1970s, there have been signs of a resurge in recent years with certain scholars’ interest in ‘iron girls’ and female ‘labour models’ in the collective era (Gao 2005; Hershatter 2000; Honig 2000; Jin 2006). At the early stage, due to limited information sources, which were mainly from official publications, among the works, according to Lisa Rofel, ‘the optimistic tenor was taken up and extended’ (1999: 291). They gave detailed descriptions of the ‘Land Reform’ and ‘Marriage Law’ adopted by the CCP, and the impacts of the laws and other policies on women’s lives. The impacts focused on the domains of their labour, their marriage and family life, and their organisations etc. The rise of young women’s status within household and the extension of their social network due to their participation in collective labour was celebrated (Croll 1978; Davin 1976). Most works were about women, with no reference to the situation of women compared to men, which caused ‘gender divisions of labour-blindness’ (Jacka 1997: 10). With more access to China available, however, gender inequality in terms of gendered division of labour, income gap, power both in the collective and household, double burden, access to income and so on were revealed, as in these domains rural women were in an inferior position to men. Besides, the subordination of women by the patriarchal socialist state was found as well. The fact that the CCP failed to fulfil what they had promised at the beginning of the revolution meant they should take responsibility for the unfinished liberation of the Chinese women (Andors 1983; Johnson 1983; Stacey 1983; Wolf 1985). The attention, according to Wang Zheng, was mostly paid to what the CCP had or had not done for the women (1997). Recent academic interest focuses more on ‘iron girls’ and female ‘labour models’, how they were produced jointly based on their own life experiences and by the local government, what they paid and what they gained, how this experience has affected their life later on, including particular self-identity, past honour and diseases caused by heavy labour (Gao 2005; Hershatter 2000; Honig 2000; Jin 2006). What is notable is that these works are methodologically different from the works from earlier stages. They are normally based on oral histories interviews, whose advantages will be discussed later. For the reform and marketisation period, scholars have tracked new non-farming labour markets and new job opportunities for rural women. At the beginning, some feminist scholars were concerned that the dismantling of the collective and a return to rural household farming would put rural women back in the patriarchy family (Andors 1983; Croll 1983; Davin 1988), but with the emergence of new patterns of gender divisions, these worries become less necessary. Most of the topics are related to the impact of rural-to-urban migration on rural women’s labour, which to a great

6

1 Introduction

extent suggest that although the lives of Chinese women improved since marketization, they have not benefited from the reform as much as men; moreover, in some ways the subordination has been reinforced (Croll 1983; Jacka 1997). In terms of gender divisions of labour, the increasing numbers of men of all ages and younger women leaving for cities or towns for jobs caused an even greater feminisation of agriculture (Bossen 2002; Croll 1983, 1994, 1995; Davin 1999; Jacka 1992, 1997; Judd 1994). Research on ‘Dagong Mei’ (‘working girls’) shows, on the one hand, that the power of the girls and young women has been rising due to their participation into cash-generating labour, causing the triumph of conjugal power and the young generation’s victory over the old within rural households (Yan 2003); on the other hand, however, they are also subject to less pay, harsher working conditions, discrimination and sexual harassment (Pun 2000; Tan 2000, 2004), as well as strict labour control and discipline due to poor labour regulations and the dormitory labour system (Pun 2007). The rural women, especially the married, have fewer opportunities for migration due to the fetters of domestic chores and childcare; while those who return from a number of years of rural-to-urban migration find it difficult to readjust to country life and marriage (Tan 2004). Some recent works suggest that rural-to-urban migration for work does advance rural women’s gender equality and increase their ability to exercise agency, but what they have achieved is inadequate to completely dismantle the wider gender and rural–urban inequalities (Gaetano 2015). Particularly, during the whole processes, rural women’s work, including both remunerated and unremunerated, has not been perceived and valued by men or the state, or even themselves (Judd 1990). Moreover, scholars suggest that the mainstream gender ideologies have also changed from the socialist era, collective era to the reform era in China. During the Maoist socialist era, women were encouraged by the state to perform tasks previously reserved for men; whilst labour undertaken in the private sphere were devalued (Yang 1994). During the marketisation era, the state has (partly) retreated from the private sphere, and the cultural institutions guided by the family and market have played a key role in shaping ‘what is the ideal female image’. The notions of femininity emerged (Rofel 1999), and femininity was emphasised along with consumerist culture resulting in discerning female consumers whose femininity is constituted through consumption (Yang 1994). Conversely, the official discourse conveyed by different levels of state-steered Women’s Federation encourages women to compete in the market and to cultivate their ‘quality’(suzhi) by raising their self-respect (zizun), self-confidence (zixin), self-reliance (zili) and self-strength (ziqiang) (Jacka 2006). As a result, from the collective era to the post-collective era, China has witnessed a gender ideology shift from ‘devaluing labour undertaken in the private era’ to ‘the reemphasis of femininity and motherhood’. The shift constitutes an important context in which contemporary rural women are living. Scholarship on Chinese women in China started its life much later than its western counterpart. The Chinese scholars pay main attention to the reform era, while leaving

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7

the revolution era relatively untouched,2 which is mainly because academic research on gender in China was not allowed until the opening-up in the 1980s (Goldman 1994). What also differentiates the Chinese scholars from their western counterparts is the incentive for women studies. Later, some attention had shifted to the ‘problem women’, that is, factory girls from the countryside under the labour migration tides, redundant women from the city during the economic reform or the recurrence of prostitution (Li 1997). Since the 1990s, especially after the Fourth World Conference on Women held in Beijing, scholarship on Chinese women in China has witnessed great development. During this period, there has been a paradigm shift, that is, from research mainly focusing on so-called women’s problems to research searching for women’s subjectivity consciousness and covering topics such as gender relationship and its transformation (Wu 2005: 213). Research on rural women pays particular attention to how modernization, industrialization and urbanization have affected rural women’s lives (Jin 2000), and how rural-to-urban migration has impacted rural families and rural women (Jin 2010). A large amount of literature focus on the work environment of female labour migrants, their life situation and identity, the land rights and property rights of rural women, and their participation in the grass-root democracy, and so on and so forth. So far, the research on rural Chinese women’s labour has achieved great development, both theoretically and methodologically. But as what Zhong, Xueping has pointed out, gender research in general in China is only conducted by a small group of female researchers, and gender perspective has sort of been missed out by the general Chinese academia, especially male scholars (Zhong 2005). Furthermore, despite the rich and valuable exploration mentioned above in the field of rural Chinese women’s labour, there are, however, still some gaps. A concern could be raised is about the differences among women, especially women who co-exist but are with different demographical features, particularly, from different age groups. Since 1990s, ‘difference’ has become one of the ‘buzz words’ in social and cultural analysis (Glucksmann 2000), and it also becomes central to this study. Within feminist theory, social divisions such as gender, ethnicity, class, economic standing and so on have caused attention (Hu 2004). While for rural Chinese people from the same region who share the same ethnicity and gender, economic standing and particularly age become the key social divisions. In this study, ‘difference’ encompasses three aspects. Firstly, it refers to diversity of different experiences in terms of labour and leisure activities, both between genders and among the women themselves. The existing wisdom on rural Chinese women, especially works in English, has greatly contributed to the gender differences, but only limited attention has been paid to the disparate labour and leisure experiences among women who co-exist. Despite enough insights shed on changes and improvements 2 Only

recent two years, some Chinese Scholars started their exploration on rural women’s labour in the collective era under the collaboration with some US scholars. See Gao (2005) and Jin (2006).

8

1 Introduction

in rural women’s lives from different historical eras, the observation of the ‘changeliberation’ model is mostly based on the experiences of certain groups who are dominant demographic groups of the historical periods in question, normally young or middle-aged married rural women, thus the effects of external events on the lives of ‘rural Chinese women’ are actually impacts on these groups of women, while leaving the situations of other non-dominant demographic groups, for example, teenage girls or old women, missing. In other words, a situation of the ‘co-existence of generations’ is ignored. But from the standpoint of the everyday life of the women in the village, the impacts of the external events on the lives of the individual rural women are generationally layered. In other words, besides diachronic disparities (i.e. intergenerational differences at the same life stages), synchronic differences (i.e. women who co-exist but are at different life stages experience the same social transformation disparately) also matter. That is to say, an issue of ‘the non-contemporaneity of the contemporaneous’ proposed by Mannheim (1952) also needs to be tackled when we deal with the impacts of the structural transformations to the individuals’ lives. It will be recounted later. The second aspect of ‘difference’ refers to ‘social relations’, and the concern of this study is particularly about the different power relations in relation to labour and leisure among the rural women as well as between genders. Relations internal to the Chinese rural household, especially relations between female family members, remain little studied. Among others, only the relation between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law in Chinese culture has gained some scholarly attention. Margery Wolf once developed an important concept ‘uterine family’ to describe the competing relations between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law in rural Taiwan. She argues that according to the patriarchal hierarchy in Chinese countryside, although women might be subordinate when they first enter their husbands’ households, they would surely gain status, security and agency when they become the mothers of sons. Every woman begins to build their own ‘uterine family’ where only she and her sons are members. With the coming of daughter-in-law, things are changed. From the mother-in-law’s point of view, her son is hers, the only male she could ever claim, and now there is a competing claim. In the daughter-in-law’s opinion, her mother-in-law’s reliance on her husband impairs her own ‘uterine family’, since the latter is the only resource to support her son, the only other member of her ‘uterine family’ (Wolf 1972). Based on her ethnography in Shandong, north China in the 1980s, Ellen Judd suggested that the conditions under which the strategies of the uterine family can be deployed have dramatically changed, including the household division practices, family structures ect., and there have been ‘a shift in ‘uterine family strategy’ to the paternal grandmother- grandchild relation’ in the reform rural China (Judd 1994: 191). The questions raised are: is the shift the case for rural women from all age groups? She suggests that family structure matters, then how about the women who have different family structures? Besides, apart from relationships between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, other forms of female

1.1 Tracing a Research Trajectory

9

relations within rural households have been paid little attention. For example, it seems been agreed that housework and care work in rural China has been consistently deemed as women’s work (Bossen 2002; Jacka 1997; Judd 1994). And there has been some re-distribution of the work between different female members of the family. How has the re-distribution been happening? What interdependency and inequality among women have been involved? And how have they been historically transformed? These questions are worth further exploration, and apart from motherin-law and daughter-in-law relationship, the answers will reveal the power relations between rural mothers and daughters, sisters, sisters-in-law, aunts and nieces etc., which have been drawn little scholarly attention so far. The third aspect of ‘difference’ is the different subjectivities and identities of the women. In her distinguished book ‘Other Modernities: Gendered Yearnings in China after Socialism’, Lisa Rofel detected the changing connotation of ‘gender’ and subjective understanding of ‘modernity’ among urban Chinese women from three different cohorts (1999). The similar approach has been hardly applied to rural Chinese women. Both Jacka and Judd have noticed that both rural men and women have been devaluating the domestic work done by the women (Jacka 1997; Judd 1994). Judd particularly pointed out that in rural Shandong, her research site, women thought ‘men are more able’, although they themselves had an active role in generating income (1990). But has the women’s notion of ‘gender’ undergone any changes at different historical times, and especially, at different stages of their life cycle? The rise of rural wives’ power at home in reform era has been widely acknowledged (Yan 2003). How has this empowerment affected the villagers’ husband-wife relation and their notion of ‘gender equality’, both from women’s and men’s point of view? A linked point is about the changing relation between labour and leisure, and the increasing role of ‘leisure’ in fashioning the power relations, both between genders and among women, within contemporary rural Chinese households. In contemporary rural China, the ‘leisure’ of the rural population has been subject to dramatic changes due to the increasing free time and money that resulted from the transformations of the labour system, including the decreasing of farmland, demographic changes, and agricultural technology and so on. How have the increasing time and money used for ‘leisure’ impacted the power relations internal to the rural households? More importantly, how has this shift in labour and leisure affected the rural population’s identities and their perception of husband-wife fairness and gender equality, from both men’s and women’s perspectives? These questions beg answers but rural Chinese women’s ‘leisure’ is still a relatively untouched research field. Another linked concern is about the question of ‘continuities’ in dealing with the impacts of the structural transformations to individuals’ lives. The existing research deals with the impacts of two great social changes on the women’s lives, namely, the socialist revolution in 1949 and the economic reform in the early 1980s, but as Martin Whyte has pointed out, many of the changes in rural family life did not begin with the economic reforms, so we should not regard the periods before and after economic reforms as representing a sharp contrast. This could also apply to the revolution in the 1940s. Moreover, logically speaking, comparable information for the earlier period will be needed if we want to make assessments about changes and

10

1 Introduction

their impacts over time (Whyte 2000: 160). In this sense, the ‘continuities’ and the overlapped parts between the blurred boundaries of historical periods request more attention. Another noticeable concern is about the research methods, research site, and the age groups the research covers. The questions raised above call for on-site and in-depth ethnography on rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure lives. Due to the limited access and poor availability of research materials, the early research on rural Chinese women mainly relied on official documents. With more access to China available, ethnography has gradually become the main method for the research of this kind, although according to Bossen, ‘the quantity of on-site, in-depth anthropological field research on rural women in contemporary China remains minuscule’ (2002: 14). Through on-site ethnography, what the rural Chinese women have to say about their own lives can be heard. But as far as regional variations concerned, to date, except Bossen’s ethnography on Yunnan, southwest China, very limited attention has been paid to the middle and inland rural areas in China. Most of the long-term village studies have focused on China’s wealthy southern Guangdong Province with its many overseas connections (Bossen 2002), coastal provinces in the east due to their easy access and booming economic development in recent years (Judd 1994; Xiao 2002), and some other areas in the northeast (Yan 2003). But due to the various levels of industrialisation, different parts of rural areas in China will hold different positions in terms of rural-to-urban labour migration and rural-to-rural migration. This will result in different labour and leisure lives for rural women from different regions of China. For those from the inland areas, being from a ‘sending area’ in terms of labour migration has made their lives different from their counterparts in the east and south rural China, the ‘receiving areas’. While much attention has been given to the lives of the female migrants in the receiving areas or to those who are seen as ‘left-behind’ and victims of rural-to-urban migration, little research has been done from a continuous perspective. This perspective emphasizes the continuum between the ‘receiving areas’ and ‘sending areas’, and between the urban and the rural; it also sees rural populations in the sending areas as active agents. A standpoint from a ‘sending place’ would also benefit our understandings in terms of such questions as ‘who goes to the more industrialized areas to find jobs and why?’, ‘who have stayed, what keeps them down on the farm and why?’ and ‘how this configuration of labour division will affect the power relations within and outside of the household?’, and so on and so forth.

1.2 Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women: Developing a ‘Double Comparison’ Framework By now, I have given a brief account on how the research topic/focuses emerged. Actually it also constitutes part of the reasons why I develop a ‘double comparison’ framework to research these topics/focuses. Besides what has already been mentioned

1.2 Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women …

11

above, the shape of this framework is also based on reflection upon a series of inquiries on such concepts as ‘generation’. The job of this section is to recount the evolution of this framework and elaborate it.

1.2.1 Generation: The ‘Co-existence’ of Different Generations and the ‘Intersection’ of Historical Generations and Biological Generations Although ‘generation’ is widely used in everyday language and in research as a way to understand the differences between age groups, little attention has been given to the notion of this word (Pilcher 1994). According to Kertzer, ‘generation’ can be placed into four categories: generation as a principle of kinship descent; as cohort; as life stage; and as historical period. But confusion exists in the sociological usage of them (Kertzer 1983). Not attempting to tackle all problems regarding the generation issue, here I am just going to pay attention to two facets: firstly, the co-existence of different generations; and then the difficulty of the demarcation of generation caused by the intersection of historical generations and biological generations. According to Karl Mannheim, generation issues started to interest scholars as early as the nineteenth century. They remind us that it is not merely the succession of one generation after another that is important, but also their co-existence. Different generations live at the same time, or, to put it differently, the phenomenon of ‘the non-contemporaneity of the contemporaneous’ exists. In other words, any given point in time will be experienced differently by different generations. This will shed much light on the research about the impacts of historical processes on people’s lives (1952). But this phenomenon has not generated enough attention in the existing literature about the impacts of external transformations on rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure, which makes a reason for the exploration of the co-existence of three generations of rural Chinese women in this study. Another problem is related to how we are going to demarcate social generations, since ‘seamless continuum of daily births’ exists (Spitzer 1973: 1358). In other words, there are in reality no demarcation lines; there are only border zones where the successive groups of coevals are overlapping with each other (Redlich 1976). More important, however, is the intersection of the historical generations and the biological generations, for example, when the age difference between siblings is considerable (Redlich 1976: 266), or great structural changes take place after one but before another sibling finishes his/her formative period, which is deemed as key for the formation of a generation. This has made the demarcation of generations even harder, and deserves more attention when we use the term ‘generation’ in our research. In empirical studies, the years that separate the parent–child generations are normally used to delineate the generations (Pilcher 1994: 487). But still some strategy is needed, since neither all parents nor all children in question are born in the same

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1 Introduction

year. Birth dates is not satisfactory, due to the reasons mentioned above. It seems no single solution is good enough for the empirical research on generation issue. We have to make a choice though. In this research, I will stick to existing practice in empirical research, namely, to use the years that separate the parent–child generations to ‘fix’ the boundary. Thus here, ‘generation’ is a principle of kinship descent (Kertzer 1983). At the same time, the phenomena of the co-existence of different generations and the intersection of historical generations and biological generations will receive special attention. Three generations will be explored in this research: the current grandmother’s generation, mother’s generation, and grown-up daughter’s generation. Besides the traditional way of demarcating parent–child generations, the different demographic features attached to these women provide other criteria to demarcate them into disparate generational groups. For the first generation, they belong to the first group of women who on a whole were exempted from foot-binding for the first time in the recent history of China. More details will be given in Chap. 3, and they will be my ‘first unbound feet generation’; the mother’s generation grew up in the post1949-socialist-revolution era and normally had a large group of siblings due to the improved living and medical conditions, which makes them my ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation’. And for this group, the phenomenon of ‘the interaction of historical generations and biological generations’ is especially applicable, more details of which will be given in Chap. 5; in contrast, the daughters’ generation has a very limited number of siblings due to the enforcement of family planning policy since the late 1970s, which makes them my ‘family planning generation’. And the growing-up of this generation in the mid-1990s has greatly affected the demographic configuration and the organisation of labour and leisure in rural China, which will be explored in Chap. 6. The demarcating of generation in this way of course has its limitations. In Other Modernities, Lisa Rofel covered three cohort of age, but she suggested that the division of the cohorts were not clear-cut, and differences both within and among cohorts existed (1999). This is also the case for the women in this study, particularly considering the fact that the age gaps between the youngest from an older generation and the oldest from a younger generation are even smaller than the age gaps within each generation. Those at the margins of each group actually cannot be ‘fit’ into the group well, and this is particularly the case of those who were born during the transitional historical periods, for example, in the late 1940s, early 1950s and the early 1970s. In other words, the intersection of the transitional historical time and the individual life cycle has produced certain ‘ambiguities’ and ‘uncertainty’ for individuals to locate themselves in the flow of time. Rofel used ‘politics of memory’ to differentiate the cohorts, while keeping open to the differences within the cohorts. In this study, besides historical time, I use biographic features in relation to the organisation process of women’s labour and leisure, particularly the number of siblings of their own and their husbands, and the number of their children, as criteria to demarcate the women. That is why despite big age gaps within, the first and the second generations are defined as what they are. This study is also open to the differences and commonalities of experience both within and across generational

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boundaries. This especially can be seen when I define the second generation as a ‘divided generation’ and explore the inter-generational differences between the two sub-groups; and look into the commonalities between the younger sub-group and the third generation. Besides, in the village where I carried out my research, ‘generation’ (‘Beifen’ in Chinese) in a sense of kinship or fictive kinship has been the basic order for the villagers to follow to treat each other. Therefore, thinking through the lens of ‘generation’ in this study is more like a practical choice made under the joint consideration of its uses, limitations and the local culture.

1.2.2 A ‘Double Comparison’ Framework Due to my concerns with the co-existence of different generations, and the traditional way of historical comparison, I then develop a ‘double comparison’ framework to examine the intersection of historical time and individual life cycle (see Table 1.1). The ‘double comparison’ framework has a twofold meaning: firstly, according to historical time, it not only employs a diachronic comparison along with the flow of time, but also rests on certain points of time and compares synchronically how different generations are experiencing these points disparately; secondly, according to the individual’s life cycle, this research compares both ‘different stages of each generation of women’s life cycle’ and ‘the same stages of different generations of women’s life cycle’. From Table 1.1, we can see mainly three stages of these rural Chinese women’s life cycle to be examined and compared: girlhood, young motherhood, and old age period. The position of each generation’s particular stage of their life cycle in the box visually shows the historical time it approximately belongs to. For example, for the first unbound feet generation, their girlhood happens during the early years between 1926 and 1956; their old age period comes during some years in the middle of the period between 1983 and 2013, that is, in the 1990s; while for the baby boomers’ Table 1.1 ‘Double comparison framework’: the intersection of historical time and individual life cycle Historical time Generation 1, First unbound feet generation 2, Postrevolutionary baby boomers’ generation

‘Older sisters’ group ‘Younger group

Pre-collective era (1926-1956)

Collective era (1956-1983)

GH

YM

Reform era (1983-2013) OA

GH

sisters’

3, ‘Family planning generation’

Note GH = Girlhood, YM = Young Motherhood, OA = Old Age.

YM

OA GH

YM GH

YM

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1 Introduction

generation, their old age only comes or is coming now. This research will develop diachronically according to the historical time on the one hand; and synchronically according to the stages of each generation’s life cycle on the other. For each point where historical time and individual life cycle intersect, the organisation of labour and leisure of these women will be examined. Basically, theoretically I suggest that a familial/household context exists where the historical events and familial/household factors interplay with each other and then shape the power relations in this context and further fashion the configuration of labour and leisure divisions. Therefore, for each point where historical time and individual life cycle intersect, the key questions would be how the historical events and familial/household factors interplay with each other, and then makes certain life stage of certain generations of women both similar and disparate from the same life stage of other generations on the one hand, and their own other life stages on the other. More will be elaborated in the theoretical approach section. On the other hand, a life stories method is naturally required by this ‘double comparison’ framework, as it demands detailed information about different generations’ several life stages. Appealing for researchers to listen to what the women themselves have to say about their life also calls for such a method. Therefore, as mentioned above, a localised ethnography and life stories method is designed to supplement the conventional wisdom. The adoption of the ‘double comparison’ framework and life stories method has certain advantages for this study. Firstly, disparities and differences between women are celebrated by the analytical framework of an intersection of historical time and life cycle. In this research, Chinese rural women are not a homogenous group. By the ‘double comparison’ framework, disparate life experiences, power relations and subjective understanding of these experiences and social relations are examined for the same generation of woman at the different stages of their life course; and also for different generations of women under the impact of the same social change. The method of life stories could exactly provide the related information. On the other hand, continuities as well as disparities are also affirmed in this study. The ‘double comparison’ framework will disrupt the artificial ruptures between the historical periods by viewing diachronically the whole life of the women as well as to examine synchronically the intergenerational changes. Finally, those missing life stages of certain generations of women could be seen in this study, which, to some extent, allows it to contribute to updating the existing scholarship. For example, by the ‘double comparison’ framework, the girlhoods of both ‘the first unbound feet generation’ and the ‘family planning generation’ could be examined, which are relatively neglected in the existing scholarship. Also, through this framework, different old age arrangements across generation could be depicted. Besides, most of the existing research was done before the 1990s and published before or around the middle of the 1990s. Big changes, however, have taken place in the rural women’s lives since the 1990s even around 2000. One could point to the abolition of agricultural taxes in 2006 and the waiving of fees for nine years in basic education in the countryside around 2006, which are and will be of significance to the rural women, in both the present and the future.

1.2 Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women …

15

To sum up, a ‘double comparison’ framework and life stories method are adopted to answer the former half of my research questions, that is, what are the intragenerational and inter-generational changes/continuities of three generations of rural Chinese women in terms of labour and leisure over a history of almost 90 years (1926–2013). Through an exploration of these, this research means to catch both disparities and continuities among these women’s lives, listen to what they have to say about their own lives, and shed light on those normally forgotten life stages and the phenomenon of the co-existence of different generations.

1.3 Theorizing Rural Chinese Women’s Labour, Leisure and the Familial/Household Factors in Eras of Social Changes As mentioned above, through the ‘double comparison’ framework the former part of my research questions, ‘What changes have happened?’ will be answered, but it will leave the latter half, namely, ‘Why/How these have happened?’ or the mechanisms of the changes and disparities, unanswered. Here I will adopt an intersectional approach which will suggest that the interaction and interplay between external factors—such as socio-economic, political, demographic and cultural factors— and familial/household factors in a family/household context, and the intersection between different familial/household factors have caused the disparities. In other words, there is a mutual interrelation between labour and family/household, and this is also applicable to the relation between leisure and family/household. Besides, as mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, following the recent progress on ‘work’ studies, the concept of ‘labour’ itself is re-defined by a relational approach. What is notable is that due to the state development strategies, ‘labour’ and ‘work’ have different meanings in China, which will affect the women’s understanding of their labour. ‘Work’, after the endeavour of the communists in 1940s to eliminate production in household, came to refer to public-sphere production and bore certain superiority to production based in the household (Mann 2000). It was associated with an identity of an urban resident and accessibility to social services in the city. In the countryside, however, despite the existence of the People’s Commune, to some extent production was still household-based. Since then, agricultural activities began to bear a stigma. Besides, after the implementation of a household registration (‘hukou’) system in the late 1950s to restrict rural-to-urban migration, agricultural activity further represented a second-class identity: farmer came increasingly to mean endless toil in the fields. Therefore in this sense, farming was not ‘work’ at all, but just a kind of labour activity which was inferior to work. The relaxation of the ‘hukou’ system brought about by the reform in the early 1980s has caused a rural-tourban labour migration tidal wave in China (Roberts 1997), giving Chinese peasants accessibility to waged employment in the city, but it is still not ‘work’. According to some surveys conducted among the rural-to-urban migrants, ‘real work’ is associated

16

1 Introduction

with an identity as an urban resident and the access to welfare belonged to them only. The waged jobs done by the rural-to-urban migrants who are still registered as farmers are counted as ‘Dagong’ (employment) at most, not ‘work’ (Entwisle and Henderson 2000). In other words, a hierarchy between ‘labour’, ‘employment’ and ‘work’ still exists, which provides a stratification background in which Chinese peasants have the motivation to achieve upward mobility. As one could see from above, there are important links between ‘labour’ and factors at a family/household level, so does ‘leisure’. But as Maxine Molyneux observes, in the existing research on domestic labour, there is, to some extent, a narrow focus on the labour performed in the domestic sphere ‘at the expense of theorising the wider familial/household context’ (1979: 2). This is also the case for research on rural Chinese women’s labour. Household-level factors have only been mentioned occasionally where the labour studies are concerned, for example, the adoption of labour force as the criterion of distribution during the 1956–1983 collective era had given the peasants an incentive to increase household size by reproduction (Johnson 1983). But for most part, the relation has been one-way, especially emphasizing the impacts of the labour system on the family/household, while leaving the reverse effects hardly mentioned (Stichter and Parpart 1990). Sometimes, if at all, attention has been paid to factors at a collective level while the individual level of factors, such as birth order or academic achievements etc. are missing. In other words, the labourfamily/household and leisure-family/household mutual interrelations need further elaboration, which is a core task of this research.

1.3.1 An Intersectional Approach: ‘Local World’, ‘Moral Experiences’ and ‘Division of Labour’ The idea of an intersectional approach is inspired by the concepts of ‘local world’ and ‘moral experiences’ proposed by Arthur Kleinman. According to him, people’s everyday life, should be viewed as a moral experience,3 which ‘exists in the felt flow of interpersonal, inter-subjective engagements and transactions’ and ‘involves practices, negotiations, contestations among others with whom we are connected’ (1999: 358–359). In other words, it is a medium in which collective and subjective processes interplay. The moral experience takes place in a particular local world, which is ‘a social space that carries cultural, political, and economic specificity.’ (1999: 365) Kleinman argues that these two concepts would be very useful for research on change. To specify a local world, and then to understand how moral experience changes ‘under the interactions between cultural representations, collective process,

3 The

opposite to this, Kleinman argues, is ethical discourse, which ‘is an abstract articulation and debate over codified values. It is conducted by elites, both global and local. Ethical discourse is usually principle-based, with meta-theoretical commentary on the authorization and implication of those principles.’ (1990: 363).

1.3 Theorizing Rural Chinese Women’s Labour, Leisure …

17

and subjectivity, interactions that are in turn shaped by large-scale changes in political economy, politics, and culture.’ (1999: 373), would provide a way to depict the transformations in this local world. It is notable that, although not indicated, to Kleinmann, ‘local world’ does not represent a bounded geographic domain but a multiforced and microsocial domain in which agents are situated (Zhang 2000: 174). Attention to people’s strategies and practices (Judd 1994) in the local world supplies us with a chance to understand how the so-called social norms and rules are constantly reinterpreted and contested in reality (Zhang 2000). In this sense, an ‘external factor’ does not represent a fixed geographic meaning, but indicates that the factor is from that which is beyond ‘the most immediate, the most local power relations’ (Scott 1988: 26) that the agents are involved in. Borrowing Kleinmann’s notion of ‘local world’, can we name a corresponding concept of ‘remote world’ which is outside of the most immediate, the most local power relations of local world? Applied to this study, Lianhe Village where I did my research, and around 450 households work as a local world and provide the women in the village with a locus where they experience their everyday lives through interaction (negotiation, transaction, contestation, etc.) with their family, fellow villagers, the cadres both local and from above, and sometimes strangers to the village (although this is not very common), and practice and experience the most immediate power relations and the remote power relations from the broad movements of the political economy. In the local world, they encounter external political, socio-economic, cultural and demographic effects, and in turn reinterpret and contest the latter. In this local world, the core part is the individual villager’s family. The ‘family’ is not only based on a sense of household registration, but also extended to include aged parents who (possibly) live independently, married children (especially sons) and their family, and married sisters and brothers and their family. The ‘remote world’ refers to the state and market, which are outside of the immediate power relations of the villagers, but at the same time are greatly affecting the villagers’ experiences, actions and choices in the local world. What noticeable is that, the rules from the ‘outside world’, for example, various policies targeting the rural populations, will encounter battles in the local world, before they act upon the villagers. The intersectional approach claims, on the one hand, that the rural women’s local world, especially their family/household, provides a venue where large-scale changes in political economy, politics, demography and culture meet and interact with a series of divisions attached to the individuals, including their positions in terms of physical condition, birth order, the number of siblings, life stages, the stage of the family’s life cycle, family composition and so on, which are both at family/household and individual levels and which I will term ‘familial/household factors’. On the other hand, it also suggests that these familiar/household factors intersect with each other. In other words, forces from external structural transformations (we could refer to ‘external factors’), through the intertwining of family/household and women’s labour and leisure, impact and also are influenced by the power relations within the familial/household context, which further contests existing collective social norms and values such as son preference, relationship between

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1 Introduction

Fig. 1.1 The individual, local world and remote world under an intersectional approach

mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, husband-wife relation, household division practices etc. and subjective feelings and experiences, especially the rural population’s understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality. In other words, the ‘familial/household factors’ interplay with each other, and the ‘external factors’ from the remote world will encounter the ‘familial/household factors’ before they act upon the individual villagers. The choice and action of individual villagers will first affect the ‘familial/household factors’, which will in turn impact the remote world, bringing about the changes of ‘external factors’ and existing regulations and values. The configuration keeps changing with the transformations of social structures. Figure 1.1 sketches the relationship between the individual, the local world and the remote world under the intersectional approach. The following chapters will trace the moral experience of rural women (and men) in a local world of a familial/household context. The intertwining of family/household and women’s labour/leisure will be analysed according to historical time on the one hand and different generations of women’s life cycle on the other. The structures and processes of power relations, especially relations across gender and generation are explained during the comparison. During this process, how the conventional values and norms related to rural familial/household context are subject to changes and the mechanisms of the transformations are under examination. The women’s (and the men’s) subjective understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality and of the political policy, particularly the rural–urban segregation policy and the means to break through it, for example, by marriage or by education etc., also becomes a hidden clue for the writing of the chapters. By this intersectional approach, this research echoes the development of a foundational concept of Sociology: ‘division of labour’ by analysing the intertwining of the technical division of labour with gender, age, education or other principles of social division (Glucksmann 2006). By using this concept, it examines various relations

1.3 Theorizing Rural Chinese Women’s Labour, Leisure …

19

between gender, generation etc. during the socio-economic organisation of production both within and outside rural households. By examining both intra-household and extra-household dynamics, this research reveals not only the economic advantages the division of labour brought about, but the hierarchy and inequality involved in it. This approach happens to meet up with an ‘intersectionality’ trend among feminist scholarship since the late 1990s, which examines the intersections of social divisions and variations (Collins 1991). The strength of this approach is that it is able to discover power relations in a family/household context. By this intersectional approach, more dimensions of power relations within rural households will be covered. For example, it can detect power relations produced by the intersection of gender and age, or the result of the intersection of age and marital status, etc. Particularly, through it, the aforementioned relationships among female family members will be examined. Besides, the individual level of social divisions which are normally missing in the existing research, such as birth order or academic achievements etc. shall be considered in this study by this approach.

1.3.2 Labour and Total Social Organisation of Labour (TSOL) As mentioned earlier, the notion of ‘labour’ itself is a relational one following the recent analytical developments in research on ‘work’. In there, the conventional dichotomies of public/private, home/work, production/reproduction are disrupted, while the definition of ‘work’ is broadened to ‘all activity involved in the production and reproduction of economic relations and structures…, irrespective of how and where the labour is carried out’ (Glucksmann 2000: 20). In the framework ‘total social organisation of labour’ (TSOL) developed by Glucksmann, work, in whatever form, is allocated into different structures and institutions in a certain society, while the different sectors and the ways in which the work is organised are inter-relational (2000: 19–20). But the application of the TSOL model incurs some inquiries. Firstly, can this model be entirely applied to the rural Chinese women’s case? The approach is based on the market economy, and the TSOL model itself is ‘the organisation of activities from the standpoint of their economic constraints and relations’ (Glucksmann 2000: 19). In other words, it mainly focuses on economic relations. But can those relations other than economic relations, for example, interpersonal relations also have a part in the total social organisation of labour? If the answer is yes, the next question would be ‘how’?4 Secondly, the TSOL model is concluded based on evidence from high capitalist economies like the UK, and therefore the question is whether it is still applicable to a non-market economy or partial market economy where the state 4A

similar question is raised by L. Pettinger who stresses the role of ‘friendship’ in the process of labour organisation. See, Pettinger (2005: 40).

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1 Introduction

still has a strong role in the organisation of labour process, for example, in China. Is it necessary to include the roles of the state and politics to this model when we apply it to cases from these types of economy? Moreover, it stresses the process of institutional and structural relations, while leaving the labourers in a sort of passive role in which they are waiting for the work allocated to them. Departing from it, this study will stress how these women manage their time and energy for labour and leisure, either voluntarily or forcedly, and will particularly accommodate the factors such as the women’s perceptions and understandings of their labour also have a part in the labour organisation process. Is this factor missing from the TSOL model? All these questions will be brought into the exploration of rural Chinese women’s case, and will be answered in the conclusion. In this sense, this research is also a tentative one for the TSOL model. This research is inspired by this holistic approach, and it stresses two aspects of it. Firstly, it emphasizes that from the women’s point of view, their time and energy, no matter how limited, will be distributed by them, voluntarily or forcedly, to do or not to do certain activities. And the activities could fall into either or both of the categories of ‘production’ or ‘reproduction’; domestic work or field work; market or non-market etc. With this holistic approach, the dichotomies between these categories are disrupted, and the attention of the study is no longer the different domains, but how these women manage their time and energy for labour and leisure, either voluntarily or forcedly. Therefore, the question the study asks is ‘what labour and leisure activities does each woman do, for whom and why?’ Particularly, due to this holistic perspective, the division between labour and leisure will be disrupted, and the changing relation between labour and leisure will cause attention, and the dynamics of power relations in relation to the rise of leisure will come to light. And secondly, this research emphasizes the inter-relational link between different forms of labour and leisure activities. It covers the continuities and mutual influences between those carried out at home, in the field or in the market. If we can say the ‘double comparison’ framework will fix the temporal ruptures, the holistic approach will dissolve the spatial (in a symbolic sense) divisions. What noticeable is, the study not only pays attention to the interrelation existing in the domains certain individuals involved, but is concerned with the interaction between different domains of different individuals, especially women. Through this, it will also reveal the interrelation between the local world dynamics and the remote world. To sum up, in order to answer the ‘why/how’ question, that is, a question about the mechanism, this study will echo the development of the concept of ‘division of labour’, follow a TSOL model and adopt an intersectional approach. It suggests that the interplay between external factors– such as socio-economic, political, demographic and cultural factors—and familial/household factors in a family/household context and sometimes at an individual level, as well as the intersection between different familial/household factors, has caused the intra-generational and intergenerational disparities and changes, and shaped the power relations involved. It also looks at the women’s understandings of labour and leisure, and how these in turn have affected their choices regarding labour and leisure at different times.

1.4 Structure of the Book

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1.4 Structure of the Book This research seeks to explore the intra-generational and inter-generational disparities and continuities in terms of labour and leisure since the 1920s, power relations both between women and between genders, and the mechanism of these changes/continuities. As mentioned above, a double-comparison framework and an intersectional approach are adopted. It traces the mutual interrelations between labour/leisure and family/household according to the historical time on the one hand and the individual’s life cycle on the other. It examines time points where historical time and individual life stages intersect, how external factors and familial/household factors interact, and how familial/household factors intersect with each other at these time points. The chapters that follow apply the framework and approach to the empirical research. Chapter 2 introduces the research setting and reflects upon the research process and the fluid power relations between the researcher and the researched. Chapters 3– 10 are put into four parts according to three historical eras from 1926 to 2013: pre-collective era (1926–1956), collective era (1956–1983), and reform era (1983– 2013). The division is marked by two great social changes: the socialist revolution in 1949 and economic reform in the early 1980s. The division of three periods of time is not clear-cut. 1926 was when the oldest woman from the first generation was born. Part one focuses on the pre-collective era. Chapter 3 pays attention to the girlhood of the first unbound feet generation. It examines the interplays between the social, economic and demographic changes caused by wars and revolution and such familial/household factors as family structure, son preference and capability for labour, going on to look at how they have shaped the girls’ labour and leisure lives when they were little and at mature girlhood respectively. It also suggests special power relations between them and their parents, especially their mothers. The whole of part two, including Chaps. 4 and 5, attempts to reveal the complexity of the gendered organisation of labour and leisure in the Collective era (1956–1983). Chapter 4 examines the first generation’s young motherhood period. It looks into how the official division of labour between cadres and non-cadres, across gender, age, and marital status in the production team5 on the one hand, and changes in family structure, including uxorilocal marriage practice, new household division practice, and the rise of conjugal relationship within the family on the other, have shaped and in turn been shaped by the organisation of the women’s labour and leisure and the power relations with their husbands and parents-in-law. It emphasizes the organisation of childcare, and how their understandings of the hierarchal system as a young mother have affected their different investments in their sons’ and daughters’ future.

5 Production

team (shengchandui) was the lowest and most basic social structure of rural society during Maoist era, with production brigade above. Production team ‘collectively controlled the social organisation of production’, and thus ‘provided the economic, political and social framework within which peasants organised their lives’ (Potter and Potter 1990: 94).

22

1 Introduction

Chapter 5 is about the divided baby boomers’ generation caused by the intersection of biological and historical generations, covering both their girlhood and young motherhood. Besides socio-economic factors, it stresses ‘the number of siblings’ and ‘birth order’ as important factors shaping the women’s labour and leisure lives. It also examines how divided generation phenomenon affects their childcare arrangements. Much continuity exists even if the reform in the early 1980s changed many old institutions. Part three, including Chaps. 6–9, covers the continuity and changes since the reform. Chapter 6 focuses on the girlhood and young motherhood of the ‘family planning generation’. It suggests not only socio-economic factors, such as the changes in the labour market at both local and national levels, the emergence of rural-to-urban migration, the persistence of household registration policy, but also such factors as the number of siblings, their academic performance, and the resources the family own which contribute to the women’s labour and leisure arrangements. It also examines the gendered effects of the intersection of family planning policy and rural-to-urban labour migration, and how these further shape the marriage, household division and childcare practices for this generation. Chapter 7 compares different configurations of labour organisation of the postrevolutionary baby boomers’ generation and the ‘family planning generation’ as mothers in the reform era caused by their respective experiences during their girlhood and their current family structure, and the wife-husband power relations involved. Chapter 8 turns to the labour organisation in the old age period and elderly care. Through a historical and comparative framework, it reveals changing intergenerational contract mechanisms and compares the different elderly care arrangements between the parents’ generation of the first generation, the first generation and the ‘elder sisters’ group from the post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation, covering both collective era and reform era. It examines how the variations of the factors both at a structural level and an individual level have affected the transformation of intergenerational contract over time. It particularly stresses the effects of the changing labour systems and adult children’s understanding and appreciation of labour in these systems. Chapter 9 turns to the subject of leisure in the reform era. It looks into the changing relationship between labour and leisure, extra spare time current Chinese peasants have gained in the reform era, and how family structure/composition and understandings of leisure have shaped different leisure experiences across gender and age. It also examines different power relations across gender and generation in relation to the distribution of time and money used for leisure, the transformation of self-identity of different generations of women, and the understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality both by men and women. Part four, consisting of Chap. 10, follows the comparative framework and compares the political participation patterns of two generations of women cadres in Lianhe. Based on the women’s life stories between 1944 and 2013, from a holistic perspective, it treats ‘political participation’ as a form of labour activities. It examines how these women have been organising all sort of activities: political participation, farming, non-farming work, domestic chores and care work, and political activities. Based on these, it looks into how rural women’s political participation has been

1.4 Structure of the Book

23

constructed by the state, shaped by the state, market, changing rural society and rural families, and how their complex and paradoxical subjectivities have come into being. Chapter 11, the conclusion, summarizes the major findings of the ‘double comparison’, clarifying the disparities, continuities, interdependence and inequality between these women, gender relations both in the local world and remote world and the women’s self-identities. It unravels that the prevalent androcentry in the remote world does not match the increasing husband-wife fairness in the local world. It is this mismatch that has caused the complex and paradoxical experiences and subjectivities of contemporary rural Chinese women. It also sums up the determinants of rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure, and further reflects upon the theories/approaches it has adopted.

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Pun, N. (2007). Gendering the dormitory labour system: production, reproduction, and migrant labour in south China. Feminist Economics, 13(3), 239–258. Redlich, F. (1976). Generations: a critique and reconstruction. Belgisch Tijdschrift voor Nieuwste Geschiedenis, 7, 243–271. Roberts, K. D. (1997). China’s ‘tidal wave’ of migrant Labour: What can we learn from Mexican undocumented migration to the United States? International Migration Review, 31(2), 249–293. Rofel, L. (1999). Other modernities: Gendered yearnings in China after Socialism. California: University of California Press. Scott, J. W. (1988). Gender and the politics of history. New York: Columbia University Press. Spitzer, A., & B. . (1973). The historical problem of generations. The American Historical Review, 78(5), 1353–1385. Stacey, J. (1983). Patriarchy and socialist revolution in China. Berkeley: University of California Press. Stichter, S., & Parpart, J. L. (Eds.). (1990). Women, employment and the family in the international division of labour. London: Macmillan. Tan, S. (2000). The relationship between foreign enterprises, local governments, and women migrant workers in the Pearl River Delta. In Rural labour flows in China, ed. West, Loraine A. and Zhao, Yaohui. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California. Tan, S. (2004). Leaving home and coming back: Experiences of rural migrant women. In T, Jie, Z, Bijun, and M, Shirley L., (Eds.), Holding up half the sky: Chinese women past, present, and future. New York: Feminist Press. Wang, Z. (1997). Guowai xuezhe dui zhongguo funv he shehui xingbie yanjiu de xianzhuang (The current status of the foreign research on Chinese women and gender). Shanxi Shida Xuebao (Shehui Kexue Ban)(Shanxi Normal University Journal (Social Science Edition)). 24(4):47–51. Whyte, M K. (2000). The perils of assessing trends in gender inequality in China. In E, Barbara and H, Gail E. (Eds.), Re-drawing boundaries: work, households, and gender in China. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Wolf, M. (1972). Women and the family in rural Taiwan. California: Stanford University Press. Wolf, M. (1985). Revolution postponed: Women in contemporary China. California: Stanford University Press. Wu, X. (2005). Tanxun xingbie guanxi he xingbie yanjiu de qianguize: cong ‘Fuquan de shiwei: Jiangnan nongcun xiandaihua jincheng zhong de xingbie yanjiu’ shuoqi (Exploring the hidden rules under gender relations and gender research: A review on ‘The declining patriarchy: A gender research in the modernization of rural Jiangnan’). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Research), 3, 212–220. Xiao, D. (2002). Zuihou Yidai Chuantong Popo? (The Last Generation of Traditional Mother-inlaw?). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies), 3, 79–91. Yan, Y. (2003). Private life under Socialism: Love, intimacy, and family change in a Chinese village 1949–1999. Stanford California: Stanford University Press. Yang, M.-H. (1994). Gifts, favours, and banquets: the art of social relationships in China. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Zhang, L. (2000). The interplay of gender, space, and work in China’s floating Population. In E, Barbara and H, Gail E. (Eds.), Re-drawing boundaries: work, households, and gender in China. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Zhong, X. (2005). Hou Funv Jiefang yu Ziwo Xiangxiang (Post-women-liberation and self image). Du Shu (Reading). No. 11.

Chapter 2

Insider or Outsider, Both or Neither: Researching Three Generations of Rural Chinese Women’s Lives

Abstract This chapter introduces the research setting and reflects upon the research process and the fluid power relations between the researcher and the researched.

This research employs a range of methods comprising ethnographic participant observation, life story interviews and documentary collection in an inland Chinese village called Lianhe. To date, ethnographies on the rural societies of P. R. China have been mostly completed by two types of scholar: western Chinese Studies researchers, and Chinese researchers who used to be members of, or have very strong connections with, the villages where they conduct their research. In other words, they are ‘insiders’ to their research site. For the first type of scholars, it seems they always encounter serious access problems due to strict political control. Official permission and escort are normally required (Wolf 1985); ‘village investigations are typically conducted by way of authorization through the administrative hierarchy down to the village level’ (Thuno 2006: 250). Therefore, reflections upon access and their strategies are often recorded in detail. Very few methodological reflections, however, have been done by the second type of researchers, that is, those ‘insiders’. Although they won’t encounter many access problems, their identities as ‘insiders’ probably incur other issues during the research process, which have hardly been mentioned. On the other hand, reflections upon the ‘insider/outsider’ role of the researchers in ethnographies on other cultures mainly focus on how the researchers present their role(s) to the researched (for example, Mullings 1999; Pettinger 2005), while leaving the topic of the construction of their role(s) by the researched untouched. I intend to fill these gaps in this chapter by opening up my research process, focusing on the research site, the methods I used to approach and interview these women and my reflections on the construction of my identity in the field, both from my own and the interviewees’ perspectives. I will present the argument that the insider/outsider boundary and advantages/disadvantages of the researcher’s role as an insider/outsider are flexible. In addition, I suggest that the life experiences of the researched could be important to the construction of the researcher’s identity, and the power relations between the researcher(s) and the interviewees are flexible too. I also will show the

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complexity of interviews when the researched are from different generations. This chapter starts with the introduction of the research site, followed by a description of my research process and reflections.

2.1 The Settings Lianhe Village is located in Hanshui County,1 Hubei Province, central China. According to the information provided by the county government, the residential population of Hanshui has been between 600,000 and 650,000 from 2000 to 2013. In 2005–2006, 74% of the residential population in Hanshui held an agricultural household registration and mainly lived on farming and casual manual jobs, while 26% were non-agricultural residents, doing non-farming jobs. In 2012–2013, the residential population was 610,000, among which those with an agricultural household registration accounted for 86.6%, and the rest 13.4% had a non-agricultural household registration. In recent years, although industry and service have achieved some development, as a result of the active investment promotion pushed forward by the local government, agriculture still has been playing a big part in the source of local finance. Its geographic features—it is at the conjunction of a foothill and plain—make it ‘the home of fishing and rice’ (yu mi zhi xiang). Rice is the main agricultural product in Hanshui, followed by cotton, rape, and wheat. In Chap. 6 we will see that this is one reason for rural-to-rural migration from the neighbouring Sichuan and Henan Provinces to Hanshui. At the same time, due to its relatively low level of industrialization, Hanshui is mainly a sending place in terms of national rural-to-urban labour migration. According to the local government’s statistics, in 2005 about 54% of those aged between 18 and 35 left Hanshui County to work in big cities. Lianhe Village is an ordinary village among 249 villages in Hanshui, with about 450 households, 1600 residents. It is composed of eight teams,2 which are scattered not far from the three main roads of the County. But compared to some other villages which are closer to the county centre and much of whose land has been expropriated for industrial use, Lianhe is relatively far from the county town. With about 2200 mu3 of farmland, parts of land and homestead in Lianhe started to be expropriated in 2012. According to the latest statistics, by August, 2018, the land and homestead of villagers from five teams have been expropriated by the local government for industrial use. But the scope of this book will be focusing on 1926–2013, that is, before the expropriation took place on a large scale. At that time, villagers there mainly relied on farming or jobs in far away cities, or a mixture of farming and skilled manual or seasonal casual jobs. Electricity was available over 30 years ago, but running water was only available after 2000. Before that, villagers relied on water 1 To

protect confidentiality, both names of ‘Lianhe’ and ‘Hanshui’ are made up names. (dui) is the lowest and most basic social structure of rural society. 3 Mu, a unit of area, a mu approximately equals 666.67 m2 . 2 ‘Team’

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from natural ponds which provided water for drinking (for both residents and cattle), washing and irrigation. But later, with the ponds drying out, the villagers started hiring machines to dig wells for drinking and washing water. Irrigation counted on a couple of deep wells which were dug under the sponsorship of some companies in the county. The village cadres were responsible for coordinating the use of these deep wells among villagers.

2.2 Before Going to the Field As mentioned in the introduction, Lianhe’s location in inland China is the first reason why I chose it as my research site, as little research, especially on-site, in-depth field research, has been carried out in inland rural areas (Bossen 2002). Another reason why I chose this village was because I grew up there. I spent my childhood there. Despite being away most of the time from the age of 13 for schooling, I did return regularly. In this sense, I am an ‘insider’ of this community, which as many researchers have pointed out, will greatly benefit my study. As an insider from the community under study, the researcher(s) can gather more complete and valid data; the researcher(s) may also be treated as more trustworthy, thereby facilitating access (Sprague 2005: 63; Mullings 1999). In addition, being a female also makes me an ‘insider’ for the women. Sharing the same sex will make the woman-to-woman interview easier, as Janet Finch has put it, in-depth woman-to-woman interviews can ‘easily take on the character of an intimate conversation’ (1993: 169). At the same time, however, I also perceived myself as an outsider to them, as I was not living in the community at that time, and so remained outside of the immediate power relations there. In addition, my different life experience, in terms of education, living in a big city like Beijing, and spending time abroad, also means I am not a complete ‘insider’. In this sense, I agree with Joey Sprague when he notes that ‘insider is a misleading category’ (2005: 64), as researchers normally do not share all aspects of their identity with the researched. I thought I had a dual-role both as an insider and an outsider at the same time for them. This experience also denies the insider/outsider dichotomy, and suggests that being an ‘insider’ or ‘outsider’ is not a fixed but flexible attribute. I was not upset but encouraged by this as it has been suggested that outsiders are more likely to be perceived as neutral and therefore be given information that would not be given to an insider. Moreover, outsiders are ‘likely to have a greater degree of objectivity and ability to observe behaviours without distorting their meanings’ (Mullings 1999: 340). In short, I went to the field hoping to make good use of the advantages of both ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’ positions whilst avoiding any of the disadvantages that comes with them. But the situation in the field proved to be far more complicated than I had expected.

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2.3 In the Field The ethnography lasted for about eight months, from September, 2005 to May, 2006. I lived in Team Two staying with my family most of the time. After May, 2006, I left the village, but still have been in regular contacts with some research participants. Later, in 2008, 2009, 2012 and 2013, I paid short visits back to Lianhe Village and did some research. Besides field visits, I also did follow-up interviews with many villagers in Lianhe via telephone and E-mails. The ways in which I kept in touch with the young villagers have kept up with the times. We used both QQ and later WeChat,4 and many middle-aged villagers are using WeChat nowadays and have become my WeChat contacts. As stated above, the research method is a combination of ethnographic participant observation, life story interviews and documentary collection. After I moved in the village, apart from several days in the beginning when I spent some time visiting the local old cadres for the local history and the current cadres for some basic information about the village such as population, the amount of farmland etc., I started looking for potential interviewees and carrying out interviews. I started from Team Two where I stayed and knew most villagers there. Actually the fellow villagers were curious about my visit to the village from the very beginning since I claimed that I would be staying for more than half a year. It was different from the short-term sojourns in the past. Not long after my arrival, the news that I was back to do some research about women was spread in the village. After that, it was not difficult for me to convince the women in the Team Two to be my interviewees. I usually mentioned the interview to a potential interviewee in some casual occasions, for example, encounters on the road, in the village grocery store which is the activity centre of the villagers or on some ritual ceremonies such as wedding, birthday banquets etc., and asked about an appropriate time to carry it out. These occasions also provided me with opportunities to approach those who had connections in Lianhe and were visiting them at that time. For most purposes, they were daughters who married out from Lianhe. For those in the other Teams or those who I didn’t know, my connections in that Team worked as my intermediary to approach them. Sometimes without advance notice, my intermediary just took me walking through the whole Team and I interviewed those we came across. My fieldwork took place in slow seasons, from September to next May when the villagers had little farming work to do while plenty of spare time to spend. This also benefited my interviews: it was easier for me to find them and they could take their time talking. Besides, a snowballing sample was also adopted to search interviewees. Women who I had interviewed introduced their female relatives or friends to me. In the end, in the ethnography in 2005–2006, in total, I interviewed 57 women about their life stories, 21 of whom are from ‘the first unbound feet generation’, 19 belonging to ‘the baby boomers’ generation’, and 17 are from the ‘family planning generation’. In the short visits, I carried out follow-up interviews with several of them. In both the ethnography and the short-term fieldwork, I managed to interview 26 men in Lianhe, among whom 11 belonged to the first generation, eight the second 4 QQ

and WeChat are most popular instant messaging services in China.

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generation and seven the third generation. Among the 57 women interviewed, there are three women who all have been village cadres for a long time. Among them, one is from the first generation and two are from the second. Most interviews were carried out at the interviewees’ house, a familiar environment especially for those who did not know me. The thought was that this would ease the atmosphere and facilitate their willingness to talk (Finch 1993). For those who were visiting their connections in Lianhe, I interviewed them in the home of their relatives’. For most purposes, there was no the third party on the scene except in some cases where my intermediary was there at the beginning then left. In this face-to-face community, most villagers were already familiar with each other’s life stories and therefore had no desire to hang around for an hour listening to these. Studies have shown that personal life history is the most effective way to conduct in-depth interviews. On the one hand, the research participants are familiar with their own life history, and they might easily have interest to tell it. They also benefit from being listened to and from framing their stories in terms of overcoming adversity; on the other hand, the researcher benefits from becoming critically involved with her or his participants (Kouritzin 2000). I went to the field with a semi-structured interview guideline, which only listed possible life stages of a woman, such as childhood, girlhood, marriage, reproduction etc. On the other hand, I kept the possible historical events from the early twentieth century to the present in mind, and referred to them if certain life stages of the women matched the time when some historical events happened. In other words, I managed to connect the ‘individual life history’ with the ‘social history’. For example, I encouraged the women who had experienced the 1959–1961 ‘Three Years of hardship’ and the 1968–1978 ‘Cultural Revolution’ to reveal their stories during those periods. The aim of interview was to learn the life stories of these women, from when they were born till 2013, and the intertwining of their personal lives with the structural forces. An important question raised here is at a practical level, how to ask the women questions in order to fulfil the aforementioned aim. A couple of works have talked about Chinese rural women’s memory about the collective era. For example, both Guo Yuhua and Fang Huirong have suggested that facing the questions about the past history, rural women became active only when these historical events were associated with their personal lives, particularly sufferings experienced by their body, their family especially children. They generally showed a ‘bad memory’ toward the questions about the ‘big’ history, for example about the exact time of certain historical events etc., but they could think of many details of their everyday life, or some experience of their body (Fang 2001; Guo 2003). This is supported by my interview experiences with the women in Lianhe. For example, the women were unable to supply details about their experiences in the ‘Cultural Revolution’, or showed no interests to these questions.5 Besides, too much inquiry about their personal encounters with some political/historical forces sometimes will discourage their talking. This is especially the case when they had some unpleasant experiences with these forces. For example, later in this chapter, I will mention a middle-aged woman who became very alert and reluctant to talk when 5 For

more details, see their reaction to my questions about this period in Chap. 4.

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I was asking her some questions about her possible violation of the family planning policy. My reading of these works before my fieldwork and my reflections during the encounters with the women made me decide that my questions would be focusing on their life stories, through which to discern ‘what were/are important from THEIR own points of view’. One possible consequence of this, however, is that some important historical periods/events in China’s history, for example, the ‘Three Years of hardship’ (1959–1961) and the ‘Cultural Revolution’ (1968–1978) were possibly missed out from the women’s narrative, as these periods were not much different from other periods in the collective era for them from their perspectives. During the interviews, for talkative interviewees, I simply asked them to tell me their stories from when they were born till the present; while for the less talkative ones, I normally proposed a certain life stage and asked for more details. Interviews normally lasted for between forty-five minutes to one and a half hours. The most talkative woman spoke for two and a half hours before I realized I had another appointment. I revisited her later and she talked for another two and a half hours. I recorded every interview. All interviews were transcribed and typed into Mandarin Chinese. I only translated the parts I needed into English while writing up. Interviewing actually took up only a small part of the time. I spent some of the time researching the history of the village and Hanshui County with the elders and cadres in the village and the local archives. I spent the majority of the time with the villagers, and mostly women of various ages. Because the period I was there avoided the two busiest seasons of transplanting rice seedlings in April and May, and harvesting in August and September, most villagers were going about their lives in a relaxed fashion. I was there for their chats, spending my time on a chair at a corner of the local grocery store, which is the centre where villagers gather to play mahjong or cards. I observed and listened to both women and men. I also attended the ritual ceremonies in the village such as weddings, birthday parties or funerals, and also invited young people (boys and girls) who were returning home for the Chinese New Year from east or south China where they were working as assemble workers or waitress, to use my computer. In 2005–2006, there was no smart phone, and computer and internet were new things in Lianhe. As a result, the young people crowded my room, chatting about what they saw in different parts of the country. I kept a research diary to record my findings during daily encounters. Later, during the writing-up, the diary proved to be the most inspiring part of the materials collected. The encounter process, including how I approached them and how they accepted me, was very interesting. Actually my dual role as an insider and an outsider both benefited and disadvantaged the processes of finding interviewees and carrying out of interviews in some unexpected ways.

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2.3.1 The Advantages of My Dual Role I did benefit a lot from the dual role, and most of my wishes before going to the field were realised to some extent. On the whole finding interviewees was relatively smooth. For many in the village I was deemed an honourable returnee for being the first from the village to be enrolled in the most famous university in China and for having gone abroad. These are considered great achievements in the village. Thus not only the ordinary villagers, but also the local cadres were very willing to do me a favour and agree to my interview. Mothers with young children were especially happy to talk to me, as they wanted to learn about my study experiences in order to help their children. I found that my background and connections with the village undoubtedly contributed greatly to the ease in access I enjoyed, and to the seeming ease with which the interviewees accepted me. I did come across a couple of refusals, which I believe was not due to their questioning about my research. I will return to this with examples later. My proficiency in the local dialect also helped with the interviews. Many of the villagers assumed that I would been unable to speak the local language very well as I had been away for such a long time, and the fact that I retained this ability contrasted with some of the young migrants who insisted on speaking Mandarin or dialects with strange accents.6 While the latter were morally judged by the older generations in the village, I was positively seen as ‘not forgetting my origin’, which won over some hearts for me. On the other hand, as I had expected, being on the outside also helped as most of them were willing to tell me things they had not even shared with their family. In the end, I even got stories about adultery, betrayal, secret savings unknown to spouses, and suppressed complaints about other family members etc. During these times, I always had a similar feeling to Janet Finch when she noted that they ‘need to know how to protect themselves from people like me’—a person is to some extent always both an insider and an outsider (1993: 173). None of them asked me for formal paperwork to prove my identity or purpose of my research, nor did anyone question my use of a digital recorder or how I would use their recordings later. I was absolutely amazed by, and grateful for, their trust in me and thus always reminded myself to watch what I say in the village after finishing interviewing; what they had confided in me had the potential to cause great harm if it became public.

6 Only the youngest generation in the village could pick up Mandarin easily due to school education,

the effect of TV and experiences of working outside Hanshui. There was a girl from that generation who asked me if she needed to speak Mandarin. I said ‘it is up to you.’ In the end, she chose local dialect. The mid-aged generation could speak some Mandarin, but it seemed a tough job for them. The oldest generation could understand (also due to the effects of TV) but could not speak Mandarin at all.

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2.3.2 The Disadvantages of My Role as an ‘Insider’ During the whole process of interviewing, I tried to stress my identity as an ‘insider’ to boost their readiness to tell me their life stories in as much detail as possible, and reduce their uneasiness of talking to a person with a high education.7 My role as an ‘insider’, however, did not always facilitate my research. Indeed, at times it proved to be a disadvantage. Firstly, the fact that I was from the community had a de-mystification effect. By this I mean some of the villagers would not take me or my research seriously as they knew where I was originally from. Many judged me on a practical basis, for example my clothing or the mobile I was using. From my plain clothing, I guess some of them concluded that I had not managed to attain a good status outside and thus did not deserve the extra respect and cooperation I enjoyed from the others. Once two old women discussed my clothing after the interview and compared me to a migrant girl who, according to the villagers’ gossip, was a mistress of a rich businessman in south China and very fashionable with her dyed blond hair and always dressed up. Secondly, I noticed that sometimes my position as an honoured former member in the village disadvantaged rather than helped my search for interviewees. An old lady in the village who was a distant relative of mine always said ‘How about next time? I have no time at the moment’ every time I tried to arrange our interview. In the end, I did not manage to talk to her. Sometimes I could even sense certain hostility from the villagers. For example, once after I interviewed a man’s wife, he asked me in which country I was studying. I said ‘the UK’. He then sneeringly replied ‘They are nothing. We are catching up now.’ I was confused by such an attitude. Later when I told one of my aunts about my experience with the above-mentioned old lady, she curled her upper lip contemptuously and said ‘she must be jealous of our family because of what you have achieved. None of her grandchildren could achieve that. Her refusal meant she did not want you to finish your task smoothly.’ I then realized that actually my role as an insider from the community meant that me and my family were, like any other family, subject to the same system of comparisons in which nobody wants to be left too far behind their fellow villagers.

2.3.3 Generations and the Construction of My Identity by the Researched When I explained the reason why I needed to stay at Lianhe for several months, I said I was doing a ‘research’. Then, what is ‘research’, from the perspective of the participants? To a great extent, their definition and imagination of ‘research’ as an activity will affect how/whether they will accept me and how/whether they will 7 Despite difference, all of them did not manage to get many years of education. Quite a few of them

said at the beginning of the interview that they were afraid they would not have a good conversation with me because of their little education, or questioned the usefulness of their stories for me.

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answer my questions. How will these further affect the research process and the obtain of the information? With time going by, I realized that despite my endeavour to present myself as an ‘insider’, my experiences of living outside the community did prompt the villagers’ interest in constructing my identity and the purpose of my research from their own point of view. More importantly, this construction was related to their past life experiences, which offered me a different encounter experience with each generation. For the first generation, my interviews actually reminded them of the ‘speaking bitterness’ materials collection carried out by the local cadres of the CCP in the 1940s and 1950s (Hinton c1966).8 My intermediaries who introduced me to potential interviewees from the first generation were two old women and one man in their sixties. When they introduced me to the potential interviewees from the first generation, they automatically identified my academic purpose with the ‘speaking bitterness’ materials collection. They even told the women they found for me ‘Tell her whatever bitterness you have been suffering!’ Many old women would open their sentences by saying ‘Bitterness? I have eaten a lot of bitterness!’ In the beginning I tried to restate my purpose, but eventually gave up as it became clear that their impressions were fixed. And, in fact, I actually benefited from this, as they (especially women) poured out their descriptions of their struggles, for example, how they were abused by the step-parent, how they struggled to keep the balance between labouring in the collective and looking after children, how they were disappointed with the ill treatment they received from their adult sons, and so on. These were precisely what I wanted. In contrast to those from the first generation, approaching the second generation of women who I did not know was a different story. My identity as a stranger and outsider did disadvantage my research this time, as I was considered as suspicious and dangerous by some of them. For example, when I asked a woman, who was in her early fifties, how many children she had conceived, including those that had died in infancy and/or aborted, she looked a bit frightened and asked cautiously ‘what is this for?’ I explained that I just wanted to do some statistics and figure out a snap-shot picture, and reiterated that the data would not be used for purposes other than my research. But she didn’t seem convinced. I guessed she must have identified me with the cadres in charge of family planning issues and was afraid I was here to discover details from the past that would harm her. This also reminded me that I should have asked these ‘sensitive’ questions in a more delicate way.9 It 8 ‘Speaking

bitterness’ was a strategy used by the CCP to establish socialist revolutionary culture and to narrate the history of the nation. It took place when peasants recounted their exploitation and denounced individuals identified as ‘class enemies’ in public struggle sessions. These testimonials were used as models for reworking consciousness in order to revolutionize the population. 9 I did use some techniques to ask sensitive questions later, for example, questions about their annual income. I had never asked about their income directly. I normally estimated their annual income first based on their income sources, then used their non-farming occupation or the furniture they had as a way to introduce conversations about their income. I always told them my estimation first which was actually higher than my real estimation, and then they would correct me at once, stressing they could not earn that amount, and then told me the real number. These ‘techniques’

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also made me realize that, some questions seemed ‘sensitive’ to some people, but not to some others. This to a great extent depended on the life experience of the people in question. Moreover, from my stories with the two generations, we can see how the images of the ‘state’ are disparate, based on the particular experiences of encountering the ‘state’ of each. They also revealed how hegemonic discourses play a role in the construction of the researcher’s identity by the participants. It also highlighted how the power of the researcher in controlling the interview process weakened while facing these hegemonic discourses (Sprague 2005: 61). In contrast, the youngest ‘family planning generation’, whether they knew me or not, often saw me as a sympathetic listener (Finch 1993) who ‘came (back) from the outside world, and had seen the outside world’, and would therefore understand their life and their status in the community. It seemed that my presence enabled them to vent their feelings. Many of them poured their stories out to me: their love lives, how they got together, broke up and then reunited with their boyfriends, their emotions, their longing for the outside world, their problems with their parents etc. Several of them could not stop until they had spoken for a couple of hours. My interview became an emotional narrative. This was very different from what I had expected. To be honest, I was a bit afraid before I started searching for interviewees from this generation, as I was a similar age to them. In the countryside, girls in their late twenties should have already been married for some time, and in fact, most of them were married. I was afraid that they would show some feeling of superiority towards me, as I was still single. Clearly this would affect my interviews with them. Furthermore, many of them did make a lot of effort with their clothes and I was afraid that this would increase their feelings of superiority towards me as I dress plainly. Indeed these are problems some researchers had come across when interviewing those of a similar age (Liu 2006). But in the end, none of these worries materialised. The interviewees were actually more than willing to pour their feelings to me, which I guess was basically because they could not find sympathetic listeners in the community. Most of them had experiences of working outside during their girlhood, especially in non-agricultural communities, which supplied them with ways of thinking about many subjects that differed from the rural community. Hence there was a sense of tension between them and their parents and older fellow villagers. TV has also played a big part in shaping their understanding of life, especially the request for parent-child dialogue and conjugal intimacy which used to be deemed as ‘outside’ ways by the older generations. Again this has become one of the main sources of tension and dissatisfaction. To these young women, however, I was a representative of the outside world, as I seemed really effective, but I felt terribly sorry later as I thought I was not being up front with them. In this sense, I was exploiting them for the information I wanted, which was not how I wanted to see in my relationship with them. Janet Finch also had the similar feelings when she used these so-called ‘techniques’ (1993: 174).

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‘have seen the outside world’ and must therefore be on their side. In this sense, to them, I am an outsider to this community but an insider of their camp. And for them, an outsider to the community is not a source of fear but a genuine listener and fellow sympathizer. Again this definitely benefited my research. My role as a sympathetic listener, however, seemed to work for the third generation only. The similarity of age also meant some similar life experiences, for example, parents’ lectures about studying hard to ‘jumping out of the agricultural gate’ etc. While the other two older generations thought I was unable to completely understand what they had gone through, although they did like to tell me their stories. Thus to Janet Finch’s conclusion (1993) that female researchers could be sympathetic listeners to the researched in woman-to-woman interviews, I would add that this effect is sometimes confined by the similarities of the two sides’ biographical background, especially age and the life stages they have experienced.

2.4 Conclusion To sum up, all my experiences prove that the ‘insider/outsider’ boundary is flexible and unstable. In addition to some key aspects of identity such as gender, ethnicity or class etc., minor aspects such as language used, clothing and the way she/he explains her/his research purpose are also significant to the researcher’s presentation of his/her identity. On the other hand, I suggest that the construction of the researcher’s identity by the researched is equally important, also flexible, and based on the positions of the researched in such social divisions as gender, age, class, ethnicity, etc., and especially their past life experiences and memories. In this sense, the flexible boundary is also subject to changes in time and across space. In this study, the women’s age, past life memories, and current experiences all have a part in shaping their understanding of my identity as an insider or outsider, both or neither. Furthermore, the advantages and/or disadvantages of a dual role are so complex and unpredictable sometimes that they deserve situated examination. And finally, the power relations between the researchers and the interviewees are flexible; either could be at a strong/weak position. This also needs situated examination.

References Bossen, L. (2002). Chinese women and rural development: Sixty years of change in Lu Village, Yunnan. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers INC. Fang, H. (2001). ‘Wushijian jing’ yu shenghuo shijie de ‘zhenshi’: Xicun nongmin tugai shiqi shehui shenghuo de jiyi (The situation of ‘nothing happening’ and the ‘reality’ in the life world: Peasants’ memory of the social lives in the Land Reform era in Xi Village). In N. Yang (Ed.), Kongjian, jiyi, shehui zhuanxing: ‘xin shehui shi’ yanjiu lunwen jingxuan ji (Space, memory and social transformation: A collection on ‘new social history’). Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin chubanshe (Shanghai People’s Press).

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Finch, J. (1993). ‘It’s great to have someone to talk to’: Ethics and politics of interviewing women. In M. Hammersley (ed.), Social research: Philosophy, politics and practice. London: Sage Publications, in association with the Open University. Guo, Y. (2003). Xinling de jitihua: Shanbei jicun nongye hezuohua de nvxing jiyi (The collectivization of the mind: Women’s memories about the collective in Jicun, Shanbei). Zhongguo Shehui Kexue (Chinese Social Science), 4, 79–92. Hinton, W. (c1966). Fanshen: A documentary of revolution in a Chinese village. New York: Vintage Books. Kouritzin, S. G. (2000). Bringing life to research: Life history research and ESL. Tesl Canada Journal, 17(2), 1–35. Liu, J. (2006). Researching Chinese women’s lives: ‘Insider’ research and life history interviewing. Oral History, 34(1), 42–52. Mullings, B. (1999). Insider or outsider, both or neither: Some dilemmas of interviewing in a cross-cultural setting. Geoforum, 30(4), 337–350. Pettinger, L. (2005). Representing shop work: A dual ethnography. Qualitative Research, 5(3), 347–364. Sprague, J. (2005). Feminist methodologies for critical researchers: Bridging differences. Walnut Creek, CA: Alta Mira Press. Thuno, M. (2006). In the ‘Field’ together: Potentials and pitfalls in collaborative research. In M. Heimer & Stig Thogersen (Eds.), Doing fieldwork in China. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Wolf, M. (1985). Revolution postponed: Women in contemporary China. California: Stanford University Press.

Part I

Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Pre-collective Era (1926–1956)

Introduction Part I, consisted of Chap. 3, mainly focuses on the gendered organisation of labour and leisure in the pre-collective era between 1926 and 1956. It first briefly introduces the historical context of the era, before it proceeds to Chap. 3. Part I focuses on the pre-collective era between 1926 and 1956, when China saw continuous turmoil and sufferings to her petty peasant economy. Such turmoil was caused by a number of factors: the civil war between competing warlords; natural calamities; the intrusion of Japanese troops; and several switchovers of different regimes stretching back to the overturn of the Qing Dynasty in 1912 and up to the founding of P. R. China in 1949 (Twitchett and Fairbank 1986). This period of complex history was shared by my research site Hanshui County, where the regime had been changed four times during the first half of the twentieth century and ended up with a formal part of the People’s government led by the CCP in February, 1949. This part looks into women, labour, leisure and family during this turbulent period. It starts from 1926 when the oldest woman from the first generation was born, towards a relative peaceful period since 1949 and the impacts of the land reform following in 1950. It also covers the incipient stages of the collectivisation campaign, that is, the mutual-aid teams and lower-stage cooperatives from 1952 to 1956.

Reference Twitchett, D. & Fairbank J. K. (Ed.) (1986). The Cambridge History of Republican China 1912–1949 (Vol. 13, part 2). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 3

Mother’s Daughter: Girls’ Labour and Leisure in the Pre-collective Era (1926–1956)

Abstract This chapter pays attention to the girlhood of the first unbound feet generation in the pre-collective era. It examines the interplays between the social, economic and demographic changes caused by wars and revolution and such familial/household factors as family structure, son preference and capability for labour, going on to look at how they have shaped the girls’ labour and leisure lives when they were little and at mature girlhood respectively. It also suggests special power relations between them and their parents, especially their mothers.

This chapter traces the two-way linkages between labour-family/household and leisure-family/household, exploring the intersection between the girlhood of the first generation of women and a turbulent and transitional historical time. It examines socio-economic, demographic and cultural changes during that time, including the unbinding of feet practice, changes in the economy, market and labour system, changes in the education system, family structure and son preference. It also looks into how the intertwining of these factors has shaped their organisation of labour and leisure and caused a transformation of that configuration. And finally it explores the special power relations between these women and their parents that emerge with their labour. Through these, it suggests an underestimation of the girls’ contribution, points to a continuity between the pre- and post-1949 eras, and also indicates that ‘Chinese rural women before 1949’ is not a homogeneous group. It begins with recounting the historical context and the somewhat limited literature on rural girls’ work in pre-1949 China, followed by empirical evidence of rural girls’ contributions to the family economy at different stages of their life cycle, that is, from a little girl to an older girl who becomes a mature labourer. It also examines the power relations across gender and age that are brought about by their labour within the family.

© East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_3

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3.1 Historical Context and Previous Research on Rural Chinese Girls’ Labour As mentioned above, the continuous turmoil and sufferings caused by civil wars, invasions and natural calamities during the first half of the twentieth century brought disaster to agriculture throughout China. The petty peasants, in particular, were hit hard (Twitchett and Fairbank 1986). On the other hand, during this turmoil modernisation and reform movements in China was also underway—the movement prohibiting footbinding was one of the most influential. Despite continuous disputes since its emergence over one thousand years ago, footbinding had not been eradicated in China until the early twentieth century. According to the reformists in the late nineteenth century, the reason for putting an end to this practice was the fact that it prevented Chinese women, half the population, from participating in the production, thus impeding China’s development. From the very beginning of the reform movement, footbinding was closely connected to the nationhood of China. After two decades of struggles, the Qing court itself issued an edict prohibiting footbinding in 1900 (Kazuko 1978). In 1912, soon after Republican China was founded, a new edict was issued prohibiting footbinding throughout the country. The discussion about the relation between footbinding and women’s participation in production did appear in academic research, but not substantially. Indeed, the amount of work done by rural girls in pre-1949 China has seldom been clearly recorded, as it seems to be a social imperative that unmarried girls stay out of sight (Hershatter 2004). If recorded at all, it tended to be incorporated into the category of ‘women’s work’. J. L. Buck was one of the first to carry out an empirical study of rural Chinese women’s participation in labour in pre-1949 era. Conducted from 1929 to 1933, Buck’s study of 38,256 farm families in twenty-two provinces in China suggested that rural women did not work on the land too much, but regional differences existed. He estimated that on average, women performed 13% of all farm labour and about 16% of all subsidiary work. He also proposed a footbinding-labour theory to explain the likely relation between the amount of work performed by women and the extent to which foot binding was practised. For example, in the wheat region of the north, where the practice of footbinding was more strictly adhered to, women performed less field labour than in the rice regions of the south. He estimated that in the 1930s, on average, five per cent of the labour, including both farm and subsidiary work, was performed by children (Buck 1937: 291). Unfortunately he did not clarify the age and gender of the children he referred to. Mainly referring to Buck’s book, some feminist authors summarize that in the pre1949 era rural women’s role in agriculture was rather a minor one. Daughters were seldom trained in farming techniques, and they mainly performed ‘light’, ‘inside’ work, such as domestic chores, which were nevertheless, far from being easy (Davin 1976; Jacka 1997). With the socialist revolution in 1949 and the mobilisation of the CCP, the number of women who participated in farming and the numbers of days worked by the women increased substantially (Croll 1985). The same authors,

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however, criticized Buck’s footbinding-labour theory, as it could not explain the interarea variations in women’s participation in farming in north China where shared the similar extent of footbinding (Davin 1976). Other sources, however, seem to challenge the existing results: Fei and Chang found that women performed more days of farming than men in Lu Village, Yunnan, in 1938 (Fei and Chang 1975); Oral history interviews also suggest that, contrary to the norm that unmarried girls stayed out of sight, women in poor households in Shaanxi did outside farm work before 1949 (Hershatter 2000). The complexity of the relationship between women’s labour and foot binding is also highlighted by examining the demise of footbinding in the context of increasing imports. The latter harmed the domestic textile market and thus made rural women’s ‘inside’ labour less feasible from around 1900–1930 (Bossen 2002). The research done by Bossen and her coauthors in Yunnan and Shaanxi provides evidence that transformations in textile production undercut the custom of footbinding and contributed to its rapid demise (Bossen et al. 2011). One purpose of this chapter is to contribute to this reassessment. One difference is that this current research will pay attention to a group of rural women from central China who were born in 1920s and 1930s. My research site Hubei Province experienced a drastic anti-footbinding movement in the late 1920s after the Republican Government moved its capital from Guangzhou to Wuhan, the capital of Hubei Province, in 1926. The latter became the political centre of the country. A deadline was set to loosen the bound feet, and new footbinding was strictly prohibited. The people with bound feet, from the township, to the county and the whole province were registered. It is against this background that the practice of footbinding gradually disappeared (Zhang 2013). As such, the first generation of women I met in Lianhe Village, who were born between 1920s and the early 1940s, were the first generation of women exempted from foot binding on the whole in recent history. Some of them did not bind their feet at all, and the others unbound their feet soon after they started binding them. The timing and the interaction between ‘the unbinding of feet’ and mobilisation into production in the late 1940s has also made this group a special group of women having different fates from that of their mothers’ generation. If we fit my research site into Buck’s framework, then Hanshui County, in mid-Hubei, can be considered an in-between area. It is located in between the Szechwan Rice region where women constituted 18% of the labourers in the fields and did 11% of farm work, and the Yangtze rice-wheat area where 29% of the labourers in the fields were women, and they performed 19% of farm work. This was in line with the reports the women I met gave when talking about their mothers’ cases. Although it was hard to know the exact relationship between footbinding and participation in agriculture in rural Hubei in pre-1920s, what was certain was the fact that the mothers of the first generation were not trained in farming techniques (Jacka 1997: 23). Additionally they had not taken on much farm work since a young age. Therefore, at the turning of twentiethcentury, feet-bound mothers and their ‘unbound’ daughters would definitely have had different fates while facing dramatic socio-economic transformations, especially the

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mobilisation into production. The timing of the unbinding of feet and the mobilisation into production, and the intersection of these two events, has made the girls’ lives special. This seemed among very few moments in China’s recent history when daughters would not be following their mothers’ fate. By focusing on this intersection, this chapter departs from the existing scholarship which normally makes 1949 a clear-cut division for rural women’s lives, and sheds light on the transitional period between the demise of footbinding and the mobilisation of rural women into production. The sections that follow examine these events from the perspective of the daughters’. I will do so by looking into the girlhood of 21 women from the first generation from my sample. It develops according to two stages of the girls’ life cycle, in each of which, socio-economic and demographic factors are explored respectively. It also explores how these and other influences, such as culture and norms, interplay and play a part in the organisation of their labour and leisure.

3.2 Little Girls: Family, Classroom, Playground, Market and Field This section focuses on the stage of the girls’ lives when they were still little girls in their parents’ family. That is to say, life before 14 or 15 years old which was when they were thought to be mature enough for adult farming work. In the wake of wars and natural disaster, the periods from the 1920s to the 1940s saw Chinese farmers facing a broken order, abandoned farmland, and a disrupted transportation system and market. These conditions created a complex family composition for the girls and a harsh childhood.

3.2.1 ‘His Sons’ ‘Their Daughters’ China saw a ‘high birth rate, high death rate and low growth’ in population in the pre-1949 era, and the life expectancy throughout the nation was 35 year old in the city, while in the countryside it was 28 (Liu and Zheng 2002). People in Lianhe Village also shared these. Old sayings in the village represented the reality at that time: ‘In the street you only see pregnant women, but few newly born children’ or ‘women give birth to many but bury even more’. Widows remarrying was not only normal practice but positively encouraged by their husband’s clan who could get money from arranging the marriage. That is why a high proportion of the women (12 out of 21) are described as from compound families. Such families, with groups of step-siblings or half-siblings, were common and normally resulted from remarriage after the death of a spouse. Those who lost both parents were normally left to stay with close relatives of the fathers. With a high mortality rate, the number of children

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in the family, (including both step-siblings and half-siblings) was not that big—3.23 on average for this group of women. In addition, with a high mortality rate, the age difference between siblings was often very significant. Although an extremely high proportion of their widowed parent got remarried, for most of the girls, the notion of a ‘normal family life’ just seemed not to apply. In their narrative, childhood represented a period of misery in terms of family relations. Usually the attitude of the head of the household determined their quality of life. Hence under a patriarchal culture, those who had a step-father often had the most miserable experiences. Gezhen (born in 1939) lost her father when she was only three months old, and her step-father came in three years later. This step-father was ruthless to his step-children: A: After our step-father came, he often approached me, without warning or anything; he pinched my ear with all his strength. He had such long nails that my ears were full of pus and blood all year round. Q: Did he beat other children in the family? A: He did not beat his biological children. Two of my older brothers had already died by that time. He also hit my older sister, but it was not long before she married out. I was the only child then, and they had a son later. He spoiled his son so much! He prepared good food and good drinks for him. I remembered in the summer, we caught very big carps for a meal. After my mother went to the kitchen to get more rice, my step-father hit my head with his chopsticks, which meant I was not allowed to have more fish but only rice so I could survive. Alas, his son, the apple of his eye! You know, all good food went to his son! Those orphans often got ill treatment from the non-blood relative with whose family they stayed. Mengying lost both her parents when she was three years old, and stayed with her uncle’s family. Q: Did your uncle and aunt treat you well? A: They were just so so. I was the one who laboured. As for their own daughter, she went to school. My uncle died later, leaving my aunt, her daughter, my grandfather and me in the family. I did most of the work. They certainly did not treat me as well as their own child. At that time, my palms used to sweaty quite easily, so I often broke my needle when I was making shoes. She (aunt) then made a cloth purse, tying all her needles round her waist. I could not find a single needle at all! Thread was traded with eggs at that time. She locked all the eggs in her room…

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A blood relationship is important and a lack of this led to the girls being badly treated by their non-blood parent or relatives. The prevalent preference for sons also brought the girls unpleasant experiences, even if they lived with their natural parents. Generally speaking, the girls had more burdens in terms of labour; while having fewer opportunities for education than their brothers. An educational reform was launched at the beginning of the twentieth century, which substituted the ideal of ‘freedom, equality and philanthropy’ for the traditional Chinese ethics. Although it affirmed gender equality, the reform did not benefit girls as much as boys (Yang 2006). This was especially so for farmers, as school education for boys would enable them to become upwardly mobile and this would bring benefits for the whole family. For girls, however, this road was normally blocked as there was no place for women in government or other public department. Also, women would usually marry out and become ‘spilled water’ which was unable to be taken back (Croll 1985). Besides, in Lianhe, there was no modern public school until 1949, which meant there was very little chance for those girls whose girlhood was pre-1949 to go to school. 16 out of the 21 women interviewed were totally illiterate. Taoying was one of them: Q: Did you go to school? A: No. At that time, my younger brother, who was three years younger than me, was old enough to go to school, but he was too shy to go on his own, so my dad asked me to go to keep him company. Q: How long did you stay in school? A: My dad bought me three books. I stopped going after reading the third just once. Why? Because my grandfather started arguing with my parents after I had been in school for just a couple of days. He asked them what use it was for a girl to get education. In the past, women were oppressed a lot. It would be useless for girls to go to school. Schools were just for boys. He kept arguing and arguing. My mother got so annoyed that she asked me to stop going, since my grandfather kept bothering her and my father about this. While her younger brother:

went to school for over ten years. So did my youngest brother. The sons all went to school, but the daughters did not.

Those who lost parents became the labour force reservoir for their relatives’ family. There was no possibility for them to go to school, but they created chances for their relatives’ children. As an orphan, Chunxiang thought she had a much worse fate than her uncle’s daughter, with whose family she stayed:

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I was a free long-term hired labour for them, but she stayed in school until she was almost 20 years old. At that time a graduate from primary school was almost at the same level as a present day graduate from junior middle school. She stopped going when she turned 18.

Ironically enough, while few girls could be seen in the classroom, the play area in the village saw more little girls than boys, as most of the boys of a similar age were at school. Only the little girls who were not old enough to help the adults with anything spent their spare energy on self-created games. But not all girls were lucky enough to enjoy these games. Many of them could only chat with other girls while they were labouring together, for example, collecting wild vegetables for hogs together. Some others did not even have a chance to enjoy a leisured chat, because they were compelled by their step-parent or non-blood relative to work harder.

3.2.2 ‘A Shoulder Pole of Firewood to Hanshui Each Day’: Little Girls’ Work In a country like China with a huge population but limited farmland, supplementary income from subsidiary work other than farming became very necessary (Buck 1937: 289). Besides, under a petty peasant economy without any subsidy from the state, the peasants had to subsist on all sorts of labour provided by their family. In pre-1949 Hanshui County, a typical town market would normally have various trade places (‘hang’) for farmers to meet and trade. The main ones would usually include a grain ‘hang’, pig ‘hang’, cattle ‘hang’, vegetable ‘hang’, fish ‘hang’ and firewood ‘hang’. Basically, the ‘hang’ functioned as a middleman-type setup, whereby one could buy the farmers’ farm products and then sell to the residents in the town or other farmers (Xu 2000). For those farmers who could not produce surplus grains to trade in grain ‘hang’, money from selling firewood became an important subsidiary as this did not need any financial investment but only labour force to collect firewood in the open fields. However, from the 1930s, the order in the market was disturbed: natural disasters, civil war and Japanese intrusion turned farmland in many parts of the country into a wasteland; hence the market couldn’t get the same level of supply as before. According to Twitchett and Fairbank, crop areas at that time saw ‘a shift from commercial crops to major food crops’ (1986: 267). In addition the Japanese military prevented the planting of crops on a large scale as the fields could be ‘protective covering for guerrillas’ (1986: 267). In this context, the most important ‘hang’, especially for the poorest farmers, was firewood ‘hang’. Here they sold firewood they had collected and then bought small amount of rice to take back home to live on. In a relatively peaceful environment, when the Japanese and local warlords were not so rampant, the income from firewood was supplementary; while when most of the days were spent in ‘hiding from the Japanese in the day time, from the bandits

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at night’, the little income from firewood became the only source the whole family could rely on. The work of collecting and selling firewood was normally done by the girls, and according to most of the women interviewed, their childhood was spent in carrying ‘a shoulder pole of firewood to Hanshui each day’. But before they grew strong enough to collect and carry firewood, the girls were always asked to help with auxiliary labour activities, which usually did not generate income, such as picking wild vegetables for hogs and feeding cattle in the open meadow. Those who had younger sisters to help with vegetable picking and cattle feeding were compelled to work in the fields at a very young age.

Hanying: Before the Japanese soldiers came, I helped them [her family] in the fields. We grew peas, sesame, and later millet. I helped with hoeing weeds. I did not know how to use the hoe, so I used my hands. I was so little then, younger than 10 years old, I used my hands to pull up weeds.

Those who lost parents and stayed with relatives were actually free child labour for that family. Aiying lived with her younger uncle and his family, and

started feeding the cattle at the age of eight. I tied the reins around my waist. Wherever the cattle went, they hauled me there. I suffered so much. I started working for my younger uncle and his wife when I was so young. I fed cattle, and then swept the floor, turned the millstone, washed clothes for the whole family, things like that. When I was a little older, say, 13 or 14, I collected firewood and cut reeds in the South Lake, and wove reed mats to sell.

It is noticeable that these girls were actually compelled to do labour activities related to farming from the very beginning, which was very different from their mothers’ generation who were not trained to have much to do with farming when they were young. Cattle feeding and wild vegetable picking were impossible for a woman with bound feet, as both tasks required lots of walking in wild countryside. Normally they were confined to ‘inside’ tasks, for example, domestic work. But the girls interviewed were requested to fulfil ‘outside’ tasks from a very young age, since the domestic chores were usually fulfilled by their foot-bound mother or grandmother. And it seemed the girls all shared the experience of being compelled to perform cash-generating labour when they were about 13 or 14, some even as early as 11 or 12 years old.

Gezhen: I was just 11 years old. Everyday, rain or snow, whatever, I carried a shoulder pole of firewood to the firewood ‘hang’ in Hanshui. At that time the road was still a dirt road, and was frozen in the winter. I had no shoes, only straw sandals. When the ice was melting, my feet were so cold that I used cotton fibre to keep them warm.

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When the sun came out, I alternatively stood on one foot while soaking up the sun on the other. Both of my heels had big cuts due to the cold.

Sometimes, if a family had more than one girl, they usually worked together:

Yuzhen: I did what? Collecting and selling firewood. I shared one cart with my older sister. We went to collect firewood from the riverside everyday. The wild pigs were very scary at that time. Or cutting reeds and making reeds mats to sell. We cut in the daytime and made mats at night. We stayed up very late. A capable hand could make more than 20 mats per day. Our hands were injured badly by the reeds.

Buck apparently underreported the girls’ contributions. Besides, his research was about the situation before 1933, but their contributions must have been much greater from the late 1930s to the late 1940s, since as mentioned above, the continuous chaos caused by Japanese incursions and civil wars made large areas of farmland wasteland, and made the small income from firewood an important, if not the only, source of income for the survival of the family. Besides, the men of the family were often asked to perform certain tasks for the troops, for example, collecting grass for their horses or constructing defences and so on and this made the children’s labour even more important. According to the girls, usually, what they earned from the firewood was immediately traded for rice in the grain ‘hang’. The follows are a conversion between me and Hanying. A: I started selling firewood when I was thirteen years old. I got up very early almost every day to sell firewood and then buy some rice to take back home with me. The whole family would have nothing to eat if I did not sell firewood that day. Q: You carried the firewood to Hanshui on your own? A: Yes. It was so demanding for a girl, 25 jin (1 jin is equivalent to 0.5 kg) of firewood, all the way from Shabao to Hanshui, almost 15 li’s distance (1 li is equal to 0.5 kilometre). I cut the firewood in the daytime, then broke them into pieces in the evening and carried them to the firewood ‘hang’ the following morning. If it was early enough, I would do a second run. It was so far away from Shabao to Hanshui, you see. Later, after the Japanese soldiers came, we were not allowed to pass the river bank. We had to go around to Tian’e which was on the opposite side of the river and then to Hanshui, with a shoulder pole of firewood. I was so little, but was also stopped by the Japanese soldiers who would check my pass certificate. They would not let you go if you had not got a pass certificate. How much I suffered!

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Finally, in 1945 the Japanese soldiers withdrew and the farmers could at least resume their farming. It was in the relatively peaceful years that followed that most of the girls reached the age of 14 and became mature labourers. In addition, the adoption of mutual-aid teams and lower-stage cooperatives from 1952 to 1956 also contributed to a different organisation of labour in their families.

3.3 Mother’s Daughter: Older Girls’ Labour This section focuses on the girls’ labour when they were over 14 years old and thought to be mature labourers. The land system and the labour system saw great changes between 1950 and 1956. These caused an urgent need for labour and inflexibility in farming work. Besides, family structures changed during this period. All of these affected the girls’ labour and their role and power within the family.

3.3.1 From ‘Land Reform’ to ‘Mutual-Aid Teams’ and ‘Lower-Stage Cooperatives’ The greatest significance that the socialist revolution in 1949 brought to the farmers was the change in the land system. Land reform came to Lianhe village in 1950, carried out in accordance with the Land Reform Law which was formally promulgated in June 1950. During this campaign, the so-called ‘five major properties’ (wuda caichan), including land, draft animals, farm implements, houses and furniture were redistributed among farmers according to their classification based on property they had owned before. In 1952 the early stages of the collectivisation campaign started, and although farmland still belonged to peasants, the way in which labour was organised changed. The organisation of mutual-aid teams (huzhu zu) in 1952 represented the first step. In this period, production was performed in a form of ‘exchange labour’, which meant that the labour force, draft animals and farm implements were priced respectively and the households who participated in the teams worked together on an equal total contribution basis. The second step toward collectivisation came with the organisation of lower-stage cooperatives (chuji hezuo she) in 1953, in which production was carried out and resources pooled in a bigger group than mutual-aid teams. In addition, production was arranged by the cooperative. The yield was distributed according to each household’s contribution in land and labour (Huang 1990). We can see the urgent need for labour and inflexibility of farming as production was organised collectively. We can also see the rising importance of labour force in these processes, as it became one of the criteria for distribution. Since the process of Land Reform had levelled the quantity and quality of the land individual households owned, the quantity and especially the quality of labourers from each household had become a key for the family’s prosperity. And the girls who had become mature labourers now played an important part in the family economy.

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3.3.2 Precious Daughter, Precious Labour The special family structure at that time affected the girls’ labour. Three characteristics distinguished the rural family in the first half of the twentieth century from other periods after 1949: Firstly, there were just a few children in each family because of the high infant mortality rate. The number of children in each family, both including step-siblings and half-siblings, was 3.23 on average in this group, which was by no means high. Secondly, the composition of the family was compound due to the high mortality and the rate of remarriage. Step-parent, step-siblings and half-siblings were quite common. Finally, significant age gaps existed among the siblings. Despite the lack of birth control, the intervals between children were expanded due to the high infant mortality rate. Especially in the compound family, the children who were born to the remarried couple were usually much younger than their half- or step-siblings. The possible consequences caused by this would be: firstly, most families had a shortage of labour, due to the limited amount of children on the one hand, and the big age gap among children on the other. Secondly, the relationships between parents and children became more complicated. In many cases, a remarried parent had only one biological child of his/her own, or even none. The parents were so keen to be looked after by their biological child(ren) that they would marry in a husband for their ‘own’ daughter, even if she had a step-older-brother, or their biological son was still too young. So basically, within the group interviewed, a high proportion of girls were expected to marry in a husband when they were old enough, to supply the family with more labour. So maybe a girl at the age of around 14 was precious in her parents’ eyes, although this only tended to be the case when both her biological parents were still alive. She was the main labourer for the family. Especially with the coming of the mutualaid teams and lower-stage cooperatives, these girls often became the only major labourers the family could rely on.

3.3.3 Mother’s Daughter and Father’s Dinner Table In the last Sect. 3.1 I mentioned that the girls were compelled to take on auxiliary, noncash-generating labour when they were little and then cash-generating labour when they were old enough to do so. But for the farmers, the main source of subsistence, (apart from the period of devastation caused by the Japanese invasion and civil war) was still from farming. That is why the girls were compelled to do field work as soon as they were able. Most of the girls from this group started their formal farm work when the mutual-aid teams or lower-stage cooperatives began. Before going further, let’s have a look at the story of Fanchun, who was born in 1937, and lived with her mother, step-father, and two younger half-sisters when the following story took place:

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When I was about 14, or 15 years old, I was able to do farm work. I started carrying grain at that time, a shoulder pole of grain. I harvested, tied and carried the grain. I carried half of the grain, while my step-father carried the other half. We had been liberated then, and we were exchanging labour in the mutual-aid team. The major tasks, say, transplanting rice seedlings and harvesting, were always done by me. I exchanged labour with other households. My mother was a very frank person. When we exchanged labour with others, we found that they had a very large field. The people who we worked with said jokingly that those who could not finish planting a row before lunch would not be allowed to have lunch. My mother started crying when she heard this. She was over 40 years old at that time, and was slow. I comforted her ‘you just go back to eat, I will help you finish this row’. I went back to grab my lunch, and returned to the field to finish my mom’s row. Then next time, when it was time to exchange labour with others, I said to my mom, ‘you don’t go, I can go on my own. I can repay the labour they have done for us.’ I was young, and had soft hands. I could work quickly. From then on, my mom never went out to exchange labour with others. She stayed at home to do some light labour activities.

In this case, the daughter took over her mother’s tasks because her mother was too old and weak to fulfil them. But in most cases it was because mothers had bound feet, which made their labour much less efficient and they simply could not manage. Deying’s mother had bound feet, and

she could not do heavy work, say, transplanting rice seedlings, she could not do that. I took on most of the tasks like that. She had bound feet, and did not know how to do either. In the cooperative, nobody wanted her to be a member. You see, very few of the women who had bound feet had done farm work in the past. Her feet were so small that she literally took one step forwards and three steps back. Nobody wanted her in their team.

The experience of both Fanchun’s and Deying’s mother was shared by many women’s mothers or female relatives they stayed with. The official mobilisation of rural women’s participation in farm work had been carried out throughout the country with the coming of the cooperative systems in the early 1950s (Croll 1985; Davin 1976). But few of the mother’s generation had been trained for farming. That is why with the urgent requirement of labour after 1949, women were compelled to do the unskilled but labour intensive and time-consuming farm work, for example, transplanting rice seedlings and harvesting. Men, on the other hand, were left to do skilled and heavy intensive labour, for example, ploughing, harrowing, and carrying. However, in the mutual-aid team and the lower-stage cooperative it was mostly the labour activities that were allotted to women that were exchanged. The need for female labour became very urgent at that time. But it was difficult for the mothers to fulfil the tasks successfully due to their physical limitations mainly caused by bound feet and old age. Therefore they were not welcome by other members from the same labour exchange team. This made the girls the main labourers who went out

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to exchange labour, while their mothers stayed at home to do lighter farm activities and domestic chores. How about their fathers or step-fathers then? Unless the girls had older brothers who were not away at school, in most families, their father or step-father was the main male labourer, who took on such tasks as ploughing, harrowing, and carrying etc. But in those families where there was a lack of mature male labourers, even these tasks were taken up by the girls. Dongying’s father was an opium addict who did nothing but sell everything he could find in the house to finance his addiction. So Dongying:

started helping my family out when I was very young. My older sister married out, and my younger sister was still very little. I had to work. I ploughed, harrowed, picked and reaped.

Diseases or premature senility made other fathers or step-fathers take a smaller part in the farm work. Due to this, the girls, especially the girls who were expected to marry in a husband and look after their parents, played an important part in their family’s subsistence. Some even became the virtual managers of the family. Mengzhen’s mother had bound feet, and her father had a bad neck. She started to manage the family’s money when she was only 12. Even for those who had received ill treatment from their step-parent or non-blood relative, becoming a mature labourer meant more say and more and better food when the whole family was on the verge of starving. Let’s go back to Fanchun: Q: You mentioned your step-father was ruthless. How was he ruthless? Did he beat you? A: Yes. As for eating, we just had two meals each day, while he himself had three. Me and my mom, we just had two. You see, at that time, you just had vegetables. A bowl of rice was cooked with a whole basket of vegetables. And the rice was kept warm in a black pot for him for his dinner. I was too young to do farm work at that time. Later, when I was 14, 15 years old. I was able to carry a shoulder pole of grain. So when he could not finish his dinner, he said to me, ‘Fanchun, there is till some rice in the pot. You finish it.’ I just started to have some dinner from then on. How come you did not feel hungry? It was impossible that you did not feel hungry. Thus certainly I ate when he asked me to eat. (Laughing) As an orphan, despite the unpleasant experiences in her uncle and aunt’s home before, Mengying also got some special treatments in terms of food:

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I was the only full time labourer in the family after my uncle died. Turtle bean was one of the staple grains at that time. My aunt cooked porridge and rice with turtle beans, but I had never eaten them. My grandfather then told my aunt: ‘Don’t cook turtle beans any more. Mengying does not eat those. You rely on her to do farm work. You don’t starve her to death with the turtle beans!’ (Laughing)

Back to Fanchun, she could even say ‘no’ to her step-father:

At that time, when I was able to labour, I started to put on airs sometimes. (Laughing) We finished a day’s work quite early if we were transplanting rice seedlings at that time, say, three or four o’clock in the afternoon. I always did this: I washed myself after I had finished working, and then washed my own clothes. My step-father then said, ‘Ah, there are still some ditches needing to be dug in the field. Ask Fanchun to do that after she gets back.’ He changed his tone when he talked to me from then on. My mom said to me: ‘go to help your father a little bit.’ I said ‘no.’ Then she said ‘oh, please!’ My Step-father did not dare to say anything if I said ‘no’ to him. I was able to do any labour activity, light or heavy. And I took on all of the transplanting and harvesting.

In a word, the importance of the girls’ labour as a mature labourer became more visible, more perceived and appreciated by their parents under the urgent need for labour and inflexibility caused by the forms of collective labour. Their physical capability, facing the urgent need for labour and inflexibility of labour, had given the girls advantages and power in the family.

3.4 Conclusion To sum up, from a holistic perspective suggested by the TSOL model, this chapter disrupts the home/school/field/market dichotomies and examines in the pre-1949 era, how and why the Chinese country girls’ time and energy were distributed, either voluntarily or forcedly, between these categories, and how the work carried out in these categories mutually influenced each other. It concludes that the Chinese country girls’ contribution to farming in the pre-1949 era has been underreported. As the first generation of girls with unbound feet, the girls in Lianhe Village (1926–1956), were compelled to work for the family from as early an age as possible, and began their formal farm work on a large scale before the mobilisation of the CCP. Starting from auxiliary work, and going on to cash-generating work and then farm work, the girls played an important part in the family economy. The intersection of historical time and individual life cycle has shaped the organisation of their labour as such; socioeconomic factors such as the unbinding of feet, changes in the economy and market caused by wars and revolution, the blockage of upward social mobility for women

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by education, urgent need for labour and inflexibility (or the opposite) caused by changes in labour organisation, changes of family structure related to demographic transitions, cultural norms such as son preference and the girls’ capabilities in terms of labour have all played a part in the household division of labour, and made their life different from that of their foot bound mothers. The examination of the total social organisation of labour in rural households revealed a new type of mother-daughter relationship. In this relationship, mothers were dependent on their daughters due to the urgent need for labour and inflexibility of farming activities. The latter was caused by the collective organisation of labour that emerged with the collectivisation campaign in the early 1950s. Those who were mobilised in the farm work by the CCP, in most cases, were the girls’ mothers. But bound feet and old age, meant that the majority of them had to rely on their daughters for most or all of the farm work they were expected to do. Those without daughters had to struggle in the fields. Under the urgent need for labour and inflexibility of labour, the girls’ labour capability earned them some say in the patriarchal family and some special treatment where food was concerned, even when the family was on the verge of starving.

References Bossen, L. (2002). Chinese women and rural development: Sixty years of change in Lu Village, Yunnan. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers INC. Bossen, L., Wang, X., Brown, M. J., & Gates, H. (2011). Feet and fabrication: Footbinding and early twentieth-century rural women’s labor in shaanxi. Modern China, 37(4), 347–383. Buck, J. L. (1937). Land utilisation in China. Nanking: University of Nanking Press. Croll, E. (1985). Women and rural development in China: Production and reproduction. Geneva: International Labour Organization. Davin, D. (1976). Women-work: Women and the party in revolutionary China. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Fei H-T, Chang CI (1975, c1945). Earthbound China: A study of rural economy in Yunnan. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hershatter, G. (2000). Local meanings of gender and work in rural Shaanxi in the 1950s. In B. Entwisle & G. E. Henderson (Eds.), Re-drawing boundaries: Work, households, and gender in China. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Hershatter, G. (2004). State of the field: Women in China’s long twentieth century. The Journal of Asian Studies., 63(4), 991–1065. Huang, P. C. C. (1990). The peasant family and rural development in the Yangzi Delta, 1350–1988. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kazuko, O. (1978). Chinese women in a century of revolution, 1850–1950. In J. A. Fogel (Ed.), California: Stanford University Press. Liu, C., & Zheng, L. (2002). Xiandaihua jincheng zhong de renkou zhuanbian: yige guangyi shiye de kaocha (Demographic transition in modernization process: A macro-scale view). Nanfang Renkou (Southern Population)., 4, 1–7. Twitchett, D., & Fairbank, J. K. (Eds.). (1986). The Cambridge history of Republican China 1912– 1949 (Vol. 13, part 2). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Xu, J. (2000). Jianguo qianqi de chengxiang shangye zhongjie zuzhi yu chengxiang jiaoliu (Middlemen and trade between the town and the countryside in pre-1949 China). Nongye yaoshi yanjiu baogao (Research report on main agricultural issues). November. Yang, D. (2006). Zhongguo jiaoyu zhidu he jiaoyu zhengce de bianqian (The transformation of education systems and education policies in China). ‘Papers collection’ in ‘the Universities Service Centre for China Studies’. Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Zhang, Y. (2013). Jindai zhongguo de fan chanzu yundong shulue (The anti-footbinding campaign in Modern China). Xuexi yu Shijian (Study and Practice)., 10, 136–140.

Part II

Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Collective Era (1956–1983)

Introduction The whole of Part II, including Chaps. 4 and 5, reveals the complexity of the gendered organisation of labour and leisure in the collective era (1956–1983). It starts with a brief introduction of the socio-economic, ideological and demographic changes in the collective era, and then proceeds to Chaps. 4 and 5. 1956 represented a formal beginning of the collective era. How did the economic, ideological and demographic context of the collective economy and this high-politics era affect the women’s labour and leisure lives? Furthermore, how did women who were at different life stages experience this era disparately? And how did all these happen? This part answers these questions. In particular, it looks at the young motherhood of the first unbound feet generation and the girlhood of the baby boomers’ generation. It will also focus on how their labour and leisure in these two life stages were shaped in this high-political era, an era in which labour, education, (social) mobility and later demography were controlled. Following on from this, it will also explore how they understood these controls and constraints and the strategies they used for their own and their family’s lives. Chapter 4 focuses on the young motherhood of the first generation; while Chap. 5 looks at the girlhood of the baby boomers. Before proceeding to individual generations, it is necessary to outline the socio-economic, political and demographic context of the collective era. As mentioned above, in the collective era politics had an important part in many aspects, including the economy, education, (social) mobility and later demography. During this period, everyday life became politicised. In 1956, the collective era started with the coming of advanced cooperatives (Gaoji Hezuoshe). Here farmland was collectivised, leaving a little private plot for each household to grow their own vegetables. Production and distribution were organised collectively as well (Chen 2002). The degree of collectivisation varied during this period. At its culmination, cooking was collectivised and all residents ate together. Labour was strictly organised: everything was decided, from what time to start or finish, to who did what and how many points each job was worth, etc. Villagers were organised into different groups according to their gender and age. A new, bigger

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management group—most members of which were men (Potter and Potter 1990)— were established to manage these tasks and distribution. In terms of distribution, most of the time peasants were paid yearly according to the cash value of their accumulated work points, which were arrived at by dividing the production team’s total net product by the combined work points of all the members (Huang 1990). The distribution was carried out at the end of each year on a household basis. Grain was distributed each month for each household’s consumption, but the distribution system adopted varied from region to region. Some decided it entirely on work points earned, while others determined it solely on age, sex and the labour grade of individual peasant. Others still adopted a mixture of these two ways (Potter and Potter 1990: 123–124). Lianhe Village adopted a ‘work points seize hold of grain’ (gongfen duo liang) approach, which meant although the claimed per capita rice ration was 600 jin (1 jin is equal to 0.5 kg) each year, the actual amount each member could get was 200 jin, or thirty percent of the default ration, and the remaining 400 jin or 70% was distributed based on work points earned. In this sense, labour force became the only determinant for each household’s prosperity. The households where there were more mature labourers with fewer dependents to consume would have more income. Demographic structure also underwent transformation. Since the foundation of P. R. China, many efforts had been made by the state to improve rural women’s reproductive health through the training of midwives (Davin 1975) and the infant survival rates by improving medical conditions. This resulted in a post-revolutionary baby boom. Besides, little contraception was available to the rural population until mid-1960s. In about 1972, the government begun a national effort to lower the birth rate via a policy of ‘later, longer, fewer’ (Croll 1985; Parish and Whyte 1978). According to the women from the first generation in Lianhe Village, in 1972 the women who were younger than 40 years old and had more than three children in the village were asked to accept tubal ligation operations (a permanent form of female sterilisation). But for many of them, before that they had given birth to children far more than three. In Lianhe, the average number of survived offspring of that generation of women is 5.2. More strict family planning policy was not implemented until the final years of the collective era, which ended up with a ‘one-child policy’ issued nationwide in 1979. This had big impacts on the second generation of women who were of child-bearing age at that time. Systems of social stratification and upward social mobility were undergoing changes as well. Firstly, commune leaders and team leaders, especially male leaders, had the absolute authority in the organisation of labour and distribution of resources. This may have caused a village politics in which individuals would contend for power and profit, leading to the possibility of nepotism and favouritism (Chan et al. c1984; Unger c2002). Secondly, the enforcement of a household registration system in the 1950s changed the upward social mobility route in rural society. The household registration system was established in 1955 to classify each member of the population as having agricultural (rural) or non-agricultural (urban) status (hukou), with a sharp

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differentiation of rights and privileges in favour of non-agricultural status and a corresponding extreme set of restrictions on converting from rural-to-urban status. In the commune system, any migration was prohibited unless granted by the local government. A peasant could only attain an urban status by one of the following three ways: the first one was higher education. A rural child will be granted an urban hukou upon admission to a specialised secondary school or college. The second way was to become a local cadre and attain membership of the CCP in the village and then be promoted to a cadre at least at the township level. This would allow one to then become part of the state bureaucratic system which would result in urban hukou. The third method was similar to the second and involved attaining membership of the CCP by joining the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), and then getting promoted in the army, or becoming a local township cadre after being discharged (Potter and Potter 1990; Wu and Treiman 2004). All three ways were difficult. Besides the expenses for ten or more years of education, there was the risk that the rural students may fail in the entrance examinations. This would result in them being sent back to their village and remaining a peasant from then on. Therefore, higher education was a risky investment. Moreover, the formal National College Entrance Examination was cancelled from 1966 to 1977. The colleges and universities had not been enrolling students since 1966 until some started to recruit ‘worker, peasant and soldier’ (gong nong bin) students on a political and labour performance basis rather than an academic basis in 1972 (Zhang 2007). However with recommendation rather than merit opening the way through, and with a really limited quota, most of the opportunities went to those who had power or powerful connections (Lei 2007). Hence in the collective era, for most of the peasants the more realistic way to attain a better life was by becoming a cadre or joining the PLA. But a certain level of education was necessary both for a local cadre and a member of the PLA. For most purposes, however, these opportunities were far more limited for women. Few women joined the army; even fewer political leader positions were available for women, except those in charge of women’s issues. But women did have an indirect option to achieve upward social mobility: to marry those in power or urban hukou holders. The question is how these situations were perceived and understood by the first generation of women who were at the young motherhood stage and the postrevolutionary baby boomers who were at their girlhood stage. And how did this affect the way in which the mothers planned and arranged the future of their sons and daughters? Moreover, what impact did all this have on the childhood of the girls from the second generation? All of these questions will be answered in the following two chapters.

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References Chan, A., Madsen, R. & Unger, J. (c1984). Chen village: The recent history of a peasant community in Mao’s China. Berkeley: University of California Press. Chen, H. (2002). Jianguo yilai nongcun tudi zhidu de lishi bianqian (The transformation of land system in rural China since the foundation of the PRC), Changde shifan xueyuan xuebao (Shehui kexue ban). Journal of Changde Normal University (Social Science Edition), No. 5. Croll, E. (1985). Introduction: Fertility norms and family size in China. In: D. Croll, & Kane, China’s one-child family policy. London: Macmillan. Davin, D. (1975). Women in the countryside of China. In: M. Wolf & R. Witke (Eds.), Women in Chinese Society. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press. Huang, P. C. C. (1990). The peasant family and rural development in the Yangzi Delta, 1350–1988. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Lei, Y. (2007). Huifu Gaokao Sanshi Zhounian Ji (Some notes on the thirty years anniversary of the resume of the National College Entrance Examination), available at http://www.china.com. cn/review/txt/2007-02/14/content_7828154.htm. Accessed on 1 May, 2018. Parish, W. L. & Martin K. W. (1978). Village and family in contemporary China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Potter, S. H. & Potter, J. M. (1990). China’s peasants: The anthropology of a revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Unger, J. (c2002). The transformation of rural China. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe. Wu, X. & Treiman, D. J. (2004). The household registration system and social stratification in China: 1955–1996. Demography, 41(2), 363–384. Zhang, L. (2007). Huifu gaokao de yiyi quanshi (Interpreting the meaning of restoring university entrance examination). Nanjing shida xuebao (shehui kexueban). Journal of Nanjing Normal University (Social science edition), 6, 74–78.

Chapter 4

Working Young Mothers in the Collective

Abstract This chapter examines the first generation’s young motherhood period in the collective era (1956–1983). It looks into how the official division of labour between cadres and non-cadres, across gender, age, and marital status in the production team on the one hand, and changes in family structure, including uxorilocal marriage practice, new household division practice, and the rise of conjugal relationship within the family on the other, have shaped and in turn been shaped by the organisation of the women’s labour and leisure and the power relations with their husbands and parents-in-law. It emphasizes the organisation of childcare, and how their understandings of the hierarchal system as a young mother have affected their different investments in their sons’ and daughters’ future.

This chapter explores the impact entering the collective era and moving from girlhood to young motherhood had on the labour and leisure lives of the first generation of women. Chapter 3, I mentioned that the urgent need for labour and inflexibility of labour caused by the collectivisation campaign had given them advantages and power during their girlhood. The same collective labour system, however, put them in unfavourable conditions after they became young mothers and wives. Indeed, much has been written about the hardships, for example double burden and unequal pay across gender etc. (Croll 1985; Davin 1975). How could a change of life stages bring such big differences? This chapter answers this question. It will explore the way in which a number of factors have shaped, and been shaped by, the women’s labour and leisure, and the power relations within family. In doing so it will look at the division of labour between village cadres and ordinary villagers,across gender,age,and marital status in the production team on the one hand, and changes in family structure, including uxorilocal marriage practice, new household division practice, and the rise of conjugal relationship within the family on the other. It emphasizes how the women’s understandings of the stratification system affected their management of the family human resources, resulting in different investment in their sons’ and daughters’ future. Starting with a total picture of the division of labour in the production team, it proceeds to the general family pattern,

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and finally looks into how the family structure and their understandings of the upward social mobility system of the time affect the women’s management of the labour force and resources at home.

4.1 A Total Picture: The Division of Labour in the Production Team As the lowest level of the commune system, production team was where production was collectively organised. This part is about how the labour there was allocated between cadres and non-cadres, across gender, age, and marital status. As mentioned above, a new management group was established to manage the collective labour. In Lianhe Village, there were seven official positions in each production team: team leader (duizhang) and deputy team leader (fu duizhang) who took charge of the organisation of labour of the whole production team; accountant (kuaiji) who kept, audited, and inspected the financial records of the team; cashier (chuna) who was in charge of paying and receiving money; storehouse keeper (baoguan yuan) who took charge of keeping the production tools; work-point recorder (jigong yuan) who wrote down how many work points each individual had earned each day, and finally women deputy team leader (funv duizhang) who was in charge of businesses related to woman. Some of these positions released the holders from production completely, and the others on an on-call basis. They were chosen from the villagers. As for their work points, for those who were released completely from production, for example, team leader, deputy team leader, storehouse keeper and work-point recorder, they got the same work points with the equivalent labour force, which always guaranteed them the highest work points, but with much less toilsome labour. For those who were semi-released from production, they could also get the same work points with the equivalent labour force when they were on duty. In this sense, to be a local cadre was a good job, as apart from power, they did not have to work physically hard but were well paid. Not everybody could do it though. From the interview, I was told that most of the positions were held by men except women deputy team leader which went exclusively to women. This was also the case in Zengbu Brigade, a village in Guangdong, south China, where Potter and Potter did their fieldwork (1990: 100). Many researches have pointed out that it is the women’s ‘second shift’ of domestic tasks and child care that affect their participation in political or leadership activities (Andors 1983; Wolf 1985). Adding to that, I would suggest that education level would be a factor as well. According to my interview with Hanying:

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Q: Why did the villagers not elect the women as, say, accountant, or even team leader? A: We had never thought about it. It was like that, we could have just one women team leader, so just one. The other positions were held by men. A: Was there any woman as work-point recorder? Q: No at first. At that time, few women got education, and only men went to school. That was why men wrote down work-points. But it was better later. We started to have women work-point recorders. A: Women got more education later? Q: Yes. Women got more education, and they were capable of taking that position. Otherwise, even if the villagers chose you, you were not able to do it. Looking back at this generation’s educational treatment as outlined in Chap. 3, we could conclude that lack of education in their earlier years had led to the reality of less cadre positions being held by women. Production itself was then divided between the remaining villagers, who were allocated into different groups according to gender and age, for example, ‘young women’s group’, ‘middle-aged men’s group’ etc., all doing different jobs according to their physical capability. Except those exempted from production, the remaining men in good physical condition took on ‘heavy’ work which often involved using large draft animals and skills. Old men were organised to attend to draft animals collectively, getting well paid. Although it used to be a task for young children, the collectivisation of this meant a possible change in structure of the available labour force: old men would now be a precious labour resource while young children had less to contribute in helping out the family in this respect. Old men collected manure as well. According to Gezhen, each household was responsible for three hundred piculs1 of water buffalo dung each year. Those households that had got more than three hundred piculs would receive a reward of three work points for each extra picul; while those less than that number would be asked to pay three work points for each picul they were short. Human waste could also be exchanged for work points, and dog dung could be collected and put into the toilet to earn more work points for the owners. These tasks could be incorporated into the elder men’s job of minding draft animals, thereby boosting the old men’s value even more. The stories were different for women. Able-bodied women were left with the most time-consuming and labour intensive work which required a lot of bending over or squatting, for example, sowing, planting or transplanting, reaping, bundling and hoeing (Jacka 1997; Wolf 1985). Taking the amount of work women had done into account, a feminization of agriculture came into being as early as the collective era. Unmarried women were enjoying more advantages than married women. Unmarried girls were normally allocated into the same team, and the chances for them to get more challenging but better paid tasks were bigger. And they had no other issues 1 Picul:

a unit of weight used in China and equal to about 60 kg.

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to distract them. Unlike married women who had to feed their infants or sometimes asked for one day off to visit their natal family, unmarried women could concentrate on labour in the collective. That is why many ‘iron girls’ teams were constituted by unmarried girls (Gao 2005; Honig 2000; Jin 2006). Unlike old men, old women could not bring in much income as there were few positions available for them in the production team. Moreover, they were normally expected to fulfil unpaid chores or childcare. For some time, collective childcare organised by the production team, where old women were normally the minders, could bring in some income for them. This, however, depended on the availability of children. In general there was very little holiday to rest and recuperate. They worked outside all the time except when heavy rain or snow made outside work impossible. During the slow season, the first and fifth days of each month were holiday; while during the busy season, there was no time to rest at all. For the Chinese New Year, they could have two and a half days off.

4.2 Familial/Household Context of the Young Working Mothers Besides the allocated work, for a working mother family composition, to a large extent, significantly affects her labour. This is especially so when there is hardly any consumer commodities and social services available. This section pays attention to the normal patterns of family composition in the collective era.

4.2.1 Uxorilocal Marriage In the last chapter, I mentioned three demographic features of the first generation: firstly, limited number of siblings due to high mortality rate; secondly, the family composition was compound due to the high mortality and the rate of remarriage. Step-parent, step-siblings and half-siblings were common at that time; and finally, a significant age gap existed among the siblings. All of these caused a relatively high proportion of uxorilocal marriage among these women. Fei and Zhang also reported a relatively high proportion of uxorilocal marriage in Lu Village, Yunnan Province, southwest China in the 1930s and 1940s. They were puzzled by the phenomenon of uxorilocal marriage in families that had a son (1975), but they did not give a detailed explanation. Actually, according to what I have found in Lianhe Village, uxorilocal marriage occurs under a variety of circumstances. The following stories represent three typical circumstances where an uxorilocal marriage was involved.

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Mengzhen Q: Where is your natal family? A: It is exactly here. I am the eldest one, and I have two younger sisters. My parents brought me up, so I was asked to stay to take care of them. They brought in my husband for me. And both my younger sisters married out later. Gezhen Q: How old were you when you got married? A: I was 17, while my husband was 25. At that time, my elder sister had been married for a while. I was the eldest at home then; my half-youngerbrother was still little. I was a main labour for the family. My step-father was thinking to bring in a husband for me. The candidate had to be a mature labour, otherwise he would not be capable of farming. Chunxiang Q: You mentioned that you had your husband marry in, and your half younger sister brought in husband as well. But according to the tradition here, the family without son will only bring in husband for the eldest daughter, why did both of you have an uxorilocal marriage? A: My half younger sister was the only child by my step-father, and he hoped his own daughter would take care of him when he was old; while the responsibility to look after my mom was left to me. It was planned long before I was old enough to get married. Therefore, the most common circumstance where an uxorilocal marriage is required is when there is no son in a family, like Mengzhen’s story. However, as Gezhen’s story indicates, big age gaps between siblings can be a reason for uxorilocal marriage in a family with a son. High mortality at that time and high rates of remarriage of parents both easily resulted in big age gaps between children. Due to the need of labour, an elder daughter may be asked to bring in a mature labour to take care of her younger siblings and parents, even if there is a son in the family. And finally, as we learn from Chunxiang’s story, with high rates of remarriage, step-parents, stepsiblings or half-siblings were common in rural households at that time. And due to the absence of institutional elderly care, old rural parents had to rely on certain child(ren) for care in their old age. Many parents tended to stay with his/her own natural child. It could easily end up with one, or even more than one uxorilocal marriage in a family. This was especially the case of those compound families where there was no son but only daughters who were step-sisters or half-sisters. Another woman Fanchun shares the similar story with Chunxiang: following her own uxorilocal marriage, one of her younger half-sister had an uxorilocal marriage and it became the second marriage of that type in the family. But based on the limited number of cases in Lianhe Village, I

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did not find the evidence that when there was no significant age gap between siblings in compound families, with the presence of a step-brother or half-brother, uxorilocal marriage would still take place. In this sense, multiple uxorilocal marriages within the same family might be a variation of the case where there is no son in the family. Multiple uxorilocal marriages happened not only for the reason of preserving family lineage, but also meeting rural parents’ psychological and cultural needs that one should be under the care of his/her natural children in old age. According to A. P. Wolf, uxorilocal marriages present two types of variation of the rural Chinese kinship system: contingent variation which is related to the choices people make to preserve the lineage of the family where there is no son; and institutional variation which is out of practical considerations such as economic reasons and this often occurs in various kinds of families (Wolf 1989, referring to Li et al. 2001). In the cases listed above, the stories of Mengzhen, Chunxiang and Fanchun can be fit into the contingent type which is mostly due to the absence of a son; While Gezhen’s case is an institutional type which was more due to practical considerations. Eight out of 21, or more than one third marriages were uxorilocal among the first generation of women I interviewed. No matter from a normal family or a compound family, most of them came from a no-son family and that became the main reason for their uxorilocal marriage. But institutional reasons, particularly economic considerations such as the need of labour, also played a part in the acceptance of uxorilocal marriage. Although it was still not a predominant form of marriage at that time, uxorilocal marriage helped to increase the rate of extended families as uxorilocal marriage, in contrast to patrilocal marriage, is more likely to have a stem family structure than a nuclear family (Li et al. 2003). As the next section will show, this greatly benefited young working mothers in such families.

4.2.2 From ‘Traditional Family Division’ to ‘Serial Family Division’ Besides uxorilocal marriage, the predominant form of marriage in Lianhe Village in collective era was still patrilocal marriage. In traditional Chinese society, if there was more than one son in a family, household division (fenjia) occurred after all the sons had married, with family property being equally divided among the sons (Yan 2003). But along with the collective economy, a ‘serial family division’ (Cohen 1992) gradually came into being. In this new form of household division, the first married son moves out, then the next one, till the final one. Yan Yunxiang reported that the ‘serial family division’ emerged in Xiajia village during the 1970s (Yan 2003: 147), but in Lianhe Village, according to my interviewees, it could be seen from the beginning of the collective era in the late 1950s, when the first generation of women just started bearing children. I suggest that the high fertility of these women, the way the collective economy organised and the distribution on the basis of labour

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jointly contributed to this phenomenon. I have mentioned that the improved health conditions resulted in a large number of children for these young mothers. These dependent children apparently would put their parents into an unfavourable position when the distribution was ‘thirty percent according to number of family members and seventy percent based on work points earned’, which was the reason why the old big family was keen to get rid of them. Mengying’s story is very typical: Q: Did your parents-in-law live with you after you got married? A: We lived together at first. Later when the grain ration was not enough, my husband’s younger brother was not happy with us. He said we had too many small children. One time at the meal table, my daughter who was born in 1959, said ‘mom, I don’t want porridge, I want rice.’ I said ‘ok, finish you porridge first.’ Then my husband’s young brother said ‘How come you want rice? With you several children, your grain ration is not enough to cook porridge as thin as rice water.’ You see, how irritating this talk was! Then I said to my husband, ‘let’s live alone with our children’. At that time, we’d got three children, born in 1956, 1958 and 1959, together with an oldest son from my husband’s former marriage - four small children in total. And then we divided from the big family. Q: Did you get anything from the household division? A: Get anything? I even took the only wok from my natal family! Q: Where did you live then? A: We crowded in one room, and cooked in the same kitchen with them. Later, when my husband’s younger brother was about to get married, his mother asked us to build a new kitchen, since we had too many children, and she was afraid the children would sneak some good food from her kitchen. We then built a kitchen at the other end of the threshing ground. Young couples with a few young children wanted to stay with the big family for the ‘free ride’ it offered them in terms of rearing their children. Normally the old couple simply couldn’t afford this, especially when they still had unmarried offspring at home. This was very common in that era when living standards could barely attain a basic level. Furthermore, the collective economy also contributed to shorten the time of married couples’ co-residence with the family of the husband’s parents. We have mentioned that distribution was based on labour, not only the quantity, but also the quality of labour force, that is to say, the willingness to work hard. But not everyone was determined to work as hard as possible for the family and this aroused conflicts and potential household division. Hanying mentioned that the division of her nuclear family from the extended family was because her husband’s older brother and his wife were lazy, and this put the whole family into a terrible economic situation although she and her husband worked very hard.

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Besides, in the collective the expenses for building new houses were mainly met by the collective rather than by the new couple’s parents, which made household division much easier. Research by Wang Yuesheng in north China also supports the finding that collectivisation contributed to shorten the young couple’s co-residence with the extended family. He reports that before the Land Reform in 1950, the interval was six and a half years; while in the 1960s, nearly half of the interviewed households divided within three years after the sons’ marriage, and in 1970s, a new division practice became dominant in the rural area: one third of the households divided within less than one year after the sons’ marriage, and two thirds built a new home within three years after marriage (Wang 2003). The new household division practice, caused the proportion of nuclear family to increase, with only a small proportion of stem families emerging mainly through uxorilocal marriage. Another source of stem family was after the ‘serial family division’ finished, that is, after all married sons divided out from the extended family, the old couple would join (separately or together) one or more sons’ family. Or they took turns to stay with each son’s family for some time. Again this greatly affected working young mothers’ quality of life.

4.3 Family Corporate: Gendered and Generational Economies of Labour and Family This section focuses on the effects of high dependency and new developments in family composition, and the women’s strategies to face these challenges. Most of the western literature on married women’s labour in the collective is from a perspective of the women as an individual, and the researchers’ assessment of rural women’s liberation is based on their individual interests, for example, ownership of the work points, sole role in household work etc.; while the roles of husbands and many other family members are missing. This approach, however, detaches the women from the social relationships within the family structure they were enmeshed in, and also the family circumstances in which they were involved. Based on data about pre-revolutionary Russia, a ‘demographic differentiation’ model was proposed by A. V. Chayanov: ‘the economic well-being of a peasant household varies with the household’s life cycle and changing labourer-to-consumer ratio’, which means a household experiences its economic nadir as its children are growing and consuming more but not old enough to work. However the household reaches the top of its fortunes when the children start working before they marry and divide from the old family (referring to Huang 1990: 238). This model is applicable to most young mothers from a nuclear family in the collective. The high rate of dependency and the distribution system based on labour made mothers the co-main-supporters of the family. Besides, the family revolution since the beginning of the twentieth century contributed to the rise of conjugal relationship rather than father-son relationship as basic within the family (Davin 1976: 107). Almost all mothers I interviewed from this generation co-headed their family

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with their husbands. In the context of a subsistence economy, both husband and wife work as hard as possible to support the whole family, rather than merely pursuing their own interests. Hence I would suggest an image of this generation of women as a ‘familial self’ (Devasahayam 2005). That is to say, they are involved in family relationships and obligations and subordinate their own interest, and those of other members whom they could control, to the survival and welfare of the whole family. Maybe an approach suggested by Cohen is more appropriate. It emphasizes the Chinese family as a corporate unit which pursues its members’ survival and welfare by creating, deploying and managing its human resources and its property (1993: 165). To a great extent, the mothers were working as co-managers in this corporate unit. In this section, we have a look at how all sorts of human resources within family were managed for the survival first, and then focus on how labour and resources were distributed among sons and daughters by parents—mainly mothers—in the name of the future welfare of the family.

4.3.1 Struggling for Survival During the whole collective era, the political rhetoric of the CCP on gender equality varied: from regarding women’s participation in social production as the key to emancipation, to thinking women’s attitudes toward themselves as the thing to blame (Croll 1985). Different political storms also landed on China. But it seemed these did not affect the peasants’ lives much. The women I interviewed remember the ‘Cultural Revolution’ because three former local cadres were caught and tortured by the ‘Red Guards’. The follows are my interview with Jinfeng: Q: What did you do in 1968–1978 when so many political campaigns and struggles took place? A: We worked in the collective as usual. Q: There were fights elsewhere. Did you have here? A: Yes. The ‘Red Guards’ criticized and denounced our Party Secretary at that time. You see, they were young people of about 20 year old age. As for us, they asked us to go meetings, and we went, watching, saying nothing. You see, we ordinary peasants, what could we say? We watched, listened, and came back after the meeting were dismissed. I was illiterate, and we did not partake in the ‘Red Guards’. What I could do was labouring in the collective and earning work points. (Laughing) They could not supply further details, but one of the women, Hanying, mentioned that her umbrella was borrowed by the daughter of one of the detainees and was destroyed by great wind on her way to send food to her father. Their lives did not change very much, except for the political gatherings where they could get paid

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without working. Hence I would suggest that the political rhetoric had a limited impact on the women’s participation in production. As long as the policies from the above were not compulsory and would not cause serious outcomes, the women had their own priority, namely, the survival and welfare of the family. In other words, what determines women’s participation into cash-generating farming is not political rhetoric, but whether the work is helpful for the family’s survival and improvement of welfare. Some literature has mentioned rural women’s responses to unequal pay in the collective, including low morale and limited participation (Davin 1975; Potter and Potter 1990), which is perhaps related to the evaluation system of labour. Normally two principles were adopted to calculate labour: a task-rate system in which a given task was rewarded with a certain number of work points and a labour-grade system in which a full workday of labour done by certain person was endowed a set number of work points according to his/her strength and inherent labour capacity. Apparently women were more likely to be put into an unfavourable position by the latter, which possibly caused low morale and limited participation. But according to my informants, even in the years when the labour-grade system was adopted, the task-rate system was widely used especially during the two busy seasons of transplanting rice and harvest. Later, in the 1970s, it became the only way to calculate labour and this encouraged working mothers to find any possible opportunity to work. Fanchun: Do you know how I put my strength to use? I pedalled a waterwheel. We had a waterwheel for five or six. This meant the five of us divided the work-points. Finishing pedalling, I would ask several people ‘would you like to remove the dunghill together with me?’ Ok. Several of us removed the dunghill… [and] we divided the work-points again. Or if there was no dunghill to remove, I got up very early to pick up dog’s dung…[and] put it into our toilet. The waste from the toilet could also be exchanged for work-points. I worked like that everyday. Thus we never overspent in the collective. Several households whose adults were a similar age to me overspent and owed the collective, but we were never like that. It seemed the prevalence of the nuclear family and the large number of dependent children actually put the young mothers into a vicious circle: on the one hand, the nuclear family meant nobody would help them with domestic chores and childcare; on the other hand, high dependency required more paid work, which caused these young mothers’ desperation for work. This is why the work points the young mothers earned in Lianhe Village in the collective were comparable to any able-bodied adult, even though they had to attend young children and fulfil domestic work at the same time, which is in line with the findings of Potter and Potter in Zengbu (1990: 123). But how could they cope? Regarding domestic chores, except for some disastrous experiments with collective dining halls during 1958–1960, collective facilities hardly existed

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(Croll 1985; Davin 1975; Jacka 1997; Wolf 1985). Many of the interviewed women fulfilled those tasks by going without sleep or skipping meal times. For example, Linying reported she sacrificed her noon break for domestic chores; Taiping cooked and did washing-up when she should have been sleeping and eating. When we talked about childcare more sad stories come out. Some of the literature mentions the cooperation between the older generation and the younger one: the former relied on the latter for income, while the latter depended on the former for housework and childcare (Davin 1976). But this was normally not the case for young mothers from nuclear families. Beside, in the collective era, the grandmother herself also needed to earn her own living or worked for unmarried children. In this context, some young mothers had to buy services from the women in the village who were too old to work for the collective, with two or three work-points paid to them each day from what they had earned. Different solutions were adopted along with the stages of the family cycle: to lock the children up at home, buy service, or rely on older daughters to look after young siblings. It also depended on different seasons: children could be locked up in the summer but could not during the winter, as it was too cold, so buying services became the only solution. But no matter what solution in the daytime when the mother was away for collective labour, it was her task to dress the children in the morning and send them to bed at night, which took a lot of the mother’s sleeping time. Basically, the younger the children were, the more of them, the worse the situation the young mothers would be in. Little help with domestic chores and childcare could be expected from husbands, since they were busy seeking work points. Normally when the wife was cooking breakfast or dressing children in the morning, the husband went out to collect animal dung or run errands for the collective to bring more income. Only very few husbands would want to help with childcare out of affection. In such situations the wife would attract a lot of envy from the other women. Even fewer were willing to help with chores. A group who were often mentioned and also envied by many women were ‘those who had old parents (-in-law) helping with domestic chores and childcare’. A couple of women I interviewed belong to this group, among whom most were married daughters who had their husbands marry in, and the others had a husband who was the only son at home. The old couple’s help with domestic chores and childcare freed the young couple to find more profitable labour which made their life generally better-off. With old woman doing the household work, even old men could earn work points for this sort of household: Jinfeng: At that time, my mother-in-law did not work in the field any more. She took care of my son, since she had expected a grandson for such a long time (laughing), cooked and raised hogs at home. My fatherin-law minded water buffalo for the collective and earned some work points.

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Facing endless toil, those who were not lucky enough to get assistance from husbands or old parents (-in-law) had to use certain strategies to soothe the conflicts caused by increasing consumption requirements and limited production: the first one was voluntary family planning. It was a striking finding that most of the women from this generation started voluntary family planning before the national birth control campaign began in 1972. Indeed most started in the 1960s, when the services became available in the countryside. It is likely that they had become exhausted by the demands of a large group of offspring by then. Abortion and IUDs (intrauterine devices) were more common. Some even had voluntary tubal ligation operations after the former measures failed. For example, Mengying decided to have a tubal ligation operation after several abortions and an unsuccessful use of IUD before family planning campaign even started. She even paid for it herself. They recalled their experience of collective tubal ligation operations in the village with happy memories: Taoying: It was when tubal ligation operations were done on a large scale for the first time. We were treated nicely. We lived in the brigade headquarter for over ten days. The brigade killed three hogs for us. (laughing) It was nice having meat to eat. The brigade also fried bread sticks for us as breakfast, which was good for lying-in women. The second strategy to soothe the problem caused by limited production and increasing consumption by rural households was ‘self-exploitation of labour within the family’, a concept proposed by A. V. Chayanov (referring to Zhang 2004). The most typical form is to make use of the labour of the dependents. For the women I interviewed, the most realistic way surely was to utilize the children’s labour, but in most cases, it was daughters who were more likely to be asked to help.

4.3.2 ‘Working Daughters and Studying Sons’: Mechanism of Son Preference in the Collective As mentioned above, exploitation of children’s labour was the second strategy for young couples to soothe the conflicts between high dependency and limited labour, but for most purposes, it was daughters who were exploited. Why? Was it simply a feudal remnant as the government claimed? This section gives an outline of the situation and asks about the mechanism of son preference in the collective era. The following dialogue represents a typical mother-child relation at that time, which was conducted between two women who were both in their sixties and me in 2005. It emerged while I was asking one of them about her children’s school education:

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Shouzhen: My youngest son and youngest daughter had more school education. The other just stayed for a couple of years. At that time, there was nobody minding the younger ones. I had no choice but to ask my older daughters back home. One of them keeps complaining now. She thinks I am the one to blame: ‘Mother, if you let me stay at school at that time, maybe I would have been out of the countryside now.’ I comforted her by saying that it is impossible for everyone to get out of the countryside. Taoying: How can she complain now-the situation of those days was so bad? It was also the case for my oldest daughter. We did not have enough labour at home, so we asked her back after she stayed in school for three years. Besides, they did not learn much at that time; most of the time they were asked to labour in the school. Shouzhen: My youngest son went to middle school. Nowadays my daughters reproach me for my preference for sons over daughters. They throw the things I used to say back at me: ‘what is the use for a girl to go to school?’ They keep grumbling now. My God, so many children, how could I manage? Q: What did they do at home? Shouzhen: They helped us mind the younger ones, cook, collect vegetables for the hogs and do laundry. They complain a lot now. My sons and my youngest daughter do not blame me. Both of my older daughters blame me. I say to them ‘what could I do, even if you were mad at me? I had no choice. With so many children, you needed food and clothes. We did not expect good clothes, but at least you needed some to wear’. Taoying: My oldest daughter also sighs now when she encounters new words in newspaper. My other children went to junior middle school but she didn’t. From their narrative, it appears that during their girlhood the first unbound feet generation were poor girls being secretly protected by their bound-feet mother who played a weaker role in family affairs. But now, when they became mothers, earning power by their labour and co-heading of the family, they forced their daughters to repeat their fate of missing out on schooling education, while leaving more chances to their sons. From the stories told both by them and their daughters, they seem to be the ones most reproached for ‘son preference’, since it was the mothers who took care of the children and allocated labour and resources among children, while the fathers were often away for collective labour. But why? Why did these young mothers manage the family human resources in such a manner? What was the mechanism for their son preference? In the 1960s, the official women’s movement in China saw this as a hangover of feudal thinking and called for ideological changes. But as Croll has pointed out, structural constraints

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have equal or even more of part in the inferior status of women. Among others, the form of patrilocal marriage is often the one to blame: married-out daughters cannot provide permanent labour for the family and a guarantee for their parents’ old age, which is vital in places like rural China where no welfare system for old people is available. Thus in the interest of the family, investment in daughters seems a waste. In other words, rural mothers became part of the patriarchal system, benefiting from it and endeavouring to maintain it. So the persistence of patrilocal marriage in postrevolutionary China took the responsibility for gender inequality and also became a criterion for gender equality (Croll 1985; Johnson 1983). This makes sense to some extent, but I do have some reservations. For example, the question raised is: if patrilocal marriage is the structural factor to blame, how about the situation in uxorilocal marriage, which, as I have mentioned earlier, was the case for a notable proportion of the first generation women? Actually for many women from this generation it was decided early on, at a very young age, that they would have an uxorilocal marriage in the future. The interesting thing is they did not get special treatment in terms of education investment, even though their parents knew that the daughter was the one who would take care of them later. I suggest that the couples’, and especially the mothers’ understanding and perception of the stratification and upward social mobility system led to their management of family human resources in their sons’ favour. From the beginning of this section, I have mentioned that there were only three outlets for the peasants to attain an urban status and then get access to a better life: high education, promotion to a township cadre from a village cadre and entering a factory or promotion to a township cadre after discharge from the army. We have also seen that the road to higher education was blocked during the collective era, and thus only the latter ones were available. But opportunities of entering factories only went to those who had connections with powerful people. And other options were mainly available to men rather than women: few women were accepted by the army; and much fewer political leader positions were available for women, except the one in charge of women’s business. But to a great extent, the women team leader had very little say in the committee; at most she was simply carried out the state’s policy and orders from the above. And she also had to listen to the male leader, which meant most of the opportunities for promotion, if any, going to the latter. All of these contributed to the fact that the only available option for the girls to improve their own and the family’s welfare was by their labour; while for boys, besides labour, could start climbing the upward social mobility ladder. Of course the prerequisite was a certain level of education, which explains the reason why almost every boy went to school which was not the case for girls. It also explains why it was girls who were the ones called back to make up any shortages of labour. To a great extent, peasant parents’ preference toward sons does not stem from some psychological resentment due to daughters’ failure to perpetuate the family line, but represents their response to the social structure: the social constraints that the daughters are experiencing have limited their possible contribution to change their own life and improve the family’s welfare. Contextualizing it in rural China

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during the collective era, women could not get as many benefits from education as men. Young mothers in Lianhe Village during the collective era clearly discerned this. That is why they not only invested in their sons’ education, but also built up social networks for them, as in China, in many cases, powerful connections is the key to a person’s success (Bossen 2002; Potter and Potter 1990). For those peasant families who had no powerful connections, domestic cultivation of connections among relatives, friends, and neighbours became necessary, which was normally performed by women (Yang 1994). A young mother in the collective era, Hanying’s story gives a good example. She was really proud of her earlier investment in her oldest son when I met her in 2005. He was the deputy party secretary, that is, the second most powerful person in Lianhe Village at that time, or according to Hanying, a ‘superior person’. In early 2006 I heard that he retired that year, and got nearly 10,000 yuan2 for his retirement benefit, which was a big amount in rural China. This family does not have powerful connections, but according to Hanying, her oldest son’s ‘eminence’ is due to his capacity on the one hand, and because of her cultivation of connections for him on the other, especially when he just started his career. Hanying: My oldest son did not do physical labour much. After he was back from middle school, he did many occupations: barefoot doctor, accountant in the tile factory in the commune, later he worked as an accountant in the newly built piggery in the brigade, then he was a temporary teacher in the village primary school, then team leader, and finally started his political career in the brigade. To be honest, my son could become a ‘superior person’, even though I was illiterate and despite us being so poor in the collective - no grain ration, and sometimes we had to eat algae. Yet, which official in the commune did not have a meal at ours’? Q: Really? A: Of course. He did so many occupations, barefoot doctor, teacher, etc. My other sons were not capable enough to do these. He started his career in the brigade at that time. Which official in this brigade did not have a meal at ours’? Which official in the commune did not have a meal here? We did not have enough to eat ourselves, but I preserved even a small fish if I could get it—to treat those officials in case they came to our home. You see, otherwise, how could my oldest son become what he is today? When he was in charge of the water in Huangdanghu Dam, he often brought a group of people back home to eat. Actually we ourselves didn’t have enough to eat then…

2 Yuan:

Chinese currency. 1 GBP approximately equals to 12. 30 Yuan in 2008.

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In rural China, where the rules of favouritism and close relationships outmatch the rule of law, attainment of position as a cadre, even at the village level, means power, which not only benefits the post holder himself/herself, but also bring benefits and convenience for his/her family and connections. Thus peasants’ desperate efforts to help their sons achieve upward social mobility can be understood as an investment in the family’s future welfare, rather than just for the sons themselves. And since the ladder was to some extent blocked for the daughters, in a context of urgent demands for labour, utilization of the daughters’ labour became natural for the peasants, especially for the mothers who were the main force in the management of children’s human resources. These conditions thus made for a striking contrast in terms of the allocation of labour and investment between sons and daughters. Back to Hanying’s story. While building up the ladder for her son’s upward social mobility, she asked her oldest daughter, who was the second child, to return home from school to take care of the younger children. I met this daughter, Lianmei, in 2006. She expressed resentment toward her mother, but ironically enough, out of the six children (three sons and three daughters) she is the only one who now gives her mother money; while her mother is now living on her own after the death of her husband in 2000. I will come back to this story in a later chapter. Gender is certainly a determinant for the allocation of resources, but not the only one. Normally the older daughters, if any, were the ones asked back from school to help with child care or collective labour while older sons remained at school. But the older sons’ absence was not permanent. In most cases, they came back to work when they no longer wanted to continue with school, or when it became apparent that they were not going to achieve anything by schooling. With the older children’s participation in labour, the conflicts between consumption and production decreased and the life of the family was better-off, which created more opportunities for the younger children, including younger daughters, to go to school. Generation units among the daughters, the second generation from my sample, came into being, and this will be explored in more detail in the following chapter.

4.4 Conclusion To sum up, this chapter has explored why the collective economy caused difficulties for the first unbound feet generation when they were at the stage of young motherhood, and contrasted this to their experiences in their girlhood when urgent need for labour and inflexibility brought power and advantages as mentioned in Chap. 3. It demonstrates the transformation of different patterns of TSOL could be seen at different historical periods and during different life stages of the women. I suggest a large number of dependent children, the system of distribution mainly based on labour, and the prevalence of the nuclear family combined to put the women in the severe position of struggling between ‘double tasks’. Two strategies were adopted to reduce their suffering: voluntary family planning and the utilization of older children’s labour. Partly due to patrilocal marriage, partly due to the social constraints

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which confined daughters’ contribution to the welfare of the family to their labour, mothers, when facing a serious lack of labour, allocated more labour to daughters while reserving more education opportunities for boys. But normally younger daughters at home got more chances for education than their older sisters, which is the focus in the following chapter. While managing to disrupt the home/field division and examine these young mothers’ labour from a holistic angle, this chapter demonstrates that while mainly focusing on the process of institutional and economic relations, the TOSL model misses out some important dimensions during the organisation of labour. The first dimension is the political forces. State and political policies such as family planning policy and the household registration system played a key role in the collective era in rural China, and greatly influenced the villagers’ labour organisation. But TOSL model has not given enough attention to political forces. The second dimension is people’s perceptions and understandings of their labour. In this case, the young mothers’ understandings of the stratification system and their endeavour within the family to break through the constraints played an important part in the ways how they distributed their labour and for whom.

References Andors, P. (1983). The unfinished liberation of Chinese women, 1949–1980. Bloomington: Indiana University Press; Brighton: Wheatsheaf Books. Bossen, L. (2002). Chinese women and rural development: Sixty years of change in Lu Village, Yunnan. Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers INC. Cohen, M. L. (1992). Family management and family division in contemporary rural China. China Quarterly, 130, 357–377. Cohen, M. L. (1993). Cultural and political inventions in modern China: The case of the Chinese ‘peasant’. Daedalus, 122(2), 151–170. Croll, E. (1985). Women and rural development in China: Production and reproduction. Geneva: International Labour Organization. Davin, D. (1975). Women in the countryside of China. In M. Wolf & R. Witke (Eds.), Women in Chinese society. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Davin, D. (1976). Women-work: Women and the party in revolutionary China. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Devasahayam, T. W. (2005). Power and pleasure around the stove: The construction of gendered identity in middle-class south Indian Hindu households in urban Malaysia. Women’s Studies International Forum, 28, 1–20. Fei, H.-t., & Chang, C.-I. (1975, c1945). Earthbound China: A study of rural economy in Yunnan. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gao, X. (2005). ‘Yin hua sai’: ershi shiji wushi niandai nongcun funv de xingbie fengong (‘Yin hua sai’: the gender division of labour among rural women in the 1950 s’). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Research), 4, 153–171+245. Honig, E. (2000). Iron girls revisited: Gender and the politics of work in the cultural revolution. In B. Entwisle & G. E. Henderson (Eds.), Re-drawing boundaries: Work, households, and gender in China (pp. 1966–1976). Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Huang, P. C. C. (1990). The peasant family and rural development in the Yangzi Delta, 1350–1988. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press.

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Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jin, Y. (2006). Tieguniang zai sikao: Zhongguo wenhua geming qijian de xingbie yu laodong (Iron girls revisited: Gender and labour in Great Cultural Revolution in China), Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies), 1. Johnson, K. A. (1983). Women, the family, and peasant revolution in China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Li, S., Feldman, M. W., & Jin, Xiaoyi. (2003). Marriage form and family division in three villages in rural China. Population Studies, 57(1), 95–108. Li, S., Feldman, M. W., & Li, Nan. (2001). A comparative study of determinants of uxorilocal marriage in two counties of China. Social Biology, 48(1–2), 125–150. Potter, S. H., & Potter, J. M. (1990). China’s peasants: The anthropology of a revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wang, Y. (2003). Jiti jingji shidai nongmin fenjia xingwei yanjiu: Yi Jinan nongcun wei zhongxin de kaocha (Household division of peasant during the period of the collective economy-A study to the rural South Hebei’). Zhongguo nongshi (Chinese Agricultural History), 2, 88–98. Wolf, M. (1985). Revolution postponed: Women in contemporary China. California: Stanford University Press. Zhang, J. (2004). Gongfenzhi xia nonghu de jingji xingwei: dui Qiayanuofu jiashuo de yanzheng yu buchong’ (‘The economic behaviour of peasants under the work-point system: a validation and supplement of Chayanov’s hypothesis’. Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies), 6, 97–112. Yan, Y. (2003). Private life under socialism: Love, intimacy, and family change in a Chinese village 1949–1999. Stanford California: Stanford University Press. Yang, M M-h. (1994). Gifts, favours, and banquets: The art of social relationships in China. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Chapter 5

Divided Generation: Post-revolutionary Girl Baby Boomers

Abstract This chapter is about the divided baby boomers’ generation caused by the intersection of biological and historical generations, covering both their girlhood and young motherhood. Besides socio-economic factors, it stresses ‘the number of siblings’ and ‘birth order’ as important factors shaping the women’s labour and leisure lives. It also examines how divided generation phenomenon affects their childcare arrangements. It starts with a brief introduction of the ideological, political and demographic environment in which they grew up, pointing out how they are a divided generation composed of an ‘older sisters’ group and a ‘younger sisters group’, before proceeding to an examination of the labour and leisure lives of each of them.

The girls who had an active role in the collective campaign, that is, ‘iron girls’ (Tie Guniang) or ‘labour models’ (Laodong mofan), have attracted some academic attention recently (for example, see Gao 2005; Honig 2000; Jin 2006), but to date, there has not been much literature on ordinary girls in the collective. This chapter aims to fill this gap. What would girlhood be like in the collective economy and a highpolitics era? How would their girlhood be different from that of their mothers, that is, the ‘first unbound feet generation’ whose girlhood was at a transitional era from petty peasant economy to a collectivisation era? Although both generations spent their young motherhood during the collective era, how would the second generation experience it differently from their mothers’ generation, considering the different demographic context? And finally, how did the coming of de-collectivisation in 1983 impact on the second generation? This chapter answers these questions by examining the girlhood and young motherhood of the baby boomers’ generation. It starts with a brief introduction of the ideological, political and demographic environment in which they grew up, pointing out how they are a divided generation composed of an ‘older sisters’ group and a ‘younger sisters group’, before proceeding to an examination of the labour and leisure lives of each of them.

© East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_5

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5.1 The Environment They Grew Up In In the introduction to this part, much has been made of the socio-economic, political and demographic context of the collective era. Here are some supplementary features of the environment which are especially important in relation to this generation’s girlhood. The first notable point is the ‘divided generation’ phenomenon caused by the intersection of the historical generations and the biological generations, for example, when the age difference between siblings is considerable, or great structural changes take place after one but before another sibling finishes his/her formative period, which is deemed as a key for the formation of a generation. Both situations happened to the post-revolutionary baby boomer generation: they generally have a big group of siblings resulting from the improved health condition after the revolution. This led to big age gaps existing between the older and younger ones. Most importantly, the collective era ended and the reform era began in 1983. At this point the younger ones were experiencing their girlhood, while the older ones had already finished theirs in as early as the late 1960s or early 1970s. This undoubtedly had a great impact on their opportunities for education, labour, leisure, and marriage. Therefore, I suggest that this generation could be categorized into two sub-groups of ‘older sisters’ and ‘younger sisters’ as besides structural changes, birth order also affected their lives. The former group were generally born before the early 1960s and had just started their own family in the late 1970s and early 1980s when the collective era ended; while the latter were mostly younger daughters at home, having been born during the 1960s or even 1970s before the first large scale birth control was formally carried out in Lianhe Village in 1972. Certainly the latter would not get married at least until the middle or late 1980s. Although this part mainly covers the collective era, in order to compare the two groups I will extend the time scope to the late 1980s and early 1990s to examine the younger group’s early motherhood. Since more details about the de-collective era will be given in the third part, here I just outline some main structural changes: firstly, both production and distribution were de-collectivized. The right to use a certain amount of land was granted to each household. Secondly, the control on non-farming occupations was gradually relaxed, and peasants’ access to the city became easier. But in most cases, they still missed out on the social welfare urban citizens enjoyed. The second point is about the ideological education of the youth in the collective era. In terms of gender, in late 1960s Mao proposed an ‘equality adage’ in which he claimed ‘the time is different, and anything a man can do a woman can also do’. Women were now encouraged to challenge the traditional gender division of labour and enter into occupations traditionally held by men. They were also encouraged to push themselves physically and challenge feminine images (Croll 1985; Jin 2006). In addition to this, sex was suppressed by the mainstream ideology (Zhang 2005). In the production team, opposite sex contact was not allowed, except cadres who overlapped under the demands of work. Young people, including young women, had a part in political study groups, public meetings and the civilian military organised by production teams (Jacka 1997). They were also called upon to do good deeds. But

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with the coming of the de-collectivisation, all of these were relaxed and an ‘intimacy and femininity rhetoric’ replaced it (Rofel 1999). A final notable point is village politics in the collective era. As mentioned in the previous chapter, commune leaders and team leaders, especially male leaders, had absolute authority in the organisation of labour and distribution of resources, and this in turn had the potential to cause nepotism and favouritism (Chan et al. c1984; Unger c2002). Besides, because of the power and relatively better pay, the positions of local cadre became eagerly sought after by members of some villages. Many households attempted to strengthen their power by actually becoming, or at least being associated with, cadres. Other attempted to attain positions beyond the reach of local cadres, for example, achieving an urban hukou, or getting connections with an urban hukou. In the last chapter, I talked about how rural mothers tried to achieve this by investing in their sons. But for daughters, although they could hardly attain upward social mobility by becoming a cadre or a soldier (as mentioned in last chapter), there was the indirect option of marrying a local cadre or an urban hukou holder. Although rural women cannot change their hukou into an urban one through marriage, they can get access to the limited benefits granted to their urban husband, which then becomes a way for rural women to change their lives (Potter and Potter 1990). This did affect the post-revolutionary baby boomers’ marriage practices and their plans for their own lives, especially for the ‘older sisters’ group.

5.2 Older Sisters: Losses and Gains This section focuses on the ‘older sisters’ group in terms of the forms and relations of labour and leisure during the collective era. I suggest that their birth order, as well as the socio-economic, political and demographic circumstances, had a great impact on their lives.

5.2.1 Classroom and Field In the previous chapter, I described the financial rise and fall of peasant households through the ‘self-exploitation of labour within the family’, emphasizing that the ones who were exploited were often the older daughters. I have also explained the labour management within the family from the mothers’ point of view: distribution based on labour, preference for sons and much less opportunities for daughters to attain upward social mobility contributed to the reality of the daughters, namely, fewer opportunities for education and more for labour. This chapter explores the management of labour and resources from the perspective of the daughters themselves. Sawada and Lokshin (2000) supply similar cases from rural Pakistan, where, in a context of binding resource constraints, older sisters tended to help with the family to extend resources by marrying early or providing domestic labour. Although collective

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rural China was also facing resource constraints, the system of distribution based on labour rather than output, and the prohibition of non-farming occupations, made the situation more complicated: peasant parents did not necessarily want to marry their daughters early due to their labour force; and beside domestic work, the most important way for the older daughters to expand their households’ resources was bringing in work points by participating in collective labour. Whether an older daughter could go to school or not was, to a great extent, determined by the family composition: if they had grandmothers who could help the family with childcare, then the daughters could attend school for a couple of years. Domestic work was not a determinant factor, since the mother squeezed time in to do most of the cooking and washing. Although there was a lot of attention put on mass education in the 1950s and 1960s, those older daughters who had nobody to mind younger siblings had no chance. Jiutao is one of them: Q: A: Q: A:

Have you attended school? Never. Why? No one looked after my younger siblings, so my parents just let my older brother go to school, and I minded the younger ones. My younger brother is next to me, and he attended too. My younger sisters, both of them went, and one of them even went to high school. I’m the only who never went to school… When my youngest sister was two years old, theoretically I could go. So I kept asking. One of my neighbours was a similar age to me. She went to school and was always saying to me: come to school with me! So I secretly went there, taking my youngest sister with me. She cried so loud that I could not stay any longer, so I went back home, never going again.

Another girl, Suoxiu, was lucky enough to have a grandmother to help with childcare, but only stayed in the school for three years before her mom asked her to come back to work in the collective as there were not enough mature labours at her home and she was the oldest of the seven children. I interviewed thirteen women who belonged to the older daughters and were born before 1960, among whom four had never been to school, and the average time they had been in school was 2 years. Indeed, we can here summarise a common situation among older daughters: during the collective era the older daughters were those who were most likely to be asked to contribute to the family’s income, either by childcare or collective labour, at the expense of their education. Despite their young age, their contribution was considerable, and sometimes could even totally change their family’s financial situation. Returning to Suoxiu’ story, she was asked back to do collective labour because of a shortage of labour and debts owed to the production team.

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A: Only one year later, my family paid back all the debts to the production team, and did not overspend any longer thereafter. Q: The life of your family improved? A: Yes. We did not overspend any longer. In the first year after I came back to work, we earned 40 Yuan. My grandfather was so happy that he held the money in both his hands all the way back home from the production team storehouse. (Laughing) Q: 40 Yuan of net income? A: Yes. Net income after deducted the grain the whole family consumed that year and the money we claimed for daily use. Much of the literature emphasizes the collective era as an important time when the young girls’ contribution to the family became visible, since work points were calculated based on what was earned by each individual (Huang 1990; Potter and Potter 1990); however the girls could not control their own income, which fell into the hands of the patriarchal head of the household (Potter and Potter 1990: 126; Jacka 1997: 33). This may have been a cause for frustration, but according to my informants, it didn’t seem feasible for the income to be allocated to the girls directly, at least not in Lianhe Village. Firstly, the income that went to individual households at the end of each year was the net income, that is, income after the deduction of grain consumed and daily cash expenses claimed from the gross income each household earned. Since grain consumption was based on the household rather than individual, it was hard to calculate how much grain the girl had consumed, and therefore difficult to work out her net income (which would involve subtracting what she consumed from the cash value of the work points she had earned for the whole year). In other words, unless she set up a new account and cooked for herself, that is, in a form of separate households, it was not realistic for her to control her income individually. And in most cases, for the households with a high dependency, it was lucky for them to have some income rather than overspend at the end of the year. But basically, the girls’ work was recognized both by their family and the collective. Actually, many first generation women admitted that thanks to their older daughters’ sacrifice, they were able to get through the hard times they experienced. Girls who had an active role in collective labour, that is, ‘advanced’ or ‘iron girls,’ got more recognition than ordinary girls at that time. They were mainly unmarried and not involved in rearing children (Croll 1985; Jin 2006). Before going further, it is worth having a look at the story of Hanfeng, a former member of the ‘Iron Girls Team’. A: About thirteen of us girls constituted an ‘Iron Girls Team’, which was quite famous in our commune. At that time, we didn’t have enough grass for the water buffalo in our production team during the winter. We went to the South Lake to cut grass. Our team was led by two married women.

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Q: A: Q: A:

Q: A:

Q: A: Q: A:

Q: A:

Q: A:

Because all of us were unmarried girls, the leader thought it might be not safe for unmarried girls to go outside on their own. We stayed there for half a month cutting and drying and then took all the grass back. As members of the ‘Iron Girls Team’, we were thought of highly in the production team. As long as there was any tough task, the leaders would say: call upon the ‘Iron Girls Team’! (Laughing) When there was any big task? Yes. Did your team ever get any honour? Honour, yes, I remember us being reported once by a reporter from the Prefecture. I remember it was snowing heavily, and all of us girls went there. They took pictures of us. What did you think of your action at that time? Was it motivated by wanting to get more work points or by a sense of honour? We were proud of ourselves. For example, there was a task to hoe a patch of cotton within a certain time. We ‘Iron Girls Team’ started our work earlier and stayed later than others. Besides, the cotton seedlings were at three levels according to their quality. Normally ‘Iron Girls Team’ was sent to attend the ones with poorest quality, fertilizing etc. That meant the hardest tasks were assigned to you? Yes. How about your work points? Did you get more than others? No, we did not get extra. I remember a time when it was harvesting season, we ‘Iron Girls Team’ helped someone build a house. It was about 10 pm when we finished that. A campaign named ‘anonymous hero’ was in fashion at that time so we went to harvest again when we saw a patch of field left un-reaped. So you did not let others know what you had done? No, ‘anonymous hero’! We secretly reaped that field, and thought it really fun! You see, teenage girls! I was just under eighteen. Some of other members were twenty or twenty-one. When we were together, we took action as soon as anybody proposed to do something. (Laughing) What do you think of your action now? I think it was fun!

It certainly seems clear that what the iron girls were pursuing was not only work points. For these unmarried rural girls who did not have to think too much about supporting a family and double tasks, their passions were flamed by the ideological propaganda mentioned before, and recognition and attention from other fellow villagers, especially leaders from several levels. They tried to prove themselves by challenging the traditional gender divisions and standing out in their labour lives.

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5.2.2 ‘It Was Fun at that Time’ A notable point is, despite less chances for education, and the hard work and starvation, both ‘iron girls’ and ordinary girls described their girlhood as a happy time, in which the collective labour system itself and distribution of labour according to age and gender provided them with good opportunities to have fun and develop friendships with other girls from the same production team. Q: Did you girls have fun together? Suoxiu: Most of the time we laboured together. Actually there were not many activities at that time. When I just started working in the collective, we organized a ‘cultural propaganda team’ in the brigade. We sang, danced, arranged programs, and performed for the villagers when there were meetings. I remember we choreographed ‘The Sun is Red in Our Heart’, and I was leading the dance. I attended some activities like that when I was just back from the school. After that, most of the time, we girls worked together, transplanting rice seedlings, harvesting etc. Because our houses were spread out, sometimes, for example, if the task of the second day was to transplant rice seedlings in front of my house, all the girls would stay at my home overnight. My bed was wide enough for six of us to lie sidewards. And we got up at midnight to start working. My mother also got up to cook breakfast for us. She made some glutinous rice porridge with two eggs, which was really good at that time. Q: Why did you start work at midnight? A: It was a busy season, and we tried to do more work. We worked for two hours before dawn. We were paid by piece, and we young girls were working together. Q: Could you do more? A: Of course! Six of us young girls were a group. As soon as the team leader announced the tasks of that day, men went to plough and harrow, and we women hurried to mark the paddy fields which seemed cost-efficient. Of course the married women could not beat us unmarried girls. But later, after we got married, we could not beat those unmarried. (Laughing) You had to run fast…At that time, that was the way we played together most of the time. We laboured together, chatted together or went to the street on days off. That was what friends did together at that time. Q: What did you do in the street? A: We took photos in the photograph studio. We liked taking photos very much at that time. (Laughing) Most of the pictures were in a small size, 0.38 Yuan each. You did not have many options at that time. Or

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Q: A:

you could take a full-length one, with a bag on your shoulder. That was what young girls did when they were together. Was that fashionable? Yes, very fashionable. Otherwise, we worked in the collective from morning till night. (Laughing)

Propaganda by singing and dancing was a fresh experience for the teenage girls, and certainly would bring attention for them. To the rural girls, streets in the township were not only a place for earning money (for example, by selling firewood like their mothers’ generation), but also a place to spend money, consume and follow the latest fashion. From the chat, I was also told that exchanging photos before meeting each other was in fashion if a girl and a boy were introduced to start their possible relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend. Besides photos, limited ‘revolutionary’ movies and local dramas also became the things they tried to follow. The labour process itself under such a context also brought in fun, even for those activists. It must be fun to see the bewildered expression on the face of the leaders and fellow villagers after the girls did ‘anonymous heroic’ deeds. Competition to mark the paddy fields which seemed more cost-efficient to transplant could also be a source of fun and laughter. From Hanfeng’s story above, we can see that, besides pride, ‘fun’ was an important element to make her an activist. Besides fun, friendship between the girls was another reason for that period of time becoming a memorable time. Collective labour, especially the way of distributing labour according to age and gender, supplied chances for girls to enlarge their social networks beyond their natal family (Davin 1988). They worked together, shared feelings together, played and followed the fashion together. That is why ‘sworn sisters’ between girls were common at that time. Friendship between girls in the collective era even played a part in the marriage revolution. A new set of pre-marriage rituals had been developed in 1970s in Lianhe Village. Compared to the situation some of the first generation of women faced, such as the new couple not being able to meet each other until the wedding day, a process named Dangmian (meet each other) became necessary, followed by Kanjia (have a look at the husband-to-be’s house, or wife-to-be’s in the context of uxorilocal marriage). If both parties have a good impression of each other, then there’s Jiaolaoren (boy visits girl’s parents with gifts or reverse under the circumstance of uxorilocal marriage) and if the previous process is successful, finally the wedding (Huang 2002). In most cases, close friends were in the girls’ company. Although they could not have a decisive role, their opinions would have a part in the girl’s decision as to whether she was going to develop a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship with the boy. Friends were the ones to share the anxieties and joy and they also witnessed the processes all the way from Dangmian to the wedding:

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Q: Did you have good girl friends at that time? Shuchun: Yes. Eight of us were very good friends. If anyone of us went to her possible boyfriend’s house to Kanjia, all the rest would accompany her. When it was time for anyone to get married, the rest bought a gift together for her, and sent her all the way from her natal home to her marital home on the wedding day. And some of them even developed their friendship into fictive kinship after married: Q: Have you got good friends in the production team? Lianmei: Of course! Six of us were really good. Juxiang, her marital family is not far from mine. We have kept a relationship like kinship. We attended each other’s life ritual ceremonies, and visited each other’s family during the Chinese New Year, just like relatives do. Maybe it is because of the struggle for a better life after they married, or the utilitarian environment later in the de-collective era (Yan 2003), or the trivial and commonplace events they have to face each day, but despite complaints about the sacrifices they had to make for the family, many women from this group got sort of nostalgic about their girlhood in the collective era. Those who developed fictive sisterhood often had to end this type of relationship some years after they got married and had commitments in their own family. This further strengthened their sentiments.

5.2.3 Marriage, Household Division and Childcare This section examines how collective economic and labour systems on the one hand, and different demographic features such as the number of siblings, age gap between older and younger siblings and the number of children on the other, have shaped the ‘older sisters” marriage, household division practices and childcare. It also looks at how these factors have made their experiences of girlhood and young motherhood different from their mothers’ generation. (1) Village endogamy and ‘marry to the town/city’. As mentioned above, beside labour, marriage also provided a way for rural girls in the collective era to improve her own life and that of her family. In this sense, marriage meant not only starting their own family, but also a means of bringing in more power and opportunities for the rural girls themselves and their natal family. To some extent, that accounted for why over 20 years after the enforcement of the

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first Marriage Law in 1950, arranged marriage against the young people’s will still existed, and also explained the increasing of village endogamy and marriage to the town/city for the ‘old sisters’ group. Four out of thirteen women from the ‘older sisters’ group got married against their will in the name of bringing benefits for their natal family. Fengyi’s older brother and sister-in-law did not approve of her relationship with a boy whose class label was ‘landlord’, since this would destroy their sons’ future: they would not be accepted by the army if they had an uncle with such a class label. Lianmei1 was forced by her mother to marry a boy from her own natal kinship to continue their connections, which would in turn strengthen their family; Shuchun and Jiutao were asked by their parents or grandparents to marry someone in the same production team, although they did not want to. Actually village endogamy was a striking phenomenon during the collective era. Village and surname endogamy were no longer considered to be taboo, which was probably one of the greatest changes since Liberation in 1949 (Parish and Whyte 1978). From the 1950s to the early 1980s, in the production team where I stayed there were eight couples who had marriage within the village. This meant about sixteen households were involved, which was a very high percentage considering there were only about thirty households in the production team at that time. Similar evidence can also be found in Zengbu, Guangdong: ‘in 1979–81, 21 percent of the brigade’s marriages were village endogamous’ (Potter and Potter 1990: 200). How did this happen? The collective labour system would naturally be the first explanation: collective labour supplied the young people more opportunities to get together and know each other. But after having a close look at the eight couples’ background, I found it was not the whole story. Firstly, collective labour was distributed according to age and gender, which left few chances for girls and boys to work together. Secondly, as mentioned before, contacts between opposite sexes were not permitted by the mainstream ideology at that time. There was only one exception in which cadres from opposite sex were allowed to be seen together—the requirements of their work. In Lianhe Village’s case, for example, Maizi was work points recorder and the boy who became her husband later was the accountant. They worked 1 In

my interview with her in 2005–2006, Lianmei mentioned she was still not happy with this marriage or her husband, although they had been together for more than 20 years. A shocking story she revealed was that in 1978 when she was still not sure about her relationship with her boyfriend, that is, her present husband, once she was invited to stay for some days in the boy’s home. During her stay, she often ate at his home but spent the nights at one of her distant relatives’ house which was not far from the boy’s. But one day, after dinner, she and the boy was locked by the boy’s parents in a room. After that night, she got pregnant. I asked her ‘Did that mean you had no choice but to marry that boy at that time?’ She answered: ‘At that time I had no choice, but if it were now, definitely I could do something.’ ‘What can you do?’ ‘I can abort it with medicine!’ she replied. Therefore, even though they had Marriage Law being enforced for more than 20 years to claim spouse choosing freedom for them at that time, it was normally not what they turned to for marriage freedom. While at present time, when the society is more open and services like abortion is easily available, forced marriage is much less likely. Without an open environment in which women could rely on themselves or turn to help other than family, Marriage Law did not manage to take effect to a full.

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together almost each day, as while the accountant was measuring how much the individual peasant had done, the work points recorder was needed to write the results down. Yuhua was women team leader and Weixin was deputy team leader, so got a lot of chances to work together. They belonged to those who practiced village marriages voluntarily. But many more who were not local cadres reported that their village marriages were formed under pressure from their family. But why, especially over 20 years after the Marriage Law was enforced and new marriage practices had developed? Let’s start from a story told by Shuchun. Q: Did you have any standard for your future husband when you were at the marriageable age? A: I knew nothing about that at that time. Anyway, my grandmother asked me to agree, I agreed without saying too much. But later, I wanted to stop the relationship with him. My grandmother and my parents wouldn’t let me. Q: Was it because you didn’t like him, or was it due to any other reason? A: We were in the same production team, too close, and too easy for two families to get involved in unpleasant things. Q: Why did your grandmother and your parents want you to marry him? A: My grandmother thought that I was the oldest, if I married to someone close to them, I could help to take care of my brothers. That was why they wanted me around. Otherwise, how come they married me in the same production team?

And elsewhere she mentioned:

Two of our families, my father’s and my uncle’s family were the weakest in the production team and were often bullied by those team leaders. We had no leaders from our family, so they bullied us. They deducted our work points or criticized us when we were late a little bit. They rated our work points at a low level too.

Everything is revealed here. The reason why Shuchun, the oldest daughter of her family, was asked to marry a guy from the same production team, 50 m away from her natal family, was to help younger siblings, and more importantly, her marriage would bring in new power for the family so that they could resist the hostility from the leaders or other powerful influences in the production team. Ethnography conducted elsewhere suggests that marrying daughters elsewhere rather than in the same village would expand the family’s social network in the interest of mutual aid or labour exchange (Potter and Potter 1990: 205). But this could not be achieved in the collective era when people’s time was organized, labour was collectivized and team leaders,

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especially male team leaders, had absolute authority. Under this circumstance, daughters’, especially older daughters’ marriage (since it could help sooner than younger daughters’) within the village could become a diplomatic strategy for a family to strengthen themselves. That is why during the collective era, village endogamy rather than marriage outside of the village was popular. The demands of expanding family power in the collective economy and village politics boosted village endogamy on the one hand, and advanced marriages with those who were at a higher position in the stratification system, for examples, cadres or urban hukou holders, on the other. At the beginning of this section, I talked about the possible means for peasants to attain an urban identity and also highlighted the fact that chances were much slimmer for girls than boys. Compared to becoming a local cadre or joining the army, it seemed more realistic for girls to achieve upward social mobility through marriage. But ‘marrying to the town/city’ was something only a few rare girls dared to imagine. In any case, normally an urban household registration could not been guaranteed through rural-to-urban marriage (Zhao and Liu 1997). According to my observation, in the collective era when one’s characters and not one’s appearance was publicly celebrated, those girls who were active in public and political affairs found it more possible than ordinary girls to get attention from township or city boys. Liqun’s younger sister was among the few of them in Lianhe Village. According to Liqun,

‘she was very active. She received the Party’s education and became a Party member. She actually did not do much farming. She taught in the primary school in our brigade, then participated in ‘working team’ to organize campaigns in other brigades, and was a salesgirl in the supply and marketing store in the commune. Later, when she was in her twenties, she married a worker in the aquatic product bureau.’

It was not easy for ordinary girls to have this sort of opportunities, but some of them ‘degraded’ themselves to make this wish come true:

Suoxiu: At that time, a lot of girls at my age got married to those who had an urban hukou, but who were disabled or widowed or divorced. Possibly they were cleverer than me, but I did not want to do that. I would be ashamed on myself if I did that. I thought I was would be degrading myself by doing that.

Whatever happened, connections with urban hukou holders did bring in benefits for those girls’ family. For example, they were able to get commodities only open to urban residents, which caused envy from the fellow villagers and local cadres. The latter would then be reluctant to make difficulties for them.

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(2) Family planning, household division and childcare. As mentioned above, although both the second and first generations from my sample spent their young motherhood in the collective era, the young generation did experience it disparately from their mothers due to the different demographic features such as a large number of siblings, big age gap between older and younger siblings and a much smaller number of children that resulted from the enforcement of the family planning policy. Firstly, having far fewer children than the first generation made the dependantto-labourer ratio of the second generation’s family less unbearable, which further shaped their housing arrangement after marriage. As mentioned before, despite fluctuations of its enforcement in rural China, family planning policy was strictly implemented when the second generation of women were at the right age for bearing children, around the mid-1970s. This not only meant that they ended up with at most three children, but it also resulted in at least four years of interval between them. This is also meant that for their parents-in-law’s family daughter-in-law recruited by marriage became a favourable turn for many households in need of labour power (Croll 1985: 60). And because of the less severe dependant-to-labourer ratio, and the less demands of childcare, the new family was welcomed by the big family. It seemed a win–win situation, and normally there was cooperation between the second generation of young mothers and their mothers-in-law: the latter stayed at home, taking care of grandchildren and doing housework for the whole family; while the former participated in collective labour with other family members. That is why a couple of women from this group reported that they stayed in the big family for seven or even ten years before their small family finally divided from it with the coming of de-collectivization in 1983. However, the reality that this generation was from a group with a large number of siblings made the situation more complicated, lessening the period of co-residence of the young couple with the big family. This was especially the case for those women whose husband belonged to the older children in a family which had a considerable number of young siblings. In this type of family, despite the added labour power from the daughter-in-law, a retired mother-in-law still hoped to bring in more work points, as the dependant-to-labourer ratio was still high due to her own small children. For most purposes, she entrusted her grandchildren to her own teenage children who were only available when their class was over. With this sort of casual allocation of childcare, situations in which infants or toddlers were left unattended arose easily: Q:

Who took care of your children when you were away to labour in the collective? Suoxiu: My mother-in-law. But, she could not devote her mind to childcare for me. She was always working secretly. As long as it was Sunday when my husband’s younger sisters and brothers did not have to go to school, she left my daughter with them and went to work on our

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private plot or did housework. But they were teenagers. They were too into play and not responsible enough. Because of this, my daughter fell into pond three times! She was almost drowned the last time. Because of this, my husband and I were very resentful. You see, it was such a big family; my husband had five young siblings who were not old enough to work. If my mother-in-law stayed at home to mind the children and do housework, we only had four labourers—me, my husband, his sister and my father-in-law—to feed over ten mouths! Due to this, an imbalance of intergenerational labour exchange existed, which caused resentments among the young generation. This strengthened their determination to divide from the big family, which sometimes caused serious conflicts between the two generations and even affected their relationship in later life. Lianmei’s husband was the oldest son and they could not get enough to eat after they got married since he had five immature siblings at home. They asked for household division, which annoyed her parents-in-law, so her mother-in-law refused to attend to her newborn daughter. The gender of the baby could be a factor: the old generation was not happy that the oldest grandchild was a girl, which in turn riled Lianmei. Later her parents-in-law decided to use Lianmei’s bonus from over-fulfilment to pay their own debts without even asking her. She refused, which led to a big fight in which her father-in-law tried to tear down her house and her mother-in-law bit her husband’s hand seriously when he tried to stop the old man. This conflict ended up with severed contact from each other for many years, and Lianmei’s refusal to take care of them when they got old. But whatever happened, the children needed care. Turning to their natal family for help was a prevalent solution for this group of women. If her own mother had to stay at home to attend to her younger brother(s)’ children, normally she would not mind looking after one more. And as older sisters, normally the women had younger siblings at home, so their little child(ren) was/were often left to them for care if no other solution was available. Certainly the husband’s younger siblings were also an option, but since the young couple’s request of household division was deemed as abandoning of the in-laws, his young siblings often refused to offer help. Hualei’s husband’s younger sister helped her with washing and childcare at first, but after they had their own nuclear family, even if they were still living under the same roof as the big family, she not only refused to do so any longer, but also locked the washing powder up for their own use. Hualei had no choice but to leave her son with her younger sisters and brothers in her natal family. Besides, village endogamy made it easier for some women to leave the task of childcare to their own mother or younger siblings. Shuchun sent her daughter to her natal family every morning and picked her up each evening. Besides the imbalance in intergenerational labour exchange which speeded up household division, de-collectivisation itself had further quickened up the young couples’ division from the big family. How this happened will be recounted in the

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next section as it was often the case of the ‘younger sisters’ group. For the ‘older sisters’ group, the adoption of the new land policy at the beginning of de-collective era gave a final push to their household division. According to the policy, each household could get half mu of private land, and what was left would be contracted out to individual households according to the number of members each, which greatly encouraged potential household division into actual household division, since no tax would be collected from the private land.

5.3 Younger Sisters: Gains and Losses Now we move to the ‘younger sisters’ group from the second generation. We start with the life stories of a woman called Pingfang.

5.3.1 Pingfang Born in 1969, Pingfang was the fifth among six children, with three sisters and two brothers, one older and one younger. Her eldest sister stayed in school for less than three years before she was asked back to do collective labour. Two other elder sisters were not allowed to continue when they finished the fifth year in school but her eldest brother who was the second child even went to high school. Pingfang stayed in junior middle school for one year after she graduated from primary school. But she decided to stop after she was teased by the teacher because she made some silly mistakes in a test. Her youngest brother went to junior middle school, but did not continue because he did not pass the entrance exam for high school. After she was back, Pingfang did not do farming, because her older sisters and parents had supplied enough labour force and her oldest brother was already back home farming. It was 1983 when the collective was dismantled. Her father started a dim sum business near the brigade headquarter. Pingfang learnt how to make dim sum while helping her father. One year later, she started to take charge of the business on her own. The dim sum business could bring in about two thousand Yuan for them each year, which was even more than what the other members earned by farming at home. She made some good girl friends who were also doing business in the brigade headquarter. Among them, there were tailors, hairdressers, and salesgirl in grocery store. They spent a lot of time together, gossiping, sharing sweets, following fashion. Although they handed over most of the money they earned for family use, they kept more pocket money than those at home farming. They were deemed as a fashionable group in the countryside at that time. When she was 18 years old, her oldest sister urged her to find a boyfriend. There were a lot of boys also doing business in the brigade headquarter, which was deemed dangerous by the girls’ family: they were afraid that their daughter would get into some affair with one of them, thus bringing shame for the family. So, a fixed boyfriend

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would be a good idea to save the girls from unexpected love affairs. Soon after that, Dongping, a relative of Pingfang’s brother-in-law, saw her when both of them were helping her oldest sister with house building. He fell in love with her, and asked her brother-in-law and sister to act as matchmakers. Two years later, when she was 20 and old enough to get married according to Marriage Law, they got married. As the fourth child, Dongping had one brother and two sisters older, and one brother and one sister younger than him. Less than one year after they got married, they asked for household division. Three tasks, including marrying Dongping’s youngest sister and taking care of one of his parents, were divided among three brothers. In the end, his father was allotted to them by lot. As for housing, the brick house built by Dongping’s parents was priced at 5000 Yuan and divided equally between Dongping and his younger brother, since his oldest brother had had his own family for many years. In the end, his younger brother stayed in that house and gave them 2500 Yuan to build a new house for themselves. One year later, with this 2500 Yuan, what they earned from farming that year, and another 1000 Yuan borrowed from Dongping’s older sister and Pingfang’s natal family, they built their own house about 100 m away from the old one.

5.3.2 School Education and Non-farming Opportunities Their birth order as the younger ones in the family, and the intersection of the dismantling of the collective and their girlhood gave the ‘younger sisters’ group more chances for school education and non-farming opportunities than their older sisters. Firstly, because their older siblings had alleviated the urgent demand of labour power for the family, the younger ones were freed from cash-generating labour at an early age. Secondly, they spent their girlhood after the introduction of reform since 1978, which offered them chances to do non-farming occupations or learn certain skills. Both from the narrative of the older sisters and the younger ones themselves, the latter, on average, have a much higher level of schooling education than the former. From my sample of seven younger sisters, they had an average of 7 years of schooling education, much higher than the older sisters’ group of 2 years on average. At the same time, compared to many of the former who were asked back from school to do collective labour, few of the latter were forced to leave school. Most of them were allowed to stay in school as long as they wished unless they themselves did not want to continue, usually, due to poor achievements in schooling. Even if they were back from school, they were not urged to do farming. If they were still too young to do non-farming work, they stayed at home for a couple of years, helping with cooking, washing, picking vegetable for hogs, or childcare for their older siblings. Then they went to learn a skilled manual job such as tailor, hairdresser, dim sum maker etc., or did casual work in a certain factory in Hanshui,

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or worked for private businesses. They were able to enjoy the opportunities the reform era brought for them, but it was too late for their older sisters to learn these: they had been fashioned as farmer labourers before the arrivals of reforms. In Chap. 7, we will see how these experiences affected the lives of both after they married.

5.3.3 Marriage, Household Division and Triple Task Non-farming occupation and new labour organisation also shaped new practices of marriage, household division and the arrangement of childcare and housework for the ‘younger sisters’ group. The absolute authority of the local cadres was gone with the dismantling of the collective system, which also made the strategies to strengthen a family’s power through the daughters’ marriage much less necessary. The freedom of marriage was increasingly celebrated along with the increased opportunities and the broader space that non-farming occupations opened up for young girls and boys to meet. The proportion of ‘Zitan’ (those starting relationships by themselves) was increasing, although most of them still got matchmakers. But freedom of marriage also brought secret worries for parents, just like Pingfang’s story. Freedom could easily put girls into an unfavourable position: what if she got pregnant before marriage? Before, in the collective era, collective labour supplied girlfriends and boyfriends with little time to date. And since free mobility was hard, their dating opportunities back then were also confined to each other’s family, under the surveillance of their parents. But now, they could control their own time for dating and non-farming occupations offered them a variety of occasions which were beyond the parents’ control. That pushed parents to urge their daughters into a serious relationship and marriage as early as possible. In Chap. 6, I will discuss in more detail how the freedom in contemporary rural China even becomes a dangerous pleasure for the third generation of girls, the ‘family planning generation’. Non-farming occupations and conjugal love played a great part in marriages of the ‘younger sisters’, which to some extent remodelled the gender division of labour at home (for example husband’s help with domestic chores) which will be recounted in Chap. 7. Household division of young couples from the big family was further propelled by the new labour system that emerged with de-collectivisation in 1983 and the nonfarming opportunities brought by it. Firstly, the expected inter-generational labour exchange was broken more seriously and even became impossible; on the one hand, the mothers-in-law were more eager to work on their own land plots, with no intention to stay at home attending to grandchildren; on the other hand, the flexibility brought by de-collectivisation gave the young mothers more opportunities to attend to their own babies. Furthermore, the system of distribution based on output from the land rather than labour power brought by de-collectivization, plus the limited number of children resulting from family planning policy, meant that the unbalanced dependentto-labourer ratio was no longer an issue for the young couples. This in turn meant that there was no need for the young couple to stay with the big family for the ‘free ride’ of children rearing.

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Moreover, the end of the collective sponsorship of house building that came with the dismantling of the collective also triggered household division. I have mentioned that during the collective era, houses for new couples were built mainly with the help of the collective, in terms of both labour and resources. But after de-collectivisation in 1983, new couples had to build their new house for themselves. The normal practice in Lianhe, as described in Pingfang’s story, was that the old house built by the old generation would be valued at a certain price and each son would have an equal share. Normally the old house belonged to the youngest son, as he was the final one to get married, and he paid his brothers their shares. Besides the share of money they got from the youngest brother, those who had moved out had to accumulate wealth for their own housing. And the sooner they divided from the big family, the sooner they could work for their own family. In other words, housing had become a main factor in triggering household division. The young generation’s determination was understood by the villagers. Yinhua wanted to divide almost one year after she got married, but her husband’s parents were not happy, as her husband was the main male labour force. Then one fellow villager asked her father-in-law: ‘will you build a house for them?’ Her father-in-law answered: ‘I am not capable to do that.’ Then the villager said: ‘In that case how come you won’t let them go? Just let them go! They have their own life!’ During the reform era, the household division of the young couple had not only been a norm, it also gained sympathy and moral support. Non-farming opportunities brought by de-collectivization also speeded up the young couples’ division from the big family in several ways. First of all, conjugal love, opportunities for which, as we have seen, were caused by non-farming work, had deemphasised the vertical relation between parent and married son, and further shortened the time of the young couple’s stay with the big family in the reform era. For Pingfang, it was less than one year, which was common. For Jiaohong, the division took place even before she got married, which was not uncommon. Besides, with skilled manual and non-farming experiences, the young couples were more capable of earning money than their parents’ generation in the market economy (Yan 1998). While they may have been conceiving new ideas to make money, living together with the big family proved to be a hindrance in putting their ideas into practice. The young generation realized that besides the expenses for their marriage and a share of the old house, they could not get any more from the old generation, which further broke the expected inter-generational balance. All these factors contribute to the nuclear family becoming the normal ever since the reform era (Wang 2006). Due to the speedup of household division, the ideal type of old generation staying at home to do childcare and housework, while relying on the grain and income brought by the young generation is not applicable any longer. For the ‘younger sisters’ group, the conflicts between cash-generating work and housework and childcare had become sharper: on the one hand, in the nuclear family, they had to do housework and childcare; but on the other hand, besides farming, they were enticed by opportunities to make money in the market economy. We could say this created a ‘triple task’ for them. How these conflicts affected their labour and the gender division of labour will be discussed in Chap. 7. Presently, the focus is on childcare only.

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The conflicts mentioned above made childcare very casual: no one was the fixed child carer. And it also depended on the life cycle of the children. Normally, when they were still infants needing breast feeding, the women themselves usually stayed at home to look after them. The flexibility in the de-collective era made this possible. Besides, according to some women, since farming was so unprofitable due to the heavy tax, sometimes they gave up planting certain non-main crops, such as cotton or rape, to look after their infants at home. Another main source they often turned to for help was their or their husband’s nieces. A very interesting reciprocal network can be seen here: the post-revolutionary baby boom caused a big age gap between older siblings and younger siblings, thus when the older ones needed help with childcare, the younger ones could fulfil it; while when the younger ones themselves need help, the children, especially daughters of the older ones, had grown old enough to give a hand.

5.4 Conclusion To sum up, the intersection of historical generations and biological generations caused a divided generation in the collective era of an ‘older sisters’ group and a ‘younger sisters’ group. Such an intersection also shaped the disparities and continuities in their experiences of girlhood and young motherhood. The holistic examination of ‘who did/does what for whom’ followed the TSOL model enables this chapter to reveal the different but related patterns of TSOL of these two groups. Their birth order as the older children in the collective economy gave the older sister group a girlhood with limited education and hard work for the family, which made their girlhood more like that of their mothers’; while the young sisters’ position as the younger children, along with the dismantling of the collective in 1983, opened up more education opportunities and non-farming chances for this group. Gone with the collective era was also the absolute authority of the cadres and the tight political environment, which made the marriage of the younger sisters group no longer a strategy to strengthen the family’s power, as it was for their older sisters. Increasing marriage freedom was also available for the younger ones due to the broader space opened up by non-farming occupations. At the same time, the same demographic features shared by the two groups, such as a large number of siblings and a small number of children, speeded up the pace of household division and caused the prevalence of the nuclear family. De-collectivisation further quickened up this process for the younger sisters group. A reciprocal network in terms of childcare between the two groups was shaped by big age gap between them: the younger ones helped the older ones with childcare and turned to the latter’s children, especially the daughters, for help when they need someone to look after their children. This chapter demonstrates again political forces, in this case, particularly family planning policy and economic reform policy, work in the labour organisation but are somewhat neglected in the TSOL model.

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References Chan, A., Madsen, R., & Unger, J. (c1984). Chen village: The recent history of a peasant community in Mao’s China. Berkeley: University of California Press. Croll, E. (1985). Women and rural development in China: Production and reproduction. Geneva: International Labour Organization. Davin, D. (1988). The new peasant economy in China. In S. Feuchtwang, A. Hussain & T. Pairault (Eds.), Transforming China’s economy in the Eighties. London: Zed Books Gao, X. (2005). ‘Yin hua sai’: Ershi shiji wushi niandai nongcun funv de xingbie fengong (‘Yin hua sai’: The gender division of labour among rural women in the 1950s’). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Research). 4: 153–171+245. Honig, E. (2000). Iron girls revisited: Gender and the politics of work in the cultural revolution. In B. Entwisle & G. E. Henderson (Eds.), Re-drawing boundaries: work, households, and gender in China (pp. 1966–1976). Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Huang, P. C. C. (1990). The peasant family and rural development in the Yangzi Delta, 1350–1988. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Huang, Y. (2002). Liwu, shengming yili yu renqingquan: Yi Xujiacun weili (Gift, ritual and the circle of human relationship: Xujia village as a case). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies)., 4, 88–101. Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jin, Y. (2006). Tieguniang zai sikao: Zhongguo wenhua geming qijian de xingbie yu laodong (Iron girls revisited: Gender and labour in great cultural revolution in China). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies)., 1, 169–196. Parish, W. L., & Whyte, M. K. (1978). Village and family in contemporary China. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Potter, S. H., & Potter, J. M. (1990). China’s peasants: The anthropology of a revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rofel, L. (1999). Other modernities: Gendered yearnings in China after socialism. California: University of California Press. Sawada, Y., & Lokshin, M. (2000). Household schooling decisions in rural Pakistan. Working Papers no. 2541. Washington D.C: World Bank. Unger, J. (c2002). The transformation of rural China. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe. Wang, Y. (2006). Dangdai zhongguo jiating jiegou biandong fenxi (The change of family structure in contemporary China). Zhongguo Shehui Kexue (Chinese Social Science), 1, 96–108. Yan, Y. (1998). Jiating zhengzhi zhong de jinqian yu daoyi: Beifang nongcun fenjia moshi de renleixue fenxi (Money and moral in family politics: An anthropological analysis of household division models in North rural China). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies)., 6, 76–86. Yan, Y. (2003). Private life under Socialism: Love, intimacy, and family change in a Chinese village 1949–1999. Stanford California: Stanford University Press. Zhang, E. Y. (2005). Rethinking sexual repression in Maoist China: Ideology, structure and the ownership of the body. Body and Society., 11(3), 1–25. Zhao, Y., & Liu, Q. (1997). Zhongguo chengxiang qianyi de lishi yanjiu: 1949–1985 (A research on rural-urban migration in China: 1949–1985). Zhongguo Renkou Kexue (Chinese Demographic Science)., 2, 26–35.

Part III

Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure in the Reform Era (1983–2013)

Introduction The whole of part three, including Chaps. 6–9, covers the complexity of the gendered organisation of labour and leisure in the reform era (1983–2013), revealing changes as well as continuities since the reform and opening-up of China. It starts with a brief introduction of the socio-economic, ideological and demographic changes in the reform era, and then proceeds to chapters that cover the girlhood of the third generation, young motherhood of the third generation and the ‘younger sisters’ group of the second generation, old age of the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group of the second generation, and the leisure arrangements for all in the reform era. 1983 represented the end of the collective era and a formal beginning of the reform era in Lianhe Village. The third generation examined in this research, called the ‘family planning generation’, grew up in the reform era. Apart from them, women from other generations also have different experiences in this era. How had the economic and demographic context in the reform era affected the women’s labour and leisure lives? Furthermore, how did women who were at different life stages experienced this era differently? This part asks these questions. As the result of the intersection of historical time and individual life cycle, many life stages will be covered in this part: it examines the girlhood and young motherhood of the ‘family planning generation’, and further explores the motherhood of the second generation, focusing on power relations across gender. It also looks into the old age of the first generation and of the ‘older sisters’ group from the second generation. And finally, it will compare the organisation of leisure for the three generations in the reform era. But before getting into the details, it is necessary to give the socio-economic, political and demographic context of the reform era. The most significant change in this reform for the peasants was the change of land and labour systems. According to a rural responsibility system which had been adopted by 98% of production teams nationwide at the end of 1983, although the state still owned the lands, individual peasant households could contract land on a per capita or per labourer basis for their use over a fixed period of time, for example, over a minimum of 15 years or even longer. The production was organised by individual household themselves. In terms of the output, the peasant household could control

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most of it, besides the quota which was set according to the expected yield of the land contracted out and asked to be sold to the state at a quota price (Croll 1988). Chinese peasants did benefit from the reform in the beginning. Besides farming, domestic sidelines, diversification and specialisation of the rural economy were encouraged to generate income in rural areas (Croll 1985). At the same time, rural-urban migration was relaxed somewhat, and peasants could go to the city to find a job (Entwisle and Henderson 2000). Domestic sidelines and ‘courtyard economy’ (economic activities other than farming undertaken in the home or courtyard) were especially claimed by the Women Federation, the governmental institution in charge of women’s issues, as ‘women’s work’ to guarantee their economic status, since it was based at home and intertwined with domestic work (Jacka 1997). Scholarship welcomed the new labour opportunities for the Chinese rural women with the coming of the reform. Related studies focused on the newly emerged gender relations in domestic sidelines, ‘courtyard economy’, township-village entrepreneurs, or non-agriculture employment in urban areas as well as farming (Jacka 1997; Judd 1994). But Chinese peasants did not benefit from the reform as much as their urban counterparts. Firstly, the old problem of ‘large population, little farmable land’ has not been solved but become even more acute. This was due to a growth in population accelerated by the post-revolutionary baby boomers on the one hand, and expropriation of land for industrial use on the other. Secondly, and more importantly, a series of ‘urban biased’ policies issued by the Chinese government have generated great income gaps between urban and rural residents. A series of policies were designed to exploit the agriculture sector in order to accelerate industrialization. The policy of price scissors, for example, distorted the price structure in favour of the urban sector (Knight 1995). And the reform of apportionment of tax in favour of central finance, which gave the local government an incentive to collect resources from peasants, ended up increasing the proportion of miscellaneous fees other than normal agricultural tax thereby increasing the financial burden of peasant households nationwide. This made farming a totally unprofitable occupation (Zhou 2006). Besides, in terms of public production, the central government’s input was greatly favoured urban residents, while peasants were left to pay for their own medical treatment, education, elderly care and housing, etc. On the other hand, those income-generating economic activities such as domestic sidelines and ‘courtyard economy’ could not guarantee a high profit for very long as the successful production soon attracted more producers and prices would quickly fall (Jacka 1997); more importantly, township-village entrepreneurs experienced a slowdown in output and a decline in employment from the 1990s with deeper marketisation in China (Field et al. 2006). Even if the rural--urban migration was relaxed and peasants could go to city to find jobs, they could not change their identity as a ‘rural household registration holder’ and thus could not get a formal job with relevant welfare benefits attached. This put them in a vulnerable position and left them with the status of second-class citizens in city (Zhou 2000). Therefore, after the short-lived golden age from the late 1970s till about 1985, Chinese peasants were left behind further and further by the flying ‘Chinese economy train’. In 1980, the per capita

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disposable income of urban residents was 2.5 times that of rural residents’; in 1985, the ratio decreased to 1.86, but kept increasing in the following years and reached 3.11 in 2002 and peaked at 3.33 in 2007; while the international acceptable level should be 1.5. The ratio had remained for several years till 2014 when it decreased to 2.92. In 2017, the ratio was 2.71 (ZJW 2015; ZJW 2018). Great rural–-urban and regional disparities have given peasants, especially those from poorer areas, great incentive to change their lives, particularly their identity as second-class citizens. In the previous section, I have mentioned that in the collective era, attainment of party membership by becoming a local cadre or joining the army and then getting promoted supplied the main means to attain an urban hukou for Chinese peasants. In the reform era, these two ways became much harder, if not impossible, especially for the latter (Potter and Potter 1990). With the resumption of the National College Entrance Examination in 1978, the recruitment was based on a merit rather than political basis. Since then, studying hard to pass this examination and getting enrolled into college—and thereby changing one’s household registration status from rural into urban—become the main, if not the only means for the youth of the countryside to change their identity and thus improve their life and that of their whole family too (Weng 2009). But as was mentioned above, very little input from the central government into education for the rural population resulted not only in a much poorer educational environment for the rural youth, but increased education expenses for peasant households. In contemporary China, education and medical treatment have been deemed as the two main factors in the pervasive poverty of peasants (Sun 2007). This situation had not changed until the second decade of the new Millennium when the ratio of per capita disposable income of urban residents versus rural residents started decreasing, as we can see above. This was the result of a series of social policies issued by the government. First, the Chinese government announced that from 1 January 2006, the agricultural tax would be cancelled. This has lifted a great burden from the Chinese peasants. Second, the government issued a revised ‘Compulsory Education Law’ which says that from 1 January 2006, there would be no charge of tuition fees and miscellaneous fees in the rural areas. This reform was popularised to rural areas nationwide in the spring of 2007. In the autumn of 2007, costs on textbooks were also covered by the government, making sure every rural child had the opportunity for a free 9-year education. Finally, in 2009, the government established a new rural social pension insurance system which combined the contributory elderly pension with the universal pension provided by local governments to all rural elderly. It provides certain security to the rural elderly population. Since its beginning in the early 1970s, family planning policy was implemented more strictly with the coming of the reform era and ended up a nationwide ‘one-child policy’ in 1979. But due to a series of resistance in the countryside, the policy was recast such that: if the first-born child was a girl, a peasant couple could have another child with an interval of four years; while if the first-born was a boy, they were not allowed to give birth to any more. This amended version has been popularised as a prevalent population control policy in rural China since about 1988 (Davin 1991). If so, theoretically speaking, the gender structure of the children in rural households

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would be: half of them have an only son; one quarter has a daughter and a younger son and another quarter have two daughters. According to my observation in Hanshui County, there are exceptions caused by fluctuations of the implementation of the policy and, in a minority of cases, infringements. All of these constitute the socio-economic and demographic environment for the rural women in the reform era. This part not only examines certain life stages of certain generations but also puts different groups of women into a comparative framework. So, for example, Chap. 6 focuses on the girlhood and young motherhood of the ‘family planning’ generation, while, Chap. 7 compares the motherhood of the two groups from the second generation and the third generation. Following on from this, Chap. 8 looks into the old age of the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group with Chap. 9 covering all three generations and examining how they experience different leisure lives in the reform era.

References Croll, E. (1985). Women and rural development in China: Production and reproduction. Geneva: International Labour Organization. Croll, E. (1988). The new peasant economy in China. In: S. Feuchtwang, A. Hussain, & T. Pairault (Eds.), Transforming China’s economy in the eighties. London: Zed Books. Davin, D. (1991). The state and population planning: China and Romania compared. East Asia papers. no. 1. Leeds: University of Leeds. Entwisle, B. & Henderson, G. E. (Eds.) (2000). Re-drawing boundaries: Work, households, and gender in China. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Field, J.„ Garris, M., Guntupalli, M., Rana, V. & Reyes, G. (2006). Chinese township and village enterprises: A model for other developing countries. Prepared for the International Economic Development Program, Ford School of Public Policy, University of Michigan, http://www.umich.edu/~ipolicy/IEDP/2006china/5)%20Chinese%20Township% 20and%20Village%20Enterprises,%20A%20Model%20for%20Oth.pdf. Accessed on 21 May, 2018. Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Judd, E. (1994). Gender and power in rural north China. California: Stanford University Press. Knight, J. (1995). Price scissors and intersectoral resource transfers: Who paid for industrialization in China? Oxford Economic Papers, 47(1), 117–135. Potter, S. H. & Potter, J. M. (1990). China’s peasants: The Anthropology of a revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sun, L. (2007). Woguo pinfu chaju buduan kuoda de tezheng yu yuanyin’ (How and why the poor-rich income gap is getting bigger and bigger in China?). Xin Yuanjian (New Vision), 3, 96–105. Weng, N. (2009). Cunluo shiye xia de nongcun jiaoyu: Yi xinan sicun weili (Rural education from a rural perspective: Four villages in the Southwest as cases). Beijing: Shehui kexue wenxian chubanshe (Social Sciences Academic Press). Zhongguo, J. W. (ZJW) (2015). Zhongguo chengxiang jumin shourubi 13 nianlai shouci suoxiazhi 3 bei yixia (The income ratio of urban residents versus rural residents has decreased to under three times for the first time in 13 years). Available on http://www.ce.cn/xwzx/gnsz/gdxw/201 501/20/t20150120_4384230.shtml. Accessed on 1 August, 2018.

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Zhongguo, J. W. (ZJW) (2018). Guojia tongjiju: 2017nian chengxiang jumin renjun shouru beicha 2.71 (The National Statistics Bureau: The income ratio of urban residents versus rural residents was 2.71 in 2017). Available on http://www.ce.cn/xwzx/gnsz/gdxw/201801/18/t20180118_277 93888.shtml. Accessed on 1 August, 2018. Zhou, F. (2006). Cong jiquxing zhengquan dao xuanfuxing zhengquan: Shuifei gaige dui guojia yu nongmin guanxi zhi yingxiang (From a regime of absorption to a regime of suspension: the impacts of tax reform on the relationship between the state and the peasants). Shehuixue Yanjiu (Sociological Studies), 3, 1–38. Zhou, Q. (2000). Nongmin pingdengquan de falv baozhang wenti (Legal safeguard of farmers’ equal rights). Fashang Yanjiu (Law and Business), 2, 23–28.

Chapter 6

The ‘Family Planning Generation’ Grows Up: Rural Daughters in the Reform Era

Abstract This chapter focuses on the girlhood and young motherhood of the ‘family planning generation’ in the reform era. It suggests not only socio-economic factors, such as the changes in the labour market at both local and national levels, the emergence of rural-to-urban migration, the persistence of household registration policy, but also such factors as the number of siblings, their academic performance, and the resources the family own which contribute to the women’s labour and leisure arrangements. It also examines the gendered effects of the intersection of family planning policy and rural-to-urban labour migration, and how these further shape the marriage, household division and childcare practices for this generation.

The implementation of the ‘one-child’ policy in 1979 produced a ‘family planning generation’ in rural China, and now this generation has grown up. How did the socioeconomic and demographic environment in the reform era affect their girlhood and their young motherhood? How were these life stages of theirs different from their mothers’ and grandmothers’? This chapter answers these questions by examining the girlhood and young motherhood of this ‘family planning generation’. It covers their education, labour, leisure and marriage lives.

6.1 ‘Jump Out of the Agricultural Gate’: The Complexity of Gender Equality in Education We have witnessed the weaker positions in terms of attaining education for both the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group from the second generation; while only the ‘younger sisters’ group enjoyed more education opportunities due to their birth order. What the special socio-economic and demographic context in the reform era has brought to the third generation then? Here is the life story of Xiaqing, a young girl from Lianhe.

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6.1.1 Xiaqing’s Story Xiaqing was born in 1986, having an older brother who was born in 1983. She went to a central primary school based in another village when she was seven. Actually there used to be a primary school in each village a couple of years ago, but due to less and less students—resulting from the family planning policy—a central school was built for children from about ten surrounding villages. Almost all classmates in the school were rural children. Xiaqing did not help her parents with any chores. Her mother kept telling her that: you do not have to do anything at home as long as you study hard and achieve good marks! You have no choice except that you ‘jump out of the agricultural gate’ (change rural household registration to an urban one). There is no hope if you stay in the countryside for the rest of your life! This sort of lecture is one that Xiaqing has heard continually since she started her study in primary school, not only from her parents, but also from her teachers. She began living in dorms in the school when she was at Grade Three (about 10 years old) as she was one of the good students who deserved additional education, not free of course. She said she once wished to be a scientist, but the dream gradually disappeared along with more and more study tasks. In junior middle school, teachers indoctrinated them: all you had to do within the three years was to pass the entrance exam for a good high school; then in high school, teachers lectured that it was all about entering a good college. Parents gave the same lectures, so did the people around her. No matter what she planned to do when she was older, this was the lecture. She said she became more and more realistic, and had no dreams any more. In high school, besides rural children, urban children also attended since the school was for the whole county. Many richer girls from the county town began to follow fashion, while boys indulged in computer games. Those with poor performance in school basically gave up. Xiaqing worked very hard. She was always able to achieve high marks in her class before she suffered from some menstrual problem when she was in the second year in high school. Non-stop bleeding made her dizzy, and led to difficulties with memory. This greatly affected her study, so she intermitted for one year for medical treatment. Within that year, her parents took her to many places to see different doctors. For the first time in her life, she stayed for a long period of time with her parents—before she had always had to stay in the school dorm to make it easier for her to study. And, also for the first time, she shared so many feelings and opinions with her mother while they were on their way to seeing doctors. Before, she always thought her mother preferred her brother because her mother was always on his side when the two children had arguments, but her father always took sides with her. As early as 1998, her big brother stopped going to school after he finished his junior middle school at the age of 16. He did not do well in the entrance exam for high school. He did receive admission from certain high schools, but none of them, he thought, were good enough to guarantee his entrance into college. Besides, fees for high school were extremely high for his parents. The tuition fee for each year was about 2000 Yuan, and living expenses were also almost 2000 Yuan; while the net annual income for the whole family was no more than 6000 Yuan. Besides, his

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sister Xiaqing was also at school, and her academic achievement was much better than his. Thus he came back from school. After staying at home for five months, helping a little with simple farming activities, he went to follow an herbalist doctor, who gave him a lot of medical books to read. But he got fed up with reading so much and decided to stop after staying there for almost three years. Then he followed his uncle to learn indoor painting and decoration. When I met Xiaqing, his sister, he was working in a factory in Shenzhen, south China. Xiaqing returned to school when her health improved a little, but later it recurred. She was so stressed that she asked on numerous occasions if she could leave school and go back home for good. Her mother agreed, but her father refused. Later she expressed her thanks to her father on Father’s Day: if it had not been for his insistence, she would have given up and would have no chance to change her life. She did have some girl friends from the same village who gave up school due to poor academic performance. Most of them were working in some factory in south or east China. They had become fashionable now. But Xiaqing felt distant from them: ‘I am not part of their world’, she said. I asked if she ever thought about what she was going to do if she did not pass the entrance exam for college. She said she did think about it, but did not know the answer. She was in the third year of high school when I met her. Several months later, I was told that Xiaqing had passed the exam and got accepted by a university in Wuhan, capital of Hubei Province. Although her parents were worried about her unbelievably high fees for college, they were very glad that their many years of hard work had now paid off: their daughter had ‘jumped out of the agricultural gate’ and become an urban resident; she would never suffer what they had suffered as a peasant.

6.1.2 Gender Equality in Education in Rural China: Background and Literature An undisputable fact is that, the gender equality in education in rural China has greatly improved during the period when the ‘family planning generation’ is attending school. Large-scale quantitative surveys reveal that the largest differential in access to education in China since reform is not a gender gap, but an urban–rural one. The census data of the past years record the school retention ratios for rural girls and boys at the time of the census, and provide good data for examining the improvement of gender equality in rural education from a vertical perspective. Based on data of population censuses of 1990, 2000, and 2010, one can see that, as shown in Fig. 6.1, compared to the situation in 1990, in 2000, the gender gaps for rural children’s access to both basic nine-year compulsory education and post-basic education-that is, the university preparatory period that often occurs between 16 and 18 years old-are closing. In 2000, even though rural boys were generally still getting better education than rural girls in that age group, the improvements in gender equality in education in rural China are obvious, especially in the case of rural youth aged 16–18, normally

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100%

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Fig. 6.1 School retention ratio of Chinese adolescents between 10 and 18 in 1990, 2000, and 2010, by age and sex. Source Based on data of population censuses of 1990, 2000, and 2010. The data of 1990 and 2000 refer to Zheng Zhenzhen, Rachel Connelly, 2008

the year for entering university. And in 2010, the nationwide school retention ratios for rural girls were very close to those of rural boys before the age of 13. More importantly, for every age group between 13 and 18, greater proportions of rural girls than boys remained in school. That means that gender equality in education in rural China has greatly improved, whether during the compulsory education period or the university preparatory period. But what has caused this trend? What factors have promoted gender equality in rural education? So far, there are two approaches offering explanations: structural approach and cultural approach. The ‘structural approach’ mainly offers explanations at the macro-structural level. For example, the expansion of basic education infrastructure in rural areas, measures taken at the national and local levels to promote gender equality (Hannum and Xie 1994). Recent studies have focused on families, exploring under resource constraints, how households affected by macrostructure and population policies will allocate resources and the reasons behind. For example, scholars have suggested that the decrease in the number of brothers and sisters has promoted the gender equality in education in China (Ye and Wu 2011), and the sex and age composition of siblings (including variables such as the sex composition, birth order and birth interval years) will impact the gender equality in education in China (Paine and DeLany 2000). These conclusions enrich our understanding of the factors that influence decisions on the allocation of educational resources within the family. But focusing on structural factors alone can lead to two problems: one is that it is impossible to distinguish the ‘implications’ of education assigned by urban and rural residents respectively, which, obviously, will affect the distribution of educational resources within families. Second, the aforementioned research tends to view

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the ‘patriarchal concept and culture’ in China as an external factor influencing gender equality in education, without noting the distribution of educational resources within the family and its changes will in turn influence and shape the ‘patriarchal concepts and cultures’ (Wu 2012). Both ‘patriarchal concept and culture’ and ‘the strategies for allocating educational resources within the family’ are changing and shaping each other. The recent rise of daughters’ role in the old age care of parents shows that the ‘patriarchal concepts and cultures’ are not unchanged (Tang et al. 2009). Different from the ‘structural approach’, the ‘cultural approach’ pays attention to rural population’s understanding of the implications of education to their lives. Scholars have noted an educational desire in rural China that parents do their best to even borrow money for their children to attend school (Kipnis 2011; Paine and DeLany 2000; Ross 2011; Obendiek 2011). In Shandong Province (Paine and DeLany 2000), Shaanxi Province (Ross 2011), Gansu Province (Obendiek 2011) and in four villages in the southwest area of China (Weng 2009), ‘going to school’ is not only for rural children to obtain knowledge. It is more to provide a way to change their status as a ‘rural person’ to a ‘city person’, to be able to share the various social benefits enjoyed by urban residents. In the four villages in the southwest, the realization of upward mobility comes down to the question of ‘how to get out of the countryside’, while education becomes the ‘way out’ for villagers (Weng 2009). It is in this context that rural areas have a ‘desire for education’, and parents want their children, boys and girls alike, to be able to move upward through higher education. The improvement has been broadly admitted, but most research also finds that girls’ vulnerable position and rural parents’ bias towards sons regarding the education decision in the household are fairly consistent (Ross 2005). There are explanations for both sides of this coin. While the lower birth resulting from family planning contributes to the improvement (Davin 1991), the same family planning policy is a cause of the difficulties girls face. There are less only child girls at home in rural China due to the present family planning policy of ‘have another try with a first-born baby girl’, and this means less resources going to each girl, since she has to share with other siblings (Zhang et al. 2007). According to existing research, heavy economic burdens caused by increasing spending on education beyond the compulsory period, and traditional norms of dependence on sons for old-age support, contribute to the fact that rural parents invest more in their sons’ education (Li and Tsang 2003; Zhang et al. 2007). This current research suggests that there is a need to combine the ‘structural approach’ and the ‘cultural approach’ to understand the complexity of gender (in)e quality in rural education. Particular attention should be paid to how the villagers perceive the implications of ‘education’ in their upward mobility and life improvement.

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6.1.3 ‘Leather Shoes or Straw Sandals?’: Education as an Avenue of Upward Social Mobility In the previous Part, it has been mentioned that the rural–urban segregation has been the primary impetus for the rural population to obtain an urban status. In the commune system of the collective era, a peasant could achieve social mobility mainly through cadre functions and military service. Apart from these direct paths, there were indirect channels, which while not bringing an immediate change of status could result in partial access to urban resources, closing the rural–urban gap in the form of improved well-being. Rural-to-urban marriage was among these channels. While the former two were mainly applicable to men, rural-to-urban marriage was often women’s choice. In the reform era, it has become much harder, if not impossible, to change one’s status from rural to urban through cadre functions or military service. The channel of ‘marrying into city’ is still an option, but is no longer able to improve the lives of the women and their family. Research shows that in the reform era, rural girls often marry into urban poor families, which might be able to guarantee them an urban hukou, but usually cannot improve their lives financially (Shen 2007). At this point, labour migration to the city, for men and women alike, does not bring about a change in status, but it is a way of improving life compared to less profitable agriculture. Scholars suggest that in the reform era, young rural girls have been empowered by the cash-earning power gained from rural-to-urban labour migration. But labour migration is still not an ideal path to achieve upward mobility. As mentioned earlier, according to some surveys conducted among the rural-to-urban migrants, ‘real work’ is associated with an identity as an urban resident and access to welfare limited to this group. The wage jobs done by the rural-to-urban migrants who are still registered as farmers are ‘dagong’ (employment) at most, not ‘work’ (gongzuo), according to the migrants themselves (Entwisle and Henderson 2000). This also has caused the general impression in the countryside that ‘higher education’ and ‘labour migration’ are two totally different social mobility paths, and only the former has the possibility to change one’s status from rural to urban. Moreover, higher education has become a much smoother avenue, and both rural parents and scholars declare it ‘the only’ means. In response to this, rural parents started to place enormous aspirations on their children’s education. Firecrackers are lit in the village for those who manage to ‘du chu qu’ (get out of the countryside via schooling), and banquets are arranged to celebrate young people’s success in achieving an urban identity before they leave for their new life in the city. Many take remedial courses after failing the National College Entrance Examination on the first attempt, and retake the examination several times if needed. The link between education and social mobility has gained unprecedented emphasis among rural parents and teachers in the reform era. A former primary school teacher in Lianhe told me that she uses the contrast between ‘leather shoes’ and ‘straw sandals’ to encourage her students to study hard. She said:

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You have to study hard! If you work hard and gain admission to a university, you will be able to wear leather shoes all the time. But if you don’t, you will only have straw sandals.

The metaphor of ‘leather shoes’ versus ‘straw sandals’ reflects rural people’s understanding of the huge gap between urban and rural China. Lectures given by teachers have been echoed by rural parents. I asked each parent with young children in the reform era about their aspirations for their children’s future. None of them wanted their children to stay in the countryside. Farming is absolutely at the bottom of their list and is the least desired prospect for their children. All rural parents I interviewed agreed that ‘jumping out of the agricultural gate’ (tiaochu nongmen) through higher education and then obtaining a formal job in the city is at the top of their priorities.

6.1.4 Gender and the Educational Resources Allocation in the Rural Households In addition to the changes in upward mobility channels mentioned above, we also need to look at the role that social and economic changes have played, that is, the various structural factors pointed out by the aforementioned ‘structural approach’. As in other rural areas, the educational costs of supporting a child until he/she graduates from university is much higher than in the collective age, so that many parents complain that they cannot afford. In this circumstance, how would they determine the allocation of educational resources within the family? The biggest difference between higher education and other aforementioned social mobility means, particularly cadre function and military service, is that it is based on merit and academic achievement as well as household resources, rather than gender. Therefore, it opens a way for rural women as well as for men. This, together with the aforementioned socio-economic and demographic context of rural households, changes rural parents’ strategies to invest in their children’s education. A bias toward academically stronger children, whether boys or girls, can be widely observed among rural parents in Lianhe, a fact that effectively increases the level of gender equality in education. As in Xiaqing’s case, with limited resources her parents, especially her father, insisted that she stay in school while they let her brother return home because she showed the most promise. In addition, the academically promising children do not have to do much chores; their only task is to study hard and achieve higher marks. This is in stark contrast to the girlhood of their grandmothers’ generation, and even some of their mothers’, whose only task was labour. And the returns of the investment to academically stronger children can be seen and set an example for other villagers. In Lianhe Village, there are especially two sisters whose family suffered serious economic deficiency when both of them were at college, but now

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according to their mother the monthly pay of each of them amounts to the annual income of a peasant household. During one ‘May Holiday’, the two sisters jointly paid for a tour to Shanghai and eastern China for their parents. This was talked about for a long time in Lianhe. And this no doubt encouraged the parental aspirations for daughters’ education, especially for those households without a son. In Lianhe in the reform era, 35 young people have made their wish to ‘tiaochu nongmen’ come true, among whom 12 are boys and 23 are girls. Among these girls, four are from daughter-only families, while the remainder (19) have an older or younger brother. Among the 19 girls, two have a brother who is also a specialised secondary school/college graduate; five have a brother who left school after finishing nine-year-compulsory education; and the rest have a younger brother who is still pursuing his education in either junior or senior secondary school. Apart from these families, I also came across several rural parents who told me they will invest more in their daughter’s education, with the hope that she will be admitted to a university, as they felt she could achieve higher marks at school than their son(s). Among the 35 young peoples’ families, the majority were facing constrained resources. Despite this, many parents reported that they borrowed money from local banks or relatives to keep their academically promising children, either boys or girls, in school. A strong incentive behind the investment in academically stronger children is the high returns it can bring about: first of these is an urban hukou and the welfare attached to it; secondly, a ‘formal job’ in the city could incur more income than either farming or migrant labour; and finally, it means permanent residence in a city, while labour migration is often temporary, especially for women (Connelly et al. 2010). Parents in Lianhe, especially mothers, generally report that between their son and their daughter, they wish even more for their daughter to ‘jump out of the agricultural gate.’ ‘Life in the countryside is too hard for a girl!’ they lament. That is why Xiaqing’s mother always lectures her that ‘schooling is your only way out!’ All of the other girls I interviewed have experienced the same lecture from their parents as Xiaqing’s mother gave to her. And I believe hundreds of thousands of rural children must have shared this. That also explains why in Xiaqing’s story, any lower level of education is just one rung on the ladder leading to the all important final step: admission into college. The perception and implications of schooling constructed by rural Chinese is in fact at the root of some recent educational developments. For example, parents showed absolute preference for academic education over vocational education. Another example is the sudden nationwide decline in enrolment rates for specialised secondary schools (zhongzhuan) in the late 1990s after a long period of flourishing, despite the government’s promotion, and the concurrent boom in senior secondary schools (gaozhong) nationwide. Specialised secondary schools had gained popularity among rural parents over college education during the 1980s and most of the 1990s. Compared to college, which enrolled only senior secondary school graduates, specialised secondary schools recruited excellent junior secondary school (chuzhong) graduates and demanded a relatively shorter term of investment while offering enticing returns, that is, an urban identity and a ‘state’ job secured by the

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government. Their attraction of a large proportion of junior secondary school graduates constituted a major reason for the low net enrolment rates for senior secondary schooling before the 2000s. Toward the end of 1990s, however, the job allocation system was abrogated, resulting in a specialised secondary school graduate having to fend for herself/himself. Concurrently, the expansion of the higher education sector in 1999 greatly lowered the threshold for college and caused an unusually high rate of college enrolment between 1999 and 2003 (Wu and Zheng 2008). A specialised secondary school qualification can in no sense compete with a college qualification. This pushed a large proportion of junior secondary school graduates onto a senior secondary school-then-college path and caused the dramatic decline in specialised secondary schools in the late 1990s. As a result, the net enrolment rate for senior secondary school almost doubled between 2000 and 2008 after experiencing a long ‘bottleneck’ period (Ross 2011). This transformation can actually be tracked in Lianhe. Before 1999, five young people went to specialised secondary school, compared with only two who were enrolled in universities; while in the post-1999 era, six went to specialised secondary schools without attaining the academic performance required for a place in a good senior secondary school (gaozhong) or university (daxue), according to the villagers, in contrast to 22 who were academically capable of choosing the route of senior secondary school and then university. The decisions made by rural students and their parents in Lianhe actually were congruent with the national trend. But after all, only a limited number of rural young people manage to realize their dream of ‘jumping out of agricultural gate’ through higher education. How will resources be allocated among children who are not capable to achieve academically? It actually depends on the gender structure of children and the economic situation of the household. For those households where there are both son(s) and daughter(s) while none shows academic promise at school their parents may, if the economic situation permits, pay the high price to buy admissions to some technical secondary school for them; but if resources are limited, these opportunities are normally kept for boys. Some parents may send their children to learn certain manual skills. Boys, for example, may be sent to learn indoor painting and decoration, driving, fixing cars, hairdressing or cooking; while girls may learn hairdressing or the skills of tailoring. But if the household has a lack of resources, it is very likely that any chances will go to the sons, since sons are seen as the ones to support their family after marriage, while daughters will rely on their husband. As result, girls without academic achievements either help parents at home or do non-farming factory jobs in the county seat or other urban areas. After getting married, they toil between home and farmland/factory. However, in households where there are only daughters, girls can enjoy a very high level of equality in terms of resource distribution. More importantly, the orientation in rural education reflected by the implications of higher education from the angle of the rural population needs to be critically examined. One can conclude that school education in rural China is urban-oriented, and is highly separated from rural social culture, as the significance of practical, rural

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knowledge is marginalised in rural schooling; and the conception of knowledge is what is promoted by authorities who are often located in urban centres. As a result, it is difficult for rural school education to train talents, provide knowledge and technical resources for rural social and cultural development. This ‘outward’ (elite) rural education is a result of the urban–rural dual system. According to Heidi Ross, education in rural China is ‘marginalising,’ as ‘the logic of developmentalism’ is inherent in rural parents’ educational aspirations for their daughters and the state’s endeavours to improve gender equality in education. This logic of developmentalism assumes educated girls become valued by their parents as a means for reducing poverty and improving the family’s situation, and by the state as better wives/mothers and better driving force to achieve national development. Under this logic, educated girls are ‘both recipients and agents of development, not its victims’ (Ross 2011:148). Such developmentalist ‘educational aspirations’ enable parents with constrained resources to decide whether to invest in girls’ education, mainly based on the girl’s academic performance and whether her future education is conducive to obtaining a stable job. Girls must work several times harder than boys to prove that they are ‘worth’ the educational input of their parents. The girls without academic promise left school early, but boys didn’t have to (Ross 2011).

6.1.5 Is Higher Education Still a Social Mobility Ladder? When education as a social mobility ladder is not as effective as before, what will happen in terms of rural parents’ educational investment? Research shows that along with the expansion of higher education in China since the late 1990s and the increasing enrolment rates of college students, the returns on higher education have decreased. Firstly, the difficulty for new university graduates to secure a job has become one of the greatest emerging worries in China in the last few years. Intensifying competition in the labour market and the impact of guanxi (referring to a person’s network of relationships) have also added to the woes of the socially disadvantaged, particularly college graduates with a rural origin (Wu and Zheng 2008). Importantly, research reveals that in recent years, the enrolment rate of students with a rural origin in China’s first-tier universities has continued to decline, and the majority of college students from rural areas mostly congregate in second-tier or even third-tier universities. This makes it more difficult for them to compete with those from a better university (Li et al. 2015). Secondly, even when they find a job, skyrocketing housing prices and living costs in Chinese cities make it difficult for them to repay what their parents have invested in their education. This is especially the case for those university graduates with a rural origin from the underdeveloped areas in the western and central parts of China. Those with a rural origin who obtain an urban identity upon attaining higher education are often categorised as ‘phoenix men’ (fenghuang nan) and ‘phoenix

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women’ (fenghuang nu).1 Compared to their urban counterparts, who often receive financial assistance from their parents in housing purchases, they not only receive no help, but must actually send money back to support their parents. Compared to ‘phoenix women,’ ‘phoenix men’ face even greater challenges, as husbands are traditionally expected to prepare housing for future married life in the patrilocal marriage. If they are unable to do that, their marriage prospects in the city will be affected. Parents in Lianhe acutely sense this change. An anxious mother asked me, ‘When can my son get married and have his own house?’ Her son is a college graduate and is now working in Shenzhen. With a monthly net income of about 7000 Yuan, very decent from Lianhe villagers’ point of view, he cannot afford to buy a flat in Shenzhen, contributing to his being dumped by his girlfriend. At the same time, another young man from Lianhe, one of his junior secondary school classmates, saved up 100,000 Yuan by working on construction sites in Shenzhen for years. With this money, he built a two-storey house for himself in Lianhe and married a girl from Henan whom he met in Shenzhen. This comparison increased the aforementioned mother’s worry. These situations have discouraged rural people’s investment in their children’s education, and the idea that “education is useless” is emerging and prevailing in some parts of rural China, especially poor areas (PDO 2013). When household resources are constrained, rural parents will not borrow money to send their academically promising children to school as some did before 2000, since the returns have decreased. In relatively better-off families, however, when economic circumstances permit, parents are still willing to invest in girls’ higher education, as life in the city seems easier for a ‘phoenix woman’ than for a ‘phoenix man’ who must buy housing for future married life. In the end, girls’ academic performance and the economic situation of the family play key roles.

6.2 Non-farming Labour, Chastity and Sweat As mentioned above, academic performance in school actually has differentiated this generation of girls into two groups: most are left in the countryside, remaining as agricultural registration holders; while some have changed their household registration into an urban one upon admission into college, and have formal work in the city after graduation, enjoying welfare benefits only available to urban residents. In this section I will focus mainly on those left behind, examining their labour opportunities and the moral connotation attached to certain occupations. Very few girls do farming even if their school performance is not good enough and they have to go back to countryside from school, which is due to two reasons: firstly, fields are so limited that their parents supply the labour required. According to the leader in Lianhe Village, in 2004, there were 2,211 mu fields shared by 1,600 villagers or about 450 households, which means an average of 1.38 mu per capita or 1 These two terms grew out of the Chinese idiom ‘Sparrows turn to phoenixes’ (Maque bian fenghuang), indicating great upward social mobility.

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4.91 mu per household. This could be completely handled by two mature labourers. Secondly, and most importantly, farming is not profitable at all, as outlined above, and no parent wants their child to get stuck in this occupation. Besides, non-agriculture opportunities have opened up for rural girls since reform. Most of the girls are engaged in non-farming occupations as soon as they leave school. These occupations can be categorised as either ‘service industry’ or ‘heavy work’. The former is ‘light work’ from the villagers’ point of view but many occupations are ‘living off their youth’, that is, getting money by selling the girls’ youth and beauty. Typical occupations include hairdressing, waitressing in restaurants or other entertainment places, such as dancing hall, public bathhouse or sauna room, bar etc. Definitely not all girls who are working in those places are involved in sex selling, but generally the whole industry has been stigmatized. Regarding the latter, ‘heavy work’, this usually involves working in a factory, including both big factories assembling electronic goods, toys, clothing, or shoes, or small family factories processing accessories etc. in big cities or in the county town of Hanshui. Despite the harder work and possible relatively lower pay, rural parents prefer factories, especially big factories, since they seem ‘cleaner’ and more reliable than small service places; collective dormitories and the regulated life there make it safer for girls in a strange city. At the moment, the main place for girls to work in Hanshui is a textile factory, which was jointly invested in by a state-owned textile factory in Wuhan, the capital of Hubei Province, and two Hong Kong companies in 2002. When I was in Lianhe Village for the fieldwork in 2005–2006, the villagers, mainly middle-aged women, were gossiping about Dayan, a girl who just came back from south China where she worked as a hairdresser. Dayan sent back home 2,000 Yuan (almost half of some household’s annual income) not long after she left for Fujian Province, which made the villagers think she must be working in the sort of hairdressing salon where there isn’t even a pair of clippers, implying that they attract customers by the promise of sexual activities. Otherwise, they asked, how come she could earn money so quickly? Later I interviewed Dayan and was told a story of how she worked hard and was promoted from an assistant to a master hairdresser very quickly. We will not know the truth. But maybe Dayan’s mother realized what the villagers were talking and would not let Dayan go to Fujian again, until she got married. She stayed at home, and started going blind dates arranged by her mother and other relatives. Actually in the story Dayan told me, she used to have a handsome boyfriend who was from Sichuan Province, divorced, with a little daughter. She even took this man back to Lianhe once. But he was lazy and indulged in gambling. They broke up after several terrible fights. Very soon, Dayan accepted a young man she met on a blind date whose house was not very far from Lianhe. They got married soon. Later Dayan told me that she always told her husband that she regretted having got married. Her husband was fine with what she said but warned her not to say these kinds of things in front of his parents. After getting married, Dayan worked for some hairdressing salon in Hanshui for some time but only found the pay was too low: almost one third of what she had earned in Fujian. She did some calculation with me:

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A: The pay in Hanshui is too low. I don’t have interest in working here. Q: Normally how much? A: The basic monthly pay is 200 Yuan, each hair wash is one and a half yuan, face wash is two Yuan. But in Fujian, each face wash is three Yuan, and I can earn eight Yuan each if the customer also wants to do some massage on the back! Here, I earn only two Yuan for each face wash plus neck care. It takes almost three hours, but only two Yuan! In Fujian, a face wash is three Yuan, a neck care is eight Yuan, and some massage on the back is eight Yuan. In total, I can earn almost 20 yuan! Q: Almost six times of the pay here. A: That’s right. So, you see, how can I have interest? I don’t have the motivation to work, even the customers are here. I only earn 100 yuan after wash face for almost 70 customers! After the first month, there was only 400 Yuan on my pay check! It was precisely the calculation that made me believe the gossips about Dayan spreading in Lianhe were ungrounded. But in the eyes of villagers in Lianhe, hairdressing is still a stigmatized industry. Anyone involved in this industry will be considered as ‘going astray’. Dayan’s mother was trying to save her from this situation by asking her to get married. Later, since it was difficult to earn money in Hanshui, Dayan still decided to go to Fujian, with her husband this time, which is considered safer for a woman. Waitressing is also stigmatized and even more severely. Small restaurants targeting long-distance lorry drivers—usually male—sprang up all along the highways crossing Hanshui in the 1990s. The business was so competitive that besides improving their menu, many restaurants employed young girls to attract customers. I saw young girls, wearing only a top and briefs, with one leg standing on the floor and another on a stool at the door of these restaurants on my way from Hanshui County to the city where my high school was situated. In the gossips of the villagers, those male customers would be taken upstairs by the waitresses and accept some extra service, implying sexual activities. Police sometimes would give this sort of restaurant a sudden inspection. A woman owner from Lianhe Village was once arrested and fined a lot of money. The industry has declined in recent years, due to police raids on the one hand and the emergence of new entertainment industries (such as the public bath house, sauna house, foot massage house and so on) on the other. Maybe only a small proportion of the girls working in these places sell sex, but this occupation has become so notorious that very few peasants want to have anything to do with it. In Lianhe, a woman refused her son’s relationship with a girl whose older sister once worked in this sort of small restaurant. The stigma this sort of small private restaurants bears also affects those who are working in formal and big restaurant or hotel in big cities. Dongmei was a waitress in a big restaurant in Ningbo, eastern China. Her husband blamed her when he found out he had an enlarged prostate: he

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suspected Dongmei to have been involved in selling sex and got the virus from some customer and then passed on to him. Most rural girls become dagong mei (‘working girls’) in factories in cities, especially in south or eastern China or in the textile factory or food processing factory in Hanshui. There is plenty of literature talking about working girls’ poor work environment in south and eastern areas: long-hour work days, crowded dormitories, exposure to substances harmful to health, and prevalent occupational disease etc. (Pun 2000; Tan 2000). But from my point of view, conditions in factories based in inland or western areas are likely to be worse, thus hopefully my examination of working women in inland county towns could supplement the scholarship. In Lianhe Village, I met several women working in the textile factory in Hanshui who told me it took them a long time to get used to the nightshift system, the deafening noise made by the machine and the dust and intense heat of the shop floor. Many of them regularly eat pig’s blood at home as it is said to help clean the lungs. But for them, the biggest problem is the regulations on pay: monthly pay is based on a fixed calendar date and any time worked less than one month will not be paid and accumulated into next month. At the same time, the worker must notify the factory of her/his resignation at least one month before her/his actual leave; otherwise, the accumulated part of their wage will not be paid. Normally these women would not stop until they could not stand it any longer or encountered some emergency which required their resignation immediately, which often ends up with anywhere between one and thirty days of the women’s shift becoming ‘free work’ for the factory. At the end of 2005, a woman named Xiuli came to me and asked if I could help her to claim back her outstanding wage. She had been working there for about one year before she discovered something wrong with her heart. She went to a doctor and was diagnosed as arrhythmia. She insisted working for another month after she handed in her resignation, but almost two months past and she still did not receive her pay. I disguised myself as a worker just coming back from dinner with co-working girls about to start the evening shift; otherwise I would not be allowed into that factory. I was led by Xiuli to see their personnel director, a middle-aged woman sent by one investor from Wuhan. I claimed to be Xiuli’s relative and was entrusted by her to ask about her outstanding wage. I described Xiuli’s situation and emphasized that she had handed in her resignation one month before her actual leave. I then asked something about the work contract, and was told that the company would be happy with a work contract because they prefer fixed personnel, but the workers did not like it since they wanted to come and go freely. But later Xiuli told me that nobody talked about work contract when they started working here. She had never heard of it. I then talked a little bit about the national Labour Law which was produced to protect labourer, and asked to have a look at their regulations on production and paying, but was told these were confidential. All I got was a job advertisement of the factory, on which they said they could offer nearly 1500 positions at that moment and planned to expand doubly in the near future; ‘production and life are managed normatively; organisations of CCP, Youth League and trade union are all ready; wages are paid punctually; and it is a stable and guaranteed job’ etc. Maybe my meddling worked: two weeks later Xiuli got her outstanding wage, but much had been deducted for her sick leaves. It

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really surprised me that as one of the biggest factories in Hanshui, the running of it didn’t comply with the Labour Law at all. There was no work contract and the workers know nothing about the regulations, which are also completely produced by the factory. And some regulations are even too ambiguous for workers to rely on. In Xiuli’s case, if I did not show I actually have some knowledge about the national Labour Law and workers’ deserving rights, I did not think they would have paid back the outstanding wage. I was startled later when I met many women who once worked there but still had unpaid wages. I encouraged them to ask but they preferred not to bother. I then wondered how much of the factory’s profits were from the unpaid wages of workers. Compared to factories in southern or eastern China, I suggest that investment in inland or western areas can lead more easily to putting working women in an unfavourable position. On the one hand, as Tan Shen has pointed out, local government would not want to risk losing international capital investment by enforcing national and provincial regulations protecting workers (2000). This is especially the case in inland and western China where few investments have come in due to poor transportation and local officials are desperately looking for capital investments. On the other hand, ‘economic miracles’ have meant that factories in southern and eastern China are objects of observation around the world, especially of international NGOs and national or international researchers who to some extent play the role of watchdog; but factories in inland and western areas are scattered, receiving no attention or observation at all, which makes them much easier to ignore workers’ rights and welfare and exploit them. A girl named Namei mentioned monthly birthday parties for all workers who were born in that month and a well-equipped common room for workers in an electronic factory where she was working in Shenzhen, south China; while here in the textile factory in Hanshui, workers could not even get clean drinking water when working on a sweltering shop floor.

6.3 Labour Migration, Coexistence of Early Marriage and Late Marriage, Premarital Sex Due to the limited level of industrialisation in Hanshui County, many villagers have to go out to find a job. According to data from the local government, in 2005, 54 per cent of the rural population aged between 18 and 35 went to big cities to work, among which nearly three quarters were female. This in turn greatly affected their courtship and marriage practices. This section examines the gendered effects of labour migration and family planning policy for the third generation, and how these further shape their courtship and marriage.

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6.3.1 Within Hanshui: Bride Shortage, Early Marriage and Premarital Sex, Late Marriage Within Hanshui, there is a ‘bride shortage’ caused by the joint effects of gendered occupational training, local and national labour markets and gender imbalances in the marriage market. As mentioned above, boys are more inclined to get occupational training than girls if a household’s resources are limited. Besides, potential occupational training in Hanshui is more diverse and practical for boys than girls. Chances to learn indoor painting and decoration, driving, fixing cars, hairdressing or cooking are open to boys; while just hairdressing and tailoring are available for girls. This means that more girls have no skill but their youth and nimble fingers to rely on. Boys’ skills make them more employable in the local market; while girls’ nimble fingers are exactly what needed in factories in south and east China. Tan Shen’s research also proves that it is much easier for females than males to find a job in south China (1998). As for Hanshui, as mentioned above, in 2005, over half of the rural population aged between 18 and 35 migrated out, among whom three quarters were female. Besides, gender imbalance related to the family planning policy has already created a rural population of fewer girls than boys. According to the fifth population census in 2000, the sex ratio in Hubei Province was 108.59, higher than normal of around 106. The sex ratio had kept increasing thereafter and peaked at 124.09 in 2010. After several years of governance, it started decreasing and reached to 114.6, according to the nationwide one per cent population census carried out in 2015. This figure, however, was still higher than the national average level and the international normal level (Yu 2016). The high enough sex ratio further aggravates the bride shortage in the local marriage market, which has fashioned the latest developments in marriage practices among the local rural young people. Firstly, early marriage seems to be resurgent, and often with the concomitancy of premarital sex. Since 1949, there has been a move away from early marriage and an increasing trend to late marriage, with the former almost disappearing (Tien 1983). This movement, however, seems to have been interrupted by new marriage practices in contemporary rural areas. During my stay in Lianhe Village, I witnessed several weddings and was also invited to attend some. I noticed that most of the brides looked very young and some were apparently already pregnant when they got married. One day I was invited by a local villager Jiaohong to join her guests. She was treating her husband’s newly married nephew Jianjun and his wife to lunch, which is a custom in Hanshui. The new couple looked very young, and apparently the bride was pregnant. Later Jiaohong told me that before the wedding, the bride had been living in Jianjun’s house for almost six months and was now three months’ pregnant. Jianjun learnt interior painting and decoration after graduating from junior high school and was working in the county town of Hanshui when he met the bride, who had just graduated from junior high school and was learning hairdressing in a salon there. They soon established their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend and some time later the girl moved to Jianjun’s house since his was much nearer to where she was studying hairdressing. From this story I speculated that the bride was no

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older than 19 years old. I was surprised, because the legal marriage age for women is 20 years old. Jiaohong affirmed that the new couple had not actually obtained a marriage certificate yet. Their wedding had gained social recognition from fellow villagers and relatives, which was enough, Jiaohong said. Later, during my research, I did meet two couples who did not apply for a marriage certificate when they had their wedding since they were not old enough, and did not bother to do it later either. Thus in a legal sense, they are still unmarried, but their first-born child is almost 10 years old. The active role which parents, especially mothers, play in their sons’ marriages is very noticeable. Later I met Jianjun’s mother. When we talked about the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, she proudly told me that she had a very good relationship with her daughter-in-law. Many times when they were out in the street, they were taken as mother and daughter. She mentioned when the girl had just become Jianjun’s girlfriend and visited their home, she bought different snacks such as apples, oranges, sunflower seeds, biscuits etc. and observed which one was the girl’s favourite, and then bought more of that type next time. I then asked whose idea it was to let the girl move in before marriage. She did not answer directly but said it had been much more convenient for the girl to get to work if she moved in. So I guess as a mother, if not encouraging, she at least acquiesced to her son’s premarital sex and cohabitation with his girlfriend; and she was also willing to live with, and even cherish, the daughter-in-law-to-be. I came across many occasions when mothers, in the process of conversations with fellow villagers, inquired about possible candidates to be girlfriends for their sons. Apparently they had realized that there were not many available options. A boy Daming broke up with his girlfriend as he had no feelings for her any longer. But his mother tried to entrust an acquaintance with the task of reuniting them. She was worried because a mother in a neighbouring village desperately wanted that girl to be her daughter-in-law. The outcomes of parental panic could be as follows: firstly, to act as early as possible to confirm a possible girl, which has caused the prevalence of early marriage, especially for girls. Many boys could not find an appropriate candidate among girls of a similar age to theirs, thus aim at younger girls. In data of Lianhe Village, among 22 women who were born after 1972, seven got married before 20 years old. I heard the youngest bride was 15 years old. And secondly, premarital sex is practised to secure the girl as his bride. As in Xiajia Village where Yan Yunxiang did his fieldwork (2002), premarital sex is prevalent in contemporary Lianhe. Among the same 22 women mentioned above, 11 gave birth to their first child less than eight months after their wedding. The actual proportion must be higher than this, since some use contraception to avoid being fined for giving birth without a ‘birth certificate’. I agree with Yan Yunxiang that increasing conjugal love could be a factor, but I would suggest that panic caused by bride shortage also contributes to this phenomenon. But to a great extent, premarital sex is a ‘dangerous pleasure’ for rural girls. Girls who lose their virginity will be thought of as devalued. A bride who loses her virginity to one man and then marries another man will bring humiliation to both her natal and marital families. Thus girls’ parents, especially their mothers, will normally lecture them about ‘holding firmly to the last line of defence (virginity)’. But boys’ parents

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have the incentive to acquiesce, or even encourage, their son(s)’ premarital sex, even if this might bring trouble for the girl and her family. A girl named Xuemei was caught having sex with her boyfriend on her uncle’s bed when she was asked to look after their house in their absence. Since sex on other people’s beds is deemed as unclean and is considered to bring bad luck for the owner in the local culture, her uncle reproached Xuemei’s parents. Her parents, however, denied this and thought Xuemei’s uncle had framed them. Her father picked up a knife, and chased her uncle all around the village, thus the whole affair was publicized. Before long Xuemei’s boyfriend broke up with her, but the fact that she had lost her virginity had been widely publicized. The whole family felt huge humiliation and could not stay in Lianhe any longer. They moved to a city where few people knew them, and lived by doing odd jobs. The latest news about Xuemei is that she got married quietly to a guy from Zhejiang Province and left for Zhejiang with him, with no wedding or celebration. One possible consequence of premarital sex is that the girl might get pregnant. This will easily put her family into an unfavourable position in the negotiation about wedding between the two families concerned, even if she is finally going to get married with that boy. A girl from Lianhe got pregnant in Zhejiang Province and decided to take her boyfriend back to Lianhe to hold a wedding. Her mother slapped her hard across the face as soon as she entered the house, as the mother felt humiliated in front of the fellow villagers by the daughter’s premarital pregnancy. What she did could also be a strategy to deal her daughter’s boyfriend a head-on blow at the first encounter, so as to save her family from a possible unfavorable place in the negotiation about the wedding. As for most purposes, when an agreement cannot be reached in terms of bride price, dowry and the arrangements for the wedding, the threat of break-up may be used as a tool by the boys’ side. Since the girl has got pregnant, such disputes normally end up with concessions from the side of her family. The aforementioned mother’s slap on her daughter’s face, to some extent, imposed a manner to which it was hard for the boyfriend of the daughter to initiate any threats. On the other hand, however, more boys are ‘accumulated’ and have a late marriage, since the competition for a bride leaves few available girls around. This can lead to a vicious circle: fewer girls mean later marriages for the remaining boys, but the older the boys get, the harder it is for them to find a girlfriend. Indeed, boys left behind in the hometown are not welcomed by girls who have labour migration experiences, since the latter think the former have a narrow horizon. Later on, the standards for these boys to find a spouse will be lowered repeatedly. In Lianhe, there is a family with two adult sons. After helping the eldest son to start a family, the couple have not much money left to find the younger son a wife. But when fellow villagers suggested that they could ‘marry out’ the younger son to a household without a son, and practice a uxorilocal marriage, the couple refused the suggestion as they considered it a humiliation to themselves and the younger son. But with time going by, fewer and fewer girls were happy to start a blind date with the younger son. He himself and his parents then claimed that they would accept a divorcee or widow, as long as she does not have a child. Some time later, this standard was relaxed, saying

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that a divorcee or a widow with a child was also acceptable, as long as the child was a daughter, not a son, as presumably a step-father was expected to help the step-son to start a family, which was absolutely a great burden. But the man did not have the luck and remained single even though he was almost 40, an age even old enough to have grandchildren in the perception of rural Chinese.

6.3.2 Out of Hanshui: Marry Far, Late Marriage, and Dangerous Romance Labour migration experiences and the gender structure of the occupations the girls are doing also affect the courtship and marriage practices of those migrating out of Hanshui. Firstly, their marriage market expands. Meeting people from all over the country, means their options are not just confined to people from Hanshui. To a great extent, people from the same hometown constitute a big part in a labour migrants’ social network (Tan 1998), which thus provides the main way for young girls to meet possible partners. However, ‘people from the same hometown’ is a flexible term. Among Hubei migrants, people from Hanshui may seem to be closer to each other; when compared with migrants from places other than Hubei, people from Hubei may feel more familiar with people from neighbouring provinces such as Sichuan, Hunan and Henan etc. Dayan talked about her first meeting with her ex-boyfriend who was from Sichuan:

I think we can call it ‘love at first sight’. I actually did not believe in that, so never expected it would happen to me, but it did. He gave me a good impression. After all, the Sichuan dialect is very close to our dialect, so it was like he was from the same hometown. I felt great familiarity with him, and could talk about anything with him.

In Lianhe, a few girls met their partner during their labour migration. Interestingly, almost all of those partners were from other counties in Hubei, or neighbouring provinces such as Sichuan or Henan. To a great extent, similar dialects and living habits contribute to this. Davin was worried that women from poorer inland provinces would marry out to coastal areas, leading to bride shortages in their regions of origin (1999). I suggest that this concern made sense before 1990, as the population census showed that ‘marriage’ was the major reason for women’s migration at that time. But the population census in 2000 reveals that more than two thirds of rural women aged 15–44 migrated for employment, not for marriage (Liang and Ma 2004). In 2005– 2013, I did not see a single case in which Lianhe girls married into developed areas where they were migrant workers. Two reasons might contribute to this: first, people from the same hometown or co-workers constitute a big part in labour migrants’ social networks; second, universal dormitory system makes factories or shops the main life space for the girls, which stops them from meeting local men (Pun 2007).

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Besides, the dialects of the main receiving places such as Zhejiang, Guangdong and Fujian are totally different from those of central China, and this fact becomes an obstacle in the way of girls from other places marrying local men. After breaking up with her first boyfriend, Dayan met a local boy in Fujian who was very nice to her. But she refused him:

Anyway, I would not marry a local man from Fujian. Many people told me that people from Fujian and Guangdong prefer sons (laughing). If your firstborn child is a daughter, they will ask you to have another one, till you give birth to a son. I am not that type of person. I prefer daughters. I would not marry a local guy even if the economic situation there is much better than in Hubei. You cannot communicate with them! You cannot understand their dialect at all. I hope my boyfriend will be from Hubei, or at least from neighbouring areas, such as Sichuan, Henan, Guizhou, etc. At least I can understand their language, which is much better.

Fan and Li’s research also shows that those women migrating to richer rural Guangdong through marriage are mainly from neighbouring rural Guangxi which shares the dialect of the former. They aim at marriage migration. Whereas those from other areas mostly met their husbands during their labour migration and their marriage is based on affection (Fan and Li 2002). Labour migration, however, also contributes to the late marriage of migrant girls. It seems prevalent that girls who have inter-county labour migration experiences get married relatively later than their counterparts who stay in their hometown (Tan 1998; Zheng 2002). Firstly, they have seen and learnt a lot in the city, which has widened their horizons. They cannot get used to the life in the countryside again, not only in regards to material life, but also regarding feelings and relationship issues. They do not want to go back and establish a family in their hometown soon. They think life back in Hanshui is boring. They keep putting off their marriage back home or refuse to even consider marriage if they cannot find a satisfactory candidate. Zengdan is from a family in which there are only two daughters. She is the oldest and since her mother died several years ago and her father is a little crippled, her father and some relatives hoped she could bring in a husband to help the family. A reliable but silent boy from a neighbouring village was willing to do that. Although Zengdan had no feelings for him, she agreed since she wanted to please her poor father. But after she had worked in a city in Hunan Province for a year, she did not want to marry against her own wishes any longer. She asked for a break-up, but her father strongly disagreed. He threatened her by saying that she could only break up with the boy if she alone paid the compensation for the gifts the boy had sent to her family. This proved to be a big amount. Zengdan went back to Hunan and worked there for another one and a half years to save the money for the compensation. In the end, she broke up with the boy and is now in the process of opening a small hairdressing salon with her new boyfriend whom she met while working in the county town of

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Hanshui. She is living with him and his parents in their home as it’s convenient for her work.2 Importantly, labour migration also makes courtship and marriage arrangements more complicated for migrant girls than those who marry intra-county boys. It is much harder to know a person who is from a totally different background. Many girls hope to achieve rural-to-urban migration and change their life by marrying an urban man, but they end up falling into traps of these men. Xiaofang met a young local official when she was working in a restaurant in a city. He pursued her and made a lot of promises but when Xiaofang found she was pregnant, he disappeared. In the end, Xiaofang went to a hospital far away to have an abortion with only her sister beside her. She almost died from an ectopic pregnancy. Another girl from Lianhe met a young man she liked very much. But only after they had co-habituated for some time, she found out the man was married and not yet divorced. Unfavourable courtship experiences in the city make some rural girls feel dejected about their future marriage, which may cause them to marry late or to be forced into a marriage that is not of their choice. In a word, labour migration supplies rural girls with chances to look for true love, but also opens up possibilities of disappointment and hurt. Big cities are enticing but dangerous.

6.3.3 Uxorilocal Marriages: Hard Choice, Groom Shortage and Rural-Rural Migration This section covers the case of uxorilocal marriage and explores how labour migration and family planning policy have jointly impacted this type of marriage. I start with the life story of a rural girl named Haijing. Haijing’s parents have two daughters: Haijing and her older sister. According to the local custom, it is normally the older one who will be left at home to look after the parents. But her older sister managed to marry into an urban family, which was deemed a step up thus uxorilocal marriage for her was apparently impossible. The responsibility to look after the parents therefore was left to Haijing. She had some feelings for a boy who was from a wealthy rural family when she migrated to the Prefecture to work, and he also showed some interest in her. But Haijing suppressed her desire as soon as she learnt that he was the only son. Later she went to do accessory assembling in Zhejiang, east China, and met her present husband who was from western Sichuan Province and who was more than willing to relocate to the relatively better-off district of rural Hubei. They got married in Hanshui, left their newly-born daughter with Haijing’s parents and went back to Zhejiang to continue working on the accessory assembling line.

2 Compare

this example with Lianmei’s story told in Chap. 5. Both Zengdan and Lianmei were facing forced marriage, but in the late 1990s when China was a relatively open society where women could move and rely on their own labour, Zengdan managed to refuse it; while Lianmei did not 20 years earlier even though by then Marriage Law had been enforced for many years.

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As mentioned before, theoretically speaking, the current family planning policy in rural areas will produce a quarter of rural households with only two daughters, which will greatly increase the demand for uxorilocal marriage, as old age welfare for peasants is absent or minimal, aged peasants still count on family (especially sons or daughters who marry in a husband) for old age care. In this sense, compared to the first generation of women who performed uxorilocal marriage mentioned in Chap. 4, marrying in a husband for the third generation is mainly a contingent type for preservative purposes rather than an institutional type. All the women from the third generation who commit an uxorilocal marriage are from a no-son family. Their cases are customary rather than economic forces motivated. But since the great majority of boys are from son-only families or a-daughter-and-a-son family, no parents are willing to give them up to uxorilocal marriage. According to my observations, the ‘demand’ of uxorilocal marriage in Lianhe is great but the ‘supply’ is very limited. This causes a ‘groom shortage’ for the all-daughter rural family. This and labour migration have caused some difficulties for rural girls from this type of family. Firstly, they are under pressure because they are not able to choose their marriage partners freely; their candidates must come from a group which is willing to marry into their wife’s family and live in their home. These men are normally from poorer backgrounds. The larger marriage market caused by labour migration has made the choice harder. I have met several girls struggling with conflicts between their parents’ needs and their own desires. Some of them gave up the former, which has made the care of their elderly parents a problem. In Lianhe, I met a family with two daughters who both married out. I chatted with the younger daughter who came back to Lianhe to visit her parents. She cried, saying that her parents considered themselves ‘solitary old people’ (gugua laoren), even though both she and her elder sister promised that they would provide for their old age. But in the eyes of her parents and the fellow villagers, her parents were of no offspring. Some other girls from no-son family, however, gave up their own desires, leaving them with a life full of regrets about what might have been. The older daughter can transfer the responsibility of ‘marrying in a husband’ to the younger, like Haijing’s older sister, if they can achieve upward mobility through marriage, but the younger one has no escape route and must give up her own interests, just like Haijing. Secondly, how can girls seeking an uxorilocal marriage find a husband given the problem of ‘groom shortage’? This time, thanks to an expanded marriage market brought about by rural-to-urban labour migration and rural-to-rural migration, rural girls who seek an uxorilocal marriage in Hanshui get some potential husband candidates from other parts of Hubei and even from rural areas in neighbouring Sichuan, Henan and Guizhou Provinces where are economically or geographically disadvantaged in comparison to Hanshui. As mentioned in Chap. 2, due to its position as ‘the home of fishing and rice’ and its relatively convenient transportation, Hanshui has become the rural-to-rural migration target of these places. Besides, the cost for migration is small because of the short distances to travel. Similar dialects also make the resettlement easier. The ordinary solution for a migrant family is to buy a house of a local rural household which has moved out of the village and get the right to contract the land the household used to plant. In a team of Lianhe Village, among the

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36 households, six are migrants from Sichuan and have moved here in recent years. These rural migrants bring in single boys for the local girls. In some other cases, single boys from the above rural areas come to Hanshui with the intention to relocate there permanently through marriage. They may be introduced to an appropriate local girl by some people from the same hometown as them who have been here. Alternatively they work in Hanshui for a while, getting in touch with local people and looking for suitable candidates. One of the women I met, Xiaoqun, told me that her husband was from another county in western Hubei. He was taken to Hanshui by his older brother who also married out to a local family. He was introduced to his wife’s family by a man from his hometown who also married into a local family. It is also possible that a girl from Hanshui meets a suitable candidate during her labour migration out of Hanshui. As in Haijing’s story, she met her husband in Zhejiang Province, where they both worked. And that Sichuan boy happened to want to relocate to rural Hubei by marriage. After they got married, her husband managed to find a house nearby whose owners were moving to the county town to start a business. He introduced his parents and younger brother’s family to buy the house and relocate to Hanshui from Sichuan. They applied to register their hukou in Lianhe, and the application was granted since it was a ruralto-rural migration, and they even managed to contract the farmland which used to be contracted by the former owner of the house. By doing this, they became formal members of Lianhe. These serial migrations may affect the local marriage market positively or negatively: it depends on the sex of the new comers and the marriage type (patrilocal or uxorilocal) they are seeking.

6.4 Cooperative Family: A New Household Form Besides girlhood, labour migration and the family planning policy also have an impact on the young motherhood of the third generation, including housing arrangements after marriage, childcare and work after marriage. Firstly, a new post-marriage household form has been established. Unlike the post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation, young married couple from the ‘family planning generation’ are not anxious to divide from the home of their parents (-in-law) to seek their own space. They stay in the same household, which is mainly due to the following reasons: firstly, family planning policy often left a couple with only one son or daughter to rely on for old age care, so since anyway it will be their sole responsibility, many children decide not to be bothered dividing. Secondly, and also most importantly, the parents of the ‘family planning generation’ are still very young even if all their children get married, say, in their late or even middle forties, which makes them strong enough to take on not only auxiliary but also main labour tasks for the family. And finally, as mentioned above, uxorilocal marriage has become more prevalent due to family planning, which also decreases the possibility of household division, since this sort of marriage aims to look after the old generation.

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According to Potter and Potter, ‘the crucial characteristic of a household is the fact that it shares a common budget, and the members cook and eat together’, and that the same dwelling does not constitute an essential element for a household (1990: 215). Ellen Judd suggests that the prevalent distribution of household forms in rural China is ‘a mix of stem and nuclear families, with an occasional and often temporary extended family’ (1994: prefatory note). However, Judd’s observation was based on a demographic situation in which the post-revolutionary baby boomers constituted most of the population who were at the right age for marriage. I suggest that with the growing up of the ‘family planning generation’, and the impact of labour migration, the distribution of household forms has changed: a new household structure between stem family and nuclear family has been prevalent, particularly for the married ‘family planning generation’ and their parents (-in-law), which I will call the ‘cooperative family’. A ‘cooperative family’ often consists of three generations, that is, a nuclear family and the parents of the husband or the wife in the case of uxorilocal marriage. But it is different from the traditional stem family, as the family members cook and eat together, but possibly not all the members due to labour migration; and they do not share a common budget. In this sense, possibly Potter and Potter would doubt it is a definite form of household, as from the perspective of cooking and eating, it is a stem family; while in terms of budget arrangements it is more like a combination of two nuclear families where the younger generation keeps what they have earned, and the older one also has their own account. The budget arrangement, however, varies according to different types of labour division and the respective levels of their income between two generations. Normally the old generation stays at home to do farming and domestic tasks, while the young one focuses on non-agricultural incomegenerating work at hometown or outside the hometown. Since incomes generated by non-agricultural jobs are generally more than those from agriculture, the ‘cooperative families’ are often better-off than those whose income only counts on agriculture. Among ‘cooperative families’, two main types of budget arrangements could be observed: ‘main budget with a minor account’ and ‘two main budgets’. ‘Main budget with a minor account’ mainly happens in the families where at least one member of the young couple is working in the hometown and where, besides farming, the old couple has no other main income source. Although farming is mainly done by the old couple, the income from farming goes into a main account which covers the living expenses of the whole family and is controlled by the household head, normally the young couple. The young couple’s non-agricultural income will also go to the main account. The old couple relies on the main account for eating, but will keep a minor account for their personal consumption, for example, smoking, leisure or social life. The money in the old couple’s minor account is mainly from agricultural or sideline income, for example, selling a package of crop, some livestock or a patch of poultry. For example, Shichun works in a textile factory in Hanshui and her husband works away in Fujian Province. Her parents do the farming, and hand in income from all sorts of crops and sidelines to Shichun, but keep the money from selling a calf each year for their minor account, which is only used for their smoking, playing mahjong and gifts when they visit their own friends. While all the

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other expenses for the whole family, even a box of washing powder, are from Shichun who takes charge of the main budget, although it is always Shichun’s mother who does the washing. ‘Two main budgets’ often can be seen in families where the young couple are absent from home for non-agricultural work or where the young couple still remain in the hometown but the old couple earn a considerable amount of income besides farming. In the former situation, the old couple do farming at home, and keep the income from farming and any other sidelines; while the young work away from home, keeping their own income. Haijing and her husband work in Zhejiang while her parents do farming at home. Here two budgets are kept. In the latter situation, although the young couple help with farming and keep the money from farming, the old couple have a relatively large amount of income from non-farming labour. Linli’s mother-in-law is a scrap collector and her father-in-law does odd jobs on construction sites during slow seasons. Although the money from farming is kept by the young couple, according to Linli, the old couple is even better-off than them. In terms of living expenses, they both report an ‘unclear share’ between two budgets. Besides grain and vegetables that they grow by themselves, they consciously seek a balance in terms of expenses between the two budgets. Haijing decided to refurbish their house, and in the end the two budgets took on half of the expenses respectively. She left her little daughter with her parents at home, who paid for all expenses on her education and pocket money; Haijing then bought new furniture for the family when they came back each year for Chinese New Year. Linli also mentioned that if her mother-in-law bought washing powder this time, she would be aware and pay for, for example, salt next time. In this sense, this type of household is more like a combination of two nuclear families, but they cook and eat together, and also belong to a household in the official household registration record. A ‘cooperative family’ normally exists when both members of the old couple are healthy enough to do farming and transforms to a stem family when the old couple is too old to take on too much labour, or one of them passes away. The household arrangement of the ‘cooperative family’ is actually a strategy to maximize their ability to earn money, while minimizing the possible conflicts between the two generations.

6.5 Conclusion To conclude, rural–urban segregation, education reform, labour migration and family planning policy in the reform era have made the third generation experience a different girlhood and young motherhood. These forces play an important role in the labour organisation of this generation. To some extent, the mechanism of son preference has changed. Since higher education has become the only way for peasants to attain urban hukou and achieve upward social mobility, academically strong girls get priority in parents’ education investment, even though this only happens to a limited number of girls and is an unintended consequence of the complex social transformations in China. Again people’s understanding and perception of the aim of their labour which

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is missed out from the TSOL model play a part in the distribution of their labour. In other words, unintended consequences in terms of labour organisation won’t be able to be captured through the TSOL model alone. Conflict between population and land and the opening up of China supply the girls with more chances for non-farming occupations. However, these opportunities are at the expense of stigmatisation (the association of certain jobs with sexual activities) and their exposure to capitalist exploitation. Courtship and marriage practices have become complex due to rural-tourban labour migration and family planning policy: early marriage and late marriage, bride shortage and groom shortage co-exist. Relative freedom could also become a dangerous pleasure. In addition, labour migration and family planning policy has contributed to the emergence of the ‘cooperative family,’ a new post-marriage household arrangement that is adopted as a strategy to optimize the household division of labour while minimizing the possible inter-generational conflicts.

References Connelly, R., Roberts, K., & Zheng, Z. (2010). The impact of circular migration on the position of married women in rural China. Feminist Economics, 16(1), 3–41. Davin, D. (1991). The state and population planning: China and Romania compared. East Asia Papers. no. 1. Leeds: University of Leeds. Entwisle, B., & Henderson, G. E. (Ed.). (2000). Re-drawing boundaries: Work, households, and gender in China. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Fan, C. C., & Li, L. (2002). Marriage and migration in transitional China: A field study of Gaozhou, western Guangdong. Environment and Planning A, 34, 619–638. Hannum, E., & Xie, Y. (1994). Trends in educational gender inequality in China: 1949–1985. Research in Social Stratification and Mobility, 13(1), 73–98. Kipnis, A. B. (2011). Governing educational desire: Culture, politics, and schooling in China. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Li, D., & Tsang, M. C. (2003). Household education decisions and implications for gender inequality in education in rural China. China: An International Journal, 1(2), 224–248. Li, H., Prashant, L., Scott, R., Wu, B., & Xie, J. (2015). Unequal access to college in China: How far have poor, rural students been left behind? China Quarterly, 221, 185–207. Liang, Z., & Ma, Z. (2004). China’s floating population: New evidence from the 2000 census. Population and Development Review, 30(3), 467–488. Obendiek, H. (2011). ‘Changing Fate’: Educational mobility and social support in rural Northwest China, PhD dissertation, Germany: Martin-Luther-Universität. Paine, L., & DeLany, B. (2000). Rural Chinese education: Observing from the Margin. In J. Liu, H. A. Ross, & D. P. Kelly (Eds.), The ethnographic eye: Interpretive studies of education in China (pp. 97–122). New York: Falmer Press. People’s Daily Online (PDO). (2013). ‘Dushu wuyong lun’ Juantu chonglai (The thesis that ‘Education is useless’ comes back). Available at https://opinion.people.com.cn/GB/363551/368857/ index.html. Accessed on August 1, 2018. Pun, N. (2000). Opening a minor genre of resistance in reform China: Scream, dream, and transgression in a workplace. Positions: East Asia Cultures Critique, 8(2), 531–555. Pun, N. (2007). Gendering the dormitory labour system: Production, reproduction, and migrant labour in South China. Feminist Economics, 13(3), 239–258. Ross, H. (2005). Girls’ education discourse and practice in China: Conceptualizing the sources and outcomes of reform. Paper presented on the first international forum on children’s development,

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Chapter 7

Some Do This, Some Do That: Gender, Generation, Labour Division and Agricultural Development in the Reform Era

Abstract This chapter compares different configurations of labour organisation of the post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation and the ‘family planning generation’ as mothers in the reform era caused by their respective experiences during their girlhood and their current family structure, and the wife-husband power relations involved. Based on this, it also discusses how the labour organisation configurations have affected agricultural development, causing a transition from the ‘feminization of agriculture’ to the ‘ageing of farming populations’.

As mentioned in the beginning of this part, the reform era is the only period when all three generations coexist. But how and why do they experience it disparately? The task of this chapter is to compare the life experiences of the ‘baby boomers’ generation’ and the ‘family planning generation’ in the reform era. They face a similar socio-economic context, but have different lives due to disparate familial/household factors such as life stages, education, family composition etc., all of which have shaped their organisation of labour and the power relations across gender and generation they are involved in. To some extent, this chapter is a continuation of both Chaps. 5 and 6. It begins with a brief introduction of the similar socio-economic context they are involved in, and then proceeds to how disparate familial/household factors cause different lives experiences for the two generations. At the same time, this chapter also discusses how the labour organisation configurations have affected agricultural development in Lianhe. In the introduction to this part, I have clarified the external socio-economic environment the rural women faced in the reform era. Briefly speaking, firstly, farming became unprofitable after the first couple of years of de-collectivisation, which was due to the rural–urban segregation policies and the decreasing amount of farmland in the process of industrialisation. Secondly, economic activities such as domestic sidelines and ‘courtyard economy’, although formerly encouraged by the government as income-generating means for peasants, it could no longer guarantee a good profit in the long term. Besides, with the deepening of marketisation in the 1990s, townshipvillage entrepreneurs which once supplied the main means of urbanisation of peasants in rural China have seen a decline (Field et al. 2006). Furthermore, the booming of township-village entrepreneurs was phenomenal in east and south China, but very © East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_7

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limited in the inland and west areas. Thus, to a great extent, the prosperity of a rural household in inland Hanshui was determined by the proportion of non-agricultural income of the family members. The available non-agricultural economic activities included small businesses in the hometown or somewhere else; unskilled manual labour such as casual work on construction sites, or porters on the dock etc.; skilled manual labour such as a driver, mason, working in indoor painting and decoration, carpenter, hairdresser etc.; working in a local factory in the county town or other city, and so on. Generally speaking, non-agricultural occupations were more profitable than farming; and households with member(s) doing skilled labour were more prosperous than those without. Who does what, however, is a complex issue affected by the individual’s education, both schooling and vocational, working experience, the composition of the family and the division of labour across gender and age within the household. This chapter aims to reveal this complexity by contrasting the household division of labour for the three groups of women, and then comparing the husbandwife power relations for them. Based on the comparison between generations and gender groups, it also looks into how it will affect agricultural development.

7.1 Some Do This, Some Do that: Different Patterns of Household Labour Division This section contrasts the household division of labour for the three groups of women, revealing what they and their family members were doing in the reform era and examining why the household division of labour took the pattern it did.

7.1.1 ‘Older Sisters’ Group: Farming Couples From Chap. 5, we learnt that the ‘older sisters’ group got limited schooling education due to the urgent demand of labour and their birth order as the older children in their family. We also learnt that they had already been shaped into farming before the coming of the de-collectivisation and therefore they had few non-agricultural working experiences before getting married. That is why most of them stayed at home farming for the rest of their life. Their husbands have similar stories. Although as boys they could get special treatment in school education compared to older girls when they were young, they normally ended up back home farming if they could not achieve anything through school. And due to their age, when the collective was dismantled and non-farming occupations opened up, most of them had been married and fashioned into farmers. In other words, it was too late for them to learn skilled manual or non-farming occupations. That’s why in Lianhe Village, in terms of household divisions of labour for the ‘older sisters’ group, I found, besides local cadres (including both women and men),

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that the commonest model of the gender division of labour between husband and wife is: both of them focus on farming, and the husband does some unskilled odd jobs such as a casual worker on construction site or a porter during the slow seasons. Among the 13 women, most of them focus only on farming and care of their family, except Ping-er who once tried a grocery business but failed and Pingzhi who worked as a casual worker on a construction site as well since her husband was a drunkard and did not care for his family at all. Pingzhi should have had a life better than this. Her husband was a driver for a local company and earned a good salary. But he had an affair with a married woman, whose husband claimed a big sum of money from him as compensation. Later, due to his drinking problem, he lost his job. After he went back home, he drank all day long, taking no care of Pingzhi and their two daughters. The elder daughter went for labour migration after finishing junior middle school. The younger daughter was academically promising and determined to go to college. Pingzhi took care of the farmland, did the domestic chores, and worked on construction sites to earn more money for her younger daughter’s tuition fees. She could not relax until her younger daughter was enrolled by a very good university and got student loan. Other women from this group mainly focus on farming and care of family. That also explains why the families of most ‘older sisters’ are at, or even below, an average level in terms of economic status in the village: few of them do non-farming occupations which is more profitable than farming.

7.1.2 ‘Younger Sisters’ Group: Triple Task The stories of the ‘young sisters’ group are different. As mentioned in Chap. 5, they got more school education because of their birth order as the younger children. They even got more chances for non-farming occupational education and non-agricultural work experience during their girlhood with the coming of de-collectivisation, which provided them with ability and aspiration to look for income-generating opportunities other than farming after they married. Whether it was working in small businesses, such as tailoring, hairdressing, clothes stores, small restaurants, grocery stores (in their hometown or somewhere else) or working in a local factory in the county town or another city, all became options for them. Similar stories happened to their husbands. Normally as the younger sons of the family, their husbands were in a most favourable position: their gender and birth order offered them chances for school education on the one hand and the coming of the reform era supplied them with good opportunities to learn non-farming skilled manual jobs on the other. That is why compared to their older sisters’ family, the families of the ‘younger sisters’ group were normally better-off. But it would be a simplification to say that this is the whole story for the ‘younger sisters’. Despite their capability and aspirations to become rich by non-farming occupations, most women from the ‘younger sisters’ group actually seemed unable

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to achieve their ambition to a satisfying extent. Many of them tried various nonagricultural occupations, but few have persisted for a long time. Why? We could find the answers from the following stories I got in Lianhe Village. When I just arrived at Lianhe Village in October, 2005, a lot of women in their thirties were thinking about starting working in the textile factory mentioned in the previous chapter. They were encouraged by the stories of those women who were working in there. According to them, those workers could earn nearly 7000 Yuan each year, which was even more than the net annual income of a rural household at that time. Xiaohong, who was in her late thirties, not only refurbished the house but also bought an air-conditioner for her family less than two years after starting work in the textile factory. ‘If it was not for her income from the factory, they couldn’t afford that.’ Other women in the village commented. Besides Xiaohong, five other women had all been in that factory for more than one year. Pingfang was one of those who were encouraged. She and two women neighbours, Xiuyu and Weiying, joined the workers. A shift system was adopted in the factory: morning shift from 6:30 am to 14:30 pm; early night shift from 14:30 pm to 22:30 pm; and late night shift from 22:30 pm to 6:30 am. The same shift lasted for four days. The daily wage for the new comers was eight Yuan. If they could attend eight or more machines at the same time after some time, they would become a formal worker and get paid by piece. The three women went to the factory together, since they were neighbours and shared the same type of position and shifts. The first two days, according to Pingfang, were really demanding. The machines were running so fast that she could hardly keep up. ‘It was like someone was driving you with whip.’ She was soaking wet for the first two days, because of the heat on the shop-floor and the pressure. By the fifth day, she could handle five machines at the same time. But the real challenge was the late night shift. It was so hard for the new comers to get used to it. Pingfang felt unwell after the first late night shift. She had a headache and stomach-ache caused by hastily eaten meals and the need to drink lots of cold water. They only had 20 minutes for each meal. Many people brought their own meal box with them, grabbing a bite to eat on the shop-floor. And because of the dry air in the factory, they had to drink a lot of water. But there was no hot water provided, so they had to drink cold water they took with them in plastic bottles. Xiuyu felt great pain in her leg, since they had to stand all the time. Constipation was the common problem, including those who had been there for a long time. After two late night shifts, when Xiuyu and Weiying came to join Pingfang for the third one, Pingfang was reluctant to go. The day before she had already spent several yuan medicine for stomach-aches and she did not want to spend more. Actually Xiuyu and Weiying also did not want to go any longer, so happily went back home. They worked there for 10 days, but according to the wage regulation of the factory if they worked less than one month, they would not be paid. So they got nothing in the end. Actually when I stayed longer in the village, I discovered that many other women from the ‘younger sisters’ group had also been in that factory for a couple of days then stopped going. For example, Tiezhen, who was born in 1971, stayed there for three days before she stopped; another woman Xiangzhen, in the third team of the

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village, worked there for two days then came back home; about one month later, she returned and again only stayed there for two days. Why couldn’t these women stay longer? Actually many of them have been laughed at by the fellow villagers as being ‘lazy’ and because they ‘cannot endure hardship’. Are these fair judgements? Why could the other women mentioned above stay in the factory long enough? Besides physical suffering, what hindered those women who could not stay there long? After meeting more women who shared a similar experience to Pingfang, Xiuyu and Weiying, I found that different family compositions and household divisions of labour held them back from working outside. As mentioned in Chap. 5, the nuclear family has become the dominant form for this group of women. They constitute a household with only their husband and children. Besides, due to high fertility, they usually have to share a mother-in-law with their sister(s)-in-law; and their mothersin-law are normally old, say, in their sixties when they finish marrying all their children. All these basically make it infeasible for women like Pingfang to get much help from their mother-in-law with housework and childcare. On the other hand, since their husbands have got the capability and experiences of non-farming work, and the latter is more profitable than farming, they are more likely to concentrate on non-farming occupations while leaving farming, housework and children mainly to their wife. In other words, if the women from this group would like to pursue their plans for non-farming occupations, they have to take on a ‘triple task’ burden. That is to say, they do farming, non-farming work, as well as housework and childcare all at the same time. This would no doubt leave conflicts for them. Besides, as mentioned in Chap. 6, in Lianhe, there used to be a primary school a few years ago, but it was closed down in the mid 1990s due to a shortage of students. A central primary school has been built in another village, for students from 10 villages around. It is a bit far from Lianhe, but most importantly, it is not safe enough for little children to go through the heavy traffic everyday, therefore sending them to school in the morning and then picking them up in the afternoon become a daily task for those little children’s family, which to some extent makes ‘triple tasks’ for this group of women more demanding. Their struggle can be seen from this quote from Pingfang: Q: Why did you stop working in the textile factory after just 10 days? A: (Laughing) First of all, it was demanding for me, especially the late night shifts. I suffered from headaches, and even wanted to collapse. And more importantly, nobody took care of the family. My husband did not do any chores at all; my mother-in-law did not live with us and she would not give me a hand either. That day, when I came back from my first early night shift at about 11:00 pm, I found our cattle was still tied outside and had not been sent back to its shed; all the clothes were still hung outside. My husband actually did not go to do indoor painting and decoration that day.

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He had been played mahjong for the whole day in the grocery store. He cared for nothing. Q: Who picked up your son from school then? A: I did twice when I did not do the late night shifts, and mostly entrusted other fellow villagers when they also went to pick up their own children.

Xiuyu’s case is another example. While working in the factory she asked her fatherin-law, who was living with her family, to feed their cattle every day. The old man did it for two days before he threatened to sell the cattle because he did not want to attend it any longer. Tiezhen, a woman mentioned above, worked in the factory for three days before she was asked back by her husband, who was driving a tractor taxi in the county town. Actually after that, Tiezhen even went to Shenzhen once, a city in South China, to work as a cook in a private nursery run by a relative of her brother-in-law. But she just stayed there one month before her husband rang her to ask her back home since ‘the house has been in a mess’. According to her, her husband is not a man who is patient enough with chores and children, so it would never be possible for her to work outside the home for a long time. There are a couple of exceptions where women in their late thirties or early forties do non-farming work. But they managed it by giving up at least one or even two of their ‘triple tasks’. They may give up farming, leaving it to their husband. Or the whole family give up farming all together, focusing on non-agricultural occupations. Xiaohong, the woman mentioned above who paid for the renovation of her house and an air-conditioner for her family, has a husband who is seen as being ‘patient enough’ by other women from the village. He cooks meals, sends and collects their children from school and does farming when Xiaohong is working in the factory. Linhong, who is also in her late thirties, gave up farming with her husband who is driving a taxi in the county town. They rent a house somewhere near to her factory and her son’s school. So the boy can go back home on his own even if his parents are not available to pick him up, and Linhong can go out for night shifts without her husband’s company. In some extreme cases, the women give up all farming, housework and childcare to do non-farming work in city. A woman named Chunzhi, went to work in Shenzhen with her husband, leaving her 12 years old son behind, home alone, with his grandparents not far away. While I was in the village, I didn’t get to meet her since she was in Shenzhen, but I did meet the boy, who was in Grade Six of primary school at the time. He cycled to and from school every day, eating breakfast and lunch at school and dinner at grandparents’ home. I once went to his home. The whole house was covered in dust, and his room reeked of human urine. I guessed the smell was from a plastic basin in the corner where he urinated at night since there was no inside lavatory in the countryside. The action itself is common in Lianhe Village, but for most purposes, people rinse the basin in the morning to erase the smell. But this boy doesn’t do so as his mother is not around supervising his personal hygiene.

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Most of them, however, just give up their aspirations of doing non-farming work, staying at home to attend fields and children; while their husbands mainly do nonfarming occupations outside, giving a hand with farming only during busy seasons, or completely leaving the farming to their wife. This is the commonest pattern of household division of labour for this group of women. In other words, in Lianhe, although it is not like other places where most of the able-bodied men are far away working, there is still a trend of feminisation of farming for this group of women.

7.1.3 Ageing of Childcare and Farming: Division of Labour Within the Cooperative Family But the case is very different for the third generation. Although many of them are only about 10 years younger than the women from the ‘younger sisters’ group of the second generation, due to the existence of the cooperative family outlined in Chap. 6, they often do not have to do much farming, housework or even childcare. This frees them into more profitable non-agricultural occupations, either in their hometown or in another city, and has made them ‘the most comfortable generation’. The following is an interview carried out in 2006 with Shichun, a woman who was born in 1976, has a uxorilocal marriage and is living with her husband, two daughters, aged 12 and 6, and her own parents. Q: Who attended/attend to your two daughters? A: Their grandma, my mom. She has always taken care of them ever since I had them. They both like to stay close to her. They seldom stay close to me. Q: So you must have an easy life in terms of childcare? A: Yes. I have never worried about childcare. The younger one, her grandpa, my dad, sends her to school every morning, and collects her in the afternoon. And she shares the same bed with her grandmother. The bigger one also shared a bed with her grandmother for many years till she went to junior middle school and lived in a dorm. Q: So it is a very easy task to be parents nowadays! A: Yes, you just have to give birth to them, and then your parents or your parent-in-law will take care of them. Q: Do you discipline them? A: Not much. Sometimes I give them a little bit of pocket money. But if I am not around, they ask their grandparents for pocket money. Q: You’ve been working outside since you got married? A: Yes, in different places. Q: Do you do much farming at all? A: Very little. You see, I have three shifts, how can I do farming?

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Q: How about your husband, does he do much farming? A: He is also working outside. He joined an electrical wire network reconstruction team last year. They worked nearby then, so he lived at home; but this year, they have been in Fujian Province for almost the whole year. He seldom does farming even if he is at home. He normally does non-farming work outside. Q: Who does the farming then? A: My parents. We have over eight mu fields, and all are planted by them. Q: What do you do after you come back from your work? A: Nothing! I haven’t washed clothes once since I started working three shifts and have not cooked much either. Before I do an early night shift, I want to play mahjong for a while since I have some time in the daytime; while after my late night shift, I will sleep in the morning, then I want to play mahjong again in the afternoon. (Laughing) Q: Play mahjong before you leave for work? A: Yes.

We can see that for the third generation, in terms of the division of labour within family, great changes have taken place both in childcare and farming. Unlike the women from the ‘younger sisters’ group in the second generation, young women from the third generation are freed both from childcare and farming by the old generation (couple) and thus can focus on non-agricultural occupations. This is due to the formation of the cooperative family. In other words, the traditional arrangement that mothers (-in-law) stay at home, taking care of grandchildren and chores while relying on income brought in by daughters (in-law) and sons again does not apply. Now the old generation not only has to take care of grandchildren, but also take responsibility for the farming as well. As for childcare, what the parents (-in-law) of the third generation of women have to contribute is much more than what grandparents would have done in the traditional arrangement: for most purposes, they are not only minding their grandchildren, but are also taking over the responsibility of the parents to raise them. In other words, they are not only contributing time and attention, but also money. In Shichun’s story, we can see, besides cooking and washing clothes for their granddaughters, sending and collecting them from school and sharing bed with them, her parents also supply pocket money for them. In terms of the budget arrangements mentioned in Chap. 6, they belong to the ‘main budget with a minor account’ type. The old couple only have a minor account for their own use. That is why they cannot give their granddaughters anything more than pocket money. But for many women from the third generation, they are working away in cities in east or south China with their husband, leaving their child (ren) completely with their parents (-in-law). In this case, besides pocket money, the old couple normally also have to take on their grandchildren’s education fees, medical fees and so on. In terms of budget arrangements, this type of family normally belongs to a ‘two main budgets’ form, that is, the old couple and young

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couple have their own separate accounts. Haijing, the woman mentioned in Chap. 6, left her little daughter with her parents and went to work in an accessory assembling line with her husband in Zhejiang Province. According to her, besides some money they left at home before they set off for Zhejiang, they have not sent money back for their daughter’s nursery and pocket money. And according to Dongmei, besides the Chinese New Year gifts they bought for their parents when they came back from the eastern city of Ningbo, she and her husband have also not paid much for their son’s education and even medical operation fees, which have mostly been taken on by her parents. Lingxiang, a grandmother who is living with her husband and oneyear-old grandson, complained that she only received 500 Yuan from her son and daughter-in-law (who are working in Guangzhou, south China) for the boy’s medical operation, which ended up actually costing them 1100 Yuan, not including the fees for follow-up checks and extra expenses on better food for the sick boy. Grandparental rearing has become a common pattern for the third generation of women’s children, which has virtually put the grandparents under pressure to support their grandchildren with care, and most importantly, with money. Suoxiu, a woman in her early fifties, expressed her worry about grandchildren care, although her son who is working in Guangzhou is still unmarried:

Definitely he will get married in the near future, since he is in his late twenties. We are not a wealthy family. What if my son sends his child back home for us to raise? There’s a very good chance because he and his wife have to work, and this is what people are doing nowadays. They raise their grandchildren and buy good food for them. We have to do this as well. Otherwise, people will talk about you. Besides, you will feel guilty if others’ grandchildren can have good food while yours cannot. What can we do? The other day, I talked to my husband and that maybe the only option is for him to quit smoking and save some money.

But how will this arrangement affect this new grandparent-raised generation? How will this impact the existing inter-generational relation? Does this affect the elderly care arrangement of those grandparents? I will come back to these in Chap. 8 while discussing the elderly care of the prospective rural elders. But further observation and more academic attention are still needed. Besides raising grandchildren, farming is also taken on mainly by the old couples in the cooperative family. At present, because of a limited number of children resulting from the family planning policy, a great majority of the new parents (-in-law) are still very young, say, in their late or even middle forties, when they finish marrying all their children and become grandparents. They are physically capable of taking on the whole responsibility of farming and care of the family. Another reason causing this division of labour is because the farmland is very limited at the moment. Due to the increasing demand on land for housing, along with the expansion of population and the expropriation of farmland for industrial use, the amount of farmable land has been gradually decreasing. And due to the existing policy, the amount of farmland a family owns has not increased with the coming of new family members,

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for example, daughters-in-law or new-born children. Thus the labour force provided by the old couple is enough as they have been planting the same, even smaller amount of land for many years. And the new labour force provided by the grown up children and new family members has become ‘surplus labour’ for the family, which makes non-agricultural occupations necessary for them if they want to improve the living standards of the family. All of these have shaped the fact that the ‘family planning generation’—boys or girls, husbands or wives—normally goes outside their hometown for non-agricultural occupations, while leaving the farming to their parents (-in-law).

7.2 From the ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ to the ‘Ageing of Farming Populations’: Demographic Transition and Agricultural Development From the above analysis, we can see that peasants from different generations have different attitudes towards agriculture. During the decades after the reform and opening up, agriculture, as a main source of survival for the villagers in Lianhe, has experienced different labour division patterns within the family. The three groups of women, that is, the ‘older sisters’ and ‘younger sisters’ groups and those from the ‘family planning generation’, have developed disparate relationship with farming. For the women of the ‘older sisters’ group, it is almost impossible for them to get rid of agriculture, and their lives are mainly dominated by farming and care of family; while the ‘younger sisters’ group has the intention to get higher income by engaging in non-agricultural industries, they are mostly unable to achieve this because of being bound by housework and child care; and the women of the ‘family planning generation’, as long as they come from a ‘cooperative family’, they are basically free from the drag of housework, child care and farming, and can concentrate on non-agricultural work. How will this affect agricultural development in Lianhe? One of the topics about agricultural development being widely discussed in academia in the reform era is the ‘feminization of agriculture’. This seems to be a common problem for developing countries. But is China facing the same problems as other developing countries? This section explores the relationship between demographic transition and agricultural development since the reform and opening up in the context of the general problem of ‘feminization of agriculture’. It first briefly reviews the research literature in this area, and then discusses the problem in the context of Lianhe Village.

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7.2.1 ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ and Its Chinese Context: A Brief Review Who has been working on China’s farms since the economic reform? For this question, there have been mainly two schools of views. Based on qualitative and descriptive evidence, feminist scholars suggest that able-bodied rural women were left to farm by their husbands, who migrate to cities to earn more money through nonfarming work, and rural Chinese women are taking over farming in specific villages in Shandong (Judd 1994), Sichuan (Jacka 1997), Yunnan (Bossen 2002) and Henan (Ren and Dong 1997). M. Wolf found that, in 1985 in villages in Fujian, Jiangsu, Shandong, and Shaanxi, rural women took up 59–88% of farming (Gao 1994). This arrangement has complicated consequences. On the one hand, with husbands absent, women could make their contribution more visible and therefore earn some household bargaining power. At the same time, playing a larger role in farming and family management could advance their self-consciousness and independence. On the other hand, the increased labour time and excessive responsibilities, however, could be harmful to their physical and mental health (Ren and Dong 1997: 184–185). Others worry that the dominant role of rural women, who are often less educated than rural men, will negatively impact China’s agriculture in terms of its operation, structure, and the promotion of agricultural skills, which will decrease productivity and further threaten national food security (UNDP 2003; Yu et al. 2009). A counter conclusion is offered by some agricultural economists whose works are based on quantitative and empirical studies. For example, based on household survey data, Alan de Brauw suggests that the proportion of farm work done by women declined over the late 1990s, and concludes that future feminization of agriculture in China is unlikely (2003). Linxiu Zhang and her co-authors propose that even though rural women are left in charge of farming, crop productivity does not fall (Zhang et al. 2004). In a recent article, Alan de Brauw and his co-authors (2008) claim to debunk the ‘myth’ surrounding Chinese women’s participation in farming and suggest that the feminization of agriculture in China is not occurring. Even if women were taking over Chinese farms, the consequences would be mostly positive rather than negative from a labour supply, productivity, and income point of view. The analyses from both sides focus on particular areas. Even though the quantitative studies are based on large scale statistical datasets, the datasets were collected in certain provinces. Therefore none of them can claim to represent the situation of the entire country. The quantitative studies, especially that of de Brauw et al., correctly point out that a weakness of most descriptive studies is that they tend to treat rural Chinese women as if they all belong to a homogenous group (2008: 329). Their own empirical study, on the contrary, finds different involvement in farming by different cohorts of women. They conclude that the feminization of agriculture is occurring among middle-aged women (those born between 1955 and 1974), but not among either the younger cohort (those born between 1975 and 1984) or the older cohort (those born in and before 1954). Unfortunately they do not offer reasons for the differences in farming participation.

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7.2.2 From the ‘Feminization of Agriculture’ to the ‘Ageing of Farming Populations’ My findings in Lianhe Village echo the views of de Brauw and his collaborators that rural women are not a homogeneous group. Based on the previous analysis of the different patterns of gender and intergenerational division of labour within the families of the women from ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation’ and ‘family planning generation’, I suggest that the agriculture of Lianhe has experienced a transition from the ‘feminization of agriculture’ to the ‘aging of farming population’. This conclusion is based on the qualitative description of the division of labour among different generations. And some of the quantitative figures we obtained in Lianhe during the same period also support this conclusion. The following two tables are the data about villagers of Lianhe engaged in non-agricultural industries in 1995 and 2005 respectively, collected by the villagers’ committee according to the request of the county government. In Tables 7.1 and 7.2, ‘skilled manual labour’ means jobs such as masonry, carpentry, indoor decoration, hairdressing, tailoring, auto mechanics, etc. ‘Unskilled seasonal casual jobs’ include work on construction sites or in the abovementioned factories in Hanshui. Villagers working in these two categories can also do farming when needed. ‘Working as full time workers in Hanshui’ means that villagers do not stop non-farming jobs for farming. By comparing the two tables, one can find the Table 7.1 Percentage of labourers working in non-farming occupations in Lianhe, 1995 Demographic % working in % working in groups among faraway cities skilled manual labourers labour in Hanshui

% working in seasonal casual jobs in Hanshui

% working as full-time workers in Hanshui

The inferred proportion of people left behind to farm

Men aged (born in) 16–35 (1960–1979)

15.0%

69.3%

8.4%

0

7.3%

36–55 (1940–1959)

2.1%

7.3%

83.2%

0

7.4%

Over 55 (−1940)

0

1%

46.2%

0

52.8%

16–35 (1960–1979)

5.1%

8.3%

0

1%

85.6%

36–55 (1940–1959)

0.1%

0.2%

0.5%

0

99.2%

Over 55 (−1940)

0

0

0

0

100%

Women aged (born in)

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Table 7.2 Percentage of labourers working in non-farming occupations in Lianhe, 2005 Demographic % working in % working in group among faraway cities skilled manual labourers labour in Hanshui

% working in seasonal casual jobs in Hanshui

% working as full-time workers in Hanshui

The inferred proportion of people left behind to farm

Men aged (born in): 16–35 (1970–1989)

61.3%

36.5%

1.3%

0.1%

0.8%

36–55 (1950–1969)

8.7%

43.2%

40.3%

0

7.8%

Over 55 (−1950)

1.2%

10.2%

6.9%

0

81.7%

16–35 (1970–1989)

69.5%

12.1%

0.1%

17.6%

0.7%

36–55 (1950–1969)

2.1%

2.5%

0.2%

0

95.2%

Over 55 (−1950)

0

0

0

0

100%

Women aged (born in):

change of villagers’ employment in Lianhe Village from the mid-1990s to the early twenty-first century. In Lianhe in 1995, while 69.3% of male villagers in the 16–35 age group did skilled manual labour in Hanshui, only 7.3% of those in the 36–55 age group engaged in this. 83.2% of the latter group were doing unskilled casual jobs. Similar differences also exist among female villagers from these age groups. Much higher percentages of the women aged 16–35 were doing non-farming occupations than those aged 36–55. Gendered disparity within each age group is far more noticeable. For example, only 5.1% of women, compared to 15.0% of men, from the 16–35 age group worked in faraway cities; and 8.3% of women from the same group did skilled manual labour in Hanshui, a figure strikingly less than that of the men: 69.3%. A similar gendered contrast can also be seen between men and women in the 36–55 age group. Men were generally involved in more diverse labour activities than women. By inference, we can conclude that the percentages of women labourers who were left completely on the farms are 85.6% (age group 16–35), 99.2% (36–55) and 100% (over 55); compared to those of the male labourers: 7.3% (16–35), 7.4% (36–55) and 52.8% (over 55). Those men who migrated and worked outside of Hanshui had almost no part in farming; those who did skilled manual jobs or unskilled seasonal casual jobs in Hanshui were involved partly in farming since their non-farming occupations allowed them to commute between home and work sites. Unfortunately, the time spent farming by each group is not clear. Despite this, we can still observe the trend towards the feminization of farming in Lianhe in 1995.

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An obvious change since the late 1990s is that dramatically increasing proportions of villagers, especially those aged 16–35, moved to faraway cities to work. Within the age group 16–35, both men and women decreased their involvement in farming, the latter dramatically so. Only 0.8% of men aged 16–35 were completely left behind to farm in 2005, compared to 7.3% in 1995, while 0.7% of women from this age group worked only on the farms in 2005, whereas 85.6% had in 1995. The decline of young women’s roles in farming is especially striking. In 2005, more men aged over 55 were left behind to farm (81.7% compared to 52.8% in 1995), but in both 1995 and 2005, all women over 55 were left on the farms. Within the 36–55 age group, a slightly smaller proportion of women were left completely on the farms in 2005 (95.2%) than in 1995 (99.2%), while the percentage of men in this group did not change significantly. Based on these comparisons, a noticeable change in farming arrangements from 1995 to 2005 is the ageing of the farming population. More and more aged people, both men and women, are left on the farms and are engaging only in farming. Meanwhile a growing number of young villagers, including both men and women, leave farms and engage in non-farming jobs. The conclusion about the ageing of the farming population since the late 1990s can be reconciled with the one drawn by de Brauw (2003), that the proportion of farm-work done by women declined over the late 1990s, and that the future feminization of agriculture in China is unlikely. This trend of ‘aging agricultural population’ has worried many old peasants from the west and inland parts of China. For example, some old peasants from Sichuan, Hubei, and Anhui Provinces are concerned about this and they bemoan the fact that ‘None of the young folks wants to do farming. Ten years later, we old folks will be too old to do it, then no one will be able to grow crops!’ (Yang et al. 2006).

7.3 Rake and Basket? Cash Income Disparity Between Husband and Wife Different patterns of household division of labour produce cash income disparity between husband and wife, which is the focus of this section. It starts with the related existing literature, and proceeds to parallel husband-wife cash income disparity for the three groups of women. Some feminist scholars feared that the dismantling of the collective would put rural women who went back to household farming under patriarchal authority once again, therefore would reinforce patriarchal controls over marriage practices, decisions about fertility etc. (Andors 1983; Croll 1983; Davin 1988). But many suggested that the reality is not as bad as expected. Based on observations in three villages in Shandong Province in the late 1980s and early 1990s, Judd, for example, suggests that the importance of the family/household as a locus of women’s oppression has been overemphasize. Judd points to new forms of labour, such as household sidelines, where women often manage the business and enjoy greater autonomy, while those who mainly work in township-village entrepreneurs

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are under the control of the township or village level government which are normally managed by men. Therefore, she concludes that rural women can enjoy greater power within the household than before, while the main oppression is from the outside world where men are dominant (Judd 1994). Basically I agree with Judd, but I suggest that further exploration is needed. Firstly, in terms of research site, she chose Shandong, a province in eastern China where there is a high level of industrialisation, thus sidelines and township-village entrepreneurs are more popular there than in inland and western areas. This probably makes the power relations women are involved there different from those from the inland/western areas. Furthermore, Judd has not talked much about the gender and power relations in households. Besides, her claim is based on a demographic situation insofar as the married post-revolutionary baby boomers constituted the core of her research. I suggest that as the ‘family planning generation’ grew up the power scenario changed. And finally, as I have been emphasizing from Chap. 5, disparities exist even among the post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation itself. In this section, we will see how household division of labour affects the income of husband and wife respectively. In Lianhe Village, the traditional husband-wife division of labour in income generating was compared to the relation between ‘rake and basket’. The husband is the ‘rake’ which ‘grasps’ money from outside and the wife is a ‘basket’, responsible for making good use of every penny and avoiding any overspending. People believe a good cooperation between husband and wife will make a happy family. But this sort of division of labour has been broken up since the socialist revolution: the wife has become part of the ‘rake’ to bring in money. The problem, however, is who brings in more. During the reform era, among the three groups of women mentioned above, generally speaking, for the older sister group, there is no big gap between what they earned and what their husband earned. They both take part in the farming, and make a similar contribution to the economy of the family. Although some of the husbands get extra money through casual manual work, it does not make a big difference. Moreover, when they are absent, their wives will take on most of the farming—on top of the housework and childcare—in any case. Women from the ‘younger sisters’ group, however, generally make less of a contribution to the family’s cash income compared to their husband. As mentioned above, despite their endeavour, most women from this group end up staying at home, farming and looking after family, while their husbands are doing non-agricultural occupations outside. As we have seen, farming is not as profitable as non-farming occupations and therefore their husbands normally bring in more cash than the women. In short, husbands make a bigger contribution to the family’s economy. This may be the case when a husband focuses on farming and the care of family while the wife does nonfarming work; however, this is very rare. Some women, whose husband can get a decent income, for example, by leading an indoor painting and decoration team, only do a little farming from which they can just get enough to eat, or they do not farm at all. These women are greatly admired by their counterparts in the village, since, according to the latter, they ‘do not have to work hard. All they need to do each day

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is just to look after the family, and then go and play mahjong!’ In other words, in this type of family, the husband works as a breadwinner while the wife is a manager and carer. The division of labour between them is more like the traditional ‘rake and basket’ pattern. Compared to their husband, most of the women from the third generation, however, are making a proportionally bigger contribution to their family’s economy than the ‘younger sisters’ group. Moreover, their non-agricultural occupations enable them to earn a higher income than the ‘older sisters’ group. Because of breast-feeding, they will possibly leave non-agricultural occupations for a while, but they will resume when the children are old enough to live on powered milk. Due to the existence of the cooperative family, they enjoy much more flexibility and their cases are also diverse. Normally their husbands work as skilled manual labourers or in some business and usually bring in more cash than them. But sometimes because of their nimble fingers, the wives can potentially earn more. This generation is actually also admired by the women from the other two groups, since they can get away from the tiresome childcare and chores and focus on income-generating occupations.

7.4 Conclusion To conclude, the holistic perspective offers a good opportunity to perceive the different but linked patterns of labour of the three groups of women in the reform era. The schooling and vocational education in their girlhood, and the family composition after marriage, have shaped the different labour lives of them in the reform era, which further causes husband-wife income disparity. Basically, limited education has tied most of the women from the ‘older sisters’ group into farming, while the ‘younger sisters’ group have been held back, despite having sufficient education and non-farming experiences before getting married, by the prevalence of the nuclear family. The latter has tied these women to the home where they farm and look after family, allowing their husband to pursue non-agricultural occupations. This arrangement has contributed to the ‘feminisation of agriculture’ for this group of women. Most women from the third generation, however, are freed from farming, childcare and domestic chores due to the emergence of the cooperative family, and can focus on non-agricultural occupations. However, this has caused concerns about the ‘ageing of farming population’ and a new grandparent-raised generation in rural China. The three groups also contribute differently to their family’s cash income when compared to their husbands’ contributions respectively. Generally speaking, the women from the ‘older sisters’ group can earn almost the same as their husbands, although neither can make much; while the ‘younger sisters’ group bring in much less cash than their husbands. As for the third generation, maybe they bring in less cash than their husbands but proportionally speaking, their contribution is bigger than the women from ‘the younger sisters’ group. And, as we noted, in terms of sheer amount, they out earn the women from the ‘older sisters’ group.

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References Andors, P. (1983). The unfinished liberation of Chinese women, 1949–1980. Bloomington: Indiana University Press; Brighton: Wheatsheaf Books. Bossen, L. (2002). Chinese women and rural development: Sixty years of change in Lu Village, Yunnan. Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers INC. Croll, E. (1983). Chinese women since Mao, London: Zed Books. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe. Davin, D. (1988). The implications of contract agriculture for the employment and status of Chinese rural women. In S. Feuchtwang, A. Hussain & T. Pairault, (Eds.), Transforming China’s economy in the eighties. London: Zed Books. De Brauw, A. (2003). Are women taking over the farm in China? Department of economics working papers series. 2003–02. Williams College. Available at https://ideas.repec.org/p/wil/wileco/200302.html. Accessed December 15, 2018. De Brauw, A., Li, Q., Liu, C., Rozelle, S., & Zhang, L. (2008). Feminization of agriculture in China? Myths surrounding women’s participation in farming. The China Quarterly, 194, 327–348. Field, J., Garris, M., Guntupalli, M., Rana, V., & Reyes, G. (2006). Chinese township and village enterprises: A model for other developing countries. Prepared for the international economic development program, Ford school of public policy, University of Michigan, Available at https://www.umich.edu/~ipolicy/IEDP/2006china/5)%20Chinese%20Township% 20and%20Village%20Enterprises,%20A%20Model%20for%20Oth.pdf Accessed December 15, 2018. Gao, X. (1994). Dangdai zhongguo nongcun laodongli zhuanyi ji nongye nuxinghua qushi (Rural labor transfer and the trend of feminization of agriculture in contemporary China). Shehui Xue yanjiu (Sociological Studies), 2, 83–90. Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Judd, E. (1994). Gender and power in rural north China. California: Stanford University Press. Ren, Q., & Dong, L. (1997). Nongmin shenfen yu xingbie jiaose: Zhongyuan nongcun ‘Nangong nv gen’ xianxiang kaocha (Peasant identity and gender role: An examination on the phenomenon of ‘Male working in non-farming occupations while female farming’ in central rural China). In L. Xiaojiang, Z. Hong & D. Xiuyu (Eds.), Pingdeng yu fazhan (Equality and development) (pp. 171–186). Beijing: Sanlian Shudian (Sanlian Press). UNDP. (2003). China’s accession to WTO: Challenges for women in the agricultural and industrial sector. Available at: https://www.undp.org/content/dam/china/docs/Publications/UNDP-CHDG-Chinas%20Ascension%20to%20WTO%20Challenges%20for%20Women%20in%20the% 20Agricultural%20and%20Industrial%20Sectors.pdf Accessed December 15, 2018. Yang, S., Shen, Z., & Li, J. (2006). In C. Yu, Jingji Cankao Bao (Economy reference). E Zhongliang Nongmin Laolinghua Diaocha: 10 nianhou Shui lai Zhongtian? (Who will do farming in ten years’ time? A survey on the ageing of agricultural population in Sichuan, Anhui and Hubei). December 12, 2006. Yu, H., Suo, Z., & Xu, J. (2009). Nongye jingji guanli zhidu zhi nongye nuxinghua shijiao qianxi (The management system of agricultural economy: The feminization of farming as a perspective). Zhongguo Jiti Jingji (Chinese Collective Economy), 12, 77–79. Zhang, L., Brauw, A., & Rozelle, S. (2004). China’s rural labour market development and its gender implications. China Economic Review., 15, 230–247.

Chapter 8

Silver-Haired Working Women: Intergenerational Contract, Elderly Care and Gender in Lianhe

Abstract This chapter turns to the labour organisation in the old age period and elderly care. Through a historical and comparative framework, it reveals changing intergenerational contract mechanisms and compares the different elderly care arrangements between the parents’ generation of the first generation, the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group of the second generation, covering both collective era and reform era. It examines how the variations of the factors both at a structural level and an individual level, such as family structure, number and sex composition of adult children, living arrangement, physical situation, economic standing and appreciation of intergenerational exchange and so on, have produced different social exchange patterns and disparate elder care modalities between genders and cohorts. It particularly stresses the effects of the changing labour systems and adult children’s understanding and appreciation of labour in these systems.

8.1 The Story of Dongying: An Introduction This chapter starts with the story of an old lady, Dongying. Dongying was 78 years old when I first met her at the end of 2005 and I asked her to tell me something about her life. There were tears, complaints, curses and regrets as she told me her stories, especially when she spoke of her life during the past 20 years. She has five living children, three sons and two daughters. In the countryside of China, the most important task for each peasant couple is to marry all their children. Dongying was 56 years old when she and her husband married their youngest son in 1983; her husband had already reached 62. They lived with her youngest son’s family for a couple of years, with the hope that the young couple would move out and build their own house, but the latter never managed to in the end. During the first two years, the two generations worked and ate together. However, during a scorching summer afternoon, while she was out cutting grass for the cattle in the middle of nowhere and her youngest son and his wife were taking a nap at home, Dongying decided to divide the household and for her and her husband to live on their own. During those two years, Dongying and her husband worked very hard, but still received many

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complaints from the young couple who thought the old couple did not do their best for their wedding and did not work hard enough for the family. In the following eight years or so, despite being under the same roof as her youngest son’s family, Dongying and her husband cooked and worked for themselves. They got a small patch of field from their sons to plant. During the busy seasons, sometimes their daughters and sons-in-law would come to give a hand. In the harvesting seasons, Dongying also went out to glean grain nearby and then sell the surplus. During the slow seasons, she collected scraps in the neighbourhood, sorted them out and sold them. They were still helping their sons’ family with what they were able to do, for example, taking care of grandchildren or attending to cattle(s). During the eight years, besides what they had consumed, they saved 1000 yuan and 500 kg of grain. Everything changed in 1993 when her husband hung himself. The old man was strong enough to do farming before he found out that he was suffering from heart disease around 1992. He also had bad arms which almost prevented him from working. They panicked that they may not be able to support themselves any more, so he proposed to go and live with the three sons’ family, taking turns to stay with each. Dongying refused. After some negotiation, the old man stayed. Dongying comforted him that his disease was simply a predestined adversity and he would outlive her as many fortune tellers predicted that she would die at the age of 62. She even jokingly threatened him that none of the three daughters-in-law would be nice to him if she died, as they once had words with all of them. The old man took this joke very seriously, and hung himself one day when Dongying was out feeding the cattle. Her sons knew that the old couple had saved up some money. As soon as Dongying’s husband was buried, her oldest son went to her room to check her suitcase which was never locked. He found their deposit book and asked to divide the savings equally with his two brothers, since his mother would start living with each of them in turn. Dongying could do nothing but cry, then her sister, the children’s aunt stopped them. In the end, the savings were kept, and Dongying started staying with each of her sons’ family for seven days at a time. This unsettled lifestyle turned out to be difficult and made Dongying really regret her decision to give up living on her own. During the first two years, she stayed with each son’s family for seven days at a time. She ate and worked with whichever family she was staying with. She helped with domestic chores, farming, and attending to cattle. But it was so hard to please all of her sons that disputes arose from time to time. During the first year, her second daughter-in-law had a fight with her, as she decided to take the cigarettes her daughters bought for her with her when she was about to move from the second son’s family to the third son’s. The second daughterin-law yelled at her and kicked Dongying out of her house. Dongying was devastated but in the end she decided that in the long run it would be better to submit to the humiliation. One year later, however, Dongying could not tolerate her second son and daughterin-law any longer. According to Dongying, they were very mean, not allowing her to work for her other sons when she was staying with them. ‘I will be happier even if you sit at home rather than work for the other two households when you are eating

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my rice’, they said. This prompted Dongying to leave their house for good and so she started living with her oldest and youngest sons’ family, again each in turn, for another six years or so. During this period, there were complaints that she did not work hard enough from both her sons, and especially daughters-in-law, from time to time. Eventually an event triggered her departure. Her grandson, who was nine years old at that time, always used bad language when he was speaking. Dongying asked her youngest son to discipline him. The man beat the boy, but his wife came out to yell at her: ‘You must be satisfied now, you old bitch.’ Dongying argued with her, and the whole event ended up with Dongying’s complete departure. By the end of 2005 when I met her, Dongying had been living on her own for four years. She bought herself a cooking pan, and built an earth stove at the corner of her youngest son’s kitchen. She gleaned cotton and grain, and collected scraps. She said she could have saved much more if she had insisted on living on her own from the very beginning and therefore regretted this a lot. Her daughters sometimes gave her some pocket money, or bought clothes for her. One of her late husband’s nephews, the only one from the big family who attained an urban hukou by joining the army, gave her one or two hundred yuan each year after her husband died. She did not get a penny from her three sons though. After her youngest son and daughter-in-law migrated to the town to work in 2003, Dongying converted their vegetable garden into a cotton field. She got three hundred yuan from it in 2004; while in 2005, the youngest son came back during the harvest season, getting four hundred and fifty yuan from selling the cotton, without giving a penny to his mother who planted the cotton. When I asked about her plans for the future, she said she only wished she could die quickly, without any suffering from long-term illness, because she did not expect any proper care from her sons and daughters-in-law when she was ill. But she was not upset about this, she said, as she had not been serving her sons and daughters-in-law with all her heart and thus she did not anticipate any good treatment from them at all. This chapter focuses on a different life stage: old age. The lens of analysis here is somewhat different from the previous chapters, as ‘elderly care’ emerges as an important subject during old age and it is closely intertwined with the subject of ‘labour’. Since ‘elderly care’ has been widely discussed, this chapter produces its arguments based on an examination of the previous studies, but it is different from them as it understands ‘elderly care’ from the perspective of the elders’ daily labour and reveals the changing mechanisms of intergenerational contract through asking ‘What were/are they doing and for whom? Who were/are doing what for them?’ I argue that labour exchanges have become a main part of the intergenerational contract, and have been affecting the elderly care arrangements in rural China. And the different modalities of elderly care arrangements since the early twentieth century have been closely linked to the transformations of the labour systems and people’s perception and appreciation of labour in these systems. This chapter is distinctive in the way that it puts the elderly care issue in rural China into an international background and looks at it from a historical perspective.

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8.2 Background Over the last few decades, the elder care crisis in rural areas of many developing countries has begun to attract an increasing amount of attention from academics and politicians as approximately two-thirds of the global elderly population reside in these countries (Tout 1989). There are two differing opinions about this crisis. Social gerontologists, who are mostly concerned about the elder care crisis in developing rural areas undergoing industrialisation and urbanisation, suggest that the increasing life expectancy, decline in fertility, worldwide rural–urban migration, disintegration of traditional extended families and absence of pension schemes all contribute to the formation of this crisis (Anríquez and Stloukal 2008: 309–10). These arguments are typically premised on the ‘modernisation and ageing thesis’. Given the absence of welfare and pension systems, elder care arrangements in the rural areas of developing countries tend to belong to a modality in which the obligations to offer care and the rights to obtain care are kin based and ‘dependen[t] on goodwill, duty or traditions of reciprocity’ (Glucksmann 2006: 64). Thus, an elder care crisis refers to the decline in the sense of duty to provide care and the collapse of the reciprocity system. Conversely, ethnographic studies across Asian areas indicate that the traditional family contract in terms of intergenerational contract has not eroded but is instead under renegotiation and reinterpretation, thereby producing a new reciprocal cycle of care between generations (Croll 2006: 482–83). This phenomenon raises the question, ‘where can the case of contemporary rural China be positioned in this spectrum?’. There is no single or simple answer to this question. First of all, compared with other rural societies, rural China seems to be facing an even greater challenge concerning its ageing population. This assertion is based on two facts. Firstly, rural China has witnessed a rapidly growing ageing population over the past two decades. Specifically, China has entered a period of ‘super ageing’ since the late 1990s (Joseph and Phillips 1999: 153). By 2020, approximately a quarter of the people aged 65 years and older worldwide (approximately 167 million) are anticipated to come from China (Population Division of the Department of Economic and Social Affairs of the United Nations 2012). Compared with urban areas, the rural areas in China experience a more pronounced population ageing. In 2008, the rural and urban old-age dependency ratios in China reached 13.5% and 9.0%, respectively, and the gap in these ratios is expected to widen in the future (Cai et al. 2012: 2). Secondly and most importantly, although pilot schemes that combine the contributory elderly pension with the universal pension provided by local governments to all rural elderly have been recently implemented in some areas and are expected to expand their coverage, they have not gained popularity amongst rural residents who perceive such schemes as expensive, of low benefit and uncertain (Jacka 2014: 196). Consequently, the sources of support for the rural elderly significantly differ from those for the urban elderly, with the former mainly relying on their own labour and family support whilst the latter significantly depend on pensions (Cai et al. 2012: 45–64).

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Moreover, historically speaking, since the start of processes of industrialisation and urbanisation in the early twentieth century, at different historical eras, there have been different intergenerational contract mechanisms and disparate elderly care arrangements. While some groups of people were/are experiencing an elderly care crisis, some others may have a better situation. The differences are caused by the variations of the effects both at a structural level and an individual level. At the structural level, factors like elderly care provision systems, labour systems, property systems, transformations in culture and demography etc. are working; while at the individual level, family structure, the number of children (especially sons), living arrangements, physical situation, economic standing and importantly, people’s perception and appreciation of labour are also playing a role. And the mechanisms of intergenerational contract have also been under transformation, due to the changes of these effects. The task of this chapter is: by adopting a historical and comparative perspective, to trace the changes of the intergenerational contract and examine the elderly care arrangements along with the industrialisation process in rural China, that is, from the early twentieth century till now. It carries out comparisons on two levels, one macro and one micro. On the macro level the aim is to examine the transformation of care provision systems in rural China through three economic and labour systems, namely, the ‘petty peasant economy’ to the ‘collective economy’ and then to the ‘market economy’. On the micro level, the aim is to look at the details of each generation’s elderly care arrangement. However, since no stories of individuals who spent their old age before the collective era are available, three groups of women will be involved in the comparisons on the micro level: the generation of the ‘first unbound feet generation’s parents’ who spent their old age during the collective era; the ‘first unbound feet generation’ themselves who are currently needing elderly care in the reform era; and the ‘older sisters’ group who have just entered their old age. Since none of the ‘first unbound feet generation’s parents’ are alive, stories about their old age arrangements are mainly from the ‘first unbound feet’ generation’s narrative. It examines different modalities of old age arrangement for these three groups of women, looking into where and how they attained the resources for their old age life, including physical care, financial and emotional support. It first introduces on a macro level the transformation of care provision systems in rural China since the early twentieth century and existing researches on this issue, and proceeds to a micro level to examine how structural transformations, particularly changes in labour systems and factors at an individual level, especially the perception and appreciation of labour activities have affected each generation’s elderly care arrangement and what the behind intergenerational exchange mechanisms and intergenerational contract have been. It also looks at gender disparities in relation to elderly care in rural China.

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8.3 Understanding the Intergenerational Contract and Elderly Care in Rural China: A Review Actually the context under which elderly care in rural China was/is arranged has changed since the collapse of imperial order in 1911. Traditional China before that was characterized as a patriliny where the elders held the family property, supported children, transferred property to married sons, and received filial piety and care, including both physical care and financial support, in their old age. Besides the elders’ holding of family property which was mostly in the form of land, the dominant Confucian notion of ‘filial piety’ also supplied ideological bases for the institution. And the existence of traditional elites who played the role of edifying the ordinary people with Confucian ethics guaranteed the persistence of these ethics. Thus despite the absence of welfare provision, the two-way intergenerational contract continued to guarantee the need of both the young and the old (Whyte 2003). But great social changes brought about by a series of revolutions in modern history, especially socialist revolution in 1949, completely altered the bases of traditional intergenerational contract. The Confucian legacy and the authority of the elder was radically challenged, and most importantly, the collectivization of land in the 1950s destroyed land as a powerful leverage used by rural elderly to secure care from children (Zhao and Wen 1999). The institutional guarantee of Confucian ethics and the system of kinship was brought down by the CCP (Guo 2001; Whyte 2003). In the city, the functions of the two-way intergenerational contract were, to a large extent, replaced by state-run institutions which supplied the children’s generation with education, jobs and housing; while the pension system secured the parents’ generation for their old age (Whyte 2003: 11). In rural areas, before the dismantling of the collective in the early 1980s and despite the absence of welfare system, the grain ration distribution system in which a certain ratio of the default ration was distributed according to family size, regardless of age and sex, secured the elders some food to survive; and for those who had no any family available to offer care, a ‘five guarantees’ system was launched in 1950s to guarantee they could get help from the collective in terms of food, clothing, burial expenses, medical care and housing (Dixon 1982). Importantly, despite their disparagement of the Confucian legacy, the CCP still highly celebrated intergenerational contract (Whyte 2003). And the implementation of it was also guaranteed by the collective which strictly controlled virtually every rural household. But with the dismantling of the collective, the kinds of welfare mentioned were no longer available. On the one hand, the grain ration distribution system stopped and any food rural elders could rely on for survival had to be produced by themselves or by their adult children; on the other hand, most rural elders were not eligible for the ‘five guarantees’ system since they had adult children due to the improved medical conditions from the late 1950s onwards. And no new welfare systems suitable for them emerged. Furthermore, surveillance from the state disappeared with the dismantling of the collective and this left individual rural households huge room to arrange their own business. Although the CCP emphasized intergenerational contract

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and even legislated for it (the Criminal Law of 1979 and the Constitution of 1982 both claimed to punish those who fail to support elderly parents) these were hardly being turned to by the rural elders (Zhang and Goza 2005). Thus the well-being of rural Chinese elders in the reform era depended totally on them themselves, their adult children’s goodwill and the reciprocity between them. Research based on data from contemporary urban and rural China has demonstrated contrasting findings in terms of elderly care: in urban areas, a close intergenerational relationship is still the case and support from grown children, both including sons and daughters, continues to be an important source for the elderly in their old age (Whyte 2003). In the countryside, however, compared to their counterpart in the city, transfers received by elderly parents from their adult sons have been in apparent decline, while the involvement of daughter(s) has been rising (Yan 1998; Zhan and Montgomery 2003). Some others suggest that the elderly have become the most marginalized group in rural China, leading to an appallingly low standard of living, and the elderly care is experiencing a crisis in rural China (Guo 2001). Institutional elements have been suggested by previous research through the comparison on regional differences between urban and rural areas. Institutional urban-rural disparities, for example, the absence of wages and pensions in the countryside, have been agreed to contribute to the different treatments; some scholars suggest that patrilocal marriage makes daughters unavailable to their own parents; and the collectivisation of labour resulted in there being little property to be transferred from parent to children after the de-collectivisation came. And this has made the rural young generation more independent (Whyte 2003). Basically, in the context of the social transformations in rural China, two approaches to ‘elderly care in rural China’ have emerged, namely, the structural approach and the cultural approach. The structural approach, which is commonly adopted by demographers and quantitative sociologists, mainly focuses on structural elements, their changes and their influences on the intergenerational contracts in rural China. These structural factors include state policies regarding elder care in rural areas, resources available to adult children, including income, employment status, geographic proximity to parents and availability of time (Cong and Silverstein 2014; Zhang et al. 2005), and the demographic features of adult children that are relevant to providing care for their old parents, including family structure and size (Zimmer and Kwong 2003), number of siblings, age, education and health status (Guo et al. 2011). The cultural approach, which is more frequently employed by social anthropologists and qualitative sociologists, mainly focuses on the changing cultural connotations related to ‘filial piety’ and the shifting intergenerational exchange ethics in the context of socio-economic, demographic and political transformations. Guo (2001) and Yan (2003) suggest that the traditional mechanism of intergenerational contract has broken down, that is, the younger generation no longer believes that supporting their parents in old age should be unconditional. This generation also expects returns, even equal returns, from their parents, especially with the propagation of the market economy that is dominated by the equal exchange rule. Apparently, their parents cannot meet their demands due to their weakened financial and physical

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positions; consequently, the scope and amount of support available from their children are reduced. Yan (2003: 233) further proposes that the individualisation process in rural China and the development of ‘ultra-utilitarian individualism’ in the market economy both contribute to the decline in the filial piety of rural sons. Both approaches treat the rural elderly as a homogeneous group. Most studies focus on how elder care arrangements may differ across adult children with varying demographic features and resources yet pay significantly less attention to the differences amongst the rural elderly themselves. The structural approach pays minimal attention to the effects of health, age, income, employment, pension status, level of functioning and widowhood of the elderly parents on their old age care arrangements, whilst the cultural approach has paid little heed to the possible differences within the elderly group. Ignoring the inter-individual differences amongst the rural elderly has also been linked to the depiction of the rural elderly as ‘care recipients’ and ‘dependents’. Sociological research on ageing from a feminist standpoint has tried to address these weaknesses by introducing additional nuances in terms of intergenerational contracts. Some of these studies have adopted a political economy perspective to emphasise the disadvantaged position of older women in terms of elderly care. This approach has been criticised by later studies as a ‘misery’ perspective because this hegemonic view, which assumes that all older men are in a better position than older women, ignores their relative social standing (other than in terms of gender) and gives little attention to how gender relations affect the lives of older men (Arber et al. 2007: 147–48). Therefore, some scholars propose the need to reconsider the interconnections between ageing and gender alongside other structural bases (e.g., social class and ethnicity) as well as to understand the power relations involved in elder care arrangements as dynamic interactions (Russell 2007: 173–74). This approach is often accompanied by highlighting the ‘agency’ of elderly people, especially older women. Krekula (2007: 156) deconstructs how older women have been placed in ‘misery’ situations by discussing the double-jeopardy assumptions given focus in gender theory where older women are made invisible, and by drawing on critiques in the social gerontological field that older women are often treated as objects. Based on her research on rural Chinese women aged 50–80 years, Jacka (2014: 186–87) challenges the existing discourse that portrays these older women who were left behind by family members engaging in rural–urban labour migration as a ‘vulnerable group’ of passive dependents sidelined by modernisation. She contends that these women are active, able workers who make major contributions to their respective families. Therefore, Jacka suggests an urgent need to shift the focus from the vulnerability of older women to their agency (Jacka 2014: 188). This chapter intends to contribute to the newly emerging approach by highlighting differences within the ageing rural population and their agency, as well as exploring the lives of older rural Chinese men, which have not attracted in-depth discussion in the literature. Moreover, importantly, the existing research hardly explains the different care offered by sons and daughters respectively. Daughters’ rising role in attending to their old parents is apparent in many rural areas (Yan 1998, 2003; Guo 2001; Zhan and Montgomery 2003). In many cases, daughters provide more material and emotional

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support for their own aged parents than their brothers, but receive much less from them, since apart from a dowry, daughters do not inherit. Besides, the decrease of property transferred from current aged parents’ generation to their sons’ generation due to collectivisation has been widely accepted as an important cause of the decline of elderly care (Guo 2001; Whyte 2003; Yan 1998, 2003). But this cannot explain the different treatments existing between the current aged generation and their previous generation who spent their old age in the collective era, and whose property, if any, was collectivised. Actually, few existing studies have noticed this, but according to my interviewees from the first generation, even if the living standards were much lower and the authority of the elders were suppressed during the communist campaign in the collective era, their parents’ generation still received proper care and more respect than they do now. Thus a collective-era and post-collective-era demarcation is necessary to explore the disparities over time. On the other hand, the relatively superior financial position of the current young generation indicates that it is less likely for them to experience economic constraints in terms of caring for their elderly parents. Indeed, we will see that in many cases, the young generation is able to afford their parents’ elderly care expenses, but is unwilling to do so. Why? Moreover, the meaning of ‘elderly care’ has never been clarified in the existing literature. Actually in a practical sense, ‘elderly care’ refers to meeting the elders’ needs in their late life. Accommodation, food, medical expenses, clothes, money for household commodities and affection are all on the list. Therefore, an examination of ‘what needs of the elders are met and by whom’ could enable us to attain a proper way of looking into the elderly care arrangements of the rural elders. Therefore, this chapter will not follow the existing research. Instead, it examines the changing mechanism of intergenerational contract through a historically comparative perspective that seeks to follow how modalities of elderly care and reciprocal relations vary across a range of times (collective era; reform era which is divided into pre-1990s and post-1990s periods), regions (urban and rural) and gender (both between son and daughter as care-givers and between husband and wife as care-receivers). Unlike most relevant research, in which elders are viewed simply as ‘care-receivers’ while their roles as ‘labourers’ go unseen or devalued, this chapter emphasizes their role as labourers by studying what the elders have been doing for their old age, for their adult children, and what their adult children have been doing for them. It looks at how the intertwining of the labour system and such familial/household factors as family structure, the number of children (especially sons), living arrangements, physical situation, economic standing and so on, affects the organisation of labour of the elders and their family, and further impacts their elderly care arrangements. And, concerned with the latter, it will also explore how understandings and appreciation of labour have influenced elderly labour and care. It develops according to historical time, starting with the collective era and proceeding to the reform era in which it compares elderly care arrangements of the current elderly ‘first unbound feet’ generation with that of the ‘older sisters’ group whom are about to enter old age.

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8.4 The Intergenerational Contract in the Collective Era Very little has been mentioned about elderly care in collective rural China. Besides the welfare mentioned above which was offered to those who were childless, most of the rural elders in the collective era relied on their married son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law for care. This generation of elderly peasants had been struggling at a subsistence level of life before the Land Reform in 1949, and then gave the land they had or got from the Land Reform back to the collective in 1956, when their children were about to establish their own home. Thus great property transfer to the young generation was normally not the case for most of them. This was echoed by my interviewees. Many of the women from the first generation in my sample recalled that they got nothing from household divisions from the family of their parents-inlaw, and some even had to save grain to buy a second-hand wok or borrowed a wok from their natal family for their new family. On the other hand, despite the scarcity of property transferred from the old to the young generation, the elderly could still get adequate respect and care. Many women I interviewed from the first generation lamented the fact that even if the living standards were much lower and the authority of the elders was suppressed during the communist campaign era (early 1950s to the late 1970s) their parents’ generation still received more care and respect from their family than they themselves do now. In terms of living arrangements, co-residence was much more prevalent. Although in Chap. 4, I mentioned that the period married son(s) lived in the big family began shortening as early as the collective era, co-residence happened again when their parents finished marrying all the children and became old. The old couple might live with different sons respectively or stay with different sons by turns. According to my interviewees, the incidence of empty-nest families was very rare, and all of them claimed that they provided proper physical care and material support for their parent(s)-in-law. One woman, Yuzhen, mentioned that her mother-in-law had a stroke in the 1970s, and Yuzhen was the one who fed, bathed her and put her on her back to move her in and out of the house for six years till her death. How could elderly care provided by the family be persistent in the collective era, despite the lack of property transferred from the old to young generation, and the breakdown of the elders’ authority? Besides the pressure from the collective to support the elders, I suggest that the organisation of labour within the household and the special collective labour system have a part in maintaining intergenerational contract. Under the collective labour system, most of the production and distribution was controlled by the collective/commune, leaving little flexibility for peasants. As what mentioned in Chap. 4, men normally focused on collective labour, while women with young children had to take on the ‘triple burden’ of collective labour, childcare and housework. Strict timetables in the collective always weighed women down with these tasks. Under these circumstances, co-residence was actually a win-win option: the young couple got help with childcare, housework and some farming activities from the elders, while the latter got proper care from the former. The quality of a working mother’s life depended, to a great extent, on the presence of elders. Those

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who had a mother-in-law helping with childcare, housework, and even a father-inlaw bringing more work points by attending cattle for the collective earned the most admiration. So normally the elders in the collective era could earn gratitude and fine treatments from their adult son(s) and especially daughter(s)-in-law. Yuzhen mentioned how much she appreciated her mother-in-law as she devoted herself to attending to Yuzhen’s children in the collective era. Besides, the number of adult son(s), I suggest, is a reason why the elders could help the young generation with all their heart. Due to the poor health conditions before 1949, the elders in the collective normally had only a couple of adult sons, or even less, which greatly decreased the possibilities of disputes caused by the issue of even treatment across the sons. This, we will see in the following section, is a big problem for the elders in the reform era.

8.5 ‘Most Unlucky Generation’: Labour, Gender and Elderly Care of the ‘First Unbound Feet’ Generation in the Reform Era From Dongying’s story told at the outset of this chapter, we can see the harmonious picture of intergenerational contract has changed: intergenerational contract between them and their adult son(s)’ family is not running smoothly; and with the rise of daughters’ care, the intergenerational contract takes on new forms. Actually her story is very representative of rural women at her age, that is, the ‘first unbound feet’ generation. They share the stories of the rebukes from adult son(s) or daughter(s)in-law, the accusations of ‘unfairness between sons’, the difficult choices of living on their own or with son(s)’ family, and the gratification with the concerns from daughter(s) or granddaughter(s). They have consistently claimed that they are the ‘most unlucky generation’ and that they do not expect a ‘happy ending’ in their lives. Their life situation reflects the elder care crisis in rural China in large part, was described by the media and some scholars. Why and how these changes have happened? As mentioned before, institutional and structural changes happening after the dismantling of the collective, such as the ending of collective welfare, cannot properly explain these changes. During my research, the young generation complained that the elders fail to do what they should do as an old parent, which is why, they claimed, the elders cannot get proper care from them, both physically and financially. Is it the case that the contributions of the elders are insufficient to keeping the intergenerational contract running smoothly like before? If not, what has caused the problem? This section aims to answer these questions. It starts by giving a brief picture of the elders’ current situation and the power relations between the old couple, followed by a description of the intergenerational exchange of labour, material goods and emotions, and ending with an analysis of the problem of reciprocity.

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8.5.1 Elderly Life, Gender and Power Relations What are the current elderly generation like when they are entering their old age? Have they prepared well for it? Actually a large number of adult children and the prevalence of the nuclear family of the young generation often make the current elderly generation end up with an unprepared, demanding old age. As mentioned before, due to the post-war baby boom and the absence of family planning policy in 1950s, this generation normally has much more children than any other generation, which often has two implications for their old age: firstly, they have used up all their savings, if any, to marry all their children and build house(s) for son(s), leaving them penniless; and secondly, they are at a relatively old age, normally in their late fifties or even early sixties, after all their children have set up their own family, which means they no longer represent strong labour power. But on the other hand, as mentioned in Chap. 5, with the coming of the de-collective era, young couples were eager to pursue the privacy, conjugal intimacy and prosperity of their nuclear family, which ended up with the rise of empty-nest conjugal families after the old couple finished marrying all children. Therefore, for the current aged generation, the contemporary usual arrangement is: the old couple divide from their youngest son’s household to live on their own, despite rare cases where the old couple is separated to stay with the family of different sons. Despite living independently, the tasks of elderly care when the old couple cannot take care of themselves have often been distributed among sons. Living independently will often continue until the death of one of the old couple. But many of them still insist on living on their own even after their spouse has passed away. There is a gender disparity here which will be discussed later. Among the 21 old women I met, 11 women, from 62 to 75 years old, are living with their husband on their own; 10 are widowed, among whom six, from 65 to 78 years old, are living on their own and the other four, from 70 to 78 years old, are staying with one of their sons’ family. For a widow, it is actually a difficult decision to make about living on her own or living with son(s)’ family. This can be seen in Dongying’s story. Living on her own means independence but will incur problems such as food production; living with son(s)’ family means working for them and will easily cause accusations of not working hard or working unfairly for each son. Either could put intergenerational contract into trouble, which will be talked about later. An independent household means most or even all requirements for ‘elderly care’ listed above, such as accommodation, food and so on, have to be met by the elders themselves. Let’s start with accommodation. They are lucky if they have an old house the family used to possess, or a backroom in certain son’s house to live in. But not everybody is so lucky. Many of the old couples built a couple of houses for their sons, but have no a single room of their own to stay in the end. Aiying and her husband moved to a cattle shed when they started living independently. Several months later, the cattle shed collapsed and hit her husband’s head. They had no choice but borrowed 2000 yuan from their youngest daughter to build a new house. Later they saved some money from farming and raising calf to repay their daughter.

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As for food, they can normally get some grain from their sons to live on during the first year of the division, after that, like other rural households, they have to come up with their own food and money for everyday use. The main sources for their living expenses are as follows: firstly and mainly, farming. As mentioned before, the land contracted out to individual households would remain unchanged for 15–30 years, regardless of the expansion or shrinkage of the family size. This means the same amount of land will be shared among all married sons, thus each household can only get a limited amount of farmland and would only like to give up a little to their old parents. Apart from the little patch they get from sons, opening up wasteland is the most common way for old couples to increase income. Small patches in front of or behind the house, ridges of fields or rivers, anywhere that is unexploited and does not belong to certain people or would not hamper public use could be opened up. Gleaning in each harvest season also makes an important chance for the old couple, especially old women, to increase their income. Besides farming and gleaning, the elders build up small sidelines during slow seasons to make money, for example, weaving bamboo baskets, making bamboo brooms or producing wooden chairs to sell to people in the county town. These are normally done by the old men. In order to survive, they often make use of every possible means. For example, Taoying and her husband trawled for prawns in a brook in front of her house to sell, and used the money from that to survive the first period of time after they started living independently. In addition, collecting scraps constitutes a big source of income for some old couples. Before 1996, some of the elderly, especially old women, walked around the villages and the town to collect such scraps as waste paper, cartons or scraps of iron to sell. Since 1996, when an open field in Lianhe Village became a main dump for the garbage from the county town, hunting for treasure in this garbage dump has become a formal occupation for many able-bodied elderly. Wuzhen, a former cadre in charge of women’s issue, was 64 years old when I met her in 2006 and earned a living for herself and her husband on the dump. She proudly claimed that ‘I am not short of cash!’ when I asked her if her sons paid medical expenses for her and her husband. Another couple in Lianhe, Xinchun and Jinhan, both in their late 60s, was said to have become rich because of their hard work in the dump. Jinhan was even using a mobile when I saw him in 2005, which was very rare among rural elders. But they isolate themselves from their family and the fellow villagers, as trawling around in the garbage dump has made them and their home stink. As a result, nobody is willing to get close to them. The conventional labour division across gender, in which men focus on strong physical labour activities while women are responsible for household chores and time-consuming activities requiring lots of bending and squatting, have favoured women over men during their late life. This echoes Krekula’s criticism that in the social gerontological field, older women have mainly been studied from a misery perspective (2007). In most empty-nest families, where there is very limited land, the husband’s role in bringing in income has decreased to a small one. Among the labour activities we have mentioned above, that is, farming, gleaning, scrap collection, and small sidelines, women have an important role in all of them; while

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men have some participation in only the first and the final ones. Besides, women continue to take on their role of doing housework into their late life, which often makes a man unable to survive without a woman; while a woman could survive without a man. In other words, the consistency/inconsistency of the respective roles of old women and men in labour has favoured the former over the latter. This perfectly explains old women’s roughness toward their husbands that I have spotted on several occasions. Wuzhen, the scrap collector mentioned above, proudly claimed that she was the main breadwinner of her empty-nest family, and from time to time chided her husband who was levelling the sidesteps at the entrance of their home when I was interviewing her. And between the scrap collectors couple mentioned above, the wife Xinchun also seems to be dominant. She was caught several times blaming Jinhan, her husband, for not working hard enough. That also unravels a puzzle I perceived in Lianhe Village: among widowed elders, I found women but not a single man who lived on their own. Six widowed old women live independently among the 10 widowed interviewees from the first generation. What they do for a living is usually not any different from those who still have their husbands. They farm, glean and collect scraps. But they have a problem with farming: tasks which are normally allocated to men, such as ploughing and harrowing etc., will not be completed if they do not turn to their son(s) or son(s)-in-law for help, which impairs their independence and involves more exchange between themselves and their adult children. More details will be given in the next sub-section.

8.5.2 What Have the Elders Been Doing for Their Adult Children? From what we have seen, it would be unfair to say that the current rural elders have failed to do what they should have been doing as elderly parents. Compared to the elders in the collective era, they transferred more to their adult son(s), and what they saved during the reform era, if any, has been used to marry their children and build houses for them. And after this, they then take on the responsibility of supporting themselves which is supposed to be the married son(s)’ job. Besides, they also help their adult son(s)’ family even if they live independently. Most elderly parents help their adult son(s) in two ways: they work for their family or they take on what is supposed to be done by their adult son(s) to lift their burden. What they do, to a great extent, depends on their health. For those who are still able to do farming, even if they are living on their own, they are expected to give their son(s) a hand in farming. Those who are physically unable to do farming, if they live independently, are still expected to help them out at least during the busy seasons with other work, for example, cooking or feeding cattle. When the son(s)’ family are out, the elders are supposed to keep an eye on their property, collect clothes or crops from outside when it is about to rain, or house-sit for them when they are out overnight. For those living with a son’s family, whether it’s during busy seasons

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or not, they are expected to do the housework and feed cattle, as long as they are physically capable of doing so. In Lianhe, I saw old women in their eighties attending cattle. Minding grandchildren is another task which is expected of elders. Whatever they do, they are expected to free their adult children from auxiliary work and let them concentrate on more cash-generating work. Many elderly parents have arranged their funeral affairs themselves, with the hope of lightening their adult children’s burden, because the funeral, coffin and shroud are deemed to be the son(s)’ obligation. Dongying spent over one hundred yuan on her shroud. Her oldest son was a carpenter, and she paid him one hundred yuan to make a coffin for her.

8.5.3 What Have Adult Children Been Doing for Their Old Parents’ Elderly Care? From the above, we can see that for most of their late life, the elderly in Lianhe Village have been self-dependent, or relied on their couple rather than their adult children. Under few circumstances adult son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law would offer help. Normally, son(s) supply their parent(s) who live independently with grain only when they are not capable to farm, which is usually the case only when their parents are in their late sixties or even early seventies (assuming they do not get seriously ill before that). Besides rice, they may provide some vegetable oil and vegetables as well. For those widowed old men who are living with their son(s)’ family, they may have meals with them which are often cooked by their daughter(s)-in-law. Very few son(s) or daughter(s)-in-law will give money to the elders. In a couple of cases, big amounts of medical expenses of aged parent(s) are shared equally among brothers; while for most purposes, small amounts are paid by the elders themselves. Occasional labour, especially farming, is what son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law are expected to provide, but in most cases it is offered with great reluctance. The elders I met in Lianhe Village shared the opinion that ‘land is more reliable than son(s)’ and ‘land is my son(s)’. According to Deying, ‘As long as you plant the land, you can get food from it on which you could survive, despite a poor quality life. But you can expect nothing from son(s).’ That is why almost every rural elder would like to keep some land for their old age. But most son(s) would rather supply grain to their old parents than let them have farmland, since as time goes by, the elders get older and weaker and sometime will turn to them for help with farming. When I was in Lianhe Village, a couple of widowed women were struggling with this dilemma: on the one hand, they did not want to give up their ‘son’ (farmland) as their income and independence were associated with it; on the other hand, they were too old to farm independently, thus they had to ask for help from their adult children. In November, 2005, Hanying managed to plant rape on her about one mu plot after she begged her oldest son to plough and harrow it, then her daughter(s)-in-law and daughters to plant it. She provided them with very good food that day. Another woman Deying did not

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manage to get help from her sons with ploughing and harrowing, thus she hired a fellow villager who was managing a cultivating business to do it for her. Neither of them knew how much longer they could continue with farming for themselves. Little material support could be expected from son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law, and nearly no physical care at all from them could be seen. Many elders said they did not expect any proper care if they are ill or bedridden. Dongying predicted that ‘nobody will attend us elders if we are bedridden. If you have a look at Linxiu,1 she is even younger than me. When she was ill in bed at the final stage of her life, she said ‘I’m thirsty. I want some water.’ Her three sons just ignored her request. My sons will definitely be the same.’ Some elders even mentioned pesticide, rope and knives as means to commit suicide as a last resort. In Lianhe Village, the level of ‘elderly care’ has been lowered to a point that son(s) supply a limited amount of grain for them to survive and then bury them after they are dead. Even burying their dead parent(s) will not cost them much as the funeral expenses will at least be partly covered by the gift money brought by their relatives and friends. Reports about poor elderly care from other parts of rural China are also appalling, for example, in rural north China (see Guo 2001), and rural northeast China (see Yan 2003). In line with Guo’s and Yan’s findings (Guo 2001; Yan 2003), I have found that daughter(s) play an even bigger part in old parents’ care, especially at an emotional level in Lianhe. They visit their old parents regularly. If they cannot pay visits very often, their parents’ birthday and big festivals, such as the Dragon Boat Festival, Mid Autumn Festival and Chinese New Year are a must for them to visit. At the material level, grain is the son(s)’s responsibility, but daughter(s) seem to provide more cash. Almost all the elders I met in Lianhe reported pocket money from adult daughters. In Chap. 4, I mentioned how Hanying strived to pave the way for her oldest son’s social advancement while neglecting her oldest daughter. But now, when Hanying is in her seventies, her oldest son, retired from the position of deputy party secretary of Lianhe, has never said a good word to her; while her oldest daughter, forced by Hanying to marry a guy she did not like at all, regularly gives her pocket money and presents. Clothes are normally provided by adult daughters too. Adult granddaughters also constitute an important force to supply the elders with pocket money and other necessities. Here is another ironic example: Gezhen preferred grandson(s) to granddaughter(s) thus she treated the former much better than the latter when they were little. But now her oldest grandson, who is 23, spends most of his time with his girlfriend and thus is not around that much, let alone visiting with gifts. Her youngest grandson, who is 15, even asks her for pocket money. Her two granddaughters who were treated badly by Gezhen when they were little, still come back to visit her from the township where they are working, bringing clothes and snacks for her. Adult daughters are also very willing to offer their labour. For those elders who are still farming, adult daughters and son(s)-in-law supply the main source of help. As mentioned above, Hanying’s sons are very reluctant to offer their help with farming, but every time her three daughters will take the initiative and ask if she needs their help. Daughters also take on some care roles especially physical care which 1 Linxiu,

an old woman in Lianhe Village, passed away before I did my fieldwork.

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used to be fulfilled by daughters-in-law. For example, above I mentioned a woman Yuzhen who took care of her sick mother-in-law for six years in the 1970s, feeding, bathing and carrying her. This seems impossible in contemporary Lianhe Village. In the winter of 2005, an old widower who was living with his second son’s family in the village fell off on the muddy floor and made himself dirty all over. None of his three daughters-in-law touched his dirty clothes and they were not washed until some days later when his oldest daughter came over to visit him and washed his clothes. His bed sheet and duvet cover were also regularly washed by his daughters. But that’s it. Daughters can offer no more. In terms of cash, it is often pocket money which is normally about 20 or at most 50 yuan. As for physical care, it depends on how far they are living and how often they can pay a visit. For most purposes, they cannot fulfil these very often. What most differentiates daughters from sons in terms of elderly care for their aged parents is the former offer more respect and emotional support while the latter do not. Compared to the requirements of a proper elderly care (proper accommodation, food, clothes, medical expenses, physical and emotional care etc.), daughters’ practical contribution is still limited and more or less on a complementary basis. Daily care of elders is still expected to be fulfilled by son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law. But from the stories and the analysis about ‘what adult son(s) have done for their aged parents’ done above, we can see what offered by son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law is extremely limited. Despite with daughters’ help, the lives of the current elders in Lianhe Village are in want. Almost all of the old women I met in the village claimed they were just scratching along, and the notion of ‘a happy old age life’ does not apply at all.

8.5.4 Development of the Rural Elder Care Crisis in the Reform Era From the description above, we can perceive a changing intergenerational contract structure compared to the collective era. Daughters emerge as a provider of part of elderly care, but expect nothing from their aged parents. Rural elders have tried their best to help their adult son(s): they not only do all that is possible to attend to themselves despite this being deemed as their adult son(s)’ obligation, but they try their best to lighten the burdens of the latter. In the end, however, what offered by sons and daughters-in-law for their elderly care is severely deficient. The intergenerational contract is not running smoothly. Furthermore, resentments toward current old parents are common among adult son(s) and/or daughter(s)-in-law. Like the young generation in Xiajia Village, northeast China, adult son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law in Lianhe Village do not question the moral legitimacy of supporting the elder at all (Yan 2003: 175), but they claim that their own elderly parents have done something awful which makes them undeserving of a comforting old age care. The main accusations made against the elders are as follows: firstly, in the past, the parents did not do enough in their children’s

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interest. As mentioned above, due to both collectivisation and the large number of adult children, the current elders could normally just afford a humble wedding for each of them. It is common for their married son(s), and daughter(s)-in-law even more so, to point the finger at them for having ‘done nothing for our wedding’. In other words, the young generation is predominantly unsatisfied with the property transferred from the old generation, on the basis of which they have built their new home. Some other issues, for example, the elders did not make as much effort attending to their grandchildren as the young generation wished them to, could be another excuse for the poor old age care the parents receive. I met a woman in Lianhe who was quite happy with her mother-in-law’s death, as the latter refused to attend to her older daughter when she and her husband were travelling around seeking a doctor for her sick younger daughter in the late 1970s. Her younger daughter died in the end which ignited her hatred of her mother-in-law, a hatred that was carried for nearly 30 years. The feelings of dissatisfaction accumulated from the past become a source of tension between the two generations. Another accusation made by the young generation to explain their anger at their elders is that they do not work hard for their interest now. In Dongying’s story, we can see again and again her daughters-in-law complaining about this. Dongying showed her exacerbation: ‘I cooked for them, washed clothes for them, and unshelled cottons for her as soon as she brought it back. The other day, I even prepared lunch for them before I went to my daughter’s for lunch, but she still said I had done nothing for them, and that I was a freeloader.’ E. Croll suggests that under the renegotiated family contract, old generations normally adopt these three strategies to keep intergenerational contract running: to intensify investment in young children; to lengthen investment to adult children and to spread investment to both daughters and sons (Croll 2006: 479), hoping this will incur long-term gratitude and support from their adult children in their old age. But it is too late for current rural Chinese elders to adopt these strategies or these are just beyond what they could afford. Intergenerational disputes often arise out of different life habits and/or ideas. Hanying cooks for herself but lives in one room in her youngest son’s house. Her daughter-in-law often complains that she is dirty, she likes collecting scraps back home, and she never opens her window which has caused a disgusting smell and so on. In Dongying’s story, she suggested more strict discipline for her grandson which annoyed her daughter-in-law and in the end triggered her departure from their home. This unsmooth intergenerational contract may have resulted from the intersection of historical time and individual life cycle. Firstly, the 1990s and early 2000s, the period during which this cohort entered old age, are considered difficult times for the rural population in China after the opening-up and reform in the late 1970s. Since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, a series of policies have been implemented to exploit the agricultural sector and accelerate industrialisation. For instance, the price scissors policy distorted the price structure in favour of the urban sector, and the industrial sector had largely drawn its resources from agricultural surplus through this law (Knight 1995: 117). The tax apportionment reform, which favoured central finance, also increased the proportion of miscellaneous fees on top of regular agricultural taxes, thereby increasing the financial burden of peasant

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households nationwide. These policies made farming an unprofitable occupation (Zhou 2006: 7). In terms of public production, the input of the central government significantly favoured the urban residents, whilst the peasants were left to pay for their own medical treatment, education, elderly care and housing, amongst others. As a result, education and medical treatment in contemporary China are considered two main factors that perpetuate the poverty of peasants (Sun 2007: 98–100). This situation did not change until 2006, when the Chinese government announced that they would stop collecting agricultural taxes from 1 January 2006. In 2005, the government also promised to foot the bill for compulsory education in rural areas in the next five years to ensure that each rural child would have free nine years of education. These historical changes, which intersect with the demographic features of the ‘first unbound feet generation’, have placed them in a difficult situation upon entering old age. Firstly, as mentioned earlier, this group spent a large portion of the prime of their lives during the collective era, which left them with limited personal property and more than one son. This situation left them yearning for property that they could keep in their old age and transfer to each of their sons. During my research, I frequently encountered complaints from the adult sons and daughters-inlaw, accusing the elderly of ‘failing to keep fairness amongst their sons’. However, ‘fairness’ is a highly subjective concept that has elicited differing opinions from various generations, leading in some cases to falling out among family members. Although the government started developing the new rural social pension insurance system in 2009, such a system was considered expensive and uncertain with few benefits (Jacka 2014: 196). Most importantly, this group only enjoyed the benefits of this system some time after they enter old age. Secondly, the aforementioned pre-2006 economic and social policies have also compelled the adult children of the ‘first unbound feet generation’ to endure tremendous economic constraints. Although non-farming jobs could give them with a higher income, only some of these adult children with skills or networks migrated to the cities for better income-generating opportunities. The average annual net income of the peasants in Lianhe in 2005 was below 4000 RMB. Therefore, these adults could hardly make ends meet, struggling to simultaneously send their children to school and care for the elderly. For this reason, the elderly from this cohort preferred to live independently and felt compelled to assist their children with their families. The aforementioned new tax and education policies implemented in 2006 is an improvement for rural peasants, but they must still pay for other fees beyond the nine-year compulsory education; in particular, the continually increasing expenses for college are still considered a huge burden for many peasant households. Under these constraints, adults tend to consider elderly parents as potential competitors for resources vis-àvis their grandchildren. The assistance that elderly parents provide to the families of their adult children is also considered insignificant under poor economic conditions and is therefore unappreciated. In other words, the contributions of the rural elderly are severely undervalued. Finally, the transforming labour systems have changed the reference point for the peasants to assess the weight of certain labour activities, which also contributes to

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the devaluation of the labour of the ‘first unbound feet generation’. In other words, the transformation from the collective economy to a market economy has caused the under-devaluation of the rural elders’ contributions by their son(s)’ family in the reform era, even though the elders in the two periods did the similar labour activities, with those in the reform era even contributing more. As mentioned before, in the collective era, the lack of flexibility in labour and the special distribution system secured the smooth running of intergenerational contract. In the reform era, however, the attainment of flexibility has made the tasks of the young generation, especially daughters-in-law, less demanding, which in turn makes the elders’ help not so significant and less visible. Besides, the coming of the market economy, the relaxation of rural-urban mobility restrictions and the popularization of TV have made it much easier for the rural population, especially the young generation, to see the huge ruralurban gap, and this has made them have fervent aspirations to improve their situation. Earning more money, attaining an urban hukou and achieving upward social mobility have become the main goals of the whole rural population. In this context, what the elders have done for the young generation become nothing compared to the ambitions of the latter. Therefore, the elders’ hard work and consideration have not earned them appreciation or gratitude but resentments from their son(s) and daughter(s)-in-law, as the obligation of attending to them in their old age is seen as a burden in their desperate struggle for a better life. The elderly has become a stumbling block. However, these issues do not apply to daughters and granddaughters due to the intersection of patriliny and female empowerment. Firstly, apart from the dowry, patriliny denies daughters and granddaughters the right to obtain property from their natal families even though their entitlements have been affirmed by law. As a result, a woman mainly relies on the family of her husband for material support when building their new home after marriage. Daughters have never expected much from their own parents, whilst sons (and daughters-in-law) are constantly expecting something from them. Thus, unlike sons, daughters are generally not resentful of their own parents even if they fail to meet their needs. Secondly, patrilocality actually preserves the affection of daughters towards their parents because the disputes resulting from intergenerational differences frequently occur in situations of coresidence or where family members are living nearby. Finally, the empowerment of wives in the nuclear family allows daughters to support their own elderly parents materially and emotionally (Yan 2003: 162–89). To conclude, this part unravels the complexity of the elderly care crisis in contemporary rural China. It suggests that, for the first generation, the intergenerational contract has not been running smoothly, and it has taken on new forms. The changes are due to the transformation of the labour system, the rise of the young generation’s pursuit of privacy and conjugal intimacy, the larger number of adult sons and their different understanding and appreciation of their elderly parents’ contributions in the context of a market economy and an increasing rural-urban gap. Daughters have an increasing role in their elderly parents’ care, due to the intersection of patriliny and the rise of women’s power in the nuclear family. Old rural women normally have an advantageous position over old men in the household due to their respective labour roles.

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8.6 Intergenerational Contract in the Cooperative Family But is the elderly care crisis the case for the ‘older sisters’ group who have just entered old age? Would their different demographic and socio-economic settings, such as much less children, save them from this crisis? More importantly, as mentioned in Chap. 6, unlike the elders from the ‘first unbound feet generation’ who are inclined to choose live independently after all children get married, those from the ‘older sisters’ group are often live with their married child in a cooperative family. How will this affect their elderly care arrangement? This section will answer these questions. It suggests that new intergenerational contract mechanism has emerged between the ‘older sisters’ group and their adult children, due to different effects both at a structural level and an individual level. And the intergenerational contract becomes smoother, compared to the ‘first unbound feet generation’. Firstly, at the social policy level, economic constraints were greatly reduced after the abolition of agricultural taxes and the waiving of the ‘nine-year compulsory education fees’ in 2006, several years before they entered old age. They can also enjoy the benefits of the pension scheme upon entering old age. Despite problems, it is better than nothing. Secondly, at the individual level, several factors have affected their intergenerational contract. As mentioned above, Croll (2006) suggests three parental investment strategies: to intensify investment in young children; to lengthen investment to adult children and to spread investment to both daughters and sons. All these actually are applicable to the ‘older sisters’ group, and therefore guarantee them relatively promising long-term gratitude and support from their adult children in their old age. Firstly, they have spent most of their prime years during the de-collective era when accumulation of personal fortune becomes possible. That means ‘to intensify investment in young children’ is feasible for them. Actually, this is what they have been doing for their young children, if we look back at Chap. 6, we can find how they have been striving for their young children’s education and marriage. More money could also be spent on the wedding and housing for their children, which will perhaps make the accusation of ‘not working hard for us in the past’ less possible or likely. Secondly, they are still young. Their smaller number of children means that most of them are still only in their late or even mid forties by the time all their children have gotten married. As a result, they have a much longer time than the ‘first unbound feet generation’ during which they are in good health and able to work. That makes ‘to lengthen investment to adult children’ possible. Mentioned above, the intergenerational division of labour at the cooperative family is benefiting the family economy. The old generation engage in farming farmland and/or nonfarming activities, attending to chores and care work; while the young generation focus on non-farming jobs, which can bring more income for the family. Therefore, with at least one source of non-farming income, in general, the economic situation of ‘older sisters’ group’s adult children is better than that of the adult children of ‘the first unbound generation’. This finding is evident by the fact that the average annual net income of peasants in Lianhe reached over 10,000 RMB in 2013, much more

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than 4000 RMB in 2005. The elderly from the cooperative family are not considered potential competitors of their grandchildren for resources, but are rather treated as important contributors to the family in terms of both labour and income. More importantly, in the context of the cooperative family and the labour migration of the young generation, the contribution of the older generation is highly visible and easy for their adult children to perceive and appreciate. Finally, they have fewer children due to the family planning policy, which means they can invest more to their sons and/or daughters, and the number of children sharing the responsibility of caring for them in their old age is smaller. Often, a couple have only one son or daughter to rely on for their elderly care, which makes the possibility of them being accused of ‘unfairness’ much lower, if not none-existent. In other words, intergenerational contract of the ‘older sisters’ group and their adult children has been resumed and strengthened in the new context. Compared with the elderly from the ‘first unbound feet generation’, who toiled for every penny to make ends meet and reduce the financial burden of their adult children, those from the ‘older sisters’ group either keep a minor account for their own personal consumption or own a budget account that is comparable to that of their adult children. In this sense, I share a certain degree of optimism with some scholars who believe that this prolonged life of labour can grant the elders from the ‘older sisters’ group a certain amount of savings even after their children get married and live better, independent lives in their old age (Yan 2003: 187–189). However, based on my observations in Lianhe, I believe that such optimism is better founded on the smooth running of intergenerational contract rather than by the independence and savings of parents. Reality is also made more complex by the gender division between wives and husbands in terms of their old age arrangements. Interestingly, an even stronger gender difference can be observed between the wives and husbands in this group. Wives usually have more say than their husbands in a cooperative family, which is actually headed by their adult children. The wives look after their family, especially their grandchildren, and perform farming and occasionally non-farming jobs to contribute to the family income. Although husbands work as well, their cash contribution is not necessarily higher than that of their wives, in addition to the fact that the former does not do chores. The habits of men (e.g., smoking and drinking) also render them more likely to be seen as consumers rather than producers. They also step down from their roles as household heads or at least co-heads at a relatively young age. This phenomenon increases their likelihood to complain, which may add to these men becoming the subjects of their sons and/or daughters-in-law’s aversion. It also explains why many husbands in this cohort wish to distance themselves from the family of their adult children, whilst their wives do not share the same sentiment. The latter prefers to manage their relationships with the family of their adult children through their own labour, thereby enjoying superiority over their husbands. But just like the elders from the ‘first unbound feet generation’, ‘a pair of hardworking hands’ and ‘a quiet mouth’ are still necessary for the women from the ‘older sisters’ group to keep intergenerational contract running smoothly. The intersection of historical time and their life cycle has put them in a better situation than the former, but if they fail to fulfil the strategies mentioned above and to maintain a

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smooth intergenerational contract by hard working, they are still in danger of losing proper elderly care, as the institution that aged parents rely on adult sons when they cannot look after themselves remains intact.

8.7 Conclusion To sum up, through the examination of the organisation of three generation of old people’s labour and the questions of ‘what labour activities’ and ‘for whom’, this chapter looks into the changing intergenerational contract mechanisms in rural China since the early twentieth century, and the different elderly care arrangements at different historical eras. As for the debates between ‘modernisation and ageing thesis’ and its counterargument mentioned before, and the question of ‘where can the case of contemporary rural China be positioned in this spectrum’, any simple answer of yes or no will neglect the complicity and variations in the Chinese case. This chapter suggests that, the complicity and variations have been caused by the intersection of historical time (factors at the structural level) and individual life cycle (factors at the individual level). Broader socio-economic contexts, particularly the implementation of policies that have significantly affected the lives of the Chinese rural population (i.e., the collection or waiving of agricultural taxes and educational fees, the implementation of family planning policies and the construction of the pension scheme in rural China), have intersected with individual demographic features, such as family structure, number of adult children (especially sons), living arrangement, physical situation, economic standing and appreciation of labour activities. This intersection has further widened the disparity between different cohorts and genders in terms of their modalities of elderly care arrangement. This research challenges the ‘modernisation and ageing thesis’, which posits the erosion of intergenerational contracts and treats the rural elderly as a homogeneous group of ‘care objects’. The comparison in this research reveals that several factors, such as rural–urban migration and decline in fertility, which the ‘modernisation and ageing thesis’ blames for the deterioration of intergenerational contracts, have actually reinforced the contracts between the elderly from the ‘older sisters’ group and the family of their adult children. It particularly emphasizes the role of different labour systems and people’s appreciation of labour done in these labour systems. This again demonstrates the importance of people’s understanding and perception in labour organisation, which has not received enough attention in the TSOL model. In the collective era, the collective labour system had made the elders’ contribution more visible and incurred gratitude from the adult children and secured the smooth running of intergenerational contract. In the reform era, factors including the transformation of the labour system, the rise of the young generation’s pursuit of privacy and conjugal intimacy, the relatively larger number of adult son(s), their understanding and appreciation of their parents’ contributions under a disparate context of marketing economy and an increasing rural-urban gap, have contributed to the elder care crisis of the ‘first unbound feet

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generation’. For those from the ‘older sisters’ group, the intergenerational contract has been resumed and strengthened by their parental investments which become possible under the circumstances of their relatively younger age, a smaller number of adult children and rural-to-urban labour migration. This research also considers the social construction of the ‘agency’ of the rural elderly, particular that of elderly women. The rural elderly in Lianhe are active, able workers whose efforts lead to the renegotiation and reinterpretation of a new reciprocal cycle of care between generations. Women significantly contribute to their own families and/or those of their adult children. Many rural old women gain self-esteem, respect and bargaining power within their family due to their hard work. They usually have more say, even over older men, in households because of their contributions to the family. Simultaneously, older rural men, especially those who are physically weak, are relatively marginalised compared with their female counterparts.

References Anríquez, G., & Stloukal, L. (2008). Rural population change in developing countries: Lessons for policymaking. European View, 7(2), 309–317. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12290-008-0045-7 Arber, S., Andersson, L., & Hoff, A. (2007). Changing approaches to gender and ageing: Introduction. Current Sociology, 55(2), 147–153. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392107073298 Cai, F., Giles, J., O’Keefe, P., & Wang, D. (2012). The elderly and old age support in rural China: Challenges and prospects. Washington, DC: The World Bank. Cong, Z., & Silverstein, M. (2014). Parents’ preferred care-givers in rural China: Gender, migration and intergenerational exchanges. Ageing and Society, 34(5), 727–752. Croll, E. (2006). The intergenerational contract in the changing Asian family. Oxford Development Studies, 34(4), 473–491. https://doi.org/10.1080/13600810601045833 Dixon, J. (1982). The community-based rural welfare system in the People’s Republic of China: 1949–1979. Community Development Journal, 17(1), 2–12. Glucksmann, M. (2006). Developing an economic sociology of care and rights. In L. Morris (Ed.), Rights: Sociological perspectives (pp. 55–71). London: Routledge. Guo, M., Chi, I., & Silverstein, M. (2011). Family as a context: The influence of family composition and family geographic dispersion on intergenerational relationships among Chinese elderly. International Journal of Social Welfare, 20(1), S18–S29. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-2397. 2011.00793.x Guo, Y. (2001). Daiji Guanxi zhong de Gongping Luoji jiqi Bianqian—dui Hebei Nongcun Yanglao Moshi de Fenxi (The logic of fairness in the intergenerational relation and its transition—An analysis on the elderly care patterns in rural Hebei Province. Zhongguo Xueshu (Chinese Scholarship), 8(4), 221–254. Jacka, T. (2014). Left-behind and vulnerable? Conceptualising development and older women’s agency in rural China. Asian Studies Review, 38(2), 186–204. https://doi.org/10.1080/10357823. 2014.891566 Joseph, A. E., & Phillips, D. R. (1999). Ageing in rural China: Impacts of increasing diversity in family and community resources. Journal of Cross-Cultural Gerontology, 14(2), 153–168. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1006658706496 Knight, J. (1995). Price scissors and intersectoral resource transfers: Who paid for industrialization in China? Oxford Economic Papers, 47(1), 117–135. Krekula, C. (2007). The intersection of age and gender: Reworking gender theory and social gerontology. Current Sociology, 55(2), 155–171.

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Chapter 9

Labour, Leisure, Gender and Generation: The Organisation of ‘Wan’ and the Notion of ‘Gender Equality’ in Lianhe

Abstract This chapter turns to the subject of leisure in the reform era. It investigates the changing relationship between labour and leisure, extra spare time current Chinese peasants have gained in the reform era, and how family structure/composition and understandings of leisure have shaped different leisure experiences across gender and age. It also examines different power relations across gender and generation in relation to the distribution of time and money used for leisure, the transformation of self-identity of different generations of women, and the understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality both by men and women.

This Chapter focuses on the organisation of leisure in Lianhe Village since the reform era. A holistic perspective to examine the distribution of the rural women’s time and energy, that is, the exploration of ‘what does each woman do, for whom and why’ enables this research to notice the changing relation between labour and leisure from the pre-collective era, to the collective era and finally to the reform era. Through the TSOL model which disrupts the labour and leisure, work and non-work divisions, this research realizes that starting in the reform era, a serial of structural and technological changes have resulted in increasing amount of spare time, as the leftover time from labour, for leisure. The economic reform also has brought more spare money for leisure. With much more time and energy of the rural people’s used for leisure and the emergence or re-emergence of special leisure activities in the reform era such as TV, mahjong and cards, leisure, after labour, has become a rising locus where the dynamics of power relations across gender and age within rural households can be observed. This chapter aims to reveal the changing relationship between labour and leisure, and look into how the spare time and money have been differently understood and experienced across gender and age in the village. It is also its purpose to reveal the power relations regarding leisure organisation between different family members, especially between husband and wife; and to look into different generations of women’s disparate self-identity, and both men’s and women’s understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality. It starts with an examination on the changing relationship between labour and leisure from the pre-reform era to the reform era, followed by previous research on rural women’s © East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_9

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leisure. It then moves on to the empirical data in Lianhe Village about how spare time and money are distributed across gender and generation, and the power relations involved. Finally, it focuses on these women’s changing self-identity observed through the lens of husband-wife relation regarding leisure resources distribution, and the understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality by both men and women.

9.1 Changing Relationship Between Labour and Leisure In the previous chapters on the pre-collective era and the collective era, the subject of ‘leisure’ has only been mentioned occasionally. That is because during those two periods, on the one hand, the women interviewed didn’t have much spare time for leisure. On the other hand, there was no neat division between labour time and leisure time, therefore, for most purposes, leisure was integrated into labour processes. As mentioned in Chap. 3, in the pre-collective era, enjoying self-created games and having special leisure activities were only available for little girls who were not old enough to help the adults with working. Most of the girls could only chat with other girls while they were labouring together, for example, collecting wild vegetables for hogs together. During the collective era, on the one hand, leftover time from labour was extremely limited; on the other hand, much non-working time was also collectivised for political meetings. For the young people grown up in the collective era, political propaganda activities such as revolutionary dance mentioned in Chap. 5 could be a source of fun, but not a form of leisure. Besides, special leisure activities available in the pre-collective era such as mahjong or cards were not allowed any longer. That was why young girls could only slope away from farmlands to play cards secretly, as told in Chap. 5. The villagers in Lianhe Village have their own term ‘wan’ which is similar in meaning to ‘leisure’ in English, but with broader connotation. For most purpose, ‘wan’ is a verb. It could mean ‘play’ (mahjong or card), usually related to spending time and money; it also refers to ‘resting’ or ‘being served’ when they are visiting relatives’ or friends’. In this sense, in both pre-collective and collective era, ‘wan’ more meant ‘resting’ which was closely incorporated into labour process or ‘being served’. Having plenty of spare time available for ‘wan’ (in a sense of ‘playing’) did not appear until the reform era, due to socio-economic and demographic transformations and technological improvements. Hanying, a women from the first generation, often sighs with emotion about ‘How happily the people of nowadays are playing!’ ‘The people of nowadays’ refers to the younger generations, men or women. She predicts that ‘they are going to live several decades longer than our generation’, since besides better food and medical conditions, they do not have to spend so much time labouring and have more time to relax. It is widely accepted among peasants in Lianhe Village that they have much more leisure time nowadays. The reason why villagers in Lianhe can enjoy much more leisure time nowadays lies in the fact that much less labour time is required currently than the pre-reform

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eras, especially compared to the collective era when labour was strictly organised. Flexibility after the dismantling of the collective in the early 1980s is one of the reasons, but many more could be identified. Firstly, as mentioned before, less farming land is available due to the growing population and the increasing demand of land for industrial use. Besides, the adoption of such agricultural techniques as the use of pesticide and herbicide, and the mechanisation of sowing and harvesting has saved peasants’ time. Before the introduction of herbicide, the removal of wild grass could last for the whole time between sowing and the reaping, around five months. With the adoption of herbicide this period of time is now much less demanding. What is notable is that most of this job is done by women and therefore herbicide has saved rural women plenty of time. Another new technique which has been widely adopted in Lianhe Village recently is ‘rice seedlings casting’ skill, making one of the two traditional busy seasons much less labour intensive and time-consuming. Traditionally, the procedures of transplanting rice involved sowing seeds into a paddy, uprooting the seedlings and putting several of them into a bundle, carrying the bundles to a paddy field, and transplanting them. With the new technology, the procedure of ‘bundling’ is left out. The seeds are sown in the soil on a plastic disk. When the seedlings are ready, peasants carry the disks to the paddy field, and directly cast the seedlings into the field, no planting. Besides, peasants are normally not as committed in their farming as before, as they benefit less and less from it. A woman named Suoxiu mentioned that people took it easy now. For example, unlike 15–20 years ago, now they just leave the weeds in the rape field untouched. Besides the adoption of herbicide, more institutional changes have been favouring rural women. Firstly, housework and childcare have been much less demanding because of the smaller size of family resulting from the family planning policy and the prevalence of nuclear family. Both have spared rural women and given them more free time. Importantly, rural women also benefit from the changes/improvements of home appliances. For example, the prevalence of the nuclear family makes the adoption of a coal stove possible, as it is suitable for cooking for three to four people, in contrast to the traditional firewood hearth which usually needs two people and a large amount of firewood. The latter is left for special occasions, for example, when a large group of guests are visiting. This change not only saves on labour force, but also saves time which would have been spent in collecting firewood. With gas jars available in recent years, many families have started burning gas. But because gas is more expensive than coal, many families only use gas during the busy months when planting and/or harvesting are happening, since using gas saves time. A new change taking place several years ago in Lianhe Village, was the popularization of wells dug near homes by hired machines rather than natural ponds which supply water for cattle and irrigation as well. This again greatly reduces time spent fetching water. Even though running water was available in Lianhe in 2000, villagers still heavily relied on these wells as the water from there was free. Other electrical appliances, such as rice cookers, washing machines (although not adopted widely) and so on also help to save time. Finally, commercialisation has freed rural women from making clothes, socks, and shoes at home, again saving them a lot of time.

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It is hard to put an exact number on the amount of time current peasants, especially women, have saved. But at least the traditional image of the petty peasant economy in the pre-1956 era and in the collective economy that ‘to start labouring at sunrise and not stop until the sunset’ (Richu er zuo, riluo er xi) does not apply any longer. During my stay at Lianhe Village, from early October, 2005 when harvest had just finished to early May, 2006 when sowing started, for only about one week in the late October were residents in Lianhe Villag a bit busy in planting rape, working for around seven to eight hours each day. The rest of the time was spent killing time playing mahjong or cards in the grocery store in the village or at someone’s home, chatting under sun, visiting relatives or watching TV etc. Even during the two busy seasons of sowing and harvesting, although the peasants had to work around 10 h each day, this period only lasted for at most one month each. That has resulted in plenty of spare time for the peasants in the reform era. In other words, the relationship between labour and leisure in the village has changed. The villagers do not have to squeeze odd times from the middle of labour processes to ‘wan’ any longer, and they could have relatively clear-cut periods of time for labour and leisure respectively. This change was warmly welcomed by the villagers of Lianhe. To some extent, their delight in increased leisure time also shows their understanding of ‘what is a happy life’. The life they dream of, is not toiling in the farmland, but a comfortable and simple life without much hard working. The increased leisure time and the villagers’ understanding of this change have affected the leisure resources distribution and the power relations both within and outside the rural households. Before moving on to the details, I will give a brief introduction about the existing research on rural women’s leisure.

9.2 Rural Chinese Women’s Leisure: A Theoretical Perspective Since the early twentieth century, the relationship between ‘labour’, ‘gender equality’ and ‘development’ has been a central concern for both policy makers and scholars interested in the situation of women. Following Engels and liberal development economists, the CCP and some scholars have endorsed rural Chinese women’s participation in the labour force as a means to achieve greater gender equality, as well as contribute to economic development in villages. However, others insist that women’s participation in the labour force does not guarantee gender equality, as it cannot overcome women’s inferior position in gendered divisions of labour, their lower incomes and lack of access to and control over income within the household, or their ‘double burden’ of work in both the paid labour force and in unpaid domestic work. They suggest that a materialist understanding of gender and development, such as that adopted by the CCP, does not pay enough attention to family and other social relations that women are involved in, and neglects the complex connections between the material side of women’s lives and cultural practices (Jacka 1997; Wolf 1985). In

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this sense, this chapter aims to contribute to this reassessment of materialist models and strategies of development by introducing the household distribution of leisure resources as a lens through which to envisage the complex relationship between labour, development and gender equality. The conventional sociological concern about leisure was mainly stimulated by the scarcer and more hurried leisure time caused by the separation of work and home, the standard working hours and the dual-earner families in contemporary city life (Bittman and Wajcman 2000). In the research framework, ‘leisure’, understood as ‘not-work time’, exists only in relation to time left over after paid employment. This framework of economic time puts the following times into shadows, for example, women’s time for housework and unpaid care, agriculture, unemployment and retirement which are outside paid employment (Adam 1995). Feminist perspectives on leisure represent an effort to ‘rescue’ women from the shadows of the paid employment framework and explore the gender differences in terms of leisure experiences (Adam 1995). ‘Leisure’ has become a field for feminist researchers to depict the gender relations for some time (Bittman and Wajcman 2000). In the feminist literature, ‘leisure’ has been conceptualized as ‘time budget’ and ‘activity’ (Henderson 1990), where the gender division of leisure has been assessed by such variables as leisure time, the use of time, leisure spending, leisure place (out of home or at home), and patterns of leisure. Many feminist studies focus on dual-earner families, where the gender division of leisure is depicted. Basically, in terms of leisure time, although different studies show different results, with some saying women have similar amount of leisure time to men (Shelton 1992) and others maintaining that the former has less than the latter (Tian and Qi 2004), the researchers all agree that women have a distinctive experience: their leisure time is interrupted and fragmented by multiple activities, both paid and unpaid, which makes their leisure time less leisurely than men. Men are more likely to enjoy ‘pure leisure’ which is uncontaminated by being combined with work activities. Women have less adult leisure: they are more likely to have leisure when with children. Differences between women are also explored. Life cycle would be an important factor: single women are more likely to enjoy leisure time than married women. Women with young children will have a tougher time than the women who have no child or who have grown-up children (Bittman and Wajcman 2000; Deem 1988; Shelton 1992). In terms of the place, women’s leisure is much more likely to take place in the home than men’s, especially during weekdays and week nights (Deem 1988). Much less literature, however, has focused on leisure lives in the agricultural economy, which makes the rural women somewhat neglected in the current leisure studies scholarship. Little has been mentioned about the historical changes of the availability of their leisure time. The existing literature that does focus on rural women is also mainly from a feminist perspective and examines the gender differences of their leisure experiences. For example, Henderson and Rannelles argue that ‘these farm women found meaning and leisure through an integration of work, family and community experiences’ (1988: 41). Basically they raise the question of the rural women’s views regarding their leisure, as ‘definitions and meanings associated with leisure as typically understood were hard to associate with these women’ (1988: 49).

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But they did not deepen their exploration. The neglect of rural women’s leisure is also the case in China. To some extent, rural Chinese women are even suffering from a ‘double neglect’ in leisure research, as on the one hand, ‘leisure study’ is missing in the gender study scholarship and on the other, the existing literature on women’s leisure is mainly about women from the city with very little on rural women (Tian and Qi 2004: 26). In the limited amount of literature on Chinese rural women’s leisure, a feminist perspective is also adopted and gender inequality in the amount of leisure time, in the quality of the activities, and in the state of mind are examined. Generally speaking, the women are in a relatively weaker position than men in terms of all three indexes (Tian and Qi 2004). An IFAD (International Fund for Agricultural Development) report shows that men in China assume a greater share of household tasks than in most other countries, which seems to go against the conclusion drawn by Tian and Qi: since their husbands take on a larger proportion of household tasks, the Chinese rural women should enjoy a relatively higher proportion of leisure time than their western counterparts compared to men. The report also reminds us that women’s time-use patterns in China vary by region, age and education (IFAD 1995). To sum up, basically, leisure lives of rural women are little recorded. Firstly, the historical change of the availability of their spare time for leisure has not been examined; and secondly, although some research has focused on the gender disparities of time and expenses on leisure and leisure patterns, few have mentioned the reactions from both sides about the uneven distribution; and finally, although differences in leisure experiences between genders, and between urban women and rural women, have been looked into, disparities in the distribution and understandings of leisure across generations have not been studied. Possible power relations between generations, especially women from disparate generations, are missing from the current scholarship. Based on the previous achievements, this chapter tries to bring these points in. It has examined the increase of current rural Chinese people’s leisure time and explained why. It will go on to pay attention to different generations of rural women’s views and perceptions regarding leisure. Through these, it looks at how the organisation of leisure becomes a battle field for power relations across gender and generation, and explores the women’s changing self-identity and people’s understanding of husband-wife fairness and gender equality by both men and women, by looking at people’s reactions in relation to leisure resources distribution.

9.3 Time, Money, Gender and Generation: The Organisation of ‘Wan’ in Lianhe This section presents empirical data found in Lianhe Village. It starts with an exploration of increasing spare time for the women, followed by the organisation of leisure across age and gender, and then moves onto power relations in relation to these, and moral connotations attached to these.

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9.3.1 Age and Gender Divisions in ‘Wan’ What do the peasants in Lianhe Village do in the extra spare time? This section answers this question by examining the leisure experiences of different generations of rural women and men respectively. It also suggests that by adopting an age or generation perspective as well as a gender perspective, some conclusions offered by the existing literature, for example that women’s leisure time is broken and non-pure, are worth further examination. As mentioned above, in Lianhe, ‘wan’, as a word having similar but broader connotation with ‘leisure’ in English, refers to several kinds of activities or statuses, such as ‘playing’, ‘resting’ or ‘being served’. But what they do when the villagers think they are ‘wan-ing’, and how the different meanings of ‘wan’ are preferred, depends on their available resources, gender, age, marital status, stages of life cycle, and family structure and so on. This section examines this complexity. Firstly, the resources of ‘wan’ are mainly divided across age. This is related to the concrete activities each generation is doing for ‘wan’, and the way in which they understand ‘wan’. There are very few entertainment facilities in the country. The cinema is in the town and peasants will not pay for that unless young girls and boys sometimes go out for a date. The internet bars have become fashionable in the town in the past several years, but only teenagers will go. Now with the popularity of smart phone, many internet bars have shut down due to huge drops in customers. TV is a main source of entertainment for most villagers, but few elders from the first generation have their own TV. They get chances to watch TV only when their adult children’s family are watching. In Lianhe, TV sets are often placed in the master bedroom where the son and daughter-in-law of the first generation of elders are living. In the evenings when it is not cold, the first generation of women are often seen watching TV at the entrance of the master bedroom. There might be two TV sets in the ‘cooperative family’ consisted of the ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation and the family of their adult child, with the old one in the room of the older generation and the new one in the master bedroom where the younger generation is living. For most women from the first generation, ‘wan’ more means sitting there resting, or being served. Many of them can always find something to do, even when they are sitting and resting, for example, unhusking peanuts or cotton. In this sense, the non-pure leisure time of women proposed by the previous research applies to the old rural women. Besides resting and chatting, sometimes these old women go to visit their old siblings. Some of them regularly go to the Buddhist temple, say, once even twice per month, and have some fellow believers. If applicable, their daughter(s) will invite them to stay with their family for some time each year, especially after the Chinese New Year, when they still have some good food left from the festival, and they are available to spend some time with their mothers. Even when they stay at their siblings’ or daughters’ home, the old women still try to help with housework or even farming. To some extent, they actually have no sense of ‘leisure’.

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In contrast to the first generation, activities like watching TV, chatting, visiting relatives or friends and playing mahjong, are all open to the younger generations, both the second and the third generations. Chatting easily ends as long as someone suggests playing mahjong, as mahjong is an essential item in almost every household. Besides eating, the main activity when visiting relatives is playing mahjong. And watching TV is only an option when playing mahjong is not applicable, for example, at home in the evenings. In this sense, ‘wan’ is more related to ‘playing’ (mahjong) and spending money for the younger generations. And compared to the old generation, the two younger generations are more likely to enjoy pure leisure time. But not everyone from the two younger generations enjoys equal or even similar chances of ‘wan’. The second point this section would like to present is that ‘who can spend more time and money in ‘wan” depends on gender, age, marital status, stages of life cycle, family structure and so on. Generally speaking, evidence from the organisation of ‘wan’ gathered in the grocery stores of Lianhe Village suggests that the youngest generation enjoys more un-broken leisure time than the middle generation. In recent years, the pattern of ‘a grocery store a village’ has become increasingly common, and this provides the village with a social life centre. The emergence of grocery stores has been caused by the improved economic situation and less children. This means that extra money is available for children’s snacks and so these tend to be the main products sold in this sort of store. Besides snacks, cigarettes, alcohol and cooking sauces are easy to find from there too. Since it is normally situated beside the main road of the village or is within easy access, this type of stores also provides the main site for the everyday social of the villagers. Information or gossip spreads from here. People gather here to play mahjong, cards and other forms of hidden gambling. The store boils hot drinking water for them and charges each person half of a yuan per day. From the end of October, when the villagers finish planting rape, to the beginning of the following May, when people start planting rice, the Lianhe grocery store is crammed almost every day. A typical day in the village starts with some women or men sending children to the primary school by bicycle or motorbike, and others feeding and watering their cattle. After finishing breakfast, at about 10 o’clock some adults start heading for the grocery store. Among the early comers are men of all ages and young women who are temporarily unemployed or having a day off from work. More middle-aged and old men can be seen than young men, as most of the latter have taken non-farming jobs. The women who appear at the grocery store in the morning are those of the youngest generation, most of whom are from a cooperative family and whose mothers (-in-law) take responsibility for domestic work and childcare, and some unmarried women who live with their parents. Later in the morning more people come, including middle-aged women from the second generation who have just finished washing the dishes and doing the household’s laundry. Some of these late comers are the mothers (-in-law) of the young women who arrived early. In a

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room with an area of about 12 m2 , three tables allow 151 people to play Mahjong, while the rest watch. Normally the late comers, that is, the middle-aged women, have to leave earlier to cook lunch for the family. The men and women from the youngest generation typically do not stop playing until they are informed that lunch is ready. Most return after lunch. Some leave to collect their children from school at about four in the afternoon, and the remainder stay until dinner time. Occasionally, the game resumes in the evenings, but this occurs only when the weather is warm because no heating is available. This shows that the broken leisure time of women proposed by previous research is not always the case for all women. It is the case for older generations, including the first and the second generations, but not applicable for most of the youngest ones who are from cooperative families and have mother (-in-law) doing chores and childcare for them. Therefore, their un-broken leisure time is at the expense of the leisure time of the older generation of women. Furthermore, unlike the conclusion drawn by the existing research, which suggests that women with little children enjoy less and worse quality leisure time than women with grown-up children, this research found that in Lianhe Village, the young women from the third generation who have little children enjoy much more and better quality leisure time than their middleaged mothers (-in-law) who still need to attend to grandchildren although they have grown-up children. Therefore, age, generation and family composition play a vital role here. A gender differentiation can also be perceived here: normally more women than men can be seen playing mahjong in the store. Except for some women from the third generation who are away in city, most of the women in Lianhe (of all ages) stay at home; while apart from those far away from home, most men do skilled manual jobs or odd jobs in the town. In other words, women have a more flexible schedule than men. This casts doubt on some conclusion that rural Chinese women enjoy less leisure time than their husbands (Tian and Qi 2004). The four ‘mahjong-aholics’ in Lianhe Village are all women, among whom Nixiu and Xuhong are from the third generation, Shuchun and Sifeng are from the second generation. ‘mahjong-aholic’ is the nickname given by fellow villagers to these women, which does not necessarily mean they play mahjong the most, but rather refers to their attitude towards playing mahjong: they search for every possible chance to play. They are the average visitors of the grocery store. Among them, Xuhong is agreed as ‘having the most comfortable life’, as she plays a lot of Ma-jong; while her mother-in-law takes charge of all the chores and childcare for her. And she even goes to the grocery store to inform Xuhong that lunch is ready. To sum up, the younger generations, including the second and third generations of women and their husbands, have access to more money and time for leisure, but 1 One

table with five players is the new way to play mahjong which has been developed in recent years in Lianhe. The fifth player keeps waiting and watching while the other four playing, and he or she will soon replace the loser when a run has finished.

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due to different family composition, women and men from the cooperative family are more likely to enjoy unbroken and pure leisure time than women from a nuclear family.

9.3.2 From Self-sacrifice to Selective Self-sacrifice: Leisure Resources Distribution Between Husbands and Wives This section explores the distribution of time and money in ‘wan’ between husbands and wives and the reaction from both sides, and does so by narrating and analysing some stories that take place in Lianhe Village. Story one: Hanying. Hanying was born in 1933. When I asked her about her relationship with her husband, she mentioned they had been quietly married for 50 years before he died in 2000. They hardly argued with each other, and her husband had never hit her. Her husband drank, was a heavy smoker, and sometimes played a little bit of mahjong. Hanying said she had never blamed him for these, which she concluded was the secret behind their 50 years of peaceful marriage. When her daughters-in-law blamed their husbands’ for spending too much time and money drinking, smoking or playing, she gave them lectures. She asked her daughters-in-law to be satisfied, as their husbands only ‘wan’, without committing any serious wrongs; as for money on smoking and drinking, she thought she herself set a good example for them:

One day, my youngest daughter-in-law was blaming my youngest son as he smoked and coughed. I told her my story. When my husband, her father-in-law, was unwell and going to die, one day he ran out of his cigarettes and wanted to buy some in the grocery store. Although it was just five minutes’ walk for us, it was hard for him, as he was already weak at that time. I then said ‘let me buy them for you.’ I never blamed him for smoking or playing. Indeed, we lived quietly together for 50 years!

Story two: Suoxiu. Suoxiu was 50 years old in 2006. She got a lot of respect in the village as both her children went to university, but she said that at one time she experienced severe hardship to support her children’s higher education. The biggest problem was that her husband, who managed to get a position as a local cadre in the village, always used ‘work’ as an excuse to play a lot, while Suoxiu worked hard for their family. She even went to Zhejiang Province from 2001 to 2003 to work as an accessory processor to earn the tuition fees for her younger child, while her husband stayed at home alone. Suoxiu told me the following when I interviewed her in April, 2006, at which time both her children had finished their college and could support themselves.

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I will not be like that any longer: only he (her husband) ‘wan’ while I do not. I absolutely will not. Before, he played mahjong a lot, but I did not. I just looked on sometimes, as my children were still at college. But now I think why he should have played while I did not? I think it is unfair. He earned money, and I earned too! What I have earned was not less than his! Before, I compromised for my children’s sake. I had no choice then, as my children were in college. He did not think about them, but I had to. But since my children started working, I said I will play as much as him, and use as much money as him!

Story three: Pingfang. Pingfang was 39 years old when I met her in 2006. Q: Do you communicate a lot with your husband? A: Not really. He is normally quiet. The other day, I complained to him that when he’s at home, he plays mahjong or watches TV, and never talks to me much. Q: Do you argue with each other? A: You can say that again. He likes playing mahjong, but we are not very welloff, and my oldest daughter is about to enter college, therefore, I want to save some money for her. But he plays a lot of mahjong and sometimes I argue with him. I remember the other day, when I argued with him in the grocery store, his older brother, who lives in the same village, stood up, trying to hit me. Q: Why? A: At that time, my husband was doing indoor painting and decoration in the Prefecture, without coming back to help plant rape. I did the whole thing by myself, carrying fertilizer, watering the seedlings. I’ve had haemorrhoids since I gave birth to my oldest daughter and so could not carry much. Anyway, in the end, I managed it. The day he came back was my birthday, which he totally forgot. He said nothing, going straight to the grocery store to play mahjong. I was very angry. His sister and brother-in-law happened to visit us that day and so I asked my husband to buy some meat from the market, but he was very reluctant to move. I knew he must be losing money. I was so angry that I grabbed some pieces of the mahjong and threw them onto the ground. His oldest brother was there playing too. He suddenly stood up, shouting at me that ‘your husband was working outside to support the family and has just come back, and you go and scatter all his mahjong?!’ Then he tried to hit me, but was stopped by others. I was so furious that I yelled back: ‘it is none of your business! I was arguing with my husband, not you!’ Why was I so angry? My husband did not bring one penny back home, and I was in an awkward economic situation at home. I even borrowed two hundred yuan from my sister. But he went straight

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to play mahjong, caring about nothing. That was why I was so angry. I did not speak to my husband after that until he coaxed me. (laughing) You see, we do argue a lot, and every time it is related to playing mahjong. In the stories of most women from the oldest generation, one can see them giving their husband and children great advantages in terms of time and money to spend on leisure. Their words emphasized their self-sacrifice of their interests, so their husbands and children could satisfy themselves. But this is no longer the case for the younger generations. Instead, as in Suoxiu’s and Pingfang’s stories, women from the younger generations report that their arguments with their husbands mostly relate to playing. And in most cases, it is because the wife is attempting to limit the money and time her husband spends on playing. It would be easy to construe this as gender essentialism. But it is suggested by both the women and men of Lianhe that, although younger women also play mahjong, they are more cautious about the time and money they spend out of concern for their children’s education, which in turn is related to their aspirations for their children to enjoy an easier life as a result of ‘selfdevelopment’. On the other hand, women in the two younger generations also claim an equal (or at least similar) amount of time and money as their husbands to spend on leisure. In other words, they are willing to sacrifice their interests for the sake of their children, but not for their husband, and so engage in what I call ‘selective selfsacrifice’. Furthermore, when I asked the younger generations about their opinions on ceding advantages to husbands in terms of leisure, they usually deemed this to be ‘foolish’ behaviour, whereas women like Hanying, in the oldest generation, considered it to be a virtue. Bina Agarwal argues that wives in South Asia and Africa also ‘see their interests as congruent to those of their dependent children and potentially antagonistic to those of their husbands’ (Agarwal 1997: 27). The question to ask here is: why is ‘selective self-sacrifice’ practised among the two younger generations but not among the oldest generation of women in Lianhe? I suggest that changes in the structure of power relations within rural Chinese households over the past several decades have contributed to these inter-generational differences. In accordance with the norms governing family life between the 1950s and 1980s, the oldest generation of women, whether they were in an extended family or a nuclear family, were normally at the bottom of the power pyramid after marriage, so their husband’s, parents-in-law’s and children’s interests were prioritized above their own. In contrast, among the younger generations, parents-in-law’s interests have slipped off the radar of women’s consideration, and after placing their children’s interests at the fore the women claim equality, or compete with their husbands. The self-sacrifice narrative of the oldest generation of women reflects their insecure position in the power relations pyramid and in resource control and income distribution within the household. From a functionalist perspective, it could be interpreted as a self-serving discursive strategy to remind their family of what they have done for them, and therefore enhance their security in the family. But the younger generations’ congruence of

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interests with their dependent children constitutes an investment which will bring them returns after their children become independent. In addition, when their children marry many members of the younger generations will live with them in a cooperative family, where the women’s role in domestic work and child care will guarantee them security. In contrast, their husbands’ relative power will decline as they relinquish control of household property and their income contributions decline due to old age, as discussed in Chap. 8. This explains why women in the younger generations can afford to confront their husbands over leisure distribution. How do husbands react to changing power relations and emerging competition from their wives over leisure resources? The following stories offer answers to these questions. Hualing, who was born in 1972 and is the eldest among three daughters in her family, married uxorilocally so she could support her parents in the future. Her husband, Baoxin, comes from the same village. Baoxin is the youngest of four sons. His parents managed to finance the marriage of their older three sons, but because they could not afford to bring in a wife for Baoxin, he agreed to move to Hualing’s home. Hualing and her parents, according to some villagers, were very cautious with money. After their marriage, Baoxin did odd jobs in the town, but it was always his wife or father-in-law who collected his wages, giving him only a small amount to spend. Most of the time he had very little money in his pocket, as Hualing was afraid that ‘He would become bad with lots of money.’ In order to make enough money to allow him to join the other men of his age in playing mahjong, Baoxin resorted to gleaning rice from the fields alongside old women. After a couple of years of marriage, he asked for a divorce, as he felt that he had completely lost face among the fellow villagers since he had little control in finance and family matters. His parents also became involved as they thought Hualing’s treatment of their son had humiliated their family. The conflict between the two families resulted in enduring enmity. Baoxin went to Shenzhen to work and stayed there for several years. The eventual divorce of Hualing and Baoxin was the first in Lianhe in several decades. Yet although the outcome of their marriage was almost unprecedented, it was not unexpected: villagers viewed households in which a husband married in as being particularly susceptible to serious disputes over playing. I argue that this is because a woman who marries uxorilocally identifies herself with a position normally held by a husband, and she consequently attempts to exercise power and control resources in the household. This leads to conflict with husbands who wish to be treated as ‘ordinary’; that is, powerful and able to spend time and money playing. Otherwise the husbands risk losing face and dignity among their peers. This type of marital dispute also is more common among members of the youngest generation in cooperative families in which a middle-aged father or father-in-law is reluctant to give up his authority. The complexity of changing power relations between husband and wife and between generations in such families leads to disputes over leisure. Another story of conflict also involved a couple in which the wife attempted to limit the money and time her husband devoted to leisure. One day, when the husband lost all the money he had in his pocket playing mahjong in the grocery store, he asked his wife who was standing nearby for money so he could continue playing.

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His wife refused. He abused her, and she responded by hitting him in the face. The husband tried to strike back, but was stopped by the other villagers. He then rushed home. When his wife returned home some time later, she found him dead, hung from a beam of the house. Disputes, divorce and even the suicide of husbands, signify the extent to which men link their control over time and money for playing with their masculine identity and dignity, and face as husbands. Particularly when men’s control over leisure is challenged by their wives in public, husbands risk being mocked or pitied by their fellow male villagers. The two stories of extreme reactions recounted above show how reluctant husbands are to relinquish power, much less accept their wives’ competition with them over family leisure resources. The discussion thus far has centred on the demographic and social factors mediating intra-household gender distributions of leisure resources. Yet there remain questions about the grounds on which claims to leisure are made or resisted. What are behind the younger wives’ claims and their husbands’ reactions? Do these contestations over leisure have any implications for gender equality between husband and wife, and between men and women more generally? What are the rural husbands’ and wives’ own understandings of these contestations? These questions are explored in next section.

9.3.3 Between Labour and Leisure: Rural Husbands’ and Wives’ Understanding of Husband-Wife Fairness and Gender Equality In the distribution of leisure resources, the two younger generations of women all want a fair share with their husband. At the same time, compared with the first generation, they have more time and money for leisure. How will this affect their husband-wife relationship? Husband-wife relations have been changing across the different generations in Lianhe. As illustrated in Hanying’s story, most women from the oldest generation reported that they enjoyed peaceful and harmonious husbandwife relations. In contrast, almost every woman from the younger generations that I talked with mentioned quarrelling with their husbands. Some of them reported that they have secret money for themselves. This goes against the general impression, as the husband-wife relationship of the younger ones, in contrast to the first generation, is more likely to be based on affection, and they have more time to manage their marital relations. Why is there this contradiction? I suggest, for the first generation of women and their husbands, the hard and busy life they have experienced/being experiencing makes them good partners and companions, especially in their later life. For most of them, throughout their whole life, they have had very little time and money that could be spared for their own use. And importantly, the wife’s self-sacrifice to both children and husband maintained a steady structure of the family, in which the wife always puts her own interests the last. Due

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to the economic constraints, their strategy is not to compete with their husbands for limited resources, but to give up their own interests, and then to use the narrative of self-sacrifice to secure a place in the family. As I have shown, although much more time and money are available for leisure among the two younger generations, many husband-wife arguments centre on the distribution of those leisure resources. I suggest that this tension is the result of the complex relation between villagers’ labour and leisure, their perception of this relation and the prevailing social expectation in the local community that women should not be assertive in relation to their own interests. This expectation further affects their understandings of husband-wife fairness and general gender equality. All women from the two younger generations engage in income-generating labour. However, due to macro-economic shifts and the generations’ different educational backgrounds and family structures after marriage, women’s labour activities and the proportion of household income they bring in compared to their husbands varies. Generally speaking, as mentioned above, in the older middle-aged group, there is no significant gap between the cash earnings of wives and husbands. Consequently, the wives think that they deserve a share of leisure resources comparable with their husbands’. This is demonstrated by Suoxiu’s remark that ‘He earned money, and I earned too! What I have earned was not less than his!’ In contrast, wives in the younger group of the middle generation normally make a smaller contribution to the family’s cash income than their husbands, as husbands continue working off-farm while the wives are constrained by domestic demands, farming and gender-age discrimination in labour markets. This in turn makes it more likely that their husbands will feel that they deserve comparatively more time and money for leisure. But since these middle-aged women also work hard for their families (especially through farming and unpaid domestic work), they are reluctant to let their husbands have what they consider to be a disproportionately large share of leisure. When they attempt to limit their husbands’ leisure disputes arise, as we saw in Pingfang’s story. Among couples belonging to the youngest generation, sometimes the husband makes a bigger cash contribution to the family, and sometimes the wife does. Like middle-aged women, young wives strive for an equal share of time and money for leisure, but because of their position in the cooperative family and the ‘self-sacrifice’ of mothers or mothersin-law, there is less conjugal tension over leisure distribution among the youngest generation. Despite their different circumstances, the two younger generations of women both claim that leisure should be fairly distributed between husbands and wives and they share a similar sense of what is a ‘fair’ intra-household distribution of leisure resources. The logic behind their appeals is the same; that is, they earn money by their labour in the same way as their husbands, so they deserve a certain share of leisure resources. They see income-earning labour as causally related to, and morally justifying leisure. In the stories recounted above, when Suoxiu asked herself ‘why he should have played while I did not?’, she reasoned, ‘he earned money, and I earned too! What I have earned was not less than his!’ It was for this reason that her husband’s playing was ‘unfair’. Men in the younger two generations appear to view the relationship between income-earning labour and leisure in the same way. Thus,

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in the story above, Pingfang’s husband’s older brother yelled at her when she tried to stop her husband from playing more mahjong, saying ‘Your husband was working outside to support the family and has just come back, and you go and scatter all his mahjong?!’ By implication, since Pingfang’s husband was performing the role of ‘bread-winner’, he deserved time and money for playing mahjong. But the criterion of ‘deservedness’ is only cash income brought about by labour. That is to say, it is money rather than labour itself, which is valued. Domestic work, subsistence farming and care work done by women do not count in either men’s or women’s understandings of husband-wife fairness in the distribution of leisure resources. Women may complain about their role in such work, but they do not use it as grounds for claiming leisure resources. It is for this reason that when Pingfang’s husband’s older brother shouted at her, she did not counter with something like ‘I work for the family too’. The truth is she did work very hard. But according to her, what infuriated her was not that her work was not recognized, but that ‘My husband did not bring one penny back home!’ The logic behind this is not ‘I deserve leisure’, but rather, ‘because you brought no money home you do not deserve leisure.’ However, this monetary ‘fairness’ measure did not motivate women to participate more actively in paid work. On the contrary, Lianhe women envy those who do not have to work but have money to play. Though they will apply the ‘fairness’ measure to challenge unfair distributions of leisure, they would prefer to ‘reap without sowing’. While many men no doubt have similar preferences, to some extent, this may also reflect rural women’s frustration with gender inequalities in both intra- and extra-household divisions of labour and the gender wage gap. It partly is a reaction to women’s ‘unfair’ treatment in the complex relation between labour and leisure. Certainly, farming, domestic work and child care consume a great deal of their energy and time. Second, even when they think they deserve a fair share of the household’s leisure resources as a result of their cash income contribution, women may be reluctant to compete or make an appeal on these grounds, because this may be seen as contravening the social norm that women should not show ‘assertiveness’ (Agarwal 1997: 17). Indeed, women’s ‘assertiveness’ is often blamed by the local community, especially by men and older women, for causing negative reactions from husbands, including such tragic outcomes as suicide. Thus, Hanying’s lecture to her daughterin-law, cited above, hints that it is women’s assertiveness and criticism, rather than the behaviour of neglectful or spendthrift husbands, that causes disharmony in the family. Of course, the ways in which power relations and tensions between different understandings of husband-wife fairness play out in everyday interactions vary from one rural household to another, and are moderated by different personalities and degrees of conjugal affection. A rural man whose wife claims an equal share in the couple’s leisure resources might continue to show respect to her, but conclude that other women who do the same thing are strong-willed and unreasonable. In Pingfang’s story, for example, although Pingfang’s husband said nothing in response

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to her outburst and tried to coax her afterwards, his older brother stood up to chide her, and even tried to beat her when she answered him back. His reaction might have differed if the outburst had come from his own wife. But if the relation between the couple is not based on affection, it is likely that the husband will react against his wife’s claim for an equal share, and this may result in domestic violence.

9.4 Conclusion To sum up, the TSOL model makes it possible to examine labour and leisure from a holistic perspective. Using leisure as a lens, this chapter explores the links between changes in gendered labour patterns and differently positioned rural women’s experience of development, and the ways in which younger women’s exercise of agency contributes toward social change. In so doing, it contributes to a reassessment of the explanatory value of materialist models of gender inequality, and development strategies based on the assumption that women’s participation in paid work will lead to improvements in gender equality. Recent improvements in agricultural technology, together with a series of institutional changes in the rural economy and demographic shifts, have resulted in less time required for labour and a rise in leisure resources for rural women as well as men. They also have meant that different generations of rural women have markedly different histories of, and expectations for work and leisure. This is not to suggest that rural women’s changing experiences can be fitted into a crude materialist model of development. Clearly, women’s participation in the labour force does not always result in improvements in gender equality, as, apart from their role in paid labour, the allocation of unpaid social reproduction tasks, family dynamics and other social relations and norms play a part in shaping gender roles and relations. However, observations of the shift that has occurred from the selfsacrifice of women in the oldest generation in Lianhe to the selective self-sacrifice of those in the younger generations, and the cash-income measure that villagers use to assess ‘fairness’ in intra-household distributions of leisure offer evidence that a bigger role in income-generating labour can somewhat empower women. Younger wives generating cash incomes feel justified in opposing gender-unequal divisions of leisure with their husbands. Behind the younger generations’ aspirations of ‘reaping without sowing’, though, one can see that women are not highly motivated to participate in paid labour. Their attitude may reflect their own experiences of the discriminatory terms under which women work, and their dissatisfaction with materialist models and strategies of development.

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References Adam, B. (1995). Timewatch: The social analysis of time. Cambridge: Polity Press. Agarwal, B. (1997). ‘Bargaining’ and gender relations: Within and beyond the household. Feminist Economics. 3(1), 1–51. Bittman, M., & Wajcman, J. (2000). The rush hour: The character of leisure time and gender equity. Social Forces, 79(1), 165–189. Deem, R. (1988). Work, unemployment and leisure. London: Routledge. Henderson, K. A. (1990). The meaning of leisure for women: An integrative review of the research. Journal of Leisure Research., 22(3), 228–243. Henderson, K. A., & Rannells, J. S. (1988). Farm women and the meaning of work and leisure: An oral history perspective. Leisure Science., 10(1), 41–50. IFAD (International Fund for Agricultural Development). (1995). The status of rural women in China. Rome: IFAD. Jacka, T. (1997). Women’s work in rural China: Change and continuity in an era of reform. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shelton, B. A. (1992). Women, men, and time: Gender differences in paid work, housework, and leisure. New York: Greenwood Press. Tian, C., & Qi, X. (2004). Nongmin xianxia (The leisure of Chinese peasants), Beijing: Shehui Kexue Wenxian Chubanshe. Beijing: Social Sciences Academic Press. Wolf, M. (1985). Revolution postponed: Women in contemporary China. California: Stanford University Press.

Part IV

Political Participation in a Rural Society in Transition (1944–2013)

Introduction Part IV, consisted of Chap. 10, examines the life stories of two women who hold long-term positions of women’s director, looking at how, over the decades, they have allocated their time and energy between farming, housework, leisure and political participation within and outside their households. Based on these, it investigates how rural women’s political participation has been constructed by the state, shaped by the state, market, changing rural society and rural families, and how their complex and paradoxical subjectivities have come into being. Part IV focuses on a special group of rural women: women cadres. In the beginning of the twentieth century when the CCP began to mobilise the rural population, rural women have become an important driver of mobilisation. Especially in the ‘speaking bitterness’ campaign during the period of ‘land reform’, rural women were encouraged to participate in shaping the proletarian class consciousness, because their emotional statements were delicate and touching (Fang 2001: 489). Thereafter, rural women have been encouraged to join public and collective labour, a series of political movements such as the ‘Iron Girl Fighting Team’, or the management of daily rural life such as counting work points in the collective period. They were likewise involved in the management of women-related matters, especially those about reproduction and family planning. In this study, many of the nearly 60 women interviewees have been involved in such activities. Two women are long-term ‘women’s director’ (funv zhuren) in the village, while others serve as work point keepers, league secretaries and women’s work liaisons in the production team. Such experiences, in contrast to daily life in the countryside, provide these women with a different status and relationships with villagers. In such roles, they have direct access to political authority beyond their own families. Chapter 10 focuses mainly on the two women who hold long-term positions of women’s director. Their life stories are interpreted from a holistic perspective to explore how, over the decades, they have allocated their time and energy between farming, housework, leisure and political participation within and outside their households.

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Reference Fang, H. (2001). Wu Shijian Jiang’ yu Shenghuo Shijie zhong de ‘Zhenshi’—Xicun Nongmin Tudi Gaige Shiqi Shehui Shenghuo de Jiyi (‘No-event-status’ and the ‘reality’ in the life world—the social life during the Land Reform Period through the peasants’ memories in Xi Village). In N. Yang (Ed.), Kongjian, Jiyi, Shehui Zhuanxing—‘Xin shehui shi’ Yanjiu Lunwen Jingxuan Ji (Space, Memory and Social Transformation—A Collection on ‘New Social History’), Shanghai: Shanghai Renmin Chubanshe (Shanghai: Shanghai People’s Press).

Chapter 10

Political Participation of Two Generations of Women’s Director, 1944–2013

Abstract This chapter follows the comparative framework and compares the political participation patterns of two generations of women cadres in Lianhe. Based on the women’s life stories between 1944 and 2013, from a holistic perspective, it treats ‘political participation’ as a form of labour activities. It examines how these women have been organising all sort of activities: farming, non-farming work, domestic chores and care work, and political activities. Based on these, it investigates how rural women’s political participation has been constructed by the state, shaped by the state, market, changing rural society and rural families, and how their complex and paradoxical subjectivities have come into being.

This chapter follows the previous ‘comparison’ approach, but the temporal dimension differs from previous ones and focuses on the period of 1944–2013. The comparison in this chapter also slightly differs from previous ones by introducing political participation as a form of labour into the framework. In this holistic perspective, the political participation of women cadres occupies their time and energy like other labour activities, such as farming, non-agricultural economic work, housework and care work. However, such participation is additional to the tasks of women cadres, in contrast to ordinary rural women. In this sense, how do rural women cadres choose among the various types of labour, including political participation? What are the reasons behind their choices? What are their leisure patterns? As times change, how does their labour and leisure organisation change? It focuses on the labour and leisure life of two generations of ‘women’s director’ in Lianhe Village. Their political participation is specifically considered as a unique form of labour and starting point, and its relationship with other forms of labour and how it affects the leisure patterns of rural women cadres are explored. In addition, given that rural women’s political participation itself is an independent research field, this chapter begins from a holistic perspective and features a dialogue. The two women’s directors mentioned in this chapter are Wuzhen from the ‘first unbound feet generation’, and Baiying from the ‘younger sisters’ group’ of the ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers generation’. Wuzhen mainly served as a women’s director in the collective era, whilst Baiying mainly served in the post-collective era. Their political experiences coincided with the transition of Chinese villages from a ‘pre-autonomy © East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_10

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era’ to a ‘self-governance era’. This chapter analyses the background of the political participation of the two women’s directors from the collective to the post-collective era, from the pre-autonomy to self-governance period. On this basis, this chapter interprets the life stories of Wuzhen and Baiying, shows and compares their track and extent of political participation and the influence of their participation on their families, relationships with other (male) village cadres and experiences and feelings regarding political participation. This chapter shows how the state construction influences the institution of women’s directors in different contexts, and how the state, market, transforming rural society and rural families shape their political participation, thereby showing complex and contradictory subjectivity. Finally, this chapter reflects on the content and significance of rural women’s political participation and asks whether women’s entry into politics indicates their actual participation.

10.1 Background Since the construction of the nation-state in modern times, ‘gender equality’ has always been one of the important pursuits of modernity represented by the West, and one of its most important consideration criteria is the status of women’s political participation. In every stage of its historical development, China unremittingly pursues modernisation with the aim to promote women’s political participation (Edwards 2008). This pursuit is manifested in the construction of a system of rural women’s directors after the establishment of the State in 1949. In the high-socialist period, women’s directors represent the state power in the village, and through their political mobilisation, strengthen the class consciousness, the awareness of political party and state of rural women; they also represent local grass-roots forces and become the state’s driving force at the grass-roots level. After the 1970s when China started to implement family planning policy, in practice, in addition to the function of organising and mobilising women, women’s directors often also take on the role of family planning commissioner (Yang 2009). Since the implementation of the villagers’ committee system in the 1980s and the emphasis on rural grass-roots autonomy, governments from the central to the local levels have emphasised guaranteeing the rights of rural women to participate in village governance and actively promoted rural women’s participation in village autonomy. The General Office of the Chinese Communist Party Central Committee, the General Office of the State Council and the Ministry of Civil Affairs have issued a series of documents on villagers’ committee elections, emphasising the proportion of rural women in village committees and stressing the importance of the quota system. These documents include the first Outline for the Development of Chinese Women promulgated in 1995, Organic Law on Villagers’ Committees adopted in 1998, Opinions on Efforts to Ensure Appropriate Quotas for Rural Women among Villagers Committee Members issued by the Ministry of Civil Affairs in 1999 and the Outline for the Development of Chinese Women (2001–2010) issued by the State Council in 2001. Women’s federations at all levels also strongly promote this increasing

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number of rural women participation in village autonomy. The assumption is that such increase of women participation in rural self-government is crucial in promoting social development, especially with regards to rural gender equality and rural women empowerment. However, the reality is not as optimistic as intended. Firstly, the number of women participating in rural self-government, especially those entering village committees, is not as large as expected (Cao and Zhang 2013; Jiang et al. 2010). Secondly, women who have successfully entered village committees or party branches might not manage to exert her influences and are subject to a process of ‘de-feminising’; that is, in such ‘male-centred’ organisations, women cadres have to accept the rules of men to fulfil their participation in rural politics (Liu and Chen 2005). Therefore, the political participation of rural women has undergone critical research assessments. The specific meaning of ‘female participation in politics’ is explored by departing from a developmentalist perspective and by understanding the logic of peasants’ political participation from the angles of ‘local culture’ and ‘local world’ (Yang and Liu 2005). The quota system is likewise assessed on whether this approach can actually achieve its original goals (Li and Gao 2010; Jacka 2008). This chapter aims to examine the changing ‘local culture’ and ‘local world’ in which rural women participate in politics at different times and how their participation is affected on the basis of a reflective approach and from a historical perspective. In general, the study of rural Chinese women requires a large social background, that is, the changing mainstream discourse about their labour. The first chapter briefly covers this issue. From the 1950s to the early 1980s, the state and the cultural system it created have exerted the most important influence on women’s living environment and life experience. The state has encouraged women to move out of the private sphere and to participate in the previously male-dominated public labour. However, the value of labour occurring in the private sphere (domestic work) was belittled (Yang 1999; Jacka 2006). After the 1990s when the state withdrew (in part) from the private sphere of life, the ‘family’ and ‘cultural system’ guided by the market have played a decisive role in shaping ‘the ideal image of women’ in the market-oriented era. Femininity and the role of women as wives and mothers are re-emphasised (Rofel 1999), along with the consumerist culture, resulting in discerning female consumers whose femininity is constituted through consumption (Yang 1999). In other words, women’s labour in the ‘private sphere’ is again considered important. By contrast, women’s federations at all levels, guided by the state, encourage women to compete in the market to achieve ‘self-respect’, ‘self-confidence’, ‘self-reliance’ and ‘self-strength’. Such encouragement is a renewed emphasis on ‘public domain’ labour, juxtaposing the fact that the market-oriented gender ideology stresses ‘private domain’ labour (Jacka 2006). Therefore, from the collective to the post-collective era, we witness the changing expectations and societal perspective on women, from the ‘iron girls’ of the collective era to the ‘return of femininity’ and ‘renewed importance of motherhood’ after the reform and opening up. These changes constitute a ‘local culture’ that shapes the political lives of women’s directors in different times.

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10.2 Women’s Directors: A Starting Point of Studying the Political Participation of Rural Chinese Women China has a large group of rural women’s directors. The aforementioned quota system results in most of the villages including at least one female member in their committee (mostly the one in charge of matters related to family planning and reproductive health). Although the majority of female committee members do not hold posts at the heart of key powers, such as branch secretaries or village committee directors, they are the closest to political power compared with other rural women. Statistics show that 559,000 village committees exist in China by the end of 2016, a decrease of 3.8% from the previous year (Ministry of Civil Affairs 2017). Presumably, the number of female village cadres is not too different from this figure. In extant research, understanding the group of women village cadres are through two main approaches, namely, the study of the role of village cadres and the study of the political participation of rural women.

10.2.1 Study of the Role of Village Cadres Classical research places ‘village cadres’ between the state and the village and thus considers the possible roles of village cadres from these two perspectives. For example, from the village perspective, village cadres may play the following roles: the ‘protector’ of the interests of the rural community (Shue 1988; Yu 2002), ‘weak guardian’ of the village (Shen and Chen 2001), ‘bell ringer’ and ‘night watchman’ (Wu 2001). From the perspective of the state, village cadres may serve as ‘agent’ of national interest (Siu 1989), ‘state broker’ (Shen 1998) or the ‘dual identity’ between the two (Oi 1989; Xu 2002). At the same time, other scholars believe that village cadres are in a marginal position in the state and the village, and thus become a kind of ‘marginal people’ (Wang 1991). However, these studies generally consider ‘village cadres’ as a homogeneous group and mainly examine male cadres in the central position of power as representative. Women’s directors are often neglected, considered within the margin of village power.

10.2.2 Study on the Political Participation of Rural Women Existing studies point to factors that promote the political participation of rural women. For example, the migration of male labour force to urban areas as a result of industrialisation and urbanisation leaves the villages to women, providing the latter with the opportunity to demonstrate and enhance their ability to participate in politics. In local economic development, rural women’s abilities in economic management and mediation are recognised (Song 2018). However, most studies focus on the

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difficulties and constraints in rural women’s political participation. As previously mentioned regarding women’s directors, the study on the political participation of rural women points to a common problem: women (whether those in the core of power such as party branch secretaries and village committee directors, those at the edge of power such as women’s directors, or ordinary residents actively involved in village governance) are in a weak position in terms of number and degree of political participation. In terms of quantity, the proportion of women in the population of political participation is far from ideal. In other words, achieving the goal of having women as over 30% of village committee members and 10% of village committee directors, as set by the Outline for the Development of Chinese Women (2011–2020) (Cao and Zhang 2013; Song 2018) remains difficult. Moreover, considering the actual degree of political participation of rural women, the expected results are not achieved. Firstly, the ruling of female village cadres has neither changed the traditional gender norms in rural areas nor reflected a trend in favour of women’s development (Wang 2010). Secondly, female village cadres experience a ‘de-feminisation’ tendency after entering village management, sacrificing their femininity to gain a kind of male or neutral leadership (Liu and Chen 2005). Therefore, the present study analyses the factors that influence and limit the political participation of rural women. The reasons behind the dilemma of rural women participating in politics are discussed from two aspects. One is the structural factors, which are mainly cultural, such as the traditional gender norms and gender division of labour (Guo X. 2003; Guo Y. 2003; Gao and Li 2011; Guo et al. 2009), and institutional designs that are unfriendly to women (Wang 2007). Another is the individual factor, which suggests that the difficulties of rural women’s political participation are the result of their lack of education and quality. However, most studies blame the patriarchal tradition that shaped the mentality and political behaviour of rural women, resulting in their lack of self-confidence in political participation and acceptance of their exclusion from public discourse; thus, their political participation is further constrained (Guo et al. 2009). Women’s equal access to the political field is hindered by a series of factors, including gender-blinded legislation, gender discriminatory division of labour, expected roles of women by men and double attachment of women cadres to men, as a woman and as a cadre (Guo X. 2003; Guo Y. 2003). In addition, women who can achieve a certain political status in the village are often those who are economically and technically capable, politically active, or have good family resources; ordinary women who do not possess such advantages are excluded from political participation (Cao and Zhang 2013; Song 2018). The status quo of and the constraints behind rural women’s political participation are thus revealed. However, previous studies have two flaws. Firstly, their subjects are too vague, possibly covering all women involved in politics, including those in the core of power such as party branch secretaries and village committee directors, those at the edge of power such as women’s directors, or ordinary female residents actively involved in village governance. However, the degree and experience of participation of these groups of women considerably vary, and thus should be differentiated. Secondly, the meaning of ‘rural women participating in politics’ remains unclear. Existing studies do not truly offer an explanation.

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One exception is the research by Yang and Liu (2005) on Ba Village in Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region, which shows the necessity of a distinction between ‘state politics’ and ‘village politics’. In village life, resident attention to village politics is not for the sake of ‘state politics’ but for the interests and status of their own family (clan). For these reasons, rural women’s participation in community politics is given legitimacy by community culture and judged by the existing patriarchal system. This situation is a manifestation of ‘politicisation of everyday life’. In the present study, ‘political participation’ is understood from the perspectives of ‘local world’ and ‘local culture’ and no longer function to promote women’s ‘development’ as expected by developmental discourse. The logic of this developmentalism is precisely what the outside world imposes on rural society. Another academic trend is to reflect on the quota system for rural women’s political participation and to determine whether this approach can attain its original objective: to achieve gender equality in rural politics by including the voices of marginalised groups, particularly women, and to adopt gender-equality policies, measures and actions in rural governance. Protective policies can neither effectively address the identity crisis of women selected into the village committee, nor guarantee that villagers recognise their ability to match their position (Li and Gao 2010). Shortcomings are also found in the quota system and in its manner of adoption in women’s federations and other institutions (Jacka 2008). This chapter focuses on village women’s directors, who are generally considered to belong at the edge of village power. Extant research on women village cadres also focuses on female village party branch secretaries and committee directors. However, these two groups of women account for only 2% of the total count nationwide (Cao and Zhang 2013). The group of village women’s directors is considerably larger in number as an effect of the quota system. In most villages, women’s directors may be the only women to enter the power system, and thus the study of their political participation and behaviour is meaningful. More importantly, based on existing reflective literature, this chapter examines the political experience of women’s directors and emphasises understanding of women’s political participation in ‘local culture’.

10.3 Political Participation of Two Generations of Women’s Directors This section focuses on how the ‘local world’ in which women’s directors participate in politics differ in the collective and the post-collective eras, and in the pre-ruralself-government and the rural self-government eras. How the changing ‘local world’ affects the political participation of two women’s directors are explored, mainly including the tracks and content of their participation, and its influence on their family, relationship with other (male) village cadres and experience and feelings of political participation. As mentioned in the Introduction, Lianhe Village experiences

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outflows of male labour due to industrialisation and urbanisation, which are relatively low in the village. To attract investment, Hanshui County began to develop industrial parks in 2010. The land of several villagers in Lianhe was expropriated in 2012–2013. Wuzhen and Baiying are the two longest-serving women’s directors in the history of Lianhe. According to the regional requirements based on the quota system, the current women’s director Baiying is also on the village committee, and is the only female committee member.

10.3.1 Brief Introduction of Two Generations of Women’s Directors Wuzhen and Baiying represent two generations of women’s directors. Wuzhen is from the ‘first unbound feet generation’, whilst Baiying is from the ‘younger sisters’ group of the ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers generation’. Table 10.1 compares the general demographic characteristics of the two women. They both started their political participation early and have held different positions before their long tenure as women’s directors.

10.3.2 Entering Politics Wuzhen and Baiying entered politics early and held various posts until they became women’s director. However, their political experiences vary because of the changing times. Table 10.1 Brief introduction of two generations of women’s directors Wuzhen

Baiying

Date of birth

1944

1962

Education

Primary school

High school

No. of siblings

One (younger sister)

Eight (five elder sisters, one younger sister and two younger brothers)

Length of service

1960–1982

1979–2010

Political participation experience

Socialist educator, league branch secretary, deputy team leader, cashier, women’s director

League branch secretary, women’s director

Marriage

Uxorilocal marriage

Village marriage

No. of children

Four (two sons and two daughters) Two (sons)

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Wuzhen: Trained by the Party My teachers came to my home numerous times, and they said (to my mom): ‘(you let your daughter leave school) you will destroy her future. Won’t you regret it?’ (My mom) said, ‘I won’t regret it! It is useless for a girl to go to school. I was at school for ten years and it was useless. It will be useless for her, too. After all, she is a girl. It will be useful if it were a son.’ She really preferred sons. I said, ‘Ok, ok, I will leave school. It is my fate.’ I then came back home. After working in the collective for a year, I started taking part in organising the Socialist Education and Route Education in the village. When I left school, I joined the Youth League. My school transferred my Youth League membership credentials to the brigade. My former League branch secretary at school came to visit our brigade every year, and he told the cadres here that ‘Wuzhen was a red flag student at our school and is a good candidate to be trained to a cadre in your brigade.’

Baiying: Chosen due to the high level of school education Q: Did you leave school at 17? A: Yes. I started being the League Branch Secretary of our village as soon as I left school. Very few people had the level of school education as high as me. I graduated from high school. Q: Especially women? A: Yes, even fewer women could achieve that. I was the League Branch Secretary of our village for a long time, until I assumed the position of women’s director. Q: When was that? A: After I got married. My husband was from the same village. Wuzhen is from the ‘first unbound feet generation’, with the demographic characteristics common for females born around the founding of the People’s Republic of China. At the time, both adult and new-born infant mortality rates were high due to the poor health conditions in the countryside. Her mother was widowed without giving birth and then married her father. Thereafter, her mother gave birth to nine children, with only Wuzhen and her younger sister surviving. Her parents, especially her mother, stopped her from attending school due to the severe shortage of labour force. However, as Wuzhen was progressive and had always been valued by ‘the Party organisation’, she was chosen to train as a future cadre. This experience kept her enthusiastic and loyal to the cause of the Party. From her story, we can see how the great social engineering in the collective era reconstructed Wuzhen’s living state mentality and further shaped her ‘collectivised mind’ (Guo Y. 2003) that stayed with her for life. Although Wuzhen already left her position as women’s director in 1982,

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her conversation was still full of political words such as ‘Party organisation’ (dang zuzhi) and ‘Party’s training’ (dang de peiyang) when I visited her over 20 years later in 2006. Baiying was included in the local political system not because she was active and progressive but because she had a high level of education, which few rural women had. Baiying belongs to the ‘younger sister group’ of the ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers generation’. As previously analysed in Chap. 5, Baiying has the common characteristics that her birth order gives her more access to education than her elder sisters. She was the sixth daughter of the family, and her five elder sisters had provided sufficient labour to liberate her from working. Therefore, she could stay at school for as long as she wished. Her high education provided her with the opportunity to be included in local politics and to run the village’s public affairs. However, she did not consider the job as a sacred political cause as Wuzhen did.

10.3.3 Relationships with (Male) Colleagues/Superiors Wuzhen: They rebuked me from time to time. I still stuck to my principles. A: In the Maoist era, people follow a hard working style. They always rebuked me from time to time. Q: Rebuked by the superior? A: Yes. If you did not do your job well, you would be rebuked all the time. It was not like now when being a women’s director is an easy job. Nowadays, a women’s director only has to attend meetings and pass on information between the higher and lower levels. Somebody else will report to you. But in the Maoist era, being a women’s director, I suffered a lot of setbacks. They rebuked me from time to time. Q: Were you rebuked by officials from above or male colleagues from your village? A: From above. But the male superior from my village also chided me, just more strategically. Q: How did you get along with the colleagues from your village? A: Not bad, as long as they did not violate the principles of the Party. If so, I still stick to my principles. Otherwise, why would I always argue with them? Q: What kind of principles? A: For example, principle of humanitarianism to ordinary people.

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Baiying: There were rumours that the secretary of the Party committee of the township liked me. I remember people made up some rumours about me and the secretary of the Party committee of the township, PENG. He is still in power now. He really enjoyed working with me, saying that I was bold and also worked hard. At that time, I was much younger and also more progressive in work than now. I always carried out vigorously the tasks assigned to me from above, and then I went to play mahjong with my co-workers. I was also bold and forthright whilst playing mahjong, just like a man. I would never leave the table halfway even if I had lost a lot of money. I would neither owe anybody if I indeed lost. That’s me. As a result, PENG really liked playing with me. As long as we encountered each other, he liked to play mahjong with me. Later, I was selected as the deputy to the people’s congress of the County. PENG was then the Chairman of the County People’s Congress. We had more opportunities to work together, and therefore, more opportunities to play mahjong together. They started rumours that PENG liked me. I have to say that those who started the rumours were too bored to do so. Considering the current social conditions, PENG is a county leader who has power, and can he not find a young woman if he really intends to have an affair? Those people are just talking nonsense. Besides, I am not a person who would play up to someone of power and influence through an affair. They are just talking nonsense! As a result of her enthusiasm and loyalty to the cause of ‘Party organisation’, Wuzhen stood by her work principles by making decisions in favour of the common people, which often resulted in offending superiors and arguments with colleagues. In the collective age, male leaders had a rough attitude towards women entering the ‘public sphere’. They often rebuked their female colleagues, and the relationship between female cadres, who were often in the margins of village power, and male cadres was unequal. Such inequality is also reflected in the story of how Wuzhen lost her position as women’s director in 1982. The story started with a villager whose wife was pregnant with a second child. At that time, the country has started implementing the ‘one-child’ family planning policy and Wuzhen, as women’s director, was in charge. She and other local cadres urged the couple to abort the foetus but they refused. The first child of the couple had an illness and needed urgent treatment in the county hospital. In the collective era, funds were collectively maintained by the village, and thus the husband went to the village cashier to advance money. However, several village cadres suggested that no money be given unless the man and his wife accepted the abortion. Wuzhen was against such notion at the time. She said, ‘I think these are two separate matters. As the cadres, we need to stand by the principles of “saving the dying and supporting the wounded” and “carrying out revolutionary humanitarianism.” Sending the child to the hospital is one matter, but encouraging abortion is another’. However, the delay in the village resulted in the eventual death of the first child of the couple. Later, the husband took the body of the dead child to

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the house of the Commune party secretary to make a scene, a case that was considered particularly inauspicious locally. Given Wuzhen’s previous objection, the Commune party secretary believed it was Wuzhen’s idea for the villager to make a scene, and he reported the case to his superiors. Thus, Wuzhen was removed from her post. In Wuzhen’s story, we see the viciousness committed by male superiors on behalf of the patriarchal state against women entering the ‘public sphere’. Contrary to Wuzhen’s actions, Baiying actively completed her tasks assigned from above. As she stated, ‘I always carried out vigorously the tasks assigned to me from above’. Although in our interview in 2006, she expressed her concerns about the extreme measures employed by the authorities to stop villagers from having more than one child in the 1980s, she did not stand up to say no at that time. Instead, she did her best to fulfil her assigned tasks, including those that needed her to stand opposite to her fellow villagers. Moreover, in the marketisation era, she aptly mastered the new rules prevailing in political circles. For example, she actively played mahjong with her superiors and was good at recognising what they liked, and eventually, she won their praises. In 2006, she mentioned that she always carried more than 1000 Yuan, which was a large sum for ordinary villagers, in case she needed to play mahjong with her superiors and/or ‘bosses’ of the newly emerging investment and development zones of the county. In Baiying’s story, the relationship between a women’s director and a male colleague and leader is no longer a simple relationship between comrades but may be regarded as a flirtation, even only in public rumours. As a result, women’s directors have become a sexualised object for males in the political circle.

10.3.4 Work–Family Wuzhen: I did not do any housework or care work at home. A: I have never taken care of my children. It was my mom who looked after them. One month after I gave birth to each of them, I no longer stayed at home. I was at meetings all day long. I didn’t have enough breast milk then. My mom fed them hand-made rice paste. She fried rice and made paste out of it. My children only had breast milk after I came back home. But I didn’t have much of it. I didn’t eat much. I didn’t eat chicken or beef and only had a little bit lean pork and fish. Q: Who did housework then, if you spent so much time in your post as a women’s director? A: I did not do any housework. My parents were responsible for those tasks. For example, my father attended to the cattle, my mother looked after my children and my husband did the farming. I did nothing at home. In the past, as a women’s director, you had to attend many meetings. Sometimes,

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meetings could last for half a month or even a whole month in the commune or in the county.

Baiying: I am the one to blame for my younger son being good for nothing. Q: When did your younger son join the army? A: After he finished his junior middle school. I felt ashamed of myself when talking about my younger son. Indeed, I am the reason why my younger son is good for nothing. He didn’t do a good job in school. I am the one to blame. Q: Why? A: In order to make money, his father worked in internal decoration business and was out of home all day long. I was hardly at home due to my position as women’s director. Moreover, to be honest, the social atmosphere was not good at that time. Playing mahjong was very popular among the local political circle, and local cadres of all ranks loved it. As a women’s director, it was not possible to refuse to play mahjong when it was suggested by superiors or co-workers. Refusal would be considered as counteracting and would bring consequences. There was even a commonplace saying that ‘your character is reflected in how you play mahjong; through the way you drink alcohol, one can identify your working style’ (paipin kan renpin, jiufeng kan zuofeng). If you refused or were reluctant, you would not be considered capable in work. Q: That means drinking alcohol and playing mahjong made an important part in your work? A: Yes. I had to play a lot of mahjong, sometimes till midnight. As a result, we didn’t have much time to look after my younger son. We thought he was a good boy, studying at school but only found that he indulged himself in video games. In the end, he was good at nothing. How many marks did he get in the high school entrance examination? Not three hundred! Very bad marks! I then realised that we could not be like that any longer. He was young and was not sensible about planning his future. It was us to blame, especially me. In the collective era, labour in the ‘private sphere’ (domestic work) was belittled. Wuzhen’s story is a good example because she is proud of her lack of care for her family and children during her tenure as women’s director. In the post-collective era, especially in the post-1990s, gender ideology re-emphasised the family and placed importance on women’s motherhood. In Baiying’s story, being a women’s director without considering the family and the education of children becomes a matter of repentance. Here, we further see the transition from the collective to the

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post-collective era, the further retreat of the state and ‘the collectivisation of the mind’ is no longer possible. Instead, the demands of family and of individuals are valued.

10.3.5 Benefits of Participating in Politics to the Family Wuzhen: I had one more son despite the family planning policy. Q: The family planning policy was implemented in the early 1970s. A: Yes. Otherwise, I would not have had my youngest son if the superiors did not show mercy. My family was unusual in the eyes of fellow villagers. My mom married my father in this village. She gave birth to nine children, and only my younger sister and I survived. There had been no single son in my family for a couple of generations. My husband married into my house. I didn’t get pregnant two years after we got married. We then adopted my oldest son from a fellow villager. I then gave birth to two daughters. At that time, the government started to implement the family planning policy, and I was asked to have my oviduct ligated. My father rolled around on the ground in the woods in the village and cried out that he still wanted a grandson from his own blood. The superiors saw this scene and came to ask my opinion. As women’s director, I actually put my name on the list of those who would accept the oviduct ligation and was even the first one. My job needed me to do so, but deep in my heart, I understood what my father had done. Because the superiors came to ask me, I said I would leave the decision to them. My attitude was I had done my part as a women’s director, but I was also eager to know how the Party organisation would treat me, that is, whether they would show me mercy or not. If they sympathised with my situation and gave me permission to have one more child, I would have one. If they didn’t permit it, I was fine with it, too. After all, including the adopted son, I had three children already. One more child meant more burden. That was my attitude, but my parents still wanted a grandson of their own. Later, the superiors saw the desperation of my father, and four levels of organisations, including the commune, the brigade, the production team and the family planning office, met together to discuss my case. In the end, they agreed to remove my name from the list when I was about to lie down for the ligation operation. That was how I had my youngest son. Q: When was that? A: He was born in 1975, when the family planning policy was ‘to eliminate third births, put an end to two births’ (xiaomie santai, dujue liangtai).

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Baiying’s younger son abandoned his studies due to lack of guidance from his parents. As a women’s director, Baiying accumulated connections in the local political circle, which helped her arrange her younger son’s way out. Baiying: Find a way out for the younger son. He was not enrolled in any high school. I then managed to find one for him under the assistance of PENG, who was the Chairman of the County People’s Congress at that time. He helped me find a place in HJ Middle School. Given that my son did not gain normal admission, we needed to pay extra money. It turned out to be a big sum. But later, they said that because we were introduced by PENG, a leader from the county, they would give us a discount. My son then went there. After high school, Baiying’s younger son managed to join the army, under the assistance of a relative from her husband’s side. However, he joined the Navy, a different unit from where the relative was based. Baiying again employed the connections she had to transfer the son into the unit they wanted. My son was recruited by the Navy. But it was a different unit from the Armed Police where our relative was based. It would be difficult for our relative to help him in terms of promotion or transfer to places with better conditions. I then went to ZHENG, who was the secretary of the Party committee of the Office of Family Planning of the township. To be honest, she really looked after us, her subordinates. She helped to transfer my son to the Armed Police in Weihai. In addition to the salary as a women’s director, both Wuzhen and Baiying talked about the benefits from the political participation that ordinary villagers could not obtain. Wuzhen, who had an uxorilocal marriage, was expected by her parents to have a son of her blood. Between the demands of the family and the rules of the state, Wuzhen mainly relied on the mercy of the Party organisation and her superiors. The network of relations that Baiying wove in the local political circle became the key to finding a way out of trouble for her younger son. However, the so-called benefits in both cases were for the family. Wuzhen wanted to satisfy the wishes of her parents to carry on the ancestral line of her family, whilst Baiying’s efforts were for her nuclear family or to borrow Margery Wolf’s term, her ‘uterine family’, in which her devotion to her son won his recognition (Wolf 1972). Here, we also see the change in the dimension of power relations within the family as one of the patriarchal structures. In line with the observations of Yan Yunxiang in the rural areas in north-eastern China in the post-collective era, the focus of power relations within the family has shifted to the younger generation. The husband–wife and parent–child relationships

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in the nuclear family have exceeded the relationship between adult children–parents to become the most important relationship dimension (Yan 2003).

10.3.6 Significance of Political Participation to the Women Themselves Wuzhen: There was no such honour in my family for generations. Q: Many villagers said that rural women should stay at home, doing domestic and care work. You, as the women’s director, always worked outside. Did you experience any conflicts? A: No conflicts. Of course, I did not have time to look after my family. That was the necessary sacrifice I needed to do for my job. Let’s see it from another angle. I was trained by the Party, and as a Communist Party member, I needed to do whatever the Party assigned to me. My parents gave me life, and the Party gave me a second life. I have two lives, which is a huge honour. As what was said by my parents, there was no such honour in my family for generations… As a woman, I experienced a lot of ups and downs outside of family and had also seen much of the world. Very few women could achieve those, but I did. I really regarded myself head and shoulders above others, and therefore, worked harder than others.

Baiying: I have complex feelings. I have many regrets. Q: You mentioned that after you gave birth to your younger son, you did business for a couple of years. A: Yes. I was the women’s director for many years after I had my younger son. But after he started going to school and my oldest son went to junior middle school, I didn’t want to work as women’s director anymore. The salary was very low, and sometimes, we even could not get paid on time. I decided to start a clothing business and wanted to open a clothes shop. WANG, the director of the Family Planning Office of the township, had a very good relationship with me. She said, ‘because you also need to come and go, why not do the two things together? One day, if you can make more money from the shop, we won’t stop you if you still want to quit the position’. I then started working as the women’s director and opened a clothes shop at the same time. That lasted for several years…I regretted it a lot later. If I was intelligent enough at that time, I should have completely

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quitted the post as the women’s director and focused on doing clothes business. If I did so, I should have made a big fortune now.

You are the only one. Q: You have been a woman cadre for many years, starting from the post of the League Branch Secretary to the women’s director. In your opinion, is it easy being a woman cadre? A: I think it is an honour in the countryside (laughing). I am really proud of myself, to be honest. You see, in a village, there are more than two thousand villagers among which women account for a half. As the women’s director, you are the only one, among so many women. I am very proud (laughing). For Wuzhen, the significance of being a women’s director originated mainly from two aspects, one was the benefits to her parents and family, ‘No such honour for generations’; the other was the unique meaning of being a communist party member. After all, the village only had few female party members. From this point of view, for Wuzhen, her family and the ‘Party organisation’ are important forces that define her life experience and meaning. Being a women’s director and carrying out assigned tasks by the ‘Party organisation’ were honours. In Baiying’s view, however, the position and the responsibilities were not ‘an honour’. She even regretted being a women’s director because she missed her chance to make a fortune in a clothing business in the marketization era. However, she was still proud because she was the only one, unique compared with other rural women who could not enter the public domain. For Baiying, the important forces that define her life experience and meaning were no longer family and ‘Party organisation’ but the uniqueness as an individual.

10.4 Conclusion and Discussion On the basis of the existing ‘reflective’ literature, this chapter analyses the different ‘local worlds’ of women’s directors participating in politics, from the collective to the post-collective era and from the ‘pre-autonomy era’ to the ‘self-governance era’. In such historical changes among the forces of the patriarchal state, market, transitioned rural society and the rural family, one aspect wanes whilst the other waxes. These forces have shaped the different political participation experiences of two generations of women’s directors and formed their complex and contradictory subjectivities. In the collective era, the state and the cultural system have cultivated Wuzhen’s ‘collectivised mind’, but the need of the construction of the state to extend to the grass roots made her consider the needs of ordinary people in her work. She herself

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used the term ‘proxy’ to describe her relationship with the villagers, reflecting the role of women’s directors at the grass-roots level in the collective era on the relationship among the state/collective, village, their selves and the villagers. Equally contradictory is the fact that whilst she has served the patriarchal state/collective faithfully and enthusiastically, she has endured the viciousness and unfair treatment of the state’s representatives, that is, her male superiors, at the grass-roots level. In the post-collective era, the construction of the state was fundamentally completed. After the (partial) retreat of the state from the domain of private life, the family and the cultural system guided by the market have influenced Baiying. On the one hand, as a part of the local political circle, she started pursuing individual interests and those of her own nuclear family, showing a tendency of individualisation. On the other hand, as the women’s director in the public sphere, she did not consider her duties from the public perspective but became ‘a refined egoist’ that have been widely criticised in contemporary Chinese society. Collectivism has faded and the tendency of individualisation has intensified. For Baiying, the position of women’s director is no longer the result of the Party’s training but one of multiple job options to be weighed. Therefore, she does not have to be responsible for the training. During the collective era, the state/collective and family are strong constraints that have affected the life and meaning of Wuzhen. In the post-collective village, the power of the state is fading, and the vertical intergenerational relationship between adult children and their parents has given way to the husband–wife and the parent– child relationships in the nuclear family. The pursuit of individual interests gains more legitimacy. However, Baiying’s story suggests that her gender has made her easily become a sexualised object by other males in the political circle and stigmatised by fellow villagers. The market-oriented village gender norms have played a role in this scenario. The stories of Wuzhen and Baiying show that the two generations of women’s directors present complex subjectivities in the changing rural society. Finally, the experiences of Wuzhen and Baiying enable us to reflect on the significance of rural women’s political participation. Is it true that increasing women’s political participation through a quota system alone can attain the original objective of this approach (that is, to achieve gender equality in rural politics by including the voices of marginalised groups, especially women, adopting gender equality policies and measures and actions in the process of rural governance)? The answer does not seem optimistic. The assumption of the quota system appears to be a ‘developmentalist’ one that is a scope of ‘national politics’. However, whether and how rural women participate in village politics is influenced by a changing ‘local culture’. Only through the clear understanding of the ‘local culture’ can the motivation and effectiveness of rural women’s political participation be effectively assessed.

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Chapter 11

Conclusion and Discussion

Abstract This chapter summarizes the major findings of the ‘double comparison’, clarifying the disparities, continuities, interdependence and inequality between these three generations of women, gender relations both in the local world and remote world and the women’s self-identities. It unravels that the prevalent androcentry in the remote world does not match the increasing husband-wife fairness in the local world. It is this mismatch that has caused the complex and paradoxical experiences and subjectivities of contemporary rural Chinese women. It also sums up the determinants of rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure, and further reflects upon the theories/approaches it has adopted.

How have the social transformations in China from 1926 to 2013 affected the labour and leisure lives of the three generations of rural women? How have these different generations experienced these social transformations disparately? What power relations are involved and how have they changed? And why/how have these happened? There is no simple or single answer to any of these questions. Through a ‘double comparison’ framework and some key concepts such as ‘generation’, ‘division of labour’ and ‘TSOL’, the previous chapters have compared the organisation of labour and leisure of the three generations of rural Chinese women along historical time and the women’s life stages. This has revealed disparities, continuities and power relations both within gender, namely, between women, and between genders. In this concluding chapter, I summarize the major findings from the previous chapters, and at the same time revisit the main theoretical frameworks and concepts, reassessing how they have been useful and how I have contributed in turn to them. I firstly focus on the findings through the use of ‘double comparison’ and the concept of ‘generation’, examining the disparities, continuities, interdependence and inequality between these women, and gender relations both in intra-household and extra-household loci as well as the women’s self-identities. Then I sum up the determinants of the division of rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure, with a focus on the role the state has played, and follow up with comments on the applicability of TSOL model to China’s case.

© East China University of Science and Technology Press Co., Ltd. 2020 Y. Huang, Transforming the Gendered Organisation of Labour and Leisure, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-6438-3_11

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11.1 What Changed, What Remained: Disparities, Continuities, Interdependence and Inequality Between Women The ‘double comparison’ framework is original and the careful way of using the concept ‘generation’ is useful in this research. Only through them can the intersection of historical time and the individual life stages be adequately captured and the phenomenon of ‘the co-existence of different generations’ acknowledged. Moreover, women are not treated as if they are from the same group and the complex interrelations between them as well as between genders are revealed with continuities as well as disparities being brought out. Finally this has also enabled the forgotten life stages of certain women to come into view. Importantly, because of these we might be able to track down some clues, if any, hidden in the past, and boldly predict possible prospects for the future. The following sub-sections reveal the ‘clues’ and the ‘prospects’.

11.1.1 Girlhood: The Change of the Mechanism of Son Preference Generally speaking, along the historical time the girls of the three generations did less and less labour, including both housework and cash-generating labour, and started working at a later stage of their girlhood. Chances for non-farming occupations were also mainly enjoyed by girls from the ‘younger sisters’ group and the ‘family planning policy’ generation. As the first generation with unbound feet, the girls in the pre-collective era were compelled to work for the family from as early an age as possible. Starting with auxiliary work, and going on to cash-generating work and farm work, they played an important part in the family economy. Compared to their brothers, they had very little education and no time to play. During the collective era, due to their sex and their birth order, the girls from the ‘older sisters’ group were also asked to work hard in the collective fields for the subsistence of their family, while getting limited education compared to their brothers and their younger sisters. The younger sisters managed to get more education and do non-farming work due to their birth order and the dismantling of the collective. For the ‘family planning policy’ generation, starting school education at around seven and stopping only when they show no sign of being able to get admitted by university/college becomes the norm for their girlhood life. They only laboured after leaving school, and normally did non-farming work. In terms of the distribution of household resources for them, for most purposes, they could get a relatively competing share with their brothers. In other words, in terms of the distribution of household resources, son preference among children gradually decreased along historical time. How has this happened? The institutions that were traditionally thought as the causes of son preference, such as patriliny and patrilocality, still remain. The

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decreasing number of children could be a factor, but it cannot explain why the first generation of women could not get their parents’ favour since they had a much smaller number of siblings than the second generation. As for the gender equality ideology of the rural parents, I believe this is the effect rather than the cause of their actual practices. I suggest that the opening up of opportunities for females to achieve upward social mobility and then bring in benefits for their family improved their treatment from their parents. In other words, the mechanism of son preference changed to some extent and this change was caused by the institutional changes in the outside world and its effect on gender fairness within the rural household. The relation between these two loci where gender relations are involved will be discussed more in the next section. Here I will use the experiences of the three generations to support my suggestion. As mentioned in Chaps. 3 and 4, during both the pre-collective and collective era, the main means of achieving upward social mobility—such as passing the national official position select exam, becoming cadres at township level, joining the army or factories—were exclusively or mainly open to men. This explained why parents of the first and the second generations invested much more in their son(s) while neglecting daughter(s). While for the third generation in the reform era, admission to university/college becomes the main means for achieving upward social mobility, and since it is based on academic merit rather than gender, rural parents’ investment is more likely to go academically stronger children of whatever sex if their resources are limited. In other words, due to this institutional change in the system of social stratification, girls could now bring benefits for their family by their achievements in the outside world and this boosted their power in the family. But since it was not designed to improve gender fairness, the increase of gender fairness between children in rural households can be thought of as an unintended consequence of the structural transition in China. The improvement can easily be reversed if the circumstances change, for example, if the returns of high education decrease, or if it is difficult for female college graduates to find a job. Besides, other structural changes in the outside world could also bring disadvantages to the girls, which also would be discussed in next section.

11.1.2 Young Motherhood: The Organisation of Childcare, Cash-Generating Work and Leisure Historically speaking, the ‘double burden’ of cash-generating work on the one hand, and childcare and housework on the other hand is increasingly lightened for the three generations. The younger generations’ labour lives are more flexible and they spend less time on labour. They and their husbands also have more time and money for leisure. This is especially so for the third generation, since their parents (-inlaw) take on almost all of housework, childcare and farming, leaving them almost completely free for cash-generating work. These women also enjoy the most ‘pure’

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and unbroken leisure time of all the other generations. Basically, the three factors of the labour system, the number of children, and family composition after married have jointly caused each generation of women to have different young motherhoods. Basically, young motherhood in the collective era was more difficult than it in the reform era, as the inflexible collective labour system required their strict obedience to the labour time and labour quantity. Besides, a large number of children definitely made childcare more demanding. Finally, a form of stem family, extended family or cooperative family supplied a helper from the old generation focusing on housework and childcare while the nuclear family does not. In this sense, the first generation was the most ‘unlucky’ generation who spent their young motherhood labouring for the collective while raising the biggest number of children among the three generations. In other words, they had the highest dependant-to-labourer ratio in the family compared to other generations and this started to speed up household division and shake the classic model of childcare in traditional rural China in which cooperation existed in the family between the older generation and the young one: the grandmother fulfilled the tasks of housework and childcare, while relying on the young couple(s) for living expenses. Except those who had an uxorilocal marriage, most young mothers from the first generation struggled with the ‘double burden’. Things were different for the young mothers from the ‘older sisters’ group. Although they were also in the collective era and were normally in a nuclear family after they married, they did not struggle as the first generation due to far fewer children resulting from the family planning policy. Besides, they could rely on their own younger siblings for help with childcare due to the big age gap between them. Less children were also the case for the ‘younger sisters’ group, and their young motherhood was even easier, as the coming of de-collectivisation brought forward flexibility of labour time and quantity. They could also turn to their older siblings’ children for help with childcare. And finally, all the three factors mentioned above show advantages for the third generation. A flexible labour system, a small number of children and a cooperative family where their mother (-in-law) helps with all the housework and childcare made the ‘double burden’ no longer the case for most of them. Therefore, when farming no longer remained profitable and more profitable nonfarming occupations emerged in the reform era, only the third generation could completely focus on them, leaving housework, childcare and farming to their parents (-in-law). Although the women from the ‘younger sisters’ group, had schooling and occupational training that made them eligible for non-farming occupations, and despite the fact that they desperately want to take advantage of these opportunities, they could not manage as they were normally from a nuclear family where the husband was engaged in non-farming work and they had nobody to help them with housework, childcare and farming. Very few women from the ‘older sisters’ group did non-farming occupations, as their schooling and occupational education was limited as mentioned above. This is also the case for the first generation, and besides they were too old to do so in the reform era. That is why there was a ‘feminisation of agriculture’ in the village in the late 1980s and early 1990s, followed by an ‘ageing of the farming population’ from the mid-1990s when the third generation had grown up.

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11.1.3 Old Age: Elderly Care and the Changing Intergenerational Contract In the interest of comparison, I introduced the parents’ generation of the first generation, comparing their elderly care to that of both the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group. In terms of the treatment and respect from their adult children, there seems a ‘U’ curve existing along the historical time. By this I mean, compared to their parents’ generation, the first generation received even worse elderly care; while the situation of the ‘older sisters’ group is much better. This shows that the reality in rural China is more complicated than the elderly care crisis in other developing countries which, according to the normal explanations, is caused by declining birth rate, ruralurban migration and the disintegration of the traditional extended family brought forward by industrialisation. A definite conclusion of ‘crisis’ or the opposite cannot cover the variations of elderly care arrangements and the changing intergenerational contract. The absence of sufficient and reliable institutional old age welfare makes it necessary to maintain an intergenerational contract. But the mechanisms of intergenerational contract in rural China have undergone changes during different historical periods and for different generations of rural elders since the early twentieth centuries, due to the variations of the effects both at a structural level and an individual level. Working effects include factors at the structural level, such as elderly care provision systems, labour systems, property systems, transformations in culture and demography etc.; and effects at the individual level, like family structure, the number of children (especially sons), living arrangements, physical situation, economic standing and importantly, people’s perception and appreciation of labour. Basically, all these generations have worked hard to manage an intergenerational reciprocity, but due to the variations of the above listed factors, the elders from the first generation often did not manage to win the long-term gratitude of their adult son(s) and their family or guarantee a smoothly running reciprocated cycle of care. Therefore, they are somewhat experiencing an elderly care crisis. While also due to these factors, the parents’ generation of the ‘first unbound feet’ generation and the current late-middle-aged people did/do manage to win appreciation and gratitude for their contribution from their adult children, either because of changed labour system or intentional parental investment, and had/will have better elderly care. Looking prospectively, although the ‘elder sisters’ group from the second generation can enjoy more stable old age welfare and they have a more balanced intergenerational contract with their adult children, they still have to work very hard in the cooperative family and keep up a good parental investment to guarantee long-term gratitude and future old age support from their adult children. They must contribute even more for their children, due to the widening rural-urban gap and the increasing aspirations of their adult children to improve their lives. If they fail to do so, this may

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result in poor elderly care. Another fact which would keep recurring is an advantageous position old rural women normally enjoy over their old husbands within the household due to their bigger contribution in domestic chore, care work and sometimes income-generating work.

11.1.4 Interdependence and Inequality Between Women Based on the above comparisons, we can perceive different power relations between these generations of women, including both interdependence and inequality. Interdependence can normally be witnessed during young motherhood. Since the pattern of the gender division of labour, in which housework and childcare are women’s responsibility, remains the same, the interdependence normally means ‘mutual help’ with childcare and housework between different generations of women. The cooperation model in which the old generation help out with childcare and housework, while relying on the young generation for living expenses normally happens in stem families. The uxorilocal families of the women, especially the first and the third generation, could fit into this model. This intergenerational cooperation also could be seen in the cooperative family of the third generation, where the old generation also do cash-generating work, but do so for the welfare of the whole family and thus expect proper elderly care from the young generation. We also see reciprocity between the two groups from the second generation: the ‘older sisters’ group relied on their younger siblings, especially sisters for childcare, while the latter turned to the daughters of the former for help with childcare. But when the contribution of one side is more than the other side, the mutual relations could end up in one side’s superiority toward the other and thus turn into inequality. For example, the inflexible labour system produced a ‘relied-relier’ relationship in which mothers of the first generation were dependent on them while they were in their girlhood. But in old age, the contribution of the first generation was not fully recognised by their adult children, which put them in a weak position in terms of intergenerational reciprocity. In many cases, like their interdependent relations, inequality among women mainly involved an unbalanced distribution of housework and childcare between different generations of women. The third generation has the most enjoyable leisure life among the three generation, but their enjoyment is at the expense of their mother (-in-law)’s time, money and leisure. Furthermore, if we adopt a historical and holistic perspective, the improvement of the third generation’s treatment in terms of education is at the cost of the quality of the first generation’s old age, as the second generation cut their expenses on the first generation’s elderly care, and invested the money for the third generation’s future. All these offer evidence of a special form of intersection between age and gender relations. To sum up, looking through the three generations’ whole lives, it seems the first generation is the most ‘unlucky’ group. Except for their late girlhood when they could earn some power at home by their labour, every other intersection point between their life cycle and historical time brought forward disadvantages for them, for example,

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severe ‘double burden’ at young motherhood, miserable old age and no leisure time for almost the entirety of their life. The lives of the younger generations, especially the third generation, have improved to some extent. Much of the improvement, however, is at the expense of the older generations’ interests. The same story between the old and young generations will keep repeating itself. By this, I mean, the current younger generations, including both the ‘younger sisters’ group and the third generation, are still in a weaker position when their interests conflict with their offspring’s. Besides, new dangers and disadvantages appear with the coming of new chances in the new extra-household world.

11.2 Intra-household Dynamics, Extra-household World and Gender Relations This part discusses the gender relations these women were involved in at their different life stages in their ‘local world’, that is, within the household where the immediate power relations happen, and in extra-household loci such as state and market. It also discusses the interrelations between the two loci, and these women’s self-identity related to these. Throughout the almost 90 years of history, from 1926 to 2013, rural Chinese women have experienced different loci where power relations take place and the structure of power relations has undergone changes. During the pre-collective era, the household was deemed as the main site of oppression, a site where women were subordinated by patriarchal power. The coming of the collective era put rural women under the force of team leaders who were normally male and represented the state; after the dismantling of the collective, many scholars worried that rural women would go back to the patriarchal authority of the household (Andors 1983; Croll 1983; Davin 1988), but the emergence of new extra-household loci such as the market, and the changes of political policies at the state level, brought forward a change of dynamics in the household. Several scholars have already suggested that patriarchy is not suitable to describe the power relations in rural households any longer, but androcentry still prevails (Judd 1994; Yan 2003). I agree with Judd and Yan, but I suggest that in current rural China, more complicated interrelations between the intra-household dynamics and the extra-household social processes exist, which affect contemporary rural women’s status, both at home and in society. Yanagisako once suggested that ‘the domestic relationships are an essential part of a society’s political structure’ (Yanagisako, 1979:181, referring to Jelin 1991: 18). I agree with her and would like to add that they are also an essential part of the market relations in rural China in the marketisation era.

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11.2.1 ‘The Priority to the Youth’: Intra-household Dynamics and Extra-household Changes The past century has seen the rise of the young people’s power and a fall in the authority of the old in rural Chinese households. This represents a dramatic change in intra-household dynamics as it reflects the fact that, age is now the most important social division at home and the young are enjoying priority over the old where household resources distribution is involved. Two groups of young people are involved in this transformation: unmarried young people and married young couples. I suggest that the interrelation between the intra-household dynamics and the extra-household social processes has caused this. Generally speaking, the alterations in the extra-household world, including changes in the socio-economic structure and political policies, have affected the intrahousehold dynamics as the intra-household dynamics adjust themselves according to external transformations. According to both Whyte (2000) and Yan (2003), the changes of intra-household dynamics in rural China were gradual processes which could be traced back to the early stages of socialist revolution, and therefore the periods before and after economic reforms should not be regarded as representing a sharp contrast. In the early stages, the important external changes include the collectivization of land and property, and the campaigns that challenged the authority of the elder and brought down the institutional guarantee of Confucian ethics and the system of kinship. In Lianhe Village, the start of serial household division in the collective era represents the earlier steps of the shift from the vertical (father-son) to the horizontal (husband-wife) relationship as the key axis of the family/household. When the young mothers from the first generation had to co-head their family with their husbands as mentioned in Chap. 4, husband-wife relation was becoming more and more important. The trend has been further strengthened in the reform era. In the context of bigger rural-urban segregation and the reality that non-farming occupations are more profitable, the coming of industrialisation and marketisation has actually opened up a broader space for the young generation and empowered them. What the capitalist market need from the rural households is not the old, but the young who are more educated, have nimble fingers, clearer vision and more energy. Besides, as mentioned in both Chaps. 4 and 6, although in the collective era attaining an urban household registration seemed more likely happen to older men who were promoted to certain official positions or in the army, now, it is only possible for young people to achieve it through education. Basically, for normal Chinese peasants, the expectations of improving the family’s condition are placed on the young generation, which has enhanced their importance at home and guaranteed them priority in the division of household resources. The rise of the younger generation’s power intersects with gender and this has caused complex gender relations in contemporary rural Chinese households. Besides, since androcentry is the prevailing principle in the extra-household world, it makes

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current rural women’s status more complicated. Next I will present their status according to their life stages: unmarried girlhood first, followed by relations with their husband after getting married.

11.2.2 Girls’ Intra-household Gains and Extra-household Loses The opening of the extra-household world and the girls’ treatment in it definitely affects their status at home. The girls’ extra-household labour brings certain power for them in the household, for example, both girls from the first generation and the ‘older sisters’ group got a say and respect at home as their labour helped the family in urgent situations. Bigger improvements happened only when the marketisation era came and more profitable non-farming occupations opened up to the girls. By now, however, the biggest effect, as I mentioned in last section, is the opening of the main means of upward social mobility—higher education in contemporary China. For the girls of the third generation, higher education would dramatically improve the life of their whole family and this has greatly increased their parents’ investment in their education. Obviously, the new policies adopted by the Chinese government in 2006 such as the abolition of agricultural taxes and the government footing the bill for compulsory education in rural areas will further benefit the education for rural children, particularly rural girls. But the worry is, if the returns of high education decrease, for example, female college graduates do not easily find a job to improve their family’s lives, it may negatively affect the resources invested by parents in their education. In this sense, the improvement of the rural girls’ status is an unintended consequence of the complex transformation of contemporary rural China; therefore it can easily be reversed if the circumstances change. The improvement itself is not the end, but is from a ‘developmentalist’ perspective which considers girls as the recipients and agents of development but not subjects (Ross 2011). Furthermore, although it has empowered the rural girls at home, the whole extra-household world is not friendly to them. The capitalist market in particular exploits them and takes advantage of their youth, as I mentioned in Chap. 6. In this sense, the improvement of their family’s lives and the increasing power and responsibility within the household brought by their ‘opportunities’ for non-farming work in the outside world, make these rural women’s stories sadder and more discouraging. More importantly, the prime principles of power relations in the two loci, that is, the household and extra-household worlds are different. Within the household, as mentioned above, currently young age gets the priority over old age; while in the extra-household world, androcentry prevails. The intersection of these two principles has put contemporary rural girls in a strange position: they are precious and helpful daughters at home, but a devalued female in the outside world where they are in a weaker position. Especially for the girls who are working in the service industry, which constitutes important occupations for a large proportion of rural girls, they are

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more easily thought of as being involved in selling sex even though they actually did not do it at all, and they even become the object of men’s sex fantasies. A devaluation and even stigmatisation are imposed on these girls in the extra-household world. And since the forces of the extra-household world are stronger, the girls’ increasing power is only the case at home, without bringing about radical challenges to the androcentry and gender inequality in the outside world.

11.2.3 Wife’s Self-identity: From ‘Familial Self’ to ‘Selective Individualist’ What is the status of married rural women in the family, and how has it changed over the last 90 years or so? Considering the family composition, rural wives normally need to deal with relations with three parties: their parents (-in-law), their husband and their children. If we look according to historical time, for the first generation, after they got married, whether they were in an extended, a stem or a nuclear family, they were normally at the bottom of the household resources distribution pyramid, with their husband’s, parents-in-law’s and children’s interests above their own. A notion of ‘familial self’ was once proposed to describe the Indian middle class women who are involved in family relationships and obligations, and who subordinate their own interests and that of other members who they could control, to the survival and welfare of the whole family (Devasahayam 2005). The image of the first generation of married women is a ‘familial self’. They sacrificed their interests and the interests of family members they could control—normally daughters—for the sake of the whole family’s welfare as can be seen in Chap. 4. They were also proud of their sacrifice and deemed it a ‘virtue’. The younger generations, including both the second and the third generations, are different. Firstly, as mentioned above, the husband-wife relationship triumphed over the father-son relationship due to the rising power of the young and the spread of the nuclear family. For the married women of these groups, including the third generation from the cooperative family, the interests of parents-in-law are no longer put before those of their own. In the existing literature, much has been talked about their triumph over the patriarchal power in the family; however, few have mentioned the power structure between them and their husbands and/or their children. For these two younger generations, I suggest they have shed the image of the ‘familial self’ and developed some sort of individualism at home. This individualism, however, is not absolute but selective. I mean the priority of the young works here again: these married women put their children’s but not their husbands’ interests above their own. A good example is the way in which they constraint their expenses, sacrificing time and money that would be devoted to their leisure, for the sake of their children’s education. However, these women still compete with their husband for an equal share in leisure expenses.

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How has this selective individualism developed? Firstly, the triumph of the young over the old has, to some extent, already fostered the individualism of the younger generations. Secondly, the marriages of most of the younger generations, especially the ‘younger sisters’ group and the third generation, are based on affection, which itself is made possible by the broader spaces for meetings and more freedom for courtship. The conjugal intimacy of these marriages increases the awareness of unfairness between husband and wife and boosts the wives’ determination to pursue fairness. Thirdly, the opening of the extra-household world since the economic reform empowers these women mainly through two ways. First of all, an open society supplies the women with more opportunities to rely on themselves or turn to sources other than family for help. For example, a 50-year-old woman Suoxiu told me in 2006 that if her suspicion that her husband was having an affair with a woman in the same village was proved to be true, she would ask for a divorce, no matter how old she was. She said ‘It is not like the past now. With my hands, no matter where I go, I can earn several hundred yuan a month by, say, being a care worker. I won’t worry about my living. I still can have a happy life.’ The story told by Lianmei in Chap. 5 also echoes this. Lianmei claimed that if it were now, she would not be intimidated by pre-marital pregnancy and would abort it and refuse the marriage which was against her will. Surely Marriage Law and some other state laws also have worked to empower the women, but as suggested in Chap. 5, without an open environment, the laws won’t take effect to a full. And most importantly, wives’ contribution to the family, especially their cash contribution, empowers them. When wives’ contribution is comparable to husbands’, they think they can claim an equal share of family resources with the latter, putting their children’s interests first of course, like the ‘older sisters’ stories told in Chap. 9. When the non-farming labour market is favourable to females the traditional pattern of household divisions of labour between husband and wife change. This can be seen with the example given in Chap. 7 where Xiaohong, a woman from the ‘younger sisters’ group, worked in a textile factory while her husband attended the family and farming at home. But current married rural women are also experiencing the same strange position that girls are currently trying to get through and perhaps even suffering more. Within her home, she is normally in a stronger position than her parents-in-law, and she also enjoys some equality with her husband. But in the extra-household world she is also suffers the androcentry from the capitalist market and other institutions. The stigmatization of certain service industry could also happen to them. More importantly, as married women, with the rise of their power at home and selective individualism, they must deal with the negative reaction from those men who have lost their strong position in the patriarchal system. Another stigmatization could happen to them in which they are thought as ‘strong-willed and irrational women’ by men when they insist in claiming an equal share of leisure resources with their husbands. The status they have achieved at home possibly only changes HER husband’s attitude toward HER and HER claim, but not toward WOMEN in general. In other words, husbandwife fairness has been improved (although the fairness measure rule is still inclined to neglect women’s housework and care work), but gender equality has not been increased much to match it. Women may be respected in certain situated relations

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and circumstances, for example, as a mother, a wife, a sister or a daughter, but not as a WOMAN. The mismatch between intra-household and extra-household realms could partially account for this. The stigmatization could even happen to rural women cadres and bring about bigger consequences. As mentioned in Chap. 10, on the one hand, the political participation of rural women cadres raises their self-esteem and increases their sense of self-value; on the other hand, their work as a cadre takes place outside of the ‘private realm’, and turns them into a sexualised object for males in the political circle. Facing this paradox, they hardly take initiative to pursue gender equality in rural societies, but become a follower of the will of male leaders or an egoist to purse their own political interests. For all three generations of these women it is normally the case that they will have some advantages toward their husbands in the family after they reach old age, as they often have greater ability to fend for themselves in old age. As mentioned before, the existing gender division of labour causes this. The importance of women’s role in housework and care work, especially in cooking, washing and cleaning has not been realized and valued until the old age when their husbands are no longer a main labour to bring in cash. If the current situation remains the same, that is to say, if old age welfare and affordable public services for rural elders is still lacking, and public services do not take full responsibility until the final minute of their lives then the rural elders will still have to rely on their adult children. And if they must rely on their adult children, even if partly, then they will still have to manage a good intergenerational reciprocity by working for their adult children, and this will mean the advantages of old women will remain.

11.3 Women, Labour, Leisure and Family: Determinants of the Division of Rural Women’s Labour and Leisure Why/how have these disparities, continuities and power relations within and between generations and genders happened? The adoption of the intersectional approach inspired by the concepts of ‘local world’ and ‘moral experiences’ and the development of the concept of ‘division of labour’ in the previous chapters have answered this question. It demonstrates that the complex interplay between external/structural factors and familial/household factors has caused these. Different external/structural factors interplay and intersect with disparate familial/household factors at each point where the women’s life stages intersect with historical time, and produce diverse labour and leisure patterns.

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11.3.1 External/Structural Factors, Familial/Household Factors and Their Interplay To some extent, the interplay of external/structural factors and familial/household factors is like the reciprocal determinations between social processes of production and reproduction proposed by some scholars (Jelin 1991; Tilly and Scott 1987). But since many social processes in rural China have involved strong intervention by state, the scope of both external/structural factors and familial/household factors are broader and more complex than the domains of production and reproduction. In other words, besides echoing social divisions such as gender, culture, education and lifestage etc. mentioned in the development of the concept of ‘division of labour’, this study brings in more factors which have a part in the division of labour and leisure. Next I will provide some explanations of changes and continuities in patterns of rural Chinese women’s labour and leisure at a somewhat general level, based on examinations in previous chapters. Firstly, such external/structural factors as socio-economic, political, demographic and cultural forces in part shape both the need of women’s labour and their participation. Basically, socio-economic forces include changes in the economic system, labour system, labour market, education system, labour migration and agricultural technology, which all have a part in the types of rural women’s labour and leisure activities, their labour and leisure time, the intensity of their labour and so on. Political factors refer to the political policies issued by state, including for example, the unbinding of feet for the first generation, household registration policy or, at a more general level, the social stratification system and means of upward social mobility. But to a great extent, even the change of labour system between collective and decollective is the result of state intervention, not ‘natural’ development. Demographic factors are, to some extent, also political, as family planning policy has been the most important state initiative. And finally, cultural norms include son preference, traditional household division and marriage practices. A very noticeable point is the political factors. Because of state intervention, for example, the pattern of rural Chinese women’s labour is different, in some respects, from some of the existing results based on studies in western countries. For example, normally, people think that high participation of women in labour will cause a decrease in fertility rates. But this is not the case when the women are not able to control their participation in labour (as in the collective era) or the number of children they have (as was the case after the implementation of the family planning policy). Another general assumption is that a low fertility rate will increase the mothers’ time spent with their children. But this is not the case in rural China either, as the low fertility rate is achieved by control, not voluntary decisions. The third generation of women have a limited number of children, but among the three generations, they spend the least amount of time with their children, as their mothers (-in-law) do that for them. Secondly, familial/household factors include family structure and composition, the resources the family own and the life cycle of the family and so on. It also includes

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individual factors, for example, members biographic features including gender, age, life stages, birth order, the number of siblings, the number of children, marriage types (uxorilocal or patrilocal), their physical condition, their achievements such as their academic performance, and finally and importantly, psychological factors such as their aspirations and understanding. Generally speaking, family structure and composition are important in every life stage of the women. For example, when the girls from the ‘older sisters’ group had a grandmother at home, they could get more years of education as the grandmother could help with housework and childcare. Otherwise, it was very likely that the girls did not get any education, as the stories told in Chap. 5 highlight. After marriage, family composition is even more important, as a mother (-in-law) at home could set younger women free for cash-generating work and leisure. This has been mentioned many times in both Chaps. 7 and 9. The biggest difference between the ‘younger sisters’ group and the third generation is the family composition. The presence or absence of the mother (-in-law) has caused disparate labour and leisure lives for them. Another point I would like to stress here is the women’s aspirations and understanding. From previous chapters we can see that since 1958 when the household registration system was first implemented, peasants have continually made great efforts to try and break through the rural-urban segregation system for themselves or their children. We have witnessed their hard work attempting to build up interpersonal connections or save education fees for their children, marrying urban ‘hukou’ holders and so on. If we neglect their aspirations, it is hard for us to really understand their efforts. When serious segregation happened, efforts to break up this artificial segregation became central to their expectations of their future lives and affected their choices in terms of labour and leisure. People’s understanding of certain social process is also important. An example is the family of the first generation’s adult sons. This family tends to think that compared to their aspirations of attaining the high living standards of urban life, the contribution of the old to them is nothing, and is not enough to maintain a smooth intergenerational reciprocity, and therefore the old do not deserve a good elderly care. The interplay and intersection of these two types of factors has produced the various patterns of labour and leisure for these rural women as outlined in previous chapters. This intersectional approach has also managed to explain the mechanisms of the disparities, continuities and power relations mentioned above. What is noticeable is that the intersection often reached some unexpected results. Take for example the intersection between the collective labour system and life stages. The urgent need for labour and inflexibility caused by the collective labour system made the previously unnoticed labour force visible. So, we can see the girls from the first generation becoming important because of their labour and the help with housework, or the old in the collective becoming valuable because of their childcare which was highly appreciated by their adult children. Another example is about the elderly care arrangement in Lianhe Village. In contrast to conclusions drawn from other developing countries, rural-urban migration and the decline of fertility rate in China are not causes of the elderly care crisis, but could be blessings for Chinese rural

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elders. Besides, gender is not the only social division that matters: age, generation and other socio-economic, demographic features attached to these women are also important. This intersectional approach can take these factors into account, and avoid a misery perspective which research from a sole gender perspective may suffer from.

11.3.2 The Role of the State What is the role of the state in the interplay between the structural factors and the family/household factors? In other words, what role does the state has played in the organization of labour and leisure of the villagers in Lianhe, and in the formation of the power relations within and between genders and generations? The ‘state’ seems hardly seen in previous chapters, but under a closer scrutiny, the ‘state’ is everywhere. It is the ultimate promoter of a series of family changes and personality development, and it shapes the moral world of the villagers. The state is the ultimate power of influence on both structural and familial/household factors, even though sometimes it does not exert its effects directly. In the Fig. 1.1 ‘The individual, local world and remote world under an intersectional approach’ in Chap. 1, it is mentioned that the ‘state (market)’ that belong to the ‘remote world’ often do not act on individuals directly. Family/household as the ‘local world’ of the villagers have provided them the locus where they encounter the state and external political, socio-economic, cultural and demographic effects, particularly effects exerted by Marriage Law, social stratification system, educational options and various social welfare policies etc. Based in the familial/household context, individual villagers have their own understanding of these impacts. Direct strong confrontations are very rare cases, and for most purposes, the external forces have been accepted, or reinterpreted or taken advantage of or ignored if they are not compulsively enforced. In the cases of acceptance, the external forces take effect; while in the cases of reinterpretation and utilization, the targets of the external forces are missed, and unintended consequences come into being. What noticeable is, based on the studies of the villagers’ encounters with external and political effects, I find that for most purposes, political policies do not take effect immediately or directly. They often result in unintended consequences, after the villagers’ reinterpretation, utilization, negotiation, transaction or contestation in their local world. Some other political policies do not work effectively until the institutional environment has changed. In this sense, to some extent, the processes of modernisation and industrialisation in rural China are full of surprises and unintended consequences, and have not been developed according to designed. But although they seem intangible and invisible especially after the dismantlement of the collective, the political and external forces constitute an important part of the local life in the village.

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11.3.3 The Applicability of TSOL Model to the Chinese Case This research borrowed the notion of ‘work’ and the holistic perspective from the TSOL model, and managed to apply the model to China’s case. And the transformation of different patterns of TSOL could be seen at different historical periods and during disparate life stages of the women. But I’d like to stress two points in terms of its applicability to the case of rural China. Firstly, political factors which are neglected in this model need to be taken into account in China’s case. State and political policies played a key role in the collective era, and are still working today in the partial market economy; as I mentioned above, the role of the state and politics can produce different results in rural China from the general results based on high capitalist western economies. Secondly, I stress the agency of the actors, normally in the form of the women’s efforts, aspirations and understandings in this research. I suggest they also have a part in the organisation processes of ‘who does what for whom’, and I have also given examples above. Besides, by exploring their efforts and strategies, for example, their building up of social networks for their children’s future, relations other than economic ones, (for example, interpersonal relations) could also enter our analytical framework. And interpersonal relations are especially important in China’s case, and they are key parts in the exploration of the ‘local world’ and ‘moral experiences’ of the villagers in Lianhe, but are not included in the traditional TSOL model. I believe it will be subject to some corrections when this model is applied to different cultures, but these corrections are only complementary and in most cases are not able to be replicated in another culture’s case. In 2012–2013, Lianhe Village successfully attracted investment and established an industrial park. The farmland and houses of some Lianhe villagers were expropriated, and they moved into a residential compound which was especially built for those from nearby villages with land and houses expropriated. The lives of these three generations of women have also begun to change: first, the villagers who lose their land and move into residential compound must adapt to the new life. Second, some women from the ‘post-revolutionary baby boomers’ generation began to engage in non-farming work after losing their land. Some women in the ‘older sisters’ group started to look for jobs such as cleaning, and those from ‘younger sisters’ group could also come out for non-farming work, as their children either went to college or stopped attending school and no longer needed their much care. Most of them work in nearby textile factories or the food processing factories. Villagers start a new way of life, and many women join the community ‘square dance’ team. How will new forms of labour and new forms of residence affect the life experiences of these women in Lianhe Village? How will their status in the family and the husbandwife relationship and intergenerational relationship be affected? Overall, how will the process of urbanization and industrialization affect the labour, leisure life and power relations of rural women? These questions require further study, and will be answered in the next book.

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