Impressions of a Feminist Working in Beijing

“Nǐhǎo ma?” were some of the first words I learned after arriving in China. According to my teacher, the possible answers are “Wǒ hěn hǎo.” i.e. “I am fine” or “Wǒ hái hǎo” i.e. “I am ok”. When I asked how to say “I am not fine”, I was told that the Chinese language did not provide for such a response. If you don’t feel well, you do not tell.

It has been half a year since I moved to China. The country, people, and culture continue to intrigue me. People from all over the world have contacted me asking about my experiences. So here is my humble attempt to share my key learnings that will hopefully contribute to enhancing the cross-cultural understanding between China and the world.

If you don’t feel well, you do not tell.

It was 7 January 2020 when I stepped out of the plane at Beijing airport. Unfortunately, I chose the same arrival time as COVID-19, which made a speedy integration into China's capital rather difficult. Trying to become part of a new team and learning the ins and outs of a new job while being stuck in a new home was quite a challenge. Not to mention the fact that I could not communicate with anyone on the street, the police I needed to register at or the Chinese apps I had to install to use a taxi or bike. I was entirely dependent on both other people and technology.

Technology is everywhere, indeed. I do no longer walk to a supermarket to buy groceries. I just order them on my way to work with my phone. I communicate with my translation app, I order a taxi via the Didi app and unlock my bike via the Mobike app. Anything else I order on Taobao, the Alibaba-owned online shop, i.e. the Amazon of China. The package is usually waiting for me at my doorstep when I come home in the evening, including on weekends. Also, I don’t need to carry around a purse anymore. My phone is just fine. Life is very easy, it seems, except when your phone runs out of battery, the internet is not working or you don't have a Chinese bank account, which is a prerequisite for any app to work. Don’t even try to hail a cab in the street or you may wait forever. Trust me, I speak out of experience.

Life under COVID has been strict: I have not been allowed to invite anyone to my house. Until recently, my friends were turned away at the entry of my compound. Now they can register with an app to prove they have not been to Europe lately, and are hence no potential virus transmitters. Not only at my compound but wherever I go everyone needs to submit their contact details and have their temperature checked - either with a fever pistol or a tablet. With a distance of one meter the tablet tells you how high your temperature is. The other day it was 34. Low enough to wink me through.

"My mum always told me not to lead a team but to always be the second."

Being back in the office, I soon realized how differently my Chinese colleagues behave and think. Let me reiterate: I am not saying better or worse but in a different way to what I was used to from the Netherlands and Belgium. I remember one discussion surrounding a photoshoot. I wanted to wear a red suit (I don’t tend to blend in, I like to stick out - a female survival mechanism my mentors taught me a long time ago) but was asked to wear something dark to match with the rest of the team. One of my foreign-educated Chinese colleagues later explained to me: “Sarah, China is all about community, not the individual. My mum always told me not to lead a team but to be the second at all times”. I became curious and wanted to get a better understanding of the Chinese mentality. So, I purchased the book “The Culture Map” by Erin Meyer to learn how to best communicate and work in cross-cultural teams in general, and with my Chinese colleagues in particular:

To begin with, people in China employ a very indirect communication and feedback style. In a high-context country like China or Japan nothing is meant in the literal sense and you will hardly ever hear a ‘no’. If I ask for feedback or an opinion, disagreement or criticism will not be voiced directly. My Chinese colleagues rather nod their heads. As I learned, this is actually a sign of honor and respect as you do not want to humiliate the other person you disagree with. By remaining silent, you guard that person's face. Instead, you need to read between the lines to understand what exactly is meant.

The importance of context is perfectly exemplified when studying the Chinese language. For instance, you will not know if someone is talking about a woman or men (‘ta’ means both ‘he’ and ‘she’), or referring to the present or past tense (time expressions are used rather than adjusting the form of a verb) unless you listen carefully. So, here is one of my key  learnings for far: Listening and watching attentively are prerequisites in a high-context country - skills I have definitely improved since arriving.

The concept of “guarding one’s face” is crucial in China’s community-based society.

The concept of “guarding one’s face” is crucial in China’s community-based and relationship-based society. Among others, it can be traced back to Confucianism. Confucius defined society as a community of trust based on social responsibility rather than an adversarial system based on contractual relations. He foresaw that all human relationships involve a set of defined roles and mutual obligations, which each participant must understand and conform to in order to preserve harmony. The five relationships are: ruler to ruled, father to son, husband to wife, elder brother to younger brother, friend to friend. Again, the Chinese language perfectly illustrates this thinking as it differentiates between siblings by providing for different terms for small sister,big sister,small brother and big brother, respectively. Similarly, there are different words for aunts and uncles depending on the side of the family they are from and whether they are related by blood or marriage etc.

These role differences are to be respected and have encompassed a very hierarchical system with significant power distances on various levels, particularly between a boss and a subordinate. Decisions are most often taken by the boss in a top-down fashion and not to be challenged. According to this paternalistic view of leadership the “father knows best” but in return must also provide for protection and care for the team. With more decision power comes more responsibility and obligations, after all. Once a decision is made, there is a rush to implement it without any push-back. Things can change quickly here! The general openness for change and flexibility are characteristics I have grown to admire about the Chinese people. I am still getting used to the more hierarchical leadership style, though. Having worked in an egalitarian system with low-power distances like the Netherlands, I am used to speaking up and sharing my views to come to a consensual decision. Everyone had more responsibility to bear but I also recognize that things would take much longer.

“Women Hold Up Half The Sky.”

Mao Zedong

I am still undecided as to what all this means for the position and empowerment of women. At first sight, it appears to me that there is an inherent conflict between Confucianism and feminism as women seem to be considered part of a different social class than men. However, I yet know far too little on this topic to share an educated guess. What I can say, though, is that the role of women in China fascinates me. Mao Zedong, the Chinese founding father of the People's Republic of China, is known to have celebrated women’s contributions to Communist society at the beginning of his rule: “Times have changes [...] today men and women are equal. [...] Whatever men comrades can accomplish, women comrades can too.” To prove that women were a resources to be deployed outside of the homes into the professional fields he went on to proclaim: “Women Hold Up Half The Sky”.

Fast forward, in 2020 (see latest Mastercard index), women own 31% of all businesses in China and more than 57% of female self-made millionaires in the world are Chinese. That’s great and probably the case as more women than in the West embarked on careers in science, engineering, math and science. Since China's opening colleges expanded the enrolment of women to meet economic needs. To this adds the different perception of working women in Chinese society: Women in business and leadership is a common phenomenon. The model of the housewife is not as prevalent as it still is in many Western countries and the concept of a “Rabenmutter” (German for “raven mother” i.e. a “bad mother” that leaves a child in daycare) does not seem to exist. There is nothing bad about being a career-driven woman - on the contrary! It is rather common that grandparents move in with young parents to take over the upbringing of their grandchildren while both father and mother can pursue their careers. A colleague recently told me how fascinated he was when passing by a Chinese kindergarten, which was populated by grandparents waiting to pick up their grandkids.

Shéngnü 剩女 translates as

“the leftover woman"

Yet, then I hear the many personal stories of Chinese women that are around my age, in their late 20s or early 30s. Some of them describe themselves as “desperate” and “expired”. They worry about going home over Chinese New Year, fearing a discussion with their parents about why they are not married yet. Chinese language has a word for them: shéngnü 剩女 . My online dictionary translates it as “the leftover woman (successful career woman who has remained single)”. However, pressure is on the Chinese men, too: China’s ratio of marriage-age men stands at almost 3 to 1 - and you need to offer something if you want a woman of rank. The minimum is an apartment in a tier-one city like Beijing, which you can only purchase if you have a “hukou”, i.e. a registration record officially identifying you as a permanent resident. It is a prerequisite to access public services and to send your kids to school. And that is not that easy! The male equivalent term for shéngnü is guang gun 光棍, meaning bare branches. It refers to men who do not marry and thus do not add 'branches' to the family tree. Guang guns are mostly uneducated and isolated men living in rural areas while shéngnü usually refers to highly educated successful career women in urban areas. A dilemma we also encounter in many Western countries of this world.

To me, it seems that most Westerners in Beijing are actually men. They come here with their (house)wives or family to work e.g. for the automotive industry. They stay for a few years before leaving again for Europe or the US - the typical story. On the contrary, particularly insightful I find the role and stories of the Western women working in this city. I may be biased but the ladies I got to know so far are all very special and have incredible experiences to share. Many of them have decided to move here because they wanted a change in life or seek the fulfillment of a long-term dream. Oftentimes, they are natural risk-takers, very independent, strong-minded and - surprise, surprise - single, be it by choice or a result of their circumstances. But this is yet another story to tell.

Overall, in spite of the apparent difficulties under COVID, the cultural differences, and the misunderstandings I experience from time to time, I truly enjoy living and working in this fast-paced and exciting city. My main learning after half a year in this country is that it is crucial to be open and to actively embrace different ways of thinking, working, and being. Adjusting to a new environment is essential - so is remaining true to your own value system and remaining your authentic self. This is a fine balance to strike.

Disclaimer: Views and opinions expressed here are exclusively my own.