Leftover Women

Abstract

On a Saturday afternoon just before the Spring Festival, Helen sits in a teahouse in one of Beijing’s trendy neighbourhoods. Windows of the teahouse are decorated with cardboard cut-out hearts, matching the red of the faux-leather sofas. The sound system plays Chinese and Western love songs and waiters in long aprons carry trays of hot chocolate. The teahouse sets a youthful backdrop for the matchmaking event organised by Touyuan dating agency. Middle-aged men in their tailored slacks and blouson jackets and 30-plus women in jeans and knee-high boots sip on their drinks, waiting for the matchmaker to pair them up. Helen shakes hands with the man guided to her table. Before their 20 minutes are up, the couple have covered their respective education levels, occupations, income and possessions, age, height and family backgrounds. They then have the choice of exchanging contact details or moving on to the next candidate. The upcoming Spring Festival with the customary hometown visit puts extra pressure on many of the singletons taking part in the event, as they dread the urges and questions from worried parents. In Helen’s case, the parents’ worry is somewhat justified. A 31-year-old professional woman with an overseas master’s degree, a decent salary and good career prospects, she has several things working against her in the urban Chinese marriage market.