Confucius once said, “Thirty, therefore independent” (三十而立 sanshi er li). This Chinese saying is usually used to encourage young people to be established in their careers by the age of 30. However, in the newest hit drama of a similar name, Nothing But Thirty (三十而已 Sanshi Eryi; better translated as “it’s only thirty”), the saying takes on a different connotation: one of women’s empowerment.
The show, which premiered on Dragon TV on July 17, stars Jiang Shuying, Tong Yao, and Mao Xiaotong as three women all about to enter their thirties — typically the age when unmarried women in China are given the derogatory title of “leftover.” The show chronicles their journeys navigating societal expectations and double standards as they rip through red tape (literally in some promo photos), find love, and advance in their careers.
Notably, the show claims to bring forth a new narrative to Chinese television: one that centers women in their own stories and seeks to tell realistic tales of struggle. It also comes hot on the heels of the viral success seen by talent show Sisters Who Make Waves, which pits a host of female stars over the age of 30 against each other. And in 2018, Yanxi Palace was another hit show which sought to humanize China’s marginalized women and dispel sexist gender roles. Yet earlier this year, gender-flipped fantasy drama The Romance of Tiger and Rose was deemed by most an unsuccessful attempt to capitalize on China’s growing feminist viewership.
So does Nothing But Thirty mark a breaking of new ground for feminist narratives in the mainstream, or are its themes mere window-dressing for more TV fluff?
In a recent clip released on the show’s Weibo page, Zhong Xiaoyang (played by Kevin Yan) confesses his love for one of the main characters, Zhong Xiaoqin (Mao Xiaotong), who has just divorced her husband. Despite her protests that she is six years older than him, and divorced, he says, “Those things have nothing to do with it. I like the person you are.”
Another trailer for the show begins with Gu Jia (Tong Yao) telling her husband, “Let’s get a divorce.” The expression on her face is tired, yet resolved. The moment feels refreshingly candid for a Chinese drama, as does the show’s entire premise: stories told from modern women’s perspectives, without a catch.
In the midst of a female-centric reckoning whose success is yet to be determined, netizens’ reactions are the only way to gauge whether or not the show is truly making waves. So far, it has a 7.8 rating on Douban, an IMDB-like forum for TV shows and movies that’s renowned for its discerning user reviews. However, the show’s hit moments have consistently made it onto Weibo’s trending list, sparking meaningful discussions (link in Chinese) about issues such as cheating and divorce.
In an interview with Beijing News, producer Chen Fei said the show seeks to reflect the sentiment that, “nowadays, women are more likely to face their own desires and live for themselves in accordance with their hearts.”
He also said that both the male and female characters were written to be imperfect and true to life: “We hope that what the audience sees is not a drama that looks down on reality from on high, saying that women are all-powerful. This is not our method, nor our intention.”
Says one Douban reviewer: “More shows about women over 30 should be made like this. Women should not only be shown in a maternal light, but should live for themselves.”
“Thirty-year-old women: A) marriage B) have a kid C) Have a second kid D) I say no.” A promotional poster for Nothing But Thirty
Several one-star reviews, however, criticize Nothing But Thirty for depicting women as reliant on successful romantic relationships to be happy, a criticism also leveled at The Romance of Tiger and Rose. Others say that the characters don’t represent the working class, who make up a majority of Chinese women.
In an age when issues such as sexual harassment, reproductive rights, and abuse are finally being discussed on China’s main stage, a show like Nothing But Thirty has the potential to carry real momentum in the cultural sphere — if the remaining episodes continue to strike a chord with viewers and really examine such issues.
As another Douban review puts it: “The plot is good […] I hope the screenwriter and director will have intention, and won’t use the catchphrase of women’s empowerment to perpetuate their own ideals.”
A Weibo post by idol rapper Yamy has sparked a widespread discussion about workplace harassment in post-#MeToo China. Yamy, who rose to fame on competition shows Rap of China and Produce 101, debuted as part of the idol group Rocket Girls in 2018.
But just two days before their disbandment on July 23, she posted a message and audio recording on her Weibo page detailing the harassment and abuse she endured at the hands of Xu Mingchao, her boss and the CEO of JC Universe Entertainment agency.
In the three-minute recording of a company meeting led by Xu, he can be heard saying, “Ask me if Yamy is pretty. Ask me! She is ugly. Extremely ugly. Is there anyone who can’t agree with this fact?” Xu then continues to criticize Yamy’s appearance, clothing, and singing ability, asking members of the staff to agree with him.
A screenshot from Weibo of dialogue from Yamy’s boss
In her statement, Yamy wrote: “Those two years of endless cycles of beatdowns and criticism made me extremely depressed […] I really used to think that if there were a problem, it must have been my fault, that I didn’t do well enough.”
She also wrote that she sent her boss a letter of complaint in the past, only to receive the threat of “Understand the situation, don’t court disaster (作死).” She continued, “But you are also the father of a young girl. How can you use ‘death’ to threaten someone else’s daughter so lightly?”
After Yamy’s post, the hashtag #workplacePUA reached over 590 million hits on Weibo, the Chinese microblogging platform, with people denouncing Xu’s actions and sharing their own experiences with abusive employers.
The term “PUA,” which stands for “pickup artist”, was originally used to describe men who put a lot of (read: too much) effort into picking up women. However, Chinese netizens repurposed the term to refer to any sort of emotional abuse or manipulation of social dynamics at work, in relationships, or elsewhere. According to a June study by Zhaolian Recruitment, 60% of white-collar workers encounter workplace PUA.
Yamy’s Rocket Girls bandmates commented their support for Yamy. So did several other singers, including UNINE member Chen Youwei and former EXO member Huang Zitao.
Bandmate Peng Chuyue wrote, “Too ridiculous, really too ridiculous […] can you just respect women please?”
Huang Zitao dedicated an impassioned Weibo post to Yamy’s situation: “To the people who bullied her and were recorded behind the scenes, can you see how disgusted you make people?”
Xu has since released two statements on his Weibo, calling himself the “middle-aged male boss that committed workplace PUA” and apologizing to those he had offended in the past.
But he pointedly refused to apologize to Yamy, claiming she just released the recording to “get out of her contract and get more money.” Under both statements, netizens have flooded the comments calling out the non-apology and saying Yamy was being threatened by Xu.
Since the beginning of China’s #MeToo movement in 2018, Weibo movements like this have been key places for public discussions about sexual assault, harassment, and abuse. This discussion about workplace PUA comes after China’s first sexual harassment case was won in court earlier this month.
The increasing popularity of androgynous Chinese male celebrities over the last decade may at first seem like a South Korean import. The term “little fresh meat,” or xiaoxianrou (小鲜肉), has gained popularity as a descriptor for Chinese pop stars and actors such as Kris Wu and Luhan, and these young celebrities have tended to straddle the musical worlds within both countries.
However, this beautiful, more petite male ideal actually has its roots in traditional Chinese fiction and performing arts. The idea of wen (文) and wu (武) types of male performers denote opposite ends of an entertainment masculinity spectrum that has been in use since the days of the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE), with wen used to describe more effeminate characters, similar in ways to “little fresh meat,” while wu types tend to be more martial and gruff.
A fantastic example of these two male types in action can be seen in The Longest Day in Chang’an, one of the most popular Chinese TV shows of 2019. The series is an adaptation of the novel of the same name by Ma Boyong, set during the Tang Dynasty, and features two male leads: a former death row prisoner and a young government official.
The prisoner Zhang Xiaojing, played by Lei Jiayin, is a former soldier released from jail to help solve a crime. Meanwhile Li Bi is a young but powerful official, played by Jackson Yee of TFBoys fame, who orders Zhang’s release and is responsible for the Tang capital’s security. The duo team up to try to prevent a group of terrorists from assassinating the emperor on the night of the Lantern Festival.
The pairing of these two characters highlights some interesting aspects of Chinese masculinity, but this odd couple are not necessarily the only archetypes. As scholar Kam Louie points out in his bookTheorizing Chinese Masculinity, the opposite of Chinese masculinity is not femininity — in fact it may be easier to imagine Chinese masculinity as a spectrum. Perusing literary classics from the Tang and Qing Dynasties help us to understand the legacy of these ideas of masculinity in Chinese entertainment.
Wu Masculinity
On one end of this spectrum is “wu,” or the martial form of masculinity, with figures that are generally physically strong and are associated with the military or are knowledgeable in martial arts or weaponry.
An early literary example of a wu masculine figure is Curly Beard from Tang romance The Curly Bearded Hero (虯髯客傳), by Du Guangting. Surnamed Zhang and the third child of his family, the reader only knows of him by his nickname, Curly Beard. He enters the story riding on a lame donkey and enjoying a cannibalistic meal of human head, heart, and liver.
A later, but also notable, work with many wu masculine figures is The Water Margin (水浒传) by Shi Nai’an from the Ming Dynasty, with one hundred and eight “good fellows” who engage in a variety of rebellious behaviors against the government.
One interesting aspect of traditional portrayals of wu male characters is that they have for the most part limited their relationships to other men, and they never partake in romantic relationships or display an interest in the opposite sex.
Wen Masculinity
On the other end of the spectrum is the “wen” form of masculinity, which is traditionally portrayed as being entangled in romantic relationships with one or more women. The archetype of the wen masculine figure was also established in Tang romances, with prominent figures such as the male protagonists from Bai Xingjian’s Tang Dynasty novella, The Tale of Li Wa (李娃传) and Yuan Zhen’s romance Story of Yingying (莺莺传).
Later, wen characters were typically embodied in the genre of scholar-beauty fiction, which were very similar in content and form, but still enjoyed huge popularity among Chinese readers. As Cuncun Wu points out in her 2003 essay “Beautiful Boys Made Up as Beautiful Girls,” the feminine wen masculinity was actually the ideal type of masculinity during the late imperial era.
At that point in history, a muscular, rough and tough image of men had been closely associated with that which is non-Chinese. The unending military and cultural interactions with non-Chinese northern neighbors from the Song Dynasty (960–1279 CE) well into the Qing (1644-1912 CE) had significantly altered what was considered desirable in a Chinese man over the centuries.
The Dream of the Red Chamber (红楼梦), by Cao Xueqin from the Qing Dynasty, is one telling example of masculine ideals at the time. Cuncun Wu notes that Cao’s work dismantles numerous literary clichés, but still portrays a male protagonist that conforms with the male qualities in vogue at the time. The main character Jia Baoyu is physically attractive in a traditionally feminine way; he is also young, sensitive and emotional.
Like other young scholar protagonists from fiction and theater produced during that time, Jia’s youthfulness and beauty are essential characteristics in helping readers and audiences quickly identify who the main character is. The more physically attractive the young man is, the more intelligent and virtuous.
It’s important to remember as well that all of these works of fiction and theater were written by men over the centuries, targeting both male and female audiences. There was absolutely no female input in these literary trends, hence the femininity and masculinity displayed in these works were purely male inventions. Ideal masculinity being more feminine than women was the scholarly class’ self-image. As such, this active emasculation of sorts was not due to any outside forces.
Masculinity in Modern Times
Though we can still see the legacy of these literary trends in the contemporary entertainment industry, male celebrities these days are generally situated more towards the center of the spectrum. They are no longer too frail to support their own clothing, but rather are expected to display their youthful energy through singing and dancing.
Even male protagonists in more martial or military contexts are shown with romantic interests and families. Take, for example, Wu Jing’s character in the Wolf Warrior franchise, who is depicted as a caring friend as well as boyfriend. This stands in stark contrast to the Asian masculinities more familiar to US or European audiences, such as those portrayed by Bruce Lee, whose characters are rarely — if ever — involved in romantic relationships. In China, there are rarely flagrant display of muscles or sexual promiscuity from such heroes.
Folding these ideas of wen masculinity into contemporary entertainment is not difficult. Just consider Jackson Yee’s character in The Longest Day in Chang’an. Yee was only 17 years old when the series was in production, and was still studying for the gaokao exams during his breaks between shoots. Yee, as well as the duo from The Untamed — Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo — exemplify the connection between the contemporary “little fresh meat” characteristics and the older wen character traits, while showing off the long legacy of these more gentle and distinctly attractive characters in Chinese entertainment.
“I’ve had strangers cough at me.” “A passenger told me that I should go back to China.” “Someone spit three times towards my direction.”
These comments and others like them help open a powerful new advertisement from the Ad Council focused on combatting the spread of anti-Asian racism in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic. Produced together with Tigertail director Alan Yang, the spot is entitled “Fight the Virus. Fight the Bias | Love Has No Labels.”
The ad features chef Melissa King along with key workers such as a nurse and a firefighter discussing the abuse they’ve received, but also their continued efforts to help combat the virus and support their communities.
“My biggest fear is that all the stereotypes that we’ve worked so hard to break, are just going to be reversed — and I won’t let that happen.”
The ad comes after a sharp rise in anti-Asian discrimination in the US and amid President Trump using terms such as “kung flu” and “Chinese virus” to describe Covid-19. In April, a website set up for Asian Americans to report racist and xenophobic incidents, Stop AAPI Hate, received over 1,000 such reports in just over two weeks.
“I’m honored to be part of this campaign and to help tell real stories of API experiences in America, especially during a time that’s difficult for so many people across the country,” director Alan Yang told the Ad Council ahead of the ad’s launch. “I hope to do my best to represent our community and show that we’re stronger when we support each other and share our experiences honestly and compassionately with others.”
On July 6, the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) announced a rigid and unprecedented rule that would force international students at schools that offer fully online courses for the fall semester to leave the country, or to transfer to other schools with in-person instruction. Harvard and MIT were among the first universities to sue the administration, and within days, a total of 60 universities from 17 states — as well as students themselves — had filed lawsuits against the “cruel, abrupt, and unlawful” legislation.
The Trump administration then redacted its announcement on July 14, shortly before a federal judge in Boston was to hear arguments for the lawsuit that was filed by Harvard and MIT against the rule.
This redaction has caused an immediate stir in China, which has an estimated 370,000 students currently studying abroad in the US. The hashtag “US government agrees to withdraw the new student visa rules” (#美国政府同意撤销留学生签证新规#) received over 290 million views on Chinese microblogging platform Weibo in just a few hours after the news came out. Not surprisingly, the overall sentiment is confusion and anger over the changing policy, as well empathy towards the affected students.
A Hostile Environment
In a related post, one of the most-liked comments reads: “The law is not the same between morning and night. This government has lost all trust.”
Some students had already been barred from entering the country at US airports by customs officials since the ban came into effect last week. According to CNN, the government may also still be considering applying this rule to incoming new students who are currently not in the US.
The one-size-fits-all student ban is seen as a way for the Trump administration to pressure schools into reopening in the fall, according to major media outlets such as the New York Times. But for Chinese students, tension has been building for far longer — and has shaped how they now see their future in the education system they’ve enrolled in.
“I still feel extremely unwelcome in this country,” says Li Renjie, a fourth-degree doctoral student majoring in semiconductor engineering at UCLA. “When I first came to the US four years ago, it was never like this. The back and forth has really put international students in an awkward place. I feel the current administration doesn’t care about international students at all, given they could come up with this kind of abrupt and inconsiderate policy in the first place.”
The now-rescinded rule had come after Trump temporarily froze H1B and other working visas, limited certain groups of Chinese students from entering and/or studying in the US, and issued a travel ban to restrict travellers from China in the wake of the coronavirus outbreak — moves that have caused a rollercoaster of emotions for international students over the last few months. In addition, a rise in racist and xenophobic incidents against people of Asian descent has made their learning environment potentially more hostile than ever.
Li adds that he is especially stressed because his lab research has been on hold due to the Covid-19 pandemic, which delayed his graduation date an additional year. “Even though I will not be deported anymore, I feel my future is still uncertain since my lab is closed,” he says. “I am worried about the future developments of relevant policies.”
A chart circulated among overseas Chinese students in the wake of the initial ICE announcement outlines the options that students would have after the ban:
Original image: Weibo
No matter which category they belong to, the roads were filled with dead ends: students would still need to pay high tuition fees all while facing unprecedented difficulties in booking airlines, obtaining visas, graduating, and securing job opportunities after graduation.
International Students in American Society
Economically speaking, the one million international students at US colleges and universities contributed nearly 41 billion USD to the US economy for the academic year 2018-2019, according to NAFSA statistics. Students from China make up nearly 34% of these international students — the largest group total.
International students usually pay two to three times higher tuition fees than their American counterparts. Though American universities have been called out for suing the current administration largely to preserve their economic interests, financial contributions from international students are essential to funding academic research and scholarships.
Restricting international students could also result in a reverse brain drain across many sectors, as students that remain to work represent a sizeable intellectual workforce in the US. In Silicon Valley, Asians are the largest ethnic group and are expected to make up 43.5% of the region in 2040; many of these important workers first came to the US for schooling and stayed on.
A notable early example of this is Qian Xuesen, a rocket scientist from China who graduated from Caltech with a doctorate degree and became a key researcher in the US’s Manhattan Project during World War II, playing a significant role in the early development of rocket and jet propulsion technology. In a perhaps unsurprising parallel to modern times, Qian was forced to go back to China over wrongful national security concerns in 1955.
Many students were also greatly impacted by their time in the US, and have sought ways to give back to their country of residence, especially during the pandemic. When cases first began to skyrocket in the US, first- and second-generation Chinese students and graduates utilized their bilateral resources to reroute PPE from Chinese factories to the then-hardest-hit states such as New York. One volunteer group made up of 13 Chinese and Chinese American friends connected 50 donor companies with suppliers and facilitated the donation of nearly 1.56 million USD-worth of supplies. First-generation Asian-Americans are also among the medical workers putting their lives at risk in the battle against Covid-19.
International students are an integral part of the American campus, and have fostered both the diversity as well as the academic competitiveness of universities. Creating an inclusive and welcoming environment for students from all kinds of backgrounds is at the heart of American core values, and on the forefront of the agenda for higher education.
“One of the reasons that I chose UCLA is because of its diverse student body. I wanted to meet interesting people from all over the world,” says Daniel Coltellaro, who grew up in California and graduated from UCLA Luskin School of Public Affairs in 2018. “I had a great time meeting friends from [countries such as] China [and] Japan. Looking back, that was one of the most important decisions I have made.”
Coltellaro is planning to take the foreign service test in the hopes of becoming a diplomat in the near future. “My interactions with my international friends enriched my understanding of what’s happening outside of the US — especially China, which I used to rely on mainstream media to get relevant news about that was often biased and negative,” he says. “I think it’s crucial to welcome international students. Otherwise we just become an echo chamber that has no outside perspective, and we become stagnant.”
As US-China relations deteriorate especially at the governmental level, cultural and individual exchanges are in many ways the best diplomacy the two countries can have right now. However, the policy environment surrounding international students, especially Chinese students in the US, has become increasingly more rigid and hostile in the past two years.
Following FBI director Christopher Wray’s 2018 comments about Chinese students and scholars posing a threat to national security, there was a surge in racial profiling targeting Chinese and Chinese Americans, especially in the fields of science, academia, business, and public policy, with reportedly more intense scrutiny and discriminatory treatment against them. While real espionage cases do exist, targeting an entire ethnic group for them will only fuel prejudice, racism and hostility.
With these policies in place, there is a cooling effect for some Chinese students who wish to go to study in the US, as more and more turn to schools in European countries or simply decide to stay at home and opt for a top Chinese institution instead. According to a report (link in Chinese) by China’s largest educational service group New Oriental, the percentage of respondents who ranked the US as their number one choice for studying abroad dropped from 51% in 2015 to 43% in 2019; meanwhile, respondents who selected the UK as their top destination increased from 32% to 41% within the same time span.
Staying Hopeful
Polly Cui, a H1B employment visa holder who was working in New York City for over 2 years and has been stuck in Beijing since January, is among many who have been affected by the Covid-19 pandemic and the policies it has triggered. “I graduated from NYU a few years ago and had been working in New York since then. I came back to China to visit my family during Spring Festival, then Covid happened,” she says. “Now it’s already July and I’m still here in China, not being able to return to the States because my passport is still stuck at the US consulate. I had to give up my place in the US because I can’t keep paying for an empty apartment. I also had to reschedule my flight and work remotely with time differences.”
Yet Cui remains hopeful of a return to New York. “I love the city so much — its diversity, passion and freedom [allows me] to be the wildest and weirdest version of myself. New Yorkers are all dream chasers, go getters, and warriors who are fighting for the future.”
However, she thinks students are a group that should be exempt from politically-motivated policies. “[International] students are among the most vulnerable communities,” she says, referring to the tough visa constraints, as well as job and financial pressures that they face. “Fair, human, and creative methods are needed to combat global crises like this pandemic.”
Being an international “little fresh meat” sensation like Xiao Zhan can’t be easy. Recently, the actor and boyband member has been involved in nonstop controversies involving his rabid fanbase, which in March managed to get an entire fanfiction site shut down over a homoerotic story which featured their idol. Now, the star’s management team is the latest to apologize after yet another Xiao Zhan scandal.
Xiao Zhan’s team posted a lengthy statement on Weibo yesterday to atone for its “negligence and absence of fan management.” Things had been settling down, when a new incident broke out involving a supposed Xiao Zhan fan who claimed to be posting from the account of a dead person.
The situation attracted so much attention that Weibo was forced to launch its own investigation. It turned out there was no dead person — the user had been lying and operating three accounts for the sake of attention. But by now the situation had become so dire that Weibo chose to address its concerns directly with Xiao Zhan’s team.
Weibo’s direct contact on the matter isn’t coming from nowhere — China’s internet regulator had already launched a two-month long campaign aiming to curb unhealthy idol worship among minors. The “Clear & Bright” campaign sets its sights on minors engaged in violent or pornographic content, inappropriate cartoons, and “worshipping idols without a bottom line.”
The team’s apology reads, “Today, the Weibo community pointed out many problems that Xiao Zhan Studio currently has, and mentioned the adverse effects caused by these problems.”
From the official Xiao Zhan Studio Weibo account
The AO3 shutdown in March prompted some netizens to call for a boycott of Xiao Zhan’s products, and brands like Budweiser and Olay dropped their endorsements as a result. And in April, his single “Light Source” became the first digital record in China’s history to make over 100 million RMB (14 million USD), prompting some to speculate that his fans had played a part in artificially boosting sales.
His team also said, “Xiao Zhan Studio is well aware of its responsibilities and obligations. We are anxious, troubled, and even angry for everyone this time. We apologize once again. We will use a positive attitude to guide fans, curb hate behavior, and maintain proper distribution within the community and the Internet.”
And while Xiao Zhan has issued multiple public apologies on behalf of his fans, this is also not the first time his management team has apologized. Following the the AO3 scandal in March, his team apologized for “taking up social public resources and causing confusion for everyone.”
All these scandals spark the question, what constitutes a healthy idol-fan relationship? And when does it develop from genuine appreciation to unhealthy devotion? Unfortunately for Xiao Zhan, it appears that his fans are set on doing more harm than good.
