Lol this thread just proves how goofy and simple some of you nikkas are. Also, how lucky and spoiled western women are.
"China Doesn't Like That I'm a Single Woman, Here's Why | Op-Docs"
- Thread starter Doobie Doo
- Start date
Those first 70 seconds are a universe all to itself..nothing but a burning soul in anguish
..comedy gold here...I couldn't stop repeating those 70 seconds of bone shattering truth and ether burning the soul simultaneously
..comedy gold here...I couldn't stop repeating those 70 seconds of bone shattering truth and ether burning the soul simultaneously
yeah, but the ones that don't my god they're fukking rude. no sense of decorum at alll
Kenny West
Veteran
Asian women hire escorts to hug them, but yall letting bitter coli women convince you spinsters are winning 
MischievousMonkey
Gor bu dëgër
she's fine, dresses well, good career... If she's smart with corresponding values I'd contemplate that
MischievousMonkey
Gor bu dëgër
I hate when those threads become
- 
you lose! you're so hurt!
- no YOU lose! stop lying to yourself
- no...
you lose! you're so hurt!-
no YOU lose! stop lying to yourself-
no...
Surprisingly, I actually agree with your post. Yes the roles are antiquated. Yes, its unfair. But those antiqauated roles are the only thing holding the ridiculous contraption of marriage together.
The chinese woman is facing the culture shock of an education and career path which taught her (rightfully so, i might add) that she could be the equivalent of a man in all respects. But this mindset is entirely incompatible with her society, because there is no incentive for a man to wife up another man.
This is what her father was trying to warn her about in the last few minutes of the documentary clip. He was worried that,
Here, the father didn't mean dumb in a literal sense, but rather, dumb in the sense that she lost her street smarts. Dumb in the sense that she can no longer read the societal room. Dumb in the sense that she is taking major lifetime losses in exchange for abstract rights. Sht is sad for all parties.
The chinese daughter will have to swallow her pride if she doesn't want to end up being a chinese cat lady.
Pure Water
Veteran
China high key trash.
shyt was brutal. All the matchmaker needed was a sound board and a Red Bull with a straw in it.
The story below provides an update on this chick if you are interested. She got the fukk outta dodge and livin her best life.
And her sister now sending her money and her dad now saying he proud of her.
https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2020/03/leftover-women-china-israel-children-marriage/607768/
““I was happy when I was single,” Qiu Hua Mei told me. “I had friends, I went to bars, I went to the theater. I went to language school to learn English and French. I enjoyed my life very much. But when I went home to visit my parents, they would bother me about marriage.
Her parents were not the only ones. Until recently, Qiu was one of China’s sheng nu, or “leftover women,” a derogatory term popularized by the Chinese government to describe unmarried women in their late 20s and 30s. Hers is the standout story in the new documentary Leftover Women, showing at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival in London on March 13 and 14, and available in the United States now on PBS. It shows the relentless pressure faced by educated, single Chinese women to find a husband.
In China, women are still expected to marry “up.” But traditional views of gender roles—one prospective husband tells Qiu he expects to be “dominant” in a relationship—sit uneasily alongside the country’s success in educating younger women, who want careers as well as, or instead of, families and domestic responsibilities. At a “marriage market” in Beijing, where parents solicit dates for their children, one mother shies away from Qiu after learning that she’s a lawyer, claiming Qiu might sue a potential husband’s family. When you have a degree, Qiu said, people think, “This woman must be very tough, not obedient. Maybe very bossy. Maybe she wouldn’t follow the orders of a husband.”
China is not alone in grappling with the tension between women’s increased life opportunities and anxieties over the resulting fall in birth rates: Around the world, as women gain access to education and employment, they marry later and have fewer children. (What I tell ya’ll?)Even now that China’s one-child policy has been relaxed—because of fears that the population is aging and there will not be enough workers to look after the elderly—the film’s lead director, Shosh Shlam, found that many women were reluctant to have multiple children. “It’s very expensive,” Shlam told me. “And they are used to single children.” Because state support for parenthood is inadequate, Qiu added, “mothers have to stay at home to look after the kids; your career will have to be sacrificed.”
The role of the government in dictating women’s fertility is highly contested globally. Populists of all persuasions point to falling birth rates as a sign of national decline. “Every woman should have six children for the good of the country,” the left-wing Venezuelan president, Nicolás Maduro, said in a speech on March 4. (About 13 percent of Venezuelan children are malnourished.) Last year, the right-wing Hungarian prime minister, Viktor Orbán, promised tax breaks to mothers of more than four children. “We do not need numbers,” he said, referring to immigrants. “We need Hungarian children.” Poland, Lithuania, and Serbia all offer financial incentives for larger families.
The existence of pro- and anti-natalist policies bolsters one of the cornerstones of feminist analysis: Throughout history, and across cultures, women’s bodies have been treated as a communal resource for creating the citizens of the future—and therefore states try to control women’s lives to influence their reproductive capacity. Formerly, that control largely took the form of restricting women’s access to education, or banning them from certain jobs. Today, it manifests more subtly as social pressure suggesting that “fulfillment” comes only from marriage and children.
Leftover Women begins with Qiu visiting a Beijing dating agency. She has high standards for a man, she tells a matchmaker there. He must be highly educated, willing to share the housework, and respectful of women.
(How is this even high or unreasonable?)
In mathematical terms, husband-hunting in China ought to be a buyer’s market: Far more men than women are looking for love. But that is not Qiu’s experience. “Sorry if I’m being too straightforward,” the matchmaker replies, “but you’re not beautiful in the traditional sense … Also, you’re old.” This is the first of many startling examples of the harsh judgments Qiu faces.
The Chinese government’s one-child policy, in place from 1980 to 2016, combined with the widespread belief that a male child is more valuable, led to sex-selective abortions. The country now has an estimated 30 million “extra” men—many of whom will never find a partner. The state sees this as a threat to national stability. “The Chinese government is very paranoid of any group that might be a threat to them,” Shlam told me. Qiu says that the sex imbalance “makes men desperate,” contributing to violence against women who reject potential boyfriends. Shlam pointed out that it has led to an abundance of sex tourism to nearby countries such as Myanmar and Laos.
In addition to producing cartoons urging women to marry, the Chinese government organizes speed-dating events. And—as its promotion of the concept of sheng nu demonstrates—it also encourages Chinese citizens to see unmarried women as unhappy and unfulfilled.
But that wasn’t how Qiu felt. “The so-called leftover women are mostly those with higher education who have a good income,” she told me. “They don’t follow the social order. So society has to fight them. To make them surrender.”
Watching the film as a 30-something British woman, I was struck by how subversive Qiu’s ambivalence about marriage appears to those around her. When Shlam visited Qiu’s law firm, she noticed that married and unmarried female lawyers worked in separate rooms. “You really feel second-best,” Shlam said. “The pressure is everywhere.”
Two other women feature in the film: a broadcaster named Xu Min, 28, who wants to get married but struggles to find a man who meets her mother’s exacting standards; and an assistant college professor named Gai Qi, 36, who marries a younger man from a less wealthy family and has a child soon afterward. But the most memorable scenes belong to Qiu, because of her constant battle to live her life the way she pleases. When she returns to her parents’ village, they tell her that their neighbors mock them because she is childless; Qiu’s sister flatly tells her that she cannot be happy without getting married.
Shlam was drawn to the story after hearing about the Chinese feminists arrested in 2015 for protesting sexual assaults on public transport. In Leftover Women, Qiu has short hair, which she told me she cut to protest the fact that several universities have lower entrance requirements for men in some subjects than for women, because the state fears that men are falling behind.
Leftover Women makes a strong case that most of us would not be as resolute as Qiu. “If all your girlfriends get married and you don’t want to, you feel abnormal,” Shlam said. “In the editing room, more than once, I cried.” Qiu said she wanted to participate in the film to help others in the same situation feel less alone.
The film ends with the 34-year-old leaving China to study in France. The farewell scene with her family reveals the complexity of China’s evolving views on women’s roles: Qiu’s sister, who scolded her for being single, now offers her money; her father, who is illiterate because his schooling was interrupted by famine, tells her that he is honored to have an educated daughter.
“I think he’s proud of me,” Qiu told me. After studying in France, she moved to Germany and is now married to a German man. They do not have children. When she watched the film, it made her reconsider the battles with her family. The filmmakers “captured some beautiful moments,” she said. “Even the fights. After them, I thought I was the loser. But from that movie, I saw that I was powerful.”
And her sister now sending her money and her dad now saying he proud of her.https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2020/03/leftover-women-china-israel-children-marriage/607768/
““I was happy when I was single,” Qiu Hua Mei told me. “I had friends, I went to bars, I went to the theater. I went to language school to learn English and French. I enjoyed my life very much. But when I went home to visit my parents, they would bother me about marriage.
Her parents were not the only ones. Until recently, Qiu was one of China’s sheng nu, or “leftover women,” a derogatory term popularized by the Chinese government to describe unmarried women in their late 20s and 30s. Hers is the standout story in the new documentary Leftover Women, showing at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival in London on March 13 and 14, and available in the United States now on PBS. It shows the relentless pressure faced by educated, single Chinese women to find a husband.
In China, women are still expected to marry “up.” But traditional views of gender roles—one prospective husband tells Qiu he expects to be “dominant” in a relationship—sit uneasily alongside the country’s success in educating younger women, who want careers as well as, or instead of, families and domestic responsibilities. At a “marriage market” in Beijing, where parents solicit dates for their children, one mother shies away from Qiu after learning that she’s a lawyer, claiming Qiu might sue a potential husband’s family. When you have a degree, Qiu said, people think, “This woman must be very tough, not obedient. Maybe very bossy. Maybe she wouldn’t follow the orders of a husband.”
China is not alone in grappling with the tension between women’s increased life opportunities and anxieties over the resulting fall in birth rates: Around the world, as women gain access to education and employment, they marry later and have fewer children. (What I tell ya’ll?)
Even now that China’s one-child policy has been relaxed—because of fears that the population is aging and there will not be enough workers to look after the elderly—the film’s lead director, Shosh Shlam, found that many women were reluctant to have multiple children. “It’s very expensive,” Shlam told me. “And they are used to single children.” Because state support for parenthood is inadequate, Qiu added, “mothers have to stay at home to look after the kids; your career will have to be sacrificed.”The role of the government in dictating women’s fertility is highly contested globally. Populists of all persuasions point to falling birth rates as a sign of national decline. “Every woman should have six children for the good of the country,” the left-wing Venezuelan president, Nicolás Maduro, said in a speech on March 4. (About 13 percent of Venezuelan children are malnourished.) Last year, the right-wing Hungarian prime minister, Viktor Orbán, promised tax breaks to mothers of more than four children. “We do not need numbers,” he said, referring to immigrants. “We need Hungarian children.” Poland, Lithuania, and Serbia all offer financial incentives for larger families.
The existence of pro- and anti-natalist policies bolsters one of the cornerstones of feminist analysis: Throughout history, and across cultures, women’s bodies have been treated as a communal resource for creating the citizens of the future—and therefore states try to control women’s lives to influence their reproductive capacity. Formerly, that control largely took the form of restricting women’s access to education, or banning them from certain jobs. Today, it manifests more subtly as social pressure suggesting that “fulfillment” comes only from marriage and children.
Leftover Women begins with Qiu visiting a Beijing dating agency. She has high standards for a man, she tells a matchmaker there. He must be highly educated, willing to share the housework, and respectful of women.
(How is this even high or unreasonable?)
In mathematical terms, husband-hunting in China ought to be a buyer’s market: Far more men than women are looking for love. But that is not Qiu’s experience. “Sorry if I’m being too straightforward,” the matchmaker replies, “but you’re not beautiful in the traditional sense … Also, you’re old.” This is the first of many startling examples of the harsh judgments Qiu faces.
The Chinese government’s one-child policy, in place from 1980 to 2016, combined with the widespread belief that a male child is more valuable, led to sex-selective abortions. The country now has an estimated 30 million “extra” men—many of whom will never find a partner. The state sees this as a threat to national stability. “The Chinese government is very paranoid of any group that might be a threat to them,” Shlam told me. Qiu says that the sex imbalance “makes men desperate,” contributing to violence against women who reject potential boyfriends. Shlam pointed out that it has led to an abundance of sex tourism to nearby countries such as Myanmar and Laos.
In addition to producing cartoons urging women to marry, the Chinese government organizes speed-dating events. And—as its promotion of the concept of sheng nu demonstrates—it also encourages Chinese citizens to see unmarried women as unhappy and unfulfilled.
But that wasn’t how Qiu felt. “The so-called leftover women are mostly those with higher education who have a good income,” she told me. “They don’t follow the social order. So society has to fight them. To make them surrender.”Watching the film as a 30-something British woman, I was struck by how subversive Qiu’s ambivalence about marriage appears to those around her. When Shlam visited Qiu’s law firm, she noticed that married and unmarried female lawyers worked in separate rooms. “You really feel second-best,” Shlam said. “The pressure is everywhere.”
Two other women feature in the film: a broadcaster named Xu Min, 28, who wants to get married but struggles to find a man who meets her mother’s exacting standards; and an assistant college professor named Gai Qi, 36, who marries a younger man from a less wealthy family and has a child soon afterward. But the most memorable scenes belong to Qiu, because of her constant battle to live her life the way she pleases. When she returns to her parents’ village, they tell her that their neighbors mock them because she is childless; Qiu’s sister flatly tells her that she cannot be happy without getting married.
Shlam was drawn to the story after hearing about the Chinese feminists arrested in 2015 for protesting sexual assaults on public transport. In Leftover Women, Qiu has short hair, which she told me she cut to protest the fact that several universities have lower entrance requirements for men in some subjects than for women, because the state fears that men are falling behind.
Leftover Women makes a strong case that most of us would not be as resolute as Qiu. “If all your girlfriends get married and you don’t want to, you feel abnormal,” Shlam said. “In the editing room, more than once, I cried.” Qiu said she wanted to participate in the film to help others in the same situation feel less alone.
The film ends with the 34-year-old leaving China to study in France. The farewell scene with her family reveals the complexity of China’s evolving views on women’s roles: Qiu’s sister, who scolded her for being single, now offers her money; her father, who is illiterate because his schooling was interrupted by famine, tells her that he is honored to have an educated daughter.
“I think he’s proud of me,” Qiu told me. After studying in France, she moved to Germany and is now married to a German man. They do not have children. When she watched the film, it made her reconsider the battles with her family. The filmmakers “captured some beautiful moments,” she said. “Even the fights. After them, I thought I was the loser. But from that movie, I saw that I was powerful.”
Quit the spamming ya goofy bytch.
Quit chaffing your dry dykk jacking off to the fantasy of forcing women to like your clit repellent ass.
Begone from my mentions bytch!
