Abstract
This article considers cultural hierarchies that may shape practices of dating and partner choice among young women and men in contemporary Beijing. Our research is mainly based on 43 in-depth interviews conducted in Beijing over the past six years. The distinction between Beijingers and waidiren (lit., outsiders) here serves as a framework to examine the cultural and socioeconomic differentiation of dating practices. We further complicate this framework by highlighting the internal heterogeneity of waidiren, including four groups: college students, New Beijingers, young professionals without Beijing hukou, and rural migrant laborers. We argue that our participants’ narratives reflect a desire for autonomous partner choice and fulfilling love relationships; we also demonstrate how the hukou system, competition in the neoliberal market place, differential access to education, and the rural-urban division may interact to create opportunities and obstacles for young people’s personal choices. Drawing on recent work by Yan Yunxiang (2009, 2010), our analysis further substantiates arguments about the individualization of contemporary Chinese society.
This qualitative study illustrates the dating landscape of young Beijing people and the interaction of their personal dating choices with a range of social-structural forces. Our research is mainly based on 43 in-depth interviews conducted since 2004 in Beijing with young women and men from a variety of personal and professional backgrounds. We consider, first, how young people attempt to attain individual autonomy and create spaces for self-choice in which they can build meaningful dating relationships. Second, in this context, we explore how they negotiate notable social-structural institutions and cultural rules they encounter in finding partners and sustaining dating relationships.
Our analysis addresses significant gaps in current research on dating among China’s urban youth. Since the beginning of the post-socialist reform period, dating has become a key form of encounter between potential intimate partners in urban settings, constituting a salient marker of transformations of intimate life in the country. Existing research tends to emphasize the retreat of the state and the importance of the post-socialist marketplace in shaping young people’s dating relationships (Farrer, 2002). In contrast, we highlight how our participants’ intimate relationships are constructed through a matrix of cultural rules and institutional demands, such as the rules of competition in the dating market, the hukou 户口 system, access to education, and cultural interpretations of the rural-urban divide. For the young people we interviewed, socioeconomic and cultural hierarchies between Beijingers and four groups of waidiren 外地人 (lit., outsiders)—college students, New Beijingers, professionals without Beijing hukou, and migrant laborers—worked to create distinctive obstacles and opportunities in the construction of fulfilling dating relationships. We simultaneously point to the ways our participants worked to achieve autonomy in their personal choices in the face of such structural boundaries.
To interpret our findings, we draw on Yan Yunxiang’s (Yan, 2009, 2010a, 2010b) recent arguments about the individualization of Chinese society. In the highly mobile and fluid social environment of Beijing, our participants are both able and compelled to negotiate their intimate lives through potentially risky autonomous choices, whose outcomes may be difficult to predict. Their lives have been disembedded to a large extent from traditional sociocultural contexts of reference that would have channeled the personal choices of previous generations. Their agency, however, is shaped by the boundaries of the social-structural positions—of college student, young professional without Beijing hukou, and so forth—in which they have been placed by the institutions of state and market. Our participants thus show how individualization may become an attractive ambition for young Beijing people. At the same time, turning this ambition into a lived reality involves significant uncertainties and ambiguous experiences.
Dating and the Individualization of Chinese Society
Since China entered the post-socialist era in the late 1970s, the rapid transformation of society has radically changed people’s thoughts and dating behavior. Dating is a Western word and has no corresponding term in Chinese. Two terms may be used: one is yuehui 约会, meaning “joint activity”; the other is lian’ai 恋爱, applied to romantic relationships. In the process of collecting data, the two words were used by participants interchangeably, according to the situation. Sometimes young people also use casual terms such as haole 好了 (“to like each other”), zaiyiqi 在一起 (“to be together”) to refer to dating. Here dating is defined as a heterosexual relationship involving joint activities, including social activities (such as shopping, going to movies, having dinner together, etc.) and/or physical intimacy (such as holding hands, kissing, touching, sex, etc.), either just for recreation or with an explicit or implicit intention to continue the relationship until breaking up or marriage. It can be as casual as a one-night stand or as serious as cohabitation or engagement. In contemporary China, dating driven by personal interests and desires has become dominant, and it therefore is increasingly filled with diversity, complication, and uncertainty: young people’s age at their first dating relationship is decreasing, dating relationships occupy an increasingly significant place in young people’s intimate lives, and alongside monogamous heterosexual dating relationships a variety of practices—homosexual relationships, triangular relationships, multiple relationships, extramarital relationships, and one-night stands—have grown in prominence in urban settings (Li, 2002; Donald and Zheng, 2008; Wang and Ho, 2007a, 2007b, 2009).
A series of recent publications (e.g., notably Hansen and Svarverud, 2010; Yan, 2009; Yan, 2010a) has sought to conceptualize the dynamics of social control and individual autonomy that characterize everyday social relationships in contemporary China. The work of Yan Yunxiang (2003, 2005, 2009, 2010a, 2010b) has been notable in this regard. It is closely associated with the efforts of German sociologist Ulrich Beck to extend his work on individualization in late or “second” modernity from the global North/West to other regions of the world (Beck, 2006; Beck and Grande, 2010; Beck and Sznaider, 2006; Beck and Beck-Gernsheim, 2010). Yan’s work follows from the question of whether Beck’s central theoretical dimensions of individualization—a disembedding of individuals from traditional social bonds (“disembedment”), a loss of personal security through the waning of the regulative sociocultural frameworks associated with these bonds (“detraditionalization”), individuals’ direct exposure to the demands of impersonal large-scale institutions like state and market (“re-embedment”), and the “psychologicalization” of attendant risks due to the uncertain, precarious nature of newfound individual freedoms—are applicable to Chinese society (Yan, 2010a: 493). The tying of individualization to hegemonic neoliberal capitalism is central to Yan’s argument, insofar as it provides him with a conceptual anchor for the justification of individualization as a globalizing process. Simultaneously, he posits the neoliberal reforms of Chinese economy and society post-1979 as a driving force behind the crystallization of partially idiosyncratic Chinese forms of individualization: Individualization in China is characterized by the management of the party-state and the absence of cultural democracy, the absence of a welfare state regime, and the absence of classic individualism and political liberalism. In this sense, the Chinese individualization process remains at the stage of emancipation politics of first modernity. Yet individuals in China also live in an environment where a fluid labour market, flexible employment, increasing risks, a culture of intimacy and self-expression, and a greater emphasis on individual responsibility and self-reliance have been created by the globalization of the market economy and an ideology of consumerism. The Chinese case simultaneously demonstrates pre-modern, modern, and late-modern conditions, and the Chinese individual must deal with all of these conditions simultaneously. (Yan, 2010a: 510)
Yan (2010a) considers individualization in terms of the interplay between, first, the individualization of social structural and institutional arrangements and attendant individual life situation and, second, the rise of the individual at the level of subjective forms of life experience. Significantly, he argues that “the party-state has decisively retreated from the sphere of private life” (Yan, 2010a: 490), allowing for an abundance of individual choices, a de-standardization of biographical pathways, and the emergence of lifestyle politics. As examples he cites the distinctive new Chinese consumer culture, as well as the aforementioned sexual revolution, enabling the rise of a “desiring self” (Rofel, 2007; Yan, 2010a) in the pursuit of individual desires and emotions such as love. Moreover, he points to the heightened risks for individuals in an increasingly competitive economy, engendering considerable social pressure toward an ongoing reflexive refashioning of the self, so as to ensure upward social mobility: The institutionalized changes in the labour market, education, and career development, for example, have led to the rise of what Nikolas Rose calls the “enterprising self”, meaning the calculating, proactive, and self-disciplined self that is commonly found among the younger generations of Chinese labourers. (Yan, 2010a: 505)
Yan’s arguments have resulted primarily from ethnographic research in rural settings. In contrast, we examine how the dynamics of disembedment and re-embedment highlighted by Yan and the resulting transformations of agency may play out in intimate relationships in a metropolitan setting. This will allow us to add both to the study of transformations of intimacy and to debates about individualization in contemporary China.
Methods
This article is part of a larger research project on dating violence among Beijing young people (Wang, 2007), which explores how Beijing young men and women interpret the meaning of dating, love, gender, and sexuality and how they make sense of their violent dating experiences. Interviews with 43 research participants (30 female and 13 male) were conducted between 2004 and 2010 in Beijing. We used a purposive sampling strategy, using certain sociological variables as sampling criteria, such as age, dating history, sexual experience, employment, education, birth place (Beijing or non-Beijing, urban or rural), and whether the individual was an only child or not. This sampling strategy was meant to enable the exploration of a diversity of dating experiences across social sectors of Beijing society. In 2004, the first author conducted interviews with 43 participants, and in 2006, the first author conducted 15 of 43 follow-up interviews.
In the first round of interviews, the 43 participants ranged in age from 16 to 33 years, with a mean of 24.5 and a median of 23 years. Most of them were born in the late 1970s or early 1980s, and thus are members of the first generation affected by the one-child policy. The study included 17 only children and 26 children with siblings. Fifteen of the 17 only children had had experiences of dating other only children, while 8 of the 26 children with siblings were dating, or had dated, only children.
At the time of the interviews, all participants resided in Beijing. Their education level was quite high. Thirty-three of them were either pursuing or had completed at least an undergraduate degree. More than half of the informants were students: fourteen were undergraduates, eight were postgraduates, and one was a high school student. The other 20 participants worked in various kinds of jobs, as journalists, teachers, researchers, office ladies, individual industrialists, individual commercialists 个体户, laborers 打工仔, nurses, accountants, and so on. Of the 43 participants, 41 were single, 2 were married women, and 3 had experienced one incident of divorce each. There were two pairs of dating couples, one of which had already broken up before the interviews; the other couple broke up later on.
The interviews were conducted in coffee houses, on campuses, at the interviewees’ offices, and at their places of residence—generally, whenever and wherever informants felt it to be convenient and comfortable. Usually, the interview began with an explanation of procedures, assuring confidentiality, and receiving informed consent in order to establish rapport. “Please tell me your dating story” was often used as an initial open-ended probe, which allowed informants to construct their narratives in their own terms and logic. Most informants’ stories are complex and their dating practices are diverse. Their stories capture a wide diversity of salient features of the dating lives of Chinese urban youth. All the interviews were audio-taped and transcribed verbatim in Chinese. To explore the interviews, we made use of an inductive process of coding and data analysis. Coding was conducted in Chinese, and extracts were translated into English by the authors. Through the coding process, we inductively generated the analytic themes and concepts documented in the following. In our argument, we have documented the significance of these themes and concepts through our participants’ narratives. We have then highlighted the importance of our participants’ experiences by tying them to broader public issues and debates, as well as relevant themes in the academic literature. In order to protect the participants’ privacy, all names in this article are pseudonyms.
The purpose of this article is to give an account of young Beijing people’s culturally situated understandings and experiences of dating and intimate relationships. Here, our objective is to map out the interests, motivations, attitudes, feelings, and experiences that shape young people’s intimate life, as they are situated in complex and sometimes competing sociocultural discourses. In this sense, our narrative in the following is not meant to be read as an ethnographic account of dating practices in old and newly emerging spaces, from dating bureaus to dating websites to dating TV shows. While the study of these spaces is important for a thorough understanding of the contemporary urban dating landscape in China, it is beyond the methodological and conceptual scope of this study.
Looking at diverse sectors of Beijing society, including college students, New Beijingers, young professionals without Beijing hukou, and rural migrant laborers, we seek to offer a panoramic view of the city’s dating landscape. Our analysis here is not meant to offer empirical generalizations about the distribution of attitudes and practices (Gomm et al., 2000). Rather, we seek to offer in-depth insights into the complexities of everyday dating relationships among young people. Through purposive sampling, we selected young women and men who are typical of the social groups to which they belong. On this basis, we document in depth the various cultural dynamics and institutional conditions that shape their intimate lives. These in-depth, up-to-date insights are of heuristic value, enabling a detailed, theoretically and conceptually sophisticated understanding of the interplay of social conditions that shape young Beijing people’s personal lives in fast-changing urban Chinese society.
Young Beijing People’s Experiences of Dating, Love, and Intimacy
The difference between Beijingers and waidiren serves as a general framework for understanding young people’s practices of partner choice and dating. “Beijingers” refers to those who were born in Beijing with Beijing hukou, while waidiren is a general term for people who were not born in Beijing, but have come to the city to live there for study and work. “Beijingers” is not just a term stemming from a geographic location; it equally signifies a privileged identity and constitutes a powerful metaphor in the dating market.
Among our 43 participants were 15 native Beijingers and 28 waidiren. In turn, the 28 waidiren can be divided into 4 different types: the first type encompasses college students (15) who have temporary Beijing student collective hukou, but are not ensured of permanent Beijing domicile. The second type is the New Beijinger (7) who has Beijing hukou, but may still sometimes be regarded as a waidiren or “outsider” by native Beijingers. Third are young professionals without Beijing hukou (3), all of whom face considerable limitations in terms of their access to goods, services, and participation in public life. Fourth are migrant workers (3), rural hukou holders who come to the city as working laborers without access to Beijing hukou. As Zhan (2011) argued about the exclusion of migrant workers, the distinction between Beijingers and waidiren through the hukou system implicates the intersection of two types of identities: on one hand, the distinction between non-locals and locals and, on the other hand, the differentiation between rural and urban. Zhan also argued that “while hukou-based legal exclusion requires state intervention and endorsement, identity-based exclusion can operate in the absence of state regulations and even when the state outlaws such practices” (Zhan, 2011: 261). In addition to Zhan’s emphasis on the intersection between non-local/local and rural/urban, we found that education played a significant role in creating hierarchies in the dating market. Along those lines, “Beijing,” as a cognitive location, prefigured our participants’ choices of intimate partners, constituted a pattern of stratification according to the outlined types of hukou ownership, and formulated subsequent dynamics of their relationships: most Beijingers dated Beijingers and most waidiren dated waidiren. Only 4 of 15 Beijingers had had the experience of dating waidiren and only 3 of 28 waidiren had dated Beijingers. All waidiren involved in dating relationships with Beijingers were well educated or had what were clearly well-paid jobs. Among the migrant workers we interviewed, no one had dated Beijingers or even a person belonging to the other three types of waidiren.
On the whole, our participants’ differential experience of dating and partner choice intersects deeply with cultural hierarchies that play out in the dating market. We define these cultural hierarchies as visible or hidden norms and rules that inform our participants’ dating practices and may bring dramatic change to their intimate lives. These norms and rules may be ambiguous and contradictory, causing considerable tensions and uncertainties among young people. More precisely, we can divide cultural hierarchies into four different types: first, there are traditional hierarchies: “the marriage is arranged on the orders of the parents by the words of the matchmaker” 父母之命, 媒妁之言 used to be a common regulative principle of mate selection in traditional China, with one particular selection criterion, which is “a marriage between families of equal social rank” (mendang hudui, 门当户对). Now, although “free love and dating” have become a predominant ambition among young people, the criterion of mendang hudui remains as a hidden rule. It requires similar or balanced conditions in terms of couples’ family background, educational and occupational categories, economic and social status, and so on.
Second, dating hierarchies in practice are shaped by certain unspoken rules of date selection. Women prefer dating up—taller, richer, older, and better-educated men are desirable, and the phrase gao fu shuai 高富帅 (tall, rich, and handsome) characterizes the best dating choice. Conversely, men prefer dating down—shorter, younger, prettier, and less educated women are desirable, and the phrase bai fu mei 白富美 (rich and pretty with a white complexion) designates the best dating choice. Here we need to note that the above two idiomatic expressions have fu 富 (rich) as a desirable quality for both men and women, and the market force of economic status has been complicating the original simple rule of “dating up and dating down.” Also there exists a double standard for men and women when they approach their 30s and still remain single. The idiomatic expression calls these categories of men “golden bachelors” 黄金王老五, who are desirable to every single woman. However, single women older than 30 years are labeled “left-over women” 剩女, which means that nobody wants them.
Third, institutional hierarchies, including the hukou system and related urban-rural divisions, create opportunities and obstacles in terms of young people’s dating choices. Finally, geography-based hierarchies are closely associated with these institutional hierarchies. Beijingers and waidiren or urbanites and small towners are commonly distinguished in terms of their social status on the basis of such geographic hierarchies. The heated debate about “peacock girls” and “phoenix boys,” discussed in detail below, shows how these hierarchies may complicate dating choices.
The importance of cultural and institutional hierarchies notwithstanding, all our participants were eager to embrace the ideal of a “desiring self” (Rofel, 2007; Yan, 2010a) and pursue ideals of love, romance, and autonomous partner choice detached from more material concerns. They negotiate cultural hierarchies of desirability in the dating market in order to establish meaningful intimate relationships, in the process sometimes reasserting and sometimes challenging prevalent hierarchies.
College Students: The Matrix of Job Selection and Dating Choice
For Beijinger college students, whether to date a waidiren or not sometimes involves practical considerations, first, as to whether the waidi college student will be able to find a job and stay in Beijing after graduation, and, second, concerning face 面子. In this sense, the institutionalized differentiation of domicile through the hukou intrudes upon young Beijing people’s personal lives by structuring the subjective interests that inform their choices. The women and men we interviewed selected their partners and later chose whether to remain with them or not based on an array of interests, that is, sets of beliefs, values, and feelings on the basis of which they chose certain courses of action. Apart from the pursuit of ideals of love, interests in maintaining face vis-à-vis one’s family and peers and in attaining economic security were prominent in our participants’ narratives. Shen Juan is a Beijinger, and her dating relationship is hidden from her dorm mates because her boyfriend is a waidiren.
Girls in my dormitory are all Beijingers, and they feel that they should find Beijingers as dating partners. Because my peer classmates come from all over China, and they may not find a job and stay in Beijing after four years of college, so my dorm-mates somehow look down on them. My boyfriend is a waidiren, so I avoid telling them. (Shen Juan, F, 21)
Shen Juan comes from a local Beijing university where most of the students are Beijingers. However, at other state-run universities, an intimate relationship such as hers will not be that obvious, since students come from everywhere in China. Shen Juan’s narrative illustrates a significant conflict of interest: having chosen her boyfriend for love, her interest in maintaining face with her classmates and her awareness of the problems her boyfriend will likely confront in finding employment locally have nonetheless led her to keep her relationship secret. While her conflict of interest is deeply personal, it nonetheless highlights the intrusion of the state into her personal life through the hukou system. The hukou system entails a pattern of sociocultural stratification that places Shen Juan’s boyfriend in a disadvantaged position to herself, because, when he graduates, he may or may not be able to obtain a Beijing hukou. Furthermore, hukou status is also deeply related to his chances of finding a good job and becoming successful in Beijing. The urban job market has become increasingly competitive, as many more college graduates are produced every year than can be absorbed by employers. China’s college and university student registration rose from 1,083,600 in 1998 to 6,815,000 in 2011 (Ministry of Education, 2012). According to Chen and Yao (2012), of 6,082,000 college graduates in 2011, 570,000 were unemployed. In a highly competitive job market, every small advantage over others can therefore make a big difference.
In the era of the planned economy, all college graduates were assigned jobs by schools and the state without individual choice. Many dating couples in universities had to break up after their graduation if they had been allocated to different cities. Until now, there still exists the phrase “love at dusk” 黄昏恋 on campus, which refers to the phenomenon of two seniors dating each other and facing the probability of breaking up after graduation because of their forced spatial separation. In the era of the market economy, the official policy toward college students’ employment is that of mutual choice, which means that employing companies or institutions have a right to recruitment decisions and that college students have a right to occupational choices. Thus college graduates enjoy much more flexibility and mobility than before. They now are able to choose when and where they stay or go if they do not mind their hukou status. However, there are still many barriers for waidi college students such as Shen Juan’s boyfriend. The most critical of these is the Hukou Quota for Entering Beijing 进京户口指标, which involves obtaining a permit for entering, staying, and working in Beijing.
Although mutual choice as a policy has been implemented, only the Quota for Staying in Beijing has been abolished; the Hukou Quota for Entering Beijing is still maintained. In effect, this means that graduates of universities and colleges in Beijing can stay as long as they like, but with no guarantee of becoming Beijing hukou-holders. According to a report by the Beijing Development and Reform Commission (2011a, 2011b), there were more than 200,000 graduates (including undergraduates and postgraduates) in Beijing in 2010, as opposed to only 60,000 annual permits to remain under the current Hukou Quota for Entering Beijing. Most permits were tied to public sector employment, rather than work in the private sector, although “the private sector has contributed more than two-thirds of GDP output” (Kleinman, 2011: 3). As public sector jobs are rare, with applicants far outnumbering available positions, the competition for permits is intense. However, the high-flying housing prices since 2006 have made Beijing one of the most expensive cities to live in the world. Moreover, recent city policies for real estate purchases make the situation of waidiren even worse, as they mandate that a waidiren can buy a house or apartment in Beijing only on the condition that he or she has been working in Beijing and paying tax to Beijing for more than five years. Though the policy is intended to keep housing prices down, it exclusively affects waidiren. Its impact is especially significant because, for many Chinese people, owning an apartment entails a sense of settling down, and it is an important precondition for marriage. As a result, there is a new trend of “fleeing from Beijing” among young college students who take the initiative to leave the city after completing their studies.
Shen Juan’s boyfriend thus faces a great challenge if he is to remain in the city and become successful. Conceivably, he just might not make it. Shen Juan’s story is similar to those of seven other female interviewees from Beijing, all of whom have some sort of reservations about dating waidiren. Among our nine female interviewees from Beijing, only two had had this kind of experience. Shen Juan chooses to keep quiet about her relationship in response to cultural norms that prize the prospect of economic achievement as an important element of sexual desirability. It is important, however, to note the ambiguous meaning of Shen Juan’s silence. By not disclosing her relationship to others, she seeks to keep face, thus ostensibly acknowledging and reinforcing values that make her boyfriend a poor match. Her silence could nonetheless also be interpreted as a strategy to subvert these norms, insofar as it allows her to avoid a situation in which criticism and pressure from others might end her relationship. Shen Juan thus might be seen as carving out a temporary space in which her personal feelings and the choices based on them trump the socioeconomic barriers created by the hukou system.
The hukou system may therefore differentiate life situations in ways that affect the prospects of non-Beijinger college students finding success, stability, and love in the city. Competition in the job market resulting from the hukou regulations becomes associated with competition in the dating market, engendering a power matrix that may weaken the popularity and attractiveness of waidi college students. For the college students we interviewed, dating remains a contested site of sexual expression in which Beijingers and waidiren often cannot feel truly free to choose each other as partners and in which personal considerations about love may be continuously challenged. Here we can see the shadow of the traditional mendang hudui mate selection practice at work, though it may be hard for young people to notice. Even though young people like our participants may think they are pursuing free love and dating, their partner choice may be implicitly informed by the notion that they should find someone of equal social status. Nonetheless, young people may still find spaces in which intimate relationships based on love and companionship, rather than on socioeconomic considerations, may survive. At least in Shen Juan’s case, however, such relationships seem fragile and their future is uncertain.
“Looking Forward” or “Looking Only at Money”?
In order to better understand the origins of the cultural hierarchies that shape young people’s dating practices, the role of China’s socioeconomic turn toward neoliberalism (Harvey, 2007) needs to be explored. The free market has washed away the Maoist era issues of political performance and class conflict as criteria for partner selection and set up alternative parameters. On the one hand, the neoliberal reforms of Chinese society have created potential spaces within which young Chinese can autonomously renegotiate gender relations and attempt intimate relationships built upon love and sexual attraction. On the other hand, urban China’s transition to capitalism has given rise to a set of discourses which, alongside the implications of state policy just outlined, serve to curtail the degree to which such potential autonomy can be expressed.
Shen Juan’s case again serves as a case in point. Her complaints about her boyfriend show how new criteria of date selection play a role in her dating relationship: He always says that, in contemporary society, a man should be successful, and a woman should be beautiful. Every time he sees other girls prettier than me, he feels unhappy. He often says, “I’m just a small potato now. If I have money, I can find anyone I want.” (Shen Juan, F, 21)
Her boyfriend’s attitude points to a commodification of intimate life, where men’s success may be traded for women’s beauty. A range of cultural and socioeconomic factors, from a woman’s beauty to a man’s wealth, are fashioned into a cultural hierarchy that differentiates individuals’ desirability as sexual partners. As gao fu shuai lists the most desirable men in the dating market, the opposite concept of diaosi 屌丝 has been created recently to describe the “losers,” who feel themselves to be disadvantaged in the dating market and use self-deprecating humor—“poor, ugly, short” 穷丑矮—to make fun of their situation and empower themselves in the process. Partner choice may thus be driven by a range of material interests—in wealth, in sexual attractiveness, and so forth—in relation to which it is possible to estimate the worth of both oneself and one’s potential or actual partners in a competitive dating market. The characteristics of the diaosi parody precisely this materialism and interest in superficial physical beauty.
In the present case, the boyfriend feels at a loss when he uses Shen Juan’s beauty to measure his own value. When “develop and improve the socialist market” and “the basic goal is to improve living standards” became primary elements of state discourse after 1989, “success” suddenly became closely related to career and, more directly, to money: being rich, having political status, or being famous in intellectual life or in the entertainment business (Jankowiak, 2002)—and now being rich and successful emerges as a notion of the “Chinese dream” (Yan, 2011: 44). The old-fashioned heroes of the Maoist era have given way to new market economy heroes. The widely disseminated images of the new heroes exemplify how the urban discourse of intraregional economic linkage produces a cultural identity that may facilitate the re-territorialization of the capitalism of the free market. Money, or rather the desire for money, has subsequently played an increasingly prominent role in initiating, developing, and maintaining dating relationships. Postgraduate student Yue Feng has an interesting explanation of the trade-off between men’s success and women’s beauty.
Career is men’s biggest capital, while youth and beauty are the most important capital for women. When they’re young and dating each other, men lack, while women have. Naturally, women in their twenties are in a powerful position, and thus they’re so bitchy. Therefore, women can’t complain that men in their thirties and forties have money and turn worse [by having affairs or seeking prostitutes]. Same reason! (Yue Feng, M, 24)
Here, modern love has come to be conceived in the same terms as capitalist economic exchange, entailing instrumentally rational choices about intimate partners, based on their perceived economic and erotic capital. Another participant, Xiao Hong (M, 26), made the economic dimension of dating still more explicit in his statement that men must have four big zi 子in their lives: car 车子, house 房子, money 票子, and women “马子.” It seems that, within the powerful narrative of neoliberal capitalism, he commodifies women into an object whose meaning is analogous to that of a car. At the same time, he commodifies himself: car, house, and money turn into factors measuring his own value in the dating market, and they define the interests on the basis of which he chooses a partner.
In this study, most informants date their classmates, colleagues, or friends of a similar young age. Therefore it is relatively easy for girls to occupy an advantageous position (Wang and Ho, 2007). Yue Feng mentions: At that time she lived in conditions that were not good. So I comforted her [with the boast] that I would have a bright future. But she just said indifferently, “I can’t wait.” Her words frustrated me; it sounded like I had no ability to let my beloved woman lead a better life. (Yue Feng, M, 24)
Although Yue Feng is a postgraduate student at Tsinghua University, one of the most prestigious universities in China, the vision of an imaginary bright future is not enough to improve his current problematic situation. His conundrum points to the emergent duality of the “enterprising” and “desiring” self commented upon by authors such as Yan (2010a), Rofel (2007), and Rose (1992). His girlfriend’s categorical “I can’t wait” is suggestive of the need for young professionals to reflexively strategize their upward social mobility in a hypercompetitive setting and to revise and adjust their personal plans and relationships according to the markers of desirability that prioritize economic attainment over personal feelings. No wonder the girlfriend quickly broke up with Yue Feng and left him heartbroken. Later on, Yue Feng chose not to believe in love and frequently had casual sex as a means of revenge. As a current popular saying goes, the eyes of Chinese are supposed to look forward, but in reality they are set only on money. In Chinese, “looking forward” 向前看 and “looking only at money” 向钱看 are pronounced in exactly the same way (Chu and Ju, 1993). At the same time, Yue Feng’s clear commitment to his “beloved woman” shows that such strategizing is easily complicated by the emotions of romantic love.
The role of reflexive strategizing in the pursuit of social mobility in dating choices is further underlined by the cases of two female participants dating men much older than themselves. One was a college student named Xia Bing who cohabitated with a successful businessman ten years older than herself. She says, I have an auntie, a successful single woman; she’s very liberal, and she hopes that I can turn out just like her. She told me that I should try to date different men and then would have different experiences. She told me that I should make use of the man as much as I can, not depend on him and that, anyway, dating was an exchange of interests. (Xia Bing, F, 20)
In ordinary people’s eyes, Xia Bing’s cohabitation can be defined as bang dakuan 傍大款, which means that a young woman dates and financially depends on a rich older man—a relative new social phenomenon in post-socialist China. Behind the age difference there exists a gendered capital exchange between different social classes in terms of men’s success and women’s beauty. Scholars call this eating “spring rice” 青春饭, also translated as “the rice bowl of youth,” which is a phrase to describe how women lead the life they desire by making their youthful, feminine, and urban bodies consumable.
As Xia Bing’s story shows, in contemporary intimate relationships both women’s bodies and sexuality and men’s value may be commodified, actively and passively, for the “consumption” of their partners. However, most women included in this study have realized that, in China’s neoliberal market society, “beauty” gives women more bargaining power to achieve an advantageous position in both intimate relationships and career development. We think that is why only two of our thirty female interviewees chose the lifestyle of bang dakuan. Young women may learn to convert their youth and beauty into employment opportunities by “eating spring rice.” But they also understand clearly that the fulfillment of self-directed material interests is even more important than being beautiful, and they have to enter higher education and move beyond the barriers established by the hukou system for entering Beijing if they are to secure for themselves a better life. Xia Bing’s story points to a possibility of the disembedding of our participants’ dating practices from traditional institutional patterns and illustrates a pattern of choices which, on the one hand, may allow young women like her to overcome barriers to social mobility in Beijing society. On the other hand, this pattern of choices seems to validate and reinforce these barriers, insofar as it translates the stratification of individuals by ownership of a Beijing residency permit, by wealth, and by sexual attractiveness into a set of material interests on the basis of which intimate partners are selected.
Peacock Girl and Phoenix Boy: Dating between Beijingers and Waidiren
“Peacock Girl and Phoenix Boy” 孔雀女与凤凰男 is a very popular Internet phrase to describe an intimate relationship between a city girl and a rural boy who has successfully bypassed the hukou barrier through higher education, finally secured a middle-class job, and become a New Beijinger. However, because Peacock Girl and Phoenix Boy are born into different family backgrounds and have different viewpoints on love, intimacy, marriage, and family, they experience all kinds of conflicts and contradictions. In this sense, “peacock” and “phoenix” have different metaphorical meanings: the former means that the city girl is peacocky, selfish, and arrogant, and the latter indicates the rural boy’s long-suffering willingness to accomplish the transformation from a crow into a phoenix. Sometimes, being a phoenix is what a “peacock girl” might call “super-excellent,” as Zhang Fan did during our interview: “If the waidiren want to date Beijing girls, they need to be super-excellent. Compared to me, they may feel low self-esteem” (Zhang Fan, F, 27). In reality, the Beijing girl Zhang Fan did not have any experience of dating waidiren; in this sense, the above quote most of all illustrates some Beijingers’ feeling of superiority and the struggles waidiren may face in becoming accepted. On their way to super-excellent status and finding love in Beijing, waidiren may need to pass through several stages: first, to become at least a well-educated college graduate; second, to pass through the boundary established by the Hukou Quota for Entering Beijing and the household registration system to stay and work in Beijing; third, to become successful in his or her career or at least to have the potential to become successful, with a high-paying job, a house, and a car; and, finally, to step up to marry a Beijinger. Since such individuals obtain domicile (i.e., official registration) in Beijing, we can call them New Beijingers. Such waidiren have the chance to enter the elite class, and some of them—especially those from better family backgrounds—are actively involved in important institutions in Beijing. Nonetheless, in the eyes of those born in Beijing, they are always waidiren because they were not born in Beijing and do not speak the Beijing dialect. According to statistics of the Beijing Civil Affairs Bureau covering the period from 2004 to 2009, Gao Ying and Zhang Xiulan (2011) found that 45.5 percent of registered marriages are between a Beijinger and a waidiren. However, it is interesting to note that it is much more common for Beijing men to marry waidi women (32.8 percent) than for Beijing women to marry waidi men (12.7 percent). These figures echo our earlier argument that the hierarchy of “men date down and women date up” does persist in the dating and marriage market today. Also these findings highlight the struggles between “peacock girls” and “phoenix boys” as well as the difficulties waidi men may face in becoming super-excellent and marrying a Beijing woman.
When it comes to partner choice, the inferior status of waidiren vis-à-vis Beijingers is often solidified through parental influence and control over dating relationships. While such relationships are ostensibly motivated by love and sexual attraction between intimate partners, the parents’ approval continues to be regarded as pivotal to the relationship’s long-term success. In sum, the patterns of social stratification sustained by the hukou system and criteria of success in the marketplace shape the perceptions Beijing parents may have of their children’s intimate partners.
The case of Deng Li, a successful business owner and waidiren, illustrates this point. Although she is beautiful, successful, and well-educated, she fails to be a super-excellent waidiren, as she does not have Beijing hukou. In the past, children’s hukou was inherited from the mother, but the policy was changed in 2006. Now children’s hukou can be inherited from either the mother or the father, which has rapidly encouraged marriage between Beijingers and waidiren. According to the change in the policy, Deng Li’s future children would be able to become Beijing hukou-holders. However, the boyfriend’s parents still use her hukou status to oppose her.
His ex-girlfriend is a waidiren too; she borrowed from him a big amount of money, and didn’t pay him back even when they broke up. Ever since then, his family doesn’t allow him to date waidiren, because they are Beijingers. They think waidiren are liars. I’m a waidiren, so his parents don’t allow him to date me. (Deng Li, F, 33)
This narrative shows how the personal bonds of family may come to internalize the social hierarchies brought about by the hukou system to constrain the degree of choice young men and women come to have in their intimate lives. In Deng Li’s case, her boyfriend’s family endorses the cultural hierarchy of Beijingers and waidiren created by state discourse, and disrupts free dating between their son and Deng Li. Although many current studies focus on the retreat of the state and the growth of the market (e.g. Farrer, 2002; Yan, 2009), Deng Li’s attempt to achieve “super-excellence” through the market still cannot stand up to the disruption of the hukou system, and state discourse and policy powerfully manipulate her dating life. However, a subjective desire for autonomous choice remains a powerful force in Deng Li’s life, entailing the decision to maintain her relationship with her boyfriend regardless of these pressures.
Dating relationships in this sense may manifest young people’s resistance to the interpenetrating hegemonies of family and paternalistic state control. Lin Ping is an only daughter of a Beijing family, and she explained the reason why a waidiren seems a good choice for her: “I’m an only child, and my parents are old. He’s alone in Beijing, and then he has time and energy to take good care of my parents” (Lin Ping, F, 31). Lin Ping explains in this way why she wants to choose a waidiren with a Beijing hukou as her future husband. Being “alone,” in her explanation, symbolically cuts him off from his original family-ethic relationship by making him a member of her family. Here the geographical division of local (Beijinger) and outsider (waidiren) influences the expression of power in the dating relationship and signifies an acceptance or rejection of the family relationship.
However, sometimes Lin Ping feels insecure about the future success of this marriage arrangement. The reasons for her insecurity parallel the arguments of a heated debate currently taking place in Chinese mass media and on the internet about the family situation of “phoenix boy” and “peacock girl.” This debate is about the high expectations “phoenix boy” has of “peacock girl” in terms of tenderness and kindness, while, at the same time, he turns their residence into a city reception center for his extended family, thus focusing on the support of his family of origin rather than his relationship with his wife. The tensions in marital life which such split identities may occasion were a significant concern to Lin Ping at the time of our interview. Here we see that family ethics may work together with the big forces of urbanization, migration, and state discourse to intervene in young people’s choices within dating relationships, imposing yet a further level of pressure on the relationship between dating partners.
The narrative of peacock girls and phoenix boys points to the limited persistence of regulative familial bonds and attendant norms in relation to which young people may define their interests in dating relationships. These norms and attendant parental efforts to impose themselves on their children’s intimate life have clearly been re-embedded within frameworks of meaning derived from relatively recent formations of state and market. At the same time, however, our participants’ efforts to pursue intimate relationships of their choosing in spite of the barriers they face suggest an incipient individualism in the form of partner choice based on personal, rather than purely familial or socioeconomic, interests. This is evident in the idea of being “super-excellent,” through which achievement in the face of significant structural barriers is translated into an element of personal attraction and a criterion for partner selection.
Thriving in the Cosmopolitan City? New Beijingers’ Everyday Conflicts
This struggle for emancipation within the contested space of dating relationships is evident in the significant conflicts some of our participants reported. Their subjective experiences of dating and partner choice were often structured as much by a push-and-pull of competing pressures as by love and desire. It is often only through conscious choices in spite of or in challenge of these pressures that our participants found it possible to maintain relationships with their intimate partners. Equally, however, conflict and violence between intimate partners may come to be a focal point of the tension between interests in, on the one hand, a love-based intimate relationship and, on the other hand, material achievement and security in the context of the patterns of stratification imposed by state and market.
The exploration of such conflicts illuminates the tensions that may be inherent in experiences of individualization. On one hand, the waning of traditional patriarchal controls may entail heightened ambitions for love, romance, and personal success, while, on the other hand, the direct pressure of material success in a hypercompetitive market may painfully restrict the attainment of these personal dreams.
There are seven New Beijingers among our interviewees. Zheng Xin’s story illustrates the relationship dynamics some of them encountered. Zheng is a postgraduate student and her boyfriend is a New Beijinger who works as a middle school teacher. They have a long developmental plan for their lives in Beijing. Usually, Zheng Xin lives in the school’s dormitory. On weekends, she goes to her boyfriend’s place. Zheng Xin has suffered from physical abuse, and sometimes her body is black and blue. Most of the time, the problem of the couple’s material conditions becomes the last straw, setting off girlfriend battering, such as in the last serious episode of physical violence before the interview.
He lives in a basement, only ten square meters, very small and crowded. It’s inconvenient for either cooking or taking a shower. The bathroom is shared by many other people. That night, I wanted to have a shower. At nine p.m. the bathroom was occupied. At ten p.m. I went to it again—still occupied. When I came back to his room, I was a little bit upset and told him, next time, you should rent an apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. Then he lost his temper immediately and said that I put a lot of pressure on him—we quarreled with each other, and he suddenly said, “If you dare to talk back again, I’ll slap you.” Then I said, “Slap if you dare!” He really did, slap, slap, slap—till his hand hurt too. Then he began kicking me, and my face turned into “red bread.” He threw things at me. My neck bled a lot because my necklace was pulled apart. (Zheng Xin, F, 23)
Serious violence broke out because Zheng Xin’s complaint challenged her boyfriend’s self-esteem and masculinity, which were closely related to his capacity to be a success and make money. In Zheng Xin’s explanation, if the man cannot bring enough money home and make life comfortable, the woman has a right to complain. At the same time, the man needs to understand that the complaint is only an innocuous one without the further meaning of blaming him. In order to justify her complaint, Zheng Xin emphasized that she was a person who could eat bitterness by giving an example of dining: We seldom go out for lunch or dinner, and just eat at the canteen in his school. One meal, 10 RMB [around 1.5 USD], is enough for both of us. His colleagues often dine out, but we just stay in his basement and eat leftovers. I don’t feel bitterness at all. (Zheng Xin, F, 23)
Eating bitterness means that one must work hard and suffer in order to reap the benefits of one’s labors at a later time. Frugality has long been recognized as a traditional Chinese virtue. Chinese children were taught to be diligent and frugal, because survival in traditional China very much depended on those qualities (Chu and Ju, 1993). Eating bitterness is particularly regarded as revealing the high spirit of Chinese womanhood, which is mediated precisely by the virtues of self-sacrifice, self-effacement, and a responsive understanding of others, especially of their suffering (Chow, 1993; Kristeva, 1986). Just like the enlightenment leader of modern China Liang Qichao argued that “the individual has a dual-self, the small self centered on personal interest and the great self based on the interest of the nation; the small self should always be secondary and submissive to the great self” (Kleinman, 2011: 9). In the Maoist era, the notion of “divided self” was used to call on people’s willingness to “eat bitterness” to sacrifice personal interests for the collective purpose of the party, country, and society. However, now the concept of “divided self” has been replaced by “enterprising self”—people pay more attention to investing in and disciplining themselves in pursuit of success. Therefore “eating bitterness” has become an entrepreneurial strategy of New Beijingers in order to lead better personal lives in the future. Nevertheless, in a consumer society filled with all kinds of seductions, it may be hard to continue eating bitterness.
For young people, a feeling of institutionalized unfairness is strong, and is projected into their emotional lives as a big disparity between pure ideal love and cruel social “reality.”
We don’t have a future, and he didn’t give me a promise. We just drift along. He doesn’t care about the future. He always says, “What the future will be like, let’s think about it later.” I told him that I don’t care about money, but he said, without the material basis, it’s a waste to talk about love. (Chu Yu, F, 22)
Such power struggles among dating couples reflect wider cultural tensions around youth’s expressions of post-traditional individualism in contemporary Chinese society. There are so many luxurious houses and fancy cars and so much fashionable clothing, and all these seem so close to the young, while it remains so difficult to actually attain them. When all these material interests are displayed in dating relationships, the idea of the “desiring self” (Rofel, 2007; Yan, 2010a) is replaced by material pursuits, resulting in frustration and confusion. On the other side, although these New Beijingers frequently lead comparatively harder lives than their Beijinger peers, they also have much more freedom, as they are far away from their parents’ direct surveillance. In this sense, New Beijingers have much more potential to develop and establish a youth subculture of autonomously doing gender and sexuality. It may be easy for them to fall in love at first sight because they are young and passionate, but it is much more difficult for them to maintain a lifelong relationship of “ideal love” because there are so many barriers and seductions. Eating bitterness is no longer as desirable and attractive as enjoying life, and drifting along may be one of the ways of enjoying their lives.
Floating Population: Out of Place
On the way to becoming a “super-excellent” waidiren, higher education plays the role of a filter and helps “candidates” to move beyond class stratifications, the urban-rural divide, and the division of Beijingers and waidiren institutionalized by state discourse and policy. In Beijing, there exists another category of waidiren, a category of “otherness” (Zhang Li, 2001): that of the “floating population” 流动人口. Usually, members of the floating population are rural hukou-holders with less education, who come to the city to work as laborers in the service industry—as catering staff, security guards, domestic helpers, and so on. The opening of the market economy has attracted a great many rural migrants to the cities to work as laborers. The household registration system constrains population mobility, making it extremely difficult for them to obtain local hukou-holder status and become New Beijingers. Often having only limited education and professional qualifications, they have to sell their physical labor to make a living in the city.
In this study, we recruited three working laborer waidiren: Long Qun (M, 22) was a security guard, Chu Yu (F, 22) was a typist in a company, and Ai Ling (F, 24) was a domestic helper first and became a salesgirl in a clothing market later on. All of them came to Beijing in their teenage years after completing middle school, and none of them has had the chance to date a Beijinger or New Beijinger. Their dislocation in the city marginalizes them in social and cultural terms and excludes them from the dating market by rendering them undesirable according to the material interests outlined in previous sections. Thus, all of them have had only limited dating experiences. For example, while Long Qun has worked in Beijing for more than five years, he only has had one brief romance, with a cook, lasting a total of three months: I only spend 50 or 100 RMB each month and then send the remaining salary [around 400 to 450 RMB, equaling around 70 USD] back home. [My] parents will save all this money for my future wedding. It’s not so common for a female laborer to date a male laborer, because our jobs have a strong fluidity: when one leaves [the city], then the relationship is naturally over. You know, people come from different places, doing labor 打工 is just temporary for when we’re young, and finally we’ll go back home and get married. (Long Qun, M, 22)
In practical terms, laborers like Long Qun have limited choices when it comes to dating—a lack of time, money, and space ties them down, limiting both their chances in the dating market and their opportunities for upward social mobility. Long Qun works 10 hours a day six days a week, while Ai Ling explained that shifts of 13 hours are common for salesgirls. Long Qun earns only 500 RMB per month, most of which he sends home to his family, while Chu Yu and Ai Ling earn around 1,000 RMB, but spend half their income on rent. Long Qun lives in an eight-person shared dormitory, Chu Yu shares a one-room apartment with a colleague, and Ai Ling shares a two-bedroom apartment with three single friends.
On top of the obvious constraints imposed by these precarious living arrangements, the mobility and instability of their working conditions also make it difficult for laborers from different places and provinces to maintain romantic relationships. In this sense, saving money for a future marriage back in his hometown seemingly constitutes a feasible way to establish an intimate relationship in the face of being tied down into marginality in Beijing. Consequently, for the remainder of his stay in Beijing, Long Qun will remain in many ways excluded from the dating market and have relatively little choice when it comes to establishing an intimate relationship within the city.
Although the floating population has made great contributions to the development of Beijing, and even though its massive presence in the city seems to challenge the household registration system, the latter remains, at least to some extent, a mechanism of social exclusion. The household registration system gives the green light only to college students when it comes to the acquisition of full domicile. Higher education plays the role of a filter and helps well-educated people move beyond the division of city and countryside, Beijinger and waidiren. For the floating population, although they can stay and settle down in Beijing, their lack of higher education amounts to a significant barrier to acquiring a stable Beijinger identity, obtaining a Beijing hukou, achieving upward mobility, and becoming an attractive choice in the dating market.
Chinese Individualization Reconsidered
In summary, our participants’ intimate lives had, to a notable extent, been disembedded from traditional social mechanisms of choosing a partner and maintaining a relationship. The social bonds of family and the concerns voiced by parents still played a part in some of their interview narratives. However, their significance as a psychological force of moral self-regulation and devices of external social control had receded. Instead, our participants found themselves rather directly confronted with the demands of state, labor market, and consumer society when negotiating dating.
As a result of this process of biographical re-embedding, young men and women like our participants may face significant constraints in constructing intimate relationships. The patterns of stratification imposed by state and market cut across the dating lives of the young people we interviewed: in their position within the dating market, in the material interests they bring to bear upon their choice of partners, in their perceptions of ideal love, in their emphasis on individual subjectivity and desire, and in changes in their lifestyles. Unlike Yan, we found, in particular, that the state continues to intrude directly into our participants’ private lives, with the hukou system serving as a paramount agent of stratification in the dating market. In line with other studies (e.g., Farrer, 2002), our research confirms the role which participation in the neoliberal marketplace may also play in young people’s intimate lives. Nonetheless, our work departs significantly from these studies in highlighting the persistent role of the state in the organization and stratification of personal life. These patterns of stratification placed our participants in social positions from which the attainment of a fulfilling dating relationship was relatively unproblematic for some, but fraught with uncertainties and obstacles for others.
Our findings thus serve to distinguish our participants’ intimate lives from narratives of individualization in Western Europe. Many of the latter, particularly in the early period of individualization theory in the 1980s and early 1990s, would link individualization to a rise of post-materialist attitudes (Beck, [1986] 2000; Giddens, 1992). Instead, our findings point to the prevalence, among many of our participants, of highly materialistic and simultaneously strongly gendered attitudes, through which material success and beauty may become pivotal to relationship satisfaction and shape an array of material interests on the basis of which partners are chosen and relationships are maintained. Our findings may, on one hand, be suggestive of a burgeoning consumerism among China’s new middle classes in the context of the country’s sudden and recent opening to capitalism (Goodman, 2008). On the other hand, they may be illustrative of broader, international cultural trends in the era of global neoliberal hegemony (Hakim, 2011; Illouz, 2007).
The need to navigate this dating landscape largely on their own, without compelling moral guidance from family and community, had significant consequences for our participants’ subjectivities. Our participants’ general interest in unfettered love and dating presumes the rise of a “desiring self,” as evocatively described by Rofel (2007). Love, sex, and intimate attachment may be sought as ends in themselves, bringing pleasure, happiness, and fulfillment. Equally, they may be commodified as means of satisfying other, for instance material and financial, interests. In any case, it is an autonomous, reflexive self that pursues dating to such ends. Moreover, discussing their dating practices, our participants generally exhibited a high level of reflexive awareness of the range and limits of their agency, and the development of strategies for the circumnavigation of these limits often played a central role in their stories. For such enterprising selves, strategizing in the pursuit of self-fulfillment, in spite of their seeming obduracy, needs to be and can be worked through institutionalized hierarchies and boundaries. On one hand, the quest for successful dating relationships can be described in terms of the “politics of emancipation” cited by Yan (2010a), with young men and women struggling to overcome the limitations which, for instance, the lack of a Beijing hukou or desirable material wealth may entail. On the other hand, this struggle requires and facilitates the on-going reflexive reconstruction of individual biographies. For example, the migrant laborers we interviewed were keenly aware of their outsider status and likely inability to date in Beijing. At the same time, they reconstructed their marginal position in the city in terms of an imagined future in their hometowns, where their social position would be radically redefined after their return, finally allowing them to marry.
In conclusion, can our participants’ experiences of dating be meaningfully described in terms of individualization? In the life stories of the 43 young women and men we interviewed, individualization appeared not only as an ambition—a desire for emancipation—but also as a lived reality. Our findings suggest that our participants’ intimate lives have been largely disembedded from historically prevalent commitments and institutional arrangements, through geographic mobility, the resulting distance from family, successful participation in higher education and paid employment, and the multifarious intimate choices afforded by the Beijing dating market. At the same time, their intimate lives are molded by their direct exposure to the patterns of stratification of state and market in the nascent post-socialist urban consumer society, both in terms of the material, “objective” limits these patterns of stratification impose on their choices within dating relationships and in terms of the ways they have shaped the subjective interests our participants pursue in intimate relationships. This stratification entails notable dynamics of biographical standardization, by defining the interests according to which young people choose their intimate partners on the basis of standardized criteria of economic success and citizenship status. At the same time, however, our findings do not point to a rigid differentiation of dating practices and social positions in the dating market. The fluidity and rapidly changing dynamics of Beijing society in the early twenty-first century have entailed many uncertainties, but also a substantial remit of choices and opportunities. Through these opportunities, both current and envisioned for the future, our participants could shape their intimate lives according to their individual vision.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The first author would like to thank Xiaojiang Hu, Suowei Xiao, Xiaoping Xiang, and Jianhua Xu for their comments, support, and friendship. She would specially like to thank Yunxiang Yan for his theoretical inspiration and critical dialogue. She also highly appreciates the discussion during the writing workshop organized by Sven Hessle at Beijing Normal University. The authors would like to thank Kathryn Bernhardt and two anonymous referees for their valuable comments and feedback.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This publication is a product of a research project (No. 10YJC840071) supported by Ministry of Education, China. This publication is supported by the Fundamental Research Funds for the Central Universities (Project No. 2012WZD04) and by the China Scholarship Council.