Over a century ago, Chinese women were not allowed to immigrate to the U.S. on their own. They could only come as the wife or daughter of a man, a denial of their independent identity.
Intrigued by their stories and experiences, I looked for records and came across a book called Unbound Voices: A Documentary History of Chinese Women in San Francisco by Judy Yung. It documented valuable stories of Chinese women whose lives were fundamentally changed by the immigration decisions of their parents and husbands.
There was one woman whose husband immigrated to the U.S. and never returned, occasionally mailing back some money. It was said that he had married someone else and started a new family there. The woman raised their two adopted children by herself and never remarried. It was a relief to learn that the two children grew up to be devoted to her and eventually built a house for her. In those days, women were expected to remain faithful to their husbands even after the husbands had started new lives in a foreign land. The villagers were envious of the family because they received money from overseas and could live a relatively well-off life, without taking into account the hardship, pressure, and mental well-being of the wives left behind.
There was another story about a woman who grew up in Macau with her maternal grandparents, who were wealthy. She was accustomed to an affluent life with servants, a mansion, and high-quality food and clothing. However, her grandparents married her off to a man who had immigrated to the U.S. under the fake identity of a merchant but was, in fact, a worker, and that was the end of her upper-class lifestyle. She had to work outdoors with her husband all day long, while also doing all the household chores after dark and taking care of the children. There is an old saying in Chinese that a married daughter belongs to her husband’s family. No matter how much wealth her family possessed, it had nothing to do with her after she married.
Though facing major life changes, these two women demonstrated impressive resilience and grit in overcoming their challenges. Instead of lamenting their miserable lives, they worked hard, made use of all the resources they had, and managed to sustain themselves and their families.
After reading their stories, I couldn’t help but wonder about the circumstances of Chinese women who immigrate to the U.S. today. Has their situation improved? Have they regained their independence and identity? Are their voices heard and recorded today?
With all these questions, I interviewed several business owners in San Francisco Chinatown about their life and immigration experience.
Ms. Li was in her late fifties and worked at a Chinese Tuina Massage Clinic. She moved to San Francisco from Guangdong Province around six years ago after her daughter married an American. An established TCM practitioner back in China, she soon started her own business in Chinatown and built a stable local client base while also serving tourists who wanted to give tuina a try. Working six days per week, she also helped her daughter take care of her grandchild in her free time. Her packed schedule didn’t seem like a burden to her, but rather a testament to a promising life. With her warm, optimistic, and outgoing personality, she seemed content with her current life.
Ms. Mei ran a family-owned high-end Chinese souvenir shop with her siblings selling jade ornaments and exquisite crafts. Speaking perfect English and Cantonese, she was an elegant elderly lady with sharp-looking short white hair, pearl earrings, and a fashionable outfit. With the pandemic’s strike on economy and decline in tourism, the business was heavily impacted and slowly recovering. But she didn’t seem worried. She spent a substantial amount of time volunteering in local community, assisting elderly new immigrants with medical care by translating for them. Honestly speaking, I was a bit surprised because she was a senior herself, and was moved as I saw this compassionate heart beneath her composed and cool exterior.
Mrs. Zhang and her husband took over a Chinese restaurant together with a family friend after immigrating to the U.S. a couple of years ago. Unlike some other restaurants in Chinatown that are known for authentic Chinese food and mainly attract Chinese customers, their restaurant branded itself by providing economical food in generous portions. As a result, it was packed with tourists at 3 pm on a Saturday. Mrs. Zhang stood behind the counter, greeting customers while answering my questions. I thought running a thriving restaurant was demanding enough, so when she told me that she also worked a night shift at a hotel nearby as a cleaner, I couldn’t imagine why. She simply smiled and said nobody can turn down the opportunity to make more money. She raised two sons, neither of whom was into studies and she had no intention of forcing them to go to college. “I was not made for school myself,” she explained.
Hardworking and open-minded were the common impression these women left on me after the brief interviews. Despite the distinctive obstacles each of them faced, whether it be having to support her adult daughter financially and physically, managing a lackluster business, or working multiple jobs day and night, they maintained a light mood, downplayed the hardships, focused on the bright side, and shared their kindness with those who need help.
No matter who they are, someone’s mother, daughter, or wife, they have carried on the legacy of their ancestors, resilience, resourcefulness, optimism, and the capability to blossom wherever they go.