Hong Kong
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Zane Lee was nine years old when he owned his sister, and her arrival drove her family into crippling debt in a small city in eastern China.
Under China’s strict one-child policy at the time, Li’s parents were fined 100,000 yuan (about $13,900) for having a second child.
“We barely survived,” recalls Lee. The third graders at the time were forced to grow up overnight, taking on most of the household chores and spent their school holidays to help their mothers at the food stalls.
Right now, Lee says he has no plans to have children. Something that worries the Chinese government as it tries to avoid its own population crisis and is increasingly common in his generation.
For decades, authorities have put pressure on the couple to pay large fines and reduce children through forced abortion and sterilization.
Last week, with the latest push to increase the flag’s fertility rate, China announced that it would effectively provide parents with an annual grant of 3,600 yuan ($500) to all children up to three years of age, retroactively from January 1st.
But for many young people like Li, the offer becomes flat.
“The cost of raising children is enormous, with 3,600 yuan per year being a slight drop in buckets,” said Li, who has earned a student loan to earn a master’s degree in medical services in Beijing.
A recent study by the Beijing-based Yuwa Population Institute found that in China, a mean of 538,000 yuan ($75,000) to raise a child to age 18, average GDP of 538,000 yuan ($75,000) is more than six times more than a person per person, making giving birth to a child in relative terms one of the most expensive places in the world.
In Shanghai, costs soar past 1 million yuan, while Beijing approaches 936,000 yuan.
“(Having a child) only has to struggle more. I’m not a capitalist or anything. My kids probably don’t have a good life either,” said Li, who is considering pursuing his job prospects and doctoral degrees.
Such a shady outlook on future parent-child relationships, spurred by slowing China’s economy and increasing unemployment rates among young people, presents a major hurdle that the government pushes to help young people marry and have children.
Faced with a shrinking workforce and a rapidly aging population, China abolished the one-child policy in 2016, allowing couples to have two children and three children in 2021. However, the birth rate continues to slip. Despite a small rebound at birth last year, the population has been shrinking for the third year in a row, and experts are now warning of a sharper decline.
The newly announced national childcare subsidies illustrate an important step in China’s birth campaign.
For years, local authorities have experimented with many incentives, from tax credits, housing perks, and cash handouts to maternity leave. Currently, the central government is taking the lead in standardized, national programs, allocating 90 billion yuan ($12.54 billion) in subsidies expected to benefit 20 million families this year.
“It’s no longer a local experiment. It’s a signal that the government sees the fertility crisis as urgent and public,” says Emma Zan, a demographicist and professor of sociology at Yale University. “The message is clear. We’re not only telling you to have a baby, but we’re finally putting money on the table.”
The new scheme, which provides partial subsidies for children under the age of 3 born before 2025, is welcomed by eligible parents, but Zan said it is unlikely that he will move the needle at an obesity rate. Similar policies have failed to significantly increase the birth rate of other East Asian societies, such as Japan and South Korea, she added.
For many Chinese youth who are tackling unfair home prices, long business days and unstable employment markets, subsidies don’t even begin to tackle deep seated anxiety that reluctantly wants to start a family.
“It’s not just about the cost, it’s really not just about the cost. Many young adults are skeptical of the future, such as job security, aging parents, and social pressures. That’s why cash handouts don’t address the emotional fatigue that people have been facing recently,” Zan said.
It is ironic that parents, especially those who witnessed the harsh penalties of only child policy, for helping parents to have more children, from being fined for unauthorized births, are not lost in Chinese millennials and General ZS.
On social media in China, some users have posted photos of old receipts showing the fines their parents once paid for giving birth to them or siblings.
Among them is Gao, who grew up in the far mountains of Giza and was asked to be identified only by her last name. The southwestern state is the poorest in China; Among many regions, the sculpture was recognized under the one-child policy, and if the first born was a girl, a country couple allowed a second child.
Like her two sisters, Gao was sent to live with her grandmother shortly after being born to hide from family planning staff. They eventually gave birth to four daughters before having a son.
Gao, 27, who currently lives in eastern Jiangsu Province, says he has no interest in marriage or raising children.
“I know that I can’t provide my child with a good environment for education and life, and choosing not to have it is also an act of kindness,” she said. “I definitely don’t want my kids to grow up like I do… I don’t have the chance to struggle with upward mobility and the bottom of society as I have.”
For decades, as China’s economy boomed and living standards improved, young people of a generation have grown with the belief that they live better than their parents.
That optimism is now declining.
Today, many young people grew up with the promise of upward mobility through hard work and education. Education is disillusioned. Property prices have skyrocketed beyond reach, and university degrees no longer guarantee a good job.
There is a growing sense of futile that their relentless efforts will only reduce returns in a more competitive society. This is a trend summarised by the popular buzzword “in lution,” a term borrowed from sociology to explain the self-defeating spiral of excessive competition.
In response, many people choose to “lie flat.” This is another catchphrase that refers to being kicked out of the grind of encountering social expectations, such as marriage or raising children.
In June, Zhao, 29, grew up in a middle-class family in Beijing’s Heidian district, one of China’s most “entangled” places.
With 3 million people and many of the nation’s top universities, Heidian is just as well known for his overly competitive approach to raising children. Zhao began attending private tutor classes every weekend in his third year.
After earning his bachelor’s and graduate degrees overseas, Zhao returned to Beijing to work in investor relations. She says the immeasurable pressure she grew up played a major role in her decision to not have children.
“The cost is simply too high and too low returns,” she said. “In general, I have a rather pessimistic view of life.
Zhao considers himself lucky. She rarely requires overtime for her job. Still, she has a hard time imagining finding time to raise her child. After commuting to work and having dinner, she spends two or three hours of free time each day before going to bed. It would be even more difficult for a friend who was trapped in a “996” crush that works six days a week from 9am to 9pm.
Like many of her contemporaries, Gao is simply not optimistic about the life she can provide to her child, or the society in which it will be born. “You just feel the urge to have a child when you believe that the days ahead are good,” she said.
Secondly, there is a long-standing gender imbalance in parenting, along with the physical and emotional sacrifices needed by women. In Zhao’s case, it was his mother who had to exchange work full-time to help with homework and escort her to a tutoring class.
“I saw firsthand how hard it was for my mother to raise me. I know that women are burdened with far more burdens and costs than men when it comes to raising a family,” she said.
As fertility rates fell, the ruling Communist Party underscored the domestic role of women as “noble wives and good mothers.” It promotes this as an important part of Chinese traditional culture and is essential for the “sound growth of the next generation.” Authorities have encouraged women to establish “the correct views on marriage, childbirth and family.”
Demographicist Zan said it is simply unrealistic to expect more children without addressing the real barriers women face.
“We can’t turn the clock back, and we hope that women will embrace more traditional roles. Young women today are highly educated, career-oriented, and want more equality. Fertility fees won’t be recovered unless they support that reality through paternity leave, workplace protection, flexible work, etc.”
“The government wants more babies, but society is not structured to support families,” she added. “Raising a parenting now looks like a trap, especially for women. Until that changes, the subsidies aren’t enough.”
