of Wanwei's 7,ooo hectares have been devoted to shrimp farming.Wanwei has become involved in the wholesale trade in seafood,either fresh or frozen, to Nanning,Fangcheng,Dongxing,and even Beijing. Since the late 198os,Wanwei has also become a tourist destination,as it has the only beach suitable for swimming in Jiangping and Dongxing. Villagers have opened guesthouses,restaurants,and rental lodgings.Thanks partly to these developments,Wanwei does not look like a typical fishing village,and it has gained a reputation as a place where it is easy to make a living.As the overall population increases,the proportion of Jing residents declines.Jing people make up so percent of the registered population of Wanwei;however,if the unregistered population is taken into account,the proportion of Jing residents drops to 3o percent.In the two neighboring vil- lages of Wutou and Shanxin,the proportion of Jing residents remains high, around 8o percent. TELLING LIVES According to my research,the women who came to Wanwei as victims of traf- fickers constitute about 2o to 3o percent of the total number of Vietnamese wives.Some of these women were told that they would be working for high wages and then were sold into marriage;others were told that they were com- ing over to marry but were given false information about their prospective husbands.Very few women have come as victims of trafficking in recent years. Ly,an early victim,said:"In my time [1992],where could I find any Vietnam- ese here?And so I gave up.Whereas nowadays some are so formidable that if they were sold over here and didn't like it,they would leave right away." By the time I met them,some of the women had been interviewed mul- tiple times by journalists fascinated by their anomalous status,and they were dissatisfied with their experiences with the media.They told me that they were so eager to fend off journalists interested only in presenting them as victims of human trafficking that they would agree that they had been sold in marriage to foreign men,even if that was not true.They were relieved to learn that I was interested in them as individuals and wanted to know about their whole lives,not just that one aspect.Other than these unwelcome inter- views,the Vietnamese wives of Wanwei had few opportunities to talk about themselves.Some were accustomed to telling the stories of their lives along 418 Cross-Border Brides
ùõý Cross-Border Brides of Wanwei’s 7,000 hectares have been devoted to shrimp farming. Wanwei has become involved in the wholesale trade in seafood, either fresh or frozen, to Nanning, Fangcheng, Dongxing, and even Beijing. Since the late 1980s, Wanwei has also become a tourist destination, as it has the only beach suitable for swimming in Jiangping and Dongxing. Villagers have opened guesthouses, restaurants, and rental lodgings. Thanks partly to these developments, Wanwei does not look like a typical fishing village, and it has gained a reputation as a place where it is easy to make a living. As the overall population increases, the proportion of Jing residents declines. Jing people make up 50 percent of the registered population of Wanwei; however, if the unregistered population is taken into account, the proportion of Jing residents drops to 30 percent. In the two neighboring villages of Wutou and Shanxin, the proportion of Jing residents remains high, around 80 percent. TELLING LIVES According to my research, the women who came to Wanwei as victims of traffickers constitute about 20 to 30 percent of the total number of Vietnamese wives. Some of these women were told that they would be working for high wages and then were sold into marriage; others were told that they were coming over to marry but were given false information about their prospective husbands. Very few women have come as victims of trafficking in recent years. Lý, an early victim, said: “In my time [1992], where could I find any Vietnamese here? And so I gave up. Whereas nowadays some are so formidable that if they were sold over here and didn’t like it, they would leave right away.” By the time I met them, some of the women had been interviewed multiple times by journalists fascinated by their anomalous status, and they were dissatisfied with their experiences with the media. They told me that they were so eager to fend off journalists interested only in presenting them as victims of human trafficking that they would agree that they had been sold in marriage to foreign men, even if that was not true. They were relieved to learn that I was interested in them as individuals and wanted to know about their whole lives, not just that one aspect. Other than these unwelcome interviews, the Vietnamese wives of Wanwei had few opportunities to talk about themselves. Some were accustomed to telling the stories of their lives along
the lines of the Vietnamesely lich,personal information questionnaires that are required when registering for school,applying for a job,receiving land, or being interviewed by census takers.As with rural people whose lives do not seem to change much from day to day,the temporal milestones they used were quite vague::“at that time,”“back then,"“in the old days."They talked about the turningpoints in their lives by referring to the time they left home, got married,or gave birth,or used expressions such as"when I was a girl"or 'when my child was growing up"(Hershatter 2002,59-60). Like the low-caste women in India studied by Kirin Narayan (2004), many of the women I interviewed were unable and,in some cases,unwilling to talk freely about themselves.Ha(b.19so)explained:"My life is quite sim- ple.What is there to tell?I just live one day at a time."Lan(b.197o)offered a slightly different perspective:"My life has been hard since I was a child; why would I want to remember it?"Part of these women's reticence stems from their refusal to provide fodder for sensation-hungry media.They also wish to deflect attention from their illegal residence in Wanwei and their equally illegal trips back to Vietnam to visit their birth families.Although their stories might seem to them not worth telling,the stories of the wives of Wanwei illuminate a variety of topics:village society and gender ideology in both Vietnam and China,cross-border lives,transnational marriages,and the economy of gifts and of emotion. PUSHED OUT BY POVERTY Most of the Wanwei women hailed from provinces close to the Chinese bor- der:Quang Ninh,Hai Phong,Hai Duong,and Thai Binh.Almost all came from large and impoverished rural families.Two sisters,Tan(b.1968)and Hong(b.1971),recalled their hard lives in Thuy Anh,Thai Binh.Tan said: There are six of us,five girls and one boy.Our mother passed away early. When she fell gravely ill,at first it was just stomach pain.She thought it was normal and only took some herbal medication.But it went on and by the time she went into the hospital it was too late because her tumor had grown. She died when my oldest sister was twenty-one,the youngest was only ten;I was seventeen at the time.My whole family did agricultural work.We car- ried heavy loads on our shoulders every day.When there was any free time we would run errands and hawk wares or work for hire to make extra money. Nguyen Thi Phuldng Cham 419
Nguyễn Thị Phương Châm ùõþ the lines of the Vietnamese lý lịch, personal information questionnaires that are required when registering for school, applying for a job, receiving land, or being interviewed by census takers. As with rural people whose lives do not seem to change much from day to day, the temporal milestones they used were quite vague: “at that time,” “back then,” “in the old days.” They talked about the turning points in their lives by referring to the time they left home, got married, or gave birth, or used expressions such as “when I was a girl” or “when my child was growing up” (Hershatter 2002, 59–60). Like the low-caste women in India studied by Kirin Narayan (2004), many of the women I interviewed were unable and, in some cases, unwilling to talk freely about themselves. Hà (b. 1950) explained: “My life is quite simple. What is there to tell? I just live one day at a time.” Lan (b. 1970) offered a slightly different perspective: “My life has been hard since I was a child; why would I want to remember it?” Part of these women’s reticence stems from their refusal to provide fodder for sensation-hungry media. They also wish to deflect attention from their illegal residence in Wanwei and their equally illegal trips back to Vietnam to visit their birth families. Although their stories might seem to them not worth telling, the stories of the wives of Wanwei illuminate a variety of topics: village society and gender ideology in both Vietnam and China, cross-border lives, transnational marriages, and the economy of gifts and of emotion.4 ŗŗŗ Most of the Wanwei women hailed from provinces close to the Chinese border: Quảng Ninh, Hải Phòng, Hải Dương, and Thái Bình. Almost all came from large and impoverished rural families. Two sisters, Tân (b. 1968) and Hồng (b. 1971), recalled their hard lives in Thụy Anh, Thái Bình. Tân said: There are six of us, five girls and one boy. Our mother passed away early. When she fell gravely ill, at first it was just stomach pain. She thought it was normal and only took some herbal medication. But it went on and by the time she went into the hospital it was too late because her tumor had grown. She died when my oldest sister was twenty-one, the youngest was only ten; I was seventeen at the time. My whole family did agricultural work. We carried heavy loads on our shoulders every day. When there was any free time we would run errands and hawk wares or work for hire to make extra money.
Ly(b.1973)had a similar home situation in Kien Thuy,Hai Phong: I'm the oldest.After me there are three more sisters and one brother.I should have had two brothers,but one of them died from illness at the age of six.My parents did agricultural work;later on there was not enough land to feed five children,so we also ran market errands and engaged in petty trade on the side.With a weak constitution since an early age,my father could not perform hard work or work for too long.It was mainly my mother who steered the houschold ship,and I was the one who helped her the most.From a young age I did all sorts of things:planting seasonal crops,single-handedly raising a few pigs,finding greens and bran and cooking them,and feeding and washing the pigs....When there was any free time I would help my mother with market errands,sometimes running rice for bran(buying paddy rice and then selling unhusked rice). using the profit to feed the pigs,sometimes buying vegetables and greens from the hamlet to sell at the market. Thanh (b.1974),who hailed from Tien Yen,Quang Ninh,had worked as a seamstress in Mong Cai before coming to Wanwei in 2003.Her many siblings,driven by poverty,were scattered throughout the country and even abroad: My father died when I was eight years old.My family includes eight siblings,and I am the youngest.Being poor,my siblings all dispersed to make a living.My oldest brother and one sister live in Mong Cai.Two of my sisters live in Saigon.One sister lives in Hai Phong.Another crossed the border to Hong Kong and now lives in Canada.My mother lives with an older brother in Tien Yen.I went to Mong Cai to live with my siblings when I was seventeen.I learned to sew and did sewing for other people. Given their impoverished backgrounds,none of the women I interviewed had received a full education.Ha(b.195o)does not even remember whether she had ever gone to school: I remember only that I worked all day:never did I find myself going to school.There seemed to be some evening class that my older sisters at- tended.I just peeked in,and I can't recall how I got to know how to read and do basic arithmetic.My family was poor,and my parents also 420 Cross-Border Brides
ùöô Cross-Border Brides Lý (b. 1973) had a similar home situation in Kiến Thuỵ, Hải Phòng: I’m the oldest. After me there are three more sisters and one brother. I should have had two brothers, but one of them died from illness at the age of six. My parents did agricultural work; later on there was not enough land to feed five children, so we also ran market errands and engaged in petty trade on the side. With a weak constitution since an early age, my father could not perform hard work or work for too long. It was mainly my mother who steered the household ship, and I was the one who helped her the most. From a young age I did all sorts of things: planting seasonal crops, single-handedly raising a few pigs, finding greens and bran and cooking them, and feeding and washing the pigs. . . . When there was any free time I would help my mother with market errands, sometimes running rice for bran (buying paddy rice and then selling unhusked rice), using the profit to feed the pigs, sometimes buying vegetables and greens from the hamlet to sell at the market. Thanh (b. 1974), who hailed from Tiên Yên, Quảng Ninh, had worked as a seamstress in Móng Cái before coming to Wanwei in 2003. Her many siblings, driven by poverty, were scattered throughout the country and even abroad: My father died when I was eight years old. My family includes eight siblings, and I am the youngest. Being poor, my siblings all dispersed to make a living. My oldest brother and one sister live in Móng Cái. Two of my sisters live in Saigon. One sister lives in Hải Phòng. Another crossed the border to Hong Kong and now lives in Canada. My mother lives with an older brother in Tiên Yên. I went to Móng Cái to live with my siblings when I was seventeen. I learned to sew and did sewing for other people. Given their impoverished backgrounds, none of the women I interviewed had received a full education. Hà (b. 1950) does not even remember whether she had ever gone to school: I remember only that I worked all day; never did I find myself going to school. There seemed to be some evening class that my older sisters attended. I just peeked in, and I can’t recall how I got to know how to read and do basic arithmetic. My family was poor, and my parents also
questioned why girls needed to study much.Just work hard.Once we got married we would be so busy with family and children,so what would be the use of studying? TOO OLD TO MARRY Secking to escape their families'poverty certainly factored into the calcula- tions of many rural women who moved to Wanwei.However,the women I interviewed offered other reasons for marrying foreigners as well,most of which had to do more with emotional needs than economic plight.While there is a growing concern in Vietnam about gender imbalance(currently, there are 112.3 men for every ioo women)("Gender Imbalance"2012),the imbalance is not yet as dire as in China(where the ratio is 17 men for every oo women).A thread running through all my informants'stories was that they were past the age when Vietnamese women,especially in the countryside, are considered desirable marriage mates.If they had remained in their home village,it would have been difficult for them to find husbands,but it would also have been difficult to remain there as single women.Hong recounted: When I was past twenty,my two older sisters,my older brother,and then my younger sister got married,one by one,while I myself did not receive a single marriage proposal.There were a few suitors,but they dilly-dallied, and that was that....Before anyone realized it,I had passed my years of eligibility.I found myself already twenty-nine or thirty.In the village, sometimes someone would point me out to their daughter and say:"Look at that girl,Hong.If you are choosy,you'll be a spinster,too!"I was so weary of hearing that. Thanh was twenty-nine when she arrived in Wanwei in 2003: I don't consider myself pretty,but I'm still a tall and healthy woman.I have had some suitors but nothingcame to anything....As I got older,all my friends kept marrying and having children and so sometimes I felt sad. But look at my friends:some got married to addicts who wrecked their home,one got married to a man who,in disgust at his failure in business, turned into an alcoholic who beat up his wife and children.I got afraid at the thought of marriage.In zoot or 2o02,when I was already twenty- Nguyen Thi Phuidng Cham 421
Nguyễn Thị Phương Châm ùöõ questioned why girls needed to study much. Just work hard. Once we got married we would be so busy with family and children, so what would be the use of studying? TOO OLD TO MARRY Seeking to escape their families’ poverty certainly factored into the calculations of many rural women who moved to Wanwei. However, the women I interviewed offered other reasons for marrying foreigners as well, most of which had to do more with emotional needs than economic plight. While there is a growing concern in Vietnam about gender imbalance (currently, there are 112.3 men for every 100 women) (“Gender Imbalance” 2012), the imbalance is not yet as dire as in China (where the ratio is 117 men for every 100 women). A thread running through all my informants’ stories was that they were past the age when Vietnamese women, especially in the countryside, are considered desirable marriage mates. If they had remained in their home village, it would have been difficult for them to find husbands, but it would also have been difficult to remain there as single women. Hồng recounted: When I was past twenty, my two older sisters, my older brother, and then my younger sister got married, one by one, while I myself did not receive a single marriage proposal. There were a few suitors, but they dilly-dallied, and that was that. . . . Before anyone realized it, I had passed my years of eligibility. I found myself already twenty-nine or thirty. In the village, sometimes someone would point me out to their daughter and say: “Look at that girl, Hồng. If you are choosy, you’ll be a spinster, too!” I was so weary of hearing that. Thanh was twenty-nine when she arrived in Wanwei in 2003: I don’t consider myself pretty, but I’m still a tall and healthy woman. I have had some suitors but nothing came to anything. . . . As I got older, all my friends kept marrying and having children and so sometimes I felt sad. But look at my friends: some got married to addicts who wrecked their home, one got married to a man who, in disgust at his failure in business, turned into an alcoholic who beat up his wife and children. I got afraid at the thought of marriage. In 2001 or 2002, when I was already twenty-
seven or twenty-eight,my family began to get worried.My siblings were also impatient to marry me off. Like Thanh,the two sisters,Hongand Tan,knew someone who did business in Wanwei,Hong said: At that time,there was an aunt from my father's side who used to do busi- ness in Mong Cai and Dongxing....Every time she visited,she would tell my father that he should send some of us away to make money,since we labored so hard in the fields and yet still barely made ends meet;when would we ever become better off?Then she also talked to us siblings.She said there was good money doing jellyfish in Wanwei....Hearing her we were rather eager,and my father also agreed;so I decided to go. She took me to Mong Cai,and the following day we crossed over to Wanwei.How she did the paperwork I wouldn't know;I was only told to come along.It was jellyfish season [March-April],so there was much work here.She took me to a processing factory whose owners were a married Vietnamese couple in partnership with a Chinese man from Fangcheng.So I worked as a day laborer in that factory....The work was hard,but it paid well.Back then,if you were to convert to our money it would have been over a million dong (nearly USsso)already.After a few months,having saved a bit of money,I was planning to go home to ask my younger sister to come work for the next season.But right when the jellyfish season was ending and work was waning,somebody introduced me to a seafood gatherer.I thought it would be good to earn some more money,so I stayed on.After another few months of work,my landlady introduced this guy to me.At first I hesitated,because I didn't know what he was like....I sent word to the auntie to ask her opinion.She came to my place and told me just to marry,to get it over with.If I returned home, I would have to work in the fields again,a hard life without money.And in the countryside,women still unmarried at thirty could only hope to be a secondary wife. Tan had her own reasons for joining her sister in Wanwei: When I was twenty-two,I fell in love with someone living far away in a different district,but he worked in Hai Phong.My father didn't like it, but didn't say anything,while my older siblings showed their open dis- like.They said a guy who had left home like that,how could I be sure 422 Cross-Border Brides
ùöö Cross-Border Brides seven or twenty-eight, my family began to get worried. My siblings were also impatient to marry me off. Like Thanh, the two sisters, Hồng and Tân, knew someone who did business in Wanwei, Hồng said: At that time, there was an aunt from my father’s side who used to do business in Móng Cái and Dongxing. . . . Every time she visited, she would tell my father that he should send some of us away to make money, since we labored so hard in the fields and yet still barely made ends meet; when would we ever become better off? Then she also talked to us siblings. She said there was good money doing jellyfish in Wanwei. . . . Hearing her we were rather eager, and my father also agreed; so I decided to go. She took me to Móng Cái, and the following day we crossed over to Wanwei. How she did the paperwork I wouldn’t know; I was only told to come along. It was jellyfish season [March–April], so there was much work here. She took me to a processing factory whose owners were a married Vietnamese couple in partnership with a Chinese man from Fangcheng. So I worked as a day laborer in that factory. . . . The work was hard, but it paid well. Back then, if you were to convert to our money it would have been over a million dong (nearly US$50) already. After a few months, having saved a bit of money, I was planning to go home to ask my younger sister to come work for the next season. But right when the jellyfish season was ending and work was waning, somebody introduced me to a seafood gatherer. I thought it would be good to earn some more money, so I stayed on. After another few months of work, my landlady introduced this guy to me. At first I hesitated, because I didn’t know what he was like. . . . I sent word to the auntie to ask her opinion. She came to my place and told me just to marry, to get it over with. If I returned home, I would have to work in the fields again, a hard life without money. And in the countryside, women still unmarried at thirty could only hope to be a secondary wife. Tân had her own reasons for joining her sister in Wanwei: When I was twenty-two, I fell in love with someone living far away in a different district, but he worked in Hải Phòng. My father didn’t like it, but didn’t say anything, while my older siblings showed their open dislike. They said a guy who had left home like that, how could I be sure