Left-Behind 'Grandmas': 'Fan Keshen' in the History of Modern Chinese Transnational Migration

Recently, the film "Love Letter to Grandma" has become popular. The two female characters in the film have deeply resonated with the public: Ye Shurou ("Grandma"), a transnational left-behind wife in Chaoshan, and Xie Nanzhi, born and raised in Thailand. Their tenacity and loyalty have moved countless audiences.

As a researcher who has studied gender and Chinese transnational migration history for over 20 years, transnational left-behind women have been my research subjects for 20 years. While watching the film, I was also deeply moved. The female images and their transnational letters (qiaopi) presented in the film brought me back to the years when I conducted related research at the Department of History of the National University of Singapore from 2002 to 2007. I am delighted that the film has let the public "discover" the long-neglected women in the history of Chinese transnational migration. They were often simply seen as passive recipients of overseas remittances (the money part of qiaopi) who relied on remittances to live. Even when written about, they were often described as passive figures waiting for qiaopi, receiving remittances, opinions, guidance, emotional expressions, or requests from overseas relatives. However, those women who looked forward to qiaopi every day were also independently raising children, taking care of fields, handling family affairs, and even making major life decisions in the absence of overseas relatives. My research shows that left-behind women are both a group shaped by transnational migration and historical subjects who actively maintain families, continue clans, and participate in transnational networks.

Left-behind wife Shurou with her three children in the film

Research by Wang Gungwu, Zhuang Guotu, and others shows that the history of Chinese overseas migration has been recorded since the Han and Tang dynasties. After the mid-19th century, driven by livelihood and overseas opportunities, a large number of men went abroad, and the migration wave continued until the mid-20th century, by which time overseas Chinese exceeded 10 million, mainly from Fujian and Guangdong provinces. Historically, Chinese immigrants who went to Southeast Asia from Fujian and Guangdong were commonly known as "fanke" (foreign guests) in folk culture. There is a folk song called "Fanke Song": "Going to foreign lands, hands empty like two pieces of ginger; returning to Tangshan, three buckets in two leather suitcases." When Chinese immigrants went abroad, their families generally stayed in Fujian and Guangdong (commonly known as "qiaoxiang" - overseas Chinese hometowns). The wave of Chinese immigration gave birth to a large number of transnational left-behind women (called "fan keshen" in some places), and "Grandma" in the film is one of them.

In the film "Love Letter to Grandma", Zheng Musheng went to Southeast Asia to escape the Kuomintang's "conscription", and Musheng's wife Shurou stayed to take care of the children, hoping that Musheng would return home after some time. Wang Gungwu pointed out that the overseas migration of men from the southeast coast of modern China was usually expected to be a temporary behavior (so-called "sojourning"), generally with no intention of settling abroad. Many of these migrants left to avoid conscription, and I also encountered this during my fieldwork in Quanzhou, Fujian. Unlike Musheng, the husband of one interviewee (a fan keshen) went to the Philippines to avoid being conscripted, and soon died in Japanese artillery fire during the Pacific War. At that time, when I mentioned this fan keshen's husband, she couldn't help but shed tears uncontrollably, and the interview was interrupted.

Elderly Shurou in the film

The role of Chinese women staying in their hometowns in migration decisions is often overlooked. Some historical materials and interviews show that they were by no means indifferent to major decisions related to the family's fate, such as whether their husbands should go abroad, when to go abroad, and how the family should deal with the consequences of migration. However, their figures are almost invisible in historical writings about transnational migration. Musheng must have left for Malaya with Shurou's support. Without Shurou's support, how could Musheng leave his three young children and go far away to a foreign country? In my research, I found that some left-behind wives encouraged their husbands to go abroad to make a living due to family livelihood difficulties. For example, Zeng Tianjuan from Jinjiang, Fujian, went to Manila, Philippines to make a living in the late Qing Dynasty, returned to his hometown in his twenties and married Ms. Liang. After marriage, family life was difficult. To solve livelihood problems and support his parents, Ms. Liang urged her husband to go abroad again, while she maintained the family in her hometown. There were also some women who didn't want their husbands to go abroad but were powerless. Many women were already married to fan ke when they got married, so they naturally didn't participate in their husband's decision to go abroad. Some women didn't want their husbands to leave in their hearts, but due to reality, they had to accept their husband's decision to go abroad. This was the case for the wife of the fan ke protagonist in the famous Southern Min folk song "Guofan Ge". According to the ballad, not long after the couple got married and before they had children, the husband told his wife that he wanted to go abroad. The wife was extremely unwilling and tried her best to stop him, but failed, and even sold her gold jewelry to help her husband go abroad.

After Chinese immigrants went abroad, they often stayed abroad for many years to make a living and develop, returning to their hometowns once every few years. Many people never returned for life, and many died on the way abroad or in accidents in their places of residence. In the film, Musheng never returned home to reunite with his family and died in an accident. Transnational migration means long-term separation for couples. Before parting, the wife urged her husband to return home soon. For example, in the folk song "Farewell Between Husband and Wife", the wife asks her husband to "always remember the wife in Tangshan, don't wait until the hair is white... When you get the money, hurry back to Quanzhou."

Long-term separation brings many life and emotional burdens to left-behind women. After parting with their husbands, wives live lonely lives, and the days waiting for qiaopi or their husband's return seem lonely, boring, long, and helpless. The folk song "Marrying a Fan Ke Weng" compares the life differences between marrying a farmer and marrying a fan ke, in which remittances (qiaopi) are called "money from selling the husband and children", meaning that when the husband goes abroad, the return date is rare, just like being pawned; and because the husband stays abroad for a long time and rarely returns, it's difficult for the wife to have children, just like selling her own children.

Marry a farmer, share the work,
Big jars and small vats full, children and husband by your side.
Marry a fan ke weng, lonely through long nights,
Money from selling husband and children, wait for letters watching the lone star.

During the long years of separation and living apart from relatives, transnational networks and qiaopi operating institutions established at home and abroad helped transnational families maintain their families and affection. Left-behind women and Chinese immigrants used the transnational networks and qiaopi operating institutions they had to maintain transnational connections, express feelings, and handle household affairs.

The "Yufeng Yinxin Bureau" in Bangkok, Thailand in the film not only handled qiaopi business from various parts of Chaozhou, Musheng's hometown, but also undertook qiaopi business from Zhao'an in Fujian, which is adjacent to Chaoshan, and from Shanghai, which is far from Chaoshan but has close relations with Chaozhou people. This shows the wide coverage of its transnational network and services, and also reflects the historical situation at that time.

In the film, qiaopi are "love letters". Musheng and Shurou discussed family affairs and expressed their longing for each other through qiaopi. When Musheng was imprisoned, Nanzhi wrote qiaopi on his behalf, thus becoming familiar with their way of communication. After Musheng's death, Nanzhi continued to correspond with Shurou under Musheng's name for more than ten years. However, the long letter explaining the truth was accidentally lost on the way, and Shurou never knew that her husband had passed away. Only a photo of Musheng, Nanzhi, and the children learning Chinese was delivered to her. From then on, Shurou was disheartened and never mentioned "Grandpa" again. Such misunderstandings caused by accidental factors are not uncommon in transnational families.

Factors such as the husband establishing a second family overseas, being unable to earn enough money to send back home, or moving to a new address often cause transnational connections to be interrupted. Overseas Chinese and left-behind family members often need to make efforts to eliminate misunderstandings and re-establish connections. In the 1960s, a fan keshen surnamed Lin whom I interviewed had a husband who established another family in the Philippines. After her husband's father passed away, he cut off contact. Ms. Lin stayed in her hometown with her adopted son and had a difficult life. She had no choice but to ask her aunt who was going to the Philippines to help find her husband. The aunt eventually brought back more than 300 yuan - that was what her husband, who was struggling to make a living, asked her to deliver.

A photo that caused misunderstanding

In 2004, I first saw qiaopi at the Quanzhou Overseas Chinese Museum with the help of Liu Bozi. Later, with the support of Huang Qinghai, Liu Bozi, Lin Nanzhong, Wei Jinhua, Zhang Meisheng, Cai Huanqin, and others, I have been using published or unpublished qiaopi for research. Qiaopi have rich content and touching emotional expressions, fully revealing the internal situation of transnational Chinese families and their diverse connections with the international and domestic environment. In qiaopi, Chinese immigrants not only sent money home through qiaopi, but also sent many daily necessities. They also told their families, especially their wives, to handle various household affairs, fully revealing that left-behind women were not passive, waiting figures, but actual managers of transnational family operations. For example, in a qiaopi from Lin Zaitian in Muar, Malaya to his wife Ms. Yan in August 1939, he told his wife to investigate the family property and redeem the fields if necessary. At the same time, he told his wife to take good care of her health and sent 10 yuan in remittance:

In reply, I have received all the contents of your previous letter. Regarding the matter of the field section at the foot of the Big Stone Bridge outside the North Gate, if it is indeed our property, you must investigate it carefully before redeeming it. I hope my wise wife will investigate it carefully. If it is our property, I will send money to redeem it this winter. At this time, my wise wife, please take good care of yourself. I am abroad and in good health. I am sending 10 yuan through the letter bureau. Please check and receive it when it arrives, and reply as soon as possible.

Generally speaking, if there is an incoming letter, there is a reply. Many of the replies from left-behind women are also rich in content and deeply affectionate, playing an important role in the survival and development of Chinese immigrants in foreign lands. According to the autobiography "Fifty-One Years of Heartfelt Words" by Lin Juzhen, a fan keshen from Quanzhou, Fujian, after her husband Yang Bangzhen settled in the Philippines in 1936, the two suffered from separation. They corresponded regularly to express their longing. For Yang Bangzhen in the Philippines, his wife's letters encouraged him to work hard abroad to support his family. Before Yang Bangzhen left for the Philippines, he promised his wife that he would return home to reunite after three years. Unexpectedly, when the three years were up, he couldn't fulfill his promise, so he often apologized in his letters. Lin Juzhen understood her husband's character and sympathized with his difficulties, "comforting him in her reply and expressing her willingness to overcome difficulties together to open up the future." In 1941, Yang Bangzhen had been abroad for five years, paid off his younger brother's "big character" (entry permit) money, and had some savings. He planned to take his younger brother back to his hometown to get married. Unexpectedly, Yang's father insisted that he bring back money to build a house. In the end, Yang Bangzhen didn't dare to return home because he didn't have enough money to build a house. Having a home but being unable to return, Yang Bangzhen wrote to his wife: "Today's me is just like a lone boat without a rudder, drifting in the vast sea without a destination." And he asked his wife, "You are my mentor, please save me from the fog so that I can reach the bright shore. Write to me more!" Lin Juzhen described the role of letters for both husband and wife like this: "Letters connect the two places. When writing letters, you can express your heartfelt feelings, talk about prospects, and send beautiful scenery to the future. When receiving letters, you can comfort your sadness, be encouraged, and look forward to the return of the wanderer." These qiaopi reveal the emotional world of immigrant couples across oceans or national borders.

Qiaopi in the film

Of course, for immigrant families, transnational migration is an investment with the risk of losing both money and people. However, it can also be a high-return investment. Successful Chinese immigrants can send generous remittances to their families to support family life, and use the excess to buy land, build houses, or repair ancestral tombs, becoming famous in their hometowns for a while. Some houses built by overseas Chinese often incorporated Western architectural features, becoming Chinese-Western "foreign-style buildings" that attracted people's attention. Some buildings, such as the foreign-style buildings on Gulangyu Island in Xiamen, Fujian, and the diaolou in Wuyi, Guangdong, have become part of the World Cultural Heritage, continue to be praised by people, and have become an important part of local cultural tourism and rural/economic revitalization in the new era. "Love Letter to Grandma" was filmed in the remaining overseas Chinese buildings. Among them, the Qifeng Chen Ancestral Hall in Dongli Town, Chenghai District, Shantou City, Guangdong Province, near Zhanglin Ancient Port, has now become a tourist check-in point because the film was shot here.

Filming location

The vast number of left-behind women living inside and outside the buildings in overseas Chinese hometowns may have enjoyed a richer or superior material life than non-transnational families with the support of overseas remittances. The famous sociologist Chen Da conducted a sociological investigation on this and recorded in detail the materials consumed by wealthy families. I found that in the 1920s and 1930s, the clothes worn by some fan keshen in Quanzhou could compare with those of women in Shanghai. Their permed hair copied the fashionable hairstyles of the time. However, many people's lives were not so glamorous, and even fell to the point where they couldn't afford food and clothing, or were forced to sell their bodies, or even committed suicide. However, regardless of whether they received remittances from their relatives or not, left-behind women of different classes lived long distances apart from their relatives, facing the absence of sons, husbands, or fathers in various areas of daily life and family. Under such circumstances, left-behind women made significant contributions to the maintenance and development of transnational left-behind families, strongly supporting their relatives' overseas development and expansion, or continuing the family inheritance of those who failed in migration.

Left-behind women took on multiple roles, and their burdens invisibly increased. These responsibilities have greatly exceeded those traditionally borne by wives, which exactly reflects the marriage life and family social responsibilities brought by transnational migration to left-behind wives. Many left-behind women who couldn't enjoy the benefits of overseas Chinese marriages (such as material aspects) due to their husbands' interrupted connections continued to stay in their husbands' families and continued to bear the heavy responsibility of taking care of other left-behind family members such as the elderly and children; their husband's migration behavior largely determined the quality of their marriage life and the subsequent life changes. Feelings such as longing, hope, pressure, repression, and anxiety intertwined throughout their lives.

It's not uncommon for relatives to die abroad without left-behind women knowing. During fieldwork, there was a fan keshen I interviewed whose husband died in the Philippines in 1982. His other family informed his brothers, but they never told her. After some time, she learned of her husband's death, and from then on she often had nightmares, dreaming that her husband begged to return to her. Sadness and fear made her ill. Eventually, according to local customs, she and her adopted son arranged a ceremony called "Yin Shui Hun" (guiding the water soul) to "invite" the soul of the deceased back home. After the ceremony was completed, she finally recovered her health.

The fan keshen I interviewed in 2004 were between 75 and 100 years old. But these elderly fan keshen were not all as emotionally restrained as Shurou. The fan keshen whose husband died in Japanese artillery fire to avoid conscription mentioned above is one example. From other fan keshen I interviewed, I heard many laments about marrying into overseas Chinese families and their own experiences, as well as many proud stories. One left-behind woman, when she heard that I wanted to write a book about fan keshen, not only told me about her rough life but also poured out her heart. Every time I think about her experience, I can't help but get tears in my eyes. She also took me to interview two other fan keshen in the same village. Another fan keshen was very excited because I was going to interview her and couldn't sleep the night before I arrived. It's exactly the life consciousness of these left-behind women that enables my research not to deviate too much from the real them in history, and also allows their history to be presented in another way, clearing away the stereotypes imposed on them and getting their contributions and subjectivity recognized.

There are also some left-behind women who chose to record their lives in writing. On the morning of August 2, 1987, the 70-year-old Lin Juzhen, accompanied by her relatives, worshiped her deceased husband Yang Bangzhen in the Philippines. The sacrificial text she wrote herself - "Wei" - describes their married life and her lifelong experiences, which is very touching. In "Wei", Lin Juzhen looked back on the grief of her and her husband's separation in life and death, and also recalled that she constantly improved herself, worked as an educator, and worked "day and night" for seventeen years, "supporting children through teaching, exhausted physically and mentally", while also tasting the "cold flavors of the world, drinking hatred and sadness" throughout her life. Although individual experiences and feelings vary, "Fifty-One Years of Heartfelt Words" can be called an autobiographical life history of a left-behind wife, from which we can understand the life experiences and heartfelt feelings of many fan keshen who had similar fates to Lin Juzhen.

Lin Guipan, born in Yongning, Shishi, Fujian, was a very special fan keshen. In 1930, she married Shi Xueri from Putou Village, Longhu, Jinjiang. Not long after marriage, her husband went to the Philippines to make a living. A few years later, Lin Guipan participated in the revolution. With the support of her husband's family, she did underground party work with full enthusiasm and some overseas resources provided by her husband. After the founding of the People's Republic of China in 1949, Lin Guipan actively participated in political movements in various periods and made outstanding contributions to the overseas Chinese affairs system in Jinjiang and Shishi, and was received by state leaders such as Mao Zedong, Zhu De, and Zhou Enlai.

The importance of transnational left-behind women goes far beyond their contributions to families and migration. In fact, as I wrote in my book, in the complex and arduous process of maintaining families, nurturing future generations, and engaging in local and transnational social, political, and economic activities, they supported their families with amazing tenacity, raised their children and set values and outlooks on life for them, and also unconsciously contributed an indispensable force to China's social development and transnational Chinese society.

In my research, I increasingly realize that the lives of transnational left-behind women are rich and complex. I hope that "Love Letter to Grandma", this clear stream, will wash away the historical dust covering them and let more people discover their light and heat.