At 40, Tiaotiao is redefining motherhood on her own terms. After launching a clothing business at 25, she gave birth to her first child at 30, navigated postpartum depression during the traditional monthlong period of confinement known in Chinese as “sitting the month” — a trauma that created emotional distance between her and her husband — had a second child at 34, and expanded her business into e-commerce and livestreaming.

Despite her success, however, lingering feelings of depression and escalating marital conflicts pushed her to the emotional brink — a situation exacerbated by her husband’s accusations that she was “a bad mother” due to her work commitments. Two years ago, she finally decided to separate and live with her two children and a nanny.

Her life improved almost immediately. Freed from what she described as “a partner who conflated entitlement with accountability,” the tensions at home dissolved. Her eldest daughter now boards at an international school, returning weekly, while her son attends an international kindergarten, with pickup duties shared between Tiaotiao and the nanny. Both children are thriving emotionally, Tiaotiao says. When time permits, she involves them in her favorite activities, including museum visits, swimming, and fencing.

“I’ve realized marriage might not be for me,” Tiaotiao told me during our interview. “Finding a man who shares my parenting philosophy is nearly impossible. Even if we agreed on childcare, we’d likely clash on other fronts — or else lack emotional connection. Plus, my strong personality defies traditional ‘wife material’ stereotypes.”

She paused, then added: “But it’s fine. I don’t need marriage — having children is enough. I’m content being a mother on my own terms.”

Tiaotiao is at the forefront of what I call the “keep the kids, lose the dad” movement, as successful women in China’s wealthier regions like the Greater Bay Area — a vast multicity complex encompassing the southern megacities of Guangzhou and Shenzhen — prioritize parent-child bonds over romantic partnerships.

According to my research, these women embrace motherhood despite their grueling schedules, convinced that only mothers can maximize a child’s welfare. None complained to me about the limitations or sacrifices of motherhood; instead, they sought to highlight the meaning their children brought to their lives and the strength and insights gained from parenting.

Their tolerance for male partners, on the other hand, is highly limited. Some say their husbands or partners can “fill in” when they’re absent, taking on some parenting duties. Others don’t expect help, only demanding that the men “don’t cause trouble.” If their partners do prove to be more of a hindrance than a help, these women prefer to abandon traditional gender roles and do it all themselves. And if this choice clashes with their husbands’ preferences or constrains their personal development, they may choose divorce.

Mia, 46, is a classic example. After graduating from community college, she worked in pharmaceutical sales before starting her own agency at 30, gradually growing the business to over 50 people. Mia had her son at 30 and divorced at 36. Now she dates but has little interest in getting remarried, dismissing matrimony as “a high-risk, low-reward contract.”

“Entrepreneurship is hard but fair — you reap what you sow,” Mia told me. “Romance? Also fair. It energizes me. But marriage?” She rolls her eyes. “Too risky. Its sole merit was gifting me my son. Men are immature, demanding caretaking in the guise of commitment — I’d rather invest that energy in my child, who actually consoles me on tough days.”

Mia’s son is raised by her, her mother, and her ex-husband’s mother. She believes that with a mother’s love and sufficient support, the child will grow up well. He is polite, has decent grades, and maintains close relationships with the entire family. Mia feels she’s a successful parent.

And despite having no desire to remarry, Mia says she wants to have more children. In February 2021, she was pleasantly surprised to find herself two months pregnant, though she miscarried shortly after. “My biggest regret is not having more children when I was younger,” Mia said.

The choices these entrepreneurial women make between their roles as wives and mothers reflect their stance on female norms and values. Breaking free from the traditional emphasis on wifely duties, they live out dual identities: as architects of market-driven enterprises and curators of childhoods.

Although their numbers may be small, the cultural capital they possess from their leading positions in companies, communities, or media means their defiance of “wifely obligations” and the new motherhood codes they establish — including an emphasis on mothers as providers and a preference for quality time with their kids over quantity — may serve as a model for other women.

There are limitations, however. To start, not every woman has the strength and financial independence to raise a child on her own, so this lifestyle will likely remain the privilege of only a successful few. More importantly, the women I interviewed preferred to dismantle conventional marital structures rather than challenge the systemic foundations of gendered caregiving norms. They were also reluctant to devote time and energy to transforming notions of fatherhood and redefining the nature of intimate relationships. In essence, these women — among the most promising agents of change for traditional gender roles — have turned away from this formidable task to focus on themselves.

Editor: Wu Haiyun.

(Header image: VectorStock/VCG)