In primary school, children in China are told not to spend time with the opposite sex. They should stick to playing with other girls or other boys. That’s best for them, their parents believe. “But the day they start college, the parents suddenly do a complete turnaround and ask their child: ‘So when are you actually planning to get married?’”
In March 2025, the Chinese woman Lisa decided to start a YouTube channel. She wanted to talk about sex, relationships, and money. Why? Because many young people long for true love – yet at the same time they are afraid of it.
“They haven’t learned what love is, or how to deal with it,” Lisa explains.
Lisa is 35 years old and lives with her parents in an apartment in Shanghai. She is trying to make a living as an influencer focusing on intimacy and romantic relationships in modern China.
“Chinese young people are afraid of love. They only have superficial sex with each other because they need to feel seen and attractive in the eyes of the opposite sex,” she says, emphasizing that physical contact does not relieve the widespread loneliness among young people in the country.
The opposite sex is a mystery
In addition to her YouTube channel, Lisa also has a podcast. Both function as a kind of advice column where listeners and viewers can write to her with questions about everything under the sun.
“Yesterday a father sent me an email. He told me that his son follows my podcast and YouTube channel. He was happy that I could teach his son and other young men about modern love,” Lisa says.
Most people grow up in families where such conversations feel very distant.
All their lives they have been told to stay away from the opposite sex. A strange idea that the opposite sex only exists for practical reasons – when the time comes to reproduce.
The result is a deep abyss between China’s women and men. An abyss filled with mystery, guesses, and prejudices about the people they one day are supposed to share some of life’s most intimate moments with.
If no one steps forward to show young people that men can also experience heartbreak, or that women can also understand money, they must fill in the gaps themselves and create their own worldview.
It makes me sad to hear. And it is not the first time I have encountered this reality. My Chinese friend Sven, who is 26, said the same thing a few days earlier:
“I don’t believe I’ll ever find a boyfriend I can actually talk to about things. Only someone I can use to satisfy my sexual needs.”
Sven also has no “guy friends,” she assures me.
“What would I need them for if we can’t talk to each other anyway?” she asks me – as if the opposite sex were an alien from a distant planet.
Women are China’s second sex
Among the women I have met so far in China, I sense a certain contempt and distance toward men. I therefore ask Lisa why I get that impression.
“In China, women are considered the second sex. Just a few years ago, pregnant women in some villages were still tested to see whether the child was a boy or a girl. If it was a girl, they would have an abortion,” she explains.
In many families, it is still only the son who can inherit and receive financial support for education.
“I had a college friend whose older brother got a car and full financial support for college,” Lisa says. Her friend got nothing.
For many women, the dream career therefore feels like a mountain that must be climbed with blood, sweat, and tears. At the same time, parents hand out free lift passes to the men, who can glide easily up to the top.
With that image in mind, I understand why some women think: What do I actually need him for? When they meet at the summit to get married.
Among the Chinese women I have met they all have one thing in common: The desire to be independent of men. Many no longer believe in the happy marriage. Instead, I meet strong women who band together and fight for the equality in China.
What does she actually want?
… the men wonder.
While the women think exactly the same.
Lisa and i look at the Tinder- profiles. After a few minutes of swiping, a clear pattern emerges: profiles with bare torsos, flexed muscles, and selfies in front of mirrors – in gyms, at luxury hotels, or on tropical beaches.
As we sit scrolling through the pictures, Lisa tells me:
“Chinese men only look at how old the women are and what they look like. That makes women insecure.”
“But doesn’t it also happen the other way around?” I ask.
Lisa hasn’t thought about that. And I understand why.
From her perspective, the image of men has been passed down through generations of women’s bad experiences: a dominant man without respect for his wife, while the woman is expected to look good and take care of the kitchen.
But when I mention that women’s Tinder profiles often show the same thing – perfect, posing bodies in luxurious destinations – she can see that both sexes are sending the same superficial signals to each other.
“I’ve actually received quite a few messages from young guys asking what a woman wants from a man,” Lisa says.
That actually suggests a development, I say. That men aren’t only thinking about themselves.
Lisa smiles and nods.
The men are actually interested in a conversation. They want a relationship that goes deeper than the physical. But they don’t show it – because they don’t believe women want anything from them other than sex.
I understand Lisa’s, Sven’s, and many other Chinese women’s need to be strong and independent. But it is unfortunate if the only path to that becomes pushing men away. Then the gap between the sexes only grows deeper and wider – instead of building a bridge. A bridge that might give future generations the courage to believe that love is not about money and empty calories.