What if there was a form of writing that was only used by women? In fact, it already exists: the Chinese practice of “nüshu” (女书), meaning “female writing,” which was used by women living in rural Jiangyong County of Hunan Province.[1] There is no evidence about either the actual origin of nüshu, or when it was invented.[2] It might have appeared in the Song Dynasty or earlier.[3] The work of nüshu is mainly in the form of poems, and they are rich in content, covering various themes such as needlework, personal feelings, religious activities, as well as social and ethical norms. The first contemporary academic scholar to write about nüshu was Gong Zhebing in 1982,[4] and the script gained global attention shortly afterwards. The world was surprised by this “hidden language” or “secret language.”[5]
Some scholars and recent commentators on social media have argued that nüshu is a form of resistance against the Chinese patriarchal system. When I first got to know nüshu, I was amazed by this secret language and imagined the positive impact it might bring for current studies and practice aimed at breaking the patriarchy. However, I have also encountered opposing opinions about whether nüshu is truly female-exclusive and represents resistance. They raise a series of questions: Is nüshu a carrier of women’s suffering? Is nüshu a celebration of the unity of women? Is nüshu a female-exclusive script? After further reflection, I am increasingly convinced that even if nüshu is not a female-only script, it unified socially marginalised women who invented their own form of communication and showed women’s resistance to marriage and social norms.
A Carrier of Women’s Suffering?
Nüshu places great emphasis on the expression of women’s suffering and difficulties within marriage.[6] Gong Zhebing gives the example of the Chant of the Daughter-in-law (媳妇吟) that writes that the hardest role in the in the world is being daughter-in-law: daughters get to eat chicken legs but daughter-in-law can only have chicken feet. When the chicken feet fall to the floor, the daughter-in-law even needs to fight with dogs.[7] Gong then linked this with the special marriage ritual in Jiangyong region - “brides crying” (哭嫁), in which brides are supposed to cry loudly in front of their family members and the whole neighborhood community in the night before the marriage ceremony to show their unwillingness to get married. On the day of the marriage ceremony, on their way to the groom’s home, brides must continue crying loudly until their throats become hoarse. Therefore, Gong argues that the appearance and practice of nüshu gives expression to the oppression of women within marriage.[8]
A Celebration of the Unity of Women?
Connecting with women’s suffering, another central theme in nüshu is sisterhood.[9] An example could be seen on the back of the coins issued by the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom (1851–1864), the word “sisterhood” was minted in nüshu.[10] But what was sisterhood among Jiangyong women?
By listing the practice of foot-binding of women who lived in Jiangyong region and the marriage ritual of “a married woman does not move in with her husband until she is ready to give birth her first baby” (不落夫家), Gong thinks women who used nüshu spent more time within the female community and were isolated from the male world. In this way, a female society bonded by nüshu was constructed. Within this community, depending on the degree of intimacy, age, and membership,[11] at least three types of non-skin sister relationship could be distinguished: jiebai jiemei (结拜姐妹), meaning “sworn sisters,” laotong (老同) meaning “sisters born in the same year,” and xingke (行客) meaning “visiting sisters.”[12][13] Jiebai jiemei are the individuals who swear the oath of sisterhood, and the relationship of laotong is a close-knit bond between two women, often of the same age, that lasts a lifetime. It's characterized by trust, strong emotional connection, and mutual respect. Sometimes, there's even a special agreement or vow that strengthens this bond.[14] Gong thinks the relationship of xingke is the most intimate one among these three, as xingke had sex with each other, and Gong considers them to be lesbians - they had little motivation to get married, delayed marriage, or resisted against marriage.[15] As feminist scholar Clarke argued, being lesbians in a heterosexual society is an act of resistance.[16] Similarly, Simon Wong believes that the relationships within nüshu community were contrary to the norm of the dominant patriarchal culture.[17]
A Female-Exclusive Script?
Historically, Chinese women were deprived of learning opportunities,[18] and the majority of them did not learn traditional Chinese characters (Hanzi) - the “men’s writing.”[19]Jiangyong women thus invented nüshu to be used for women.[20] Gong argues that it was taught and transmitted exclusively among women, and usually mothers taught their daughters.[21] It is widely considered among Chinese scholars that men did not understand nüshu. American scholar Cathy Lyn Silber thought the same in her early stage of studying nüshu. However, after field work in Jiangyong and talks/interviews with locals, Silber believes that nüshu was known by men as well. Scholars such as Liu Feiwen and Simon also hold the similar view that nüshu is more or less a regional local dialect and if males who speak the dialect heard nüshu sung out loud, they would comprehend it.[22]
However, men regarded nüshu as a female activity, similar to embroidery, and therefore, they did not pay attention to this script,[23] or they showed minimal interest in the performance or content of nushu, and they made no effort to acquire the nüshu characters. Thus, Liu claims that nüshu served as an indication of the persistent underrepresentation and undervaluation of women in Chinese society, particularly in relation to their inability to attain understanding or recognition from men.[24] This lack of recognition is linked to Confucian gender ideology and moral concerns, in which women's social world - the “inner quarters,” separate from the men's sphere - was constructed and defined as inappropriate for public visibility unless it exemplified or threatened social mores.[25] Therefore, in essence, nüshu reflects the deeply rooted gender hierarchy in Confucian society, where women’s voices remained confined to private spaces and largely ignored by men. Furthermore, Silber argues that nüshu has been romanticized as a discourse of resistance against gender oppression.[26]
On 20 September 2004, with the death of Yang Huanyi, nüshu lost its last living person with firsthand experience of the entire process itself.[27] We can thus no longer get firsthand information from people who used it and lived in the environment before. A lack of historical resources means it might be impossible to know whether nüshu really has been a 100 percent female-exclusive script.
Conclusion and Discussion
Is nüshu a carrier of women's suffering? Yes - it expresses the oppression of women, particularly those outside the elite class who lacked access to education and proficiency in men’s writing. Is nüshu a celebration of the unity of women? Yes - it unified socially marginalized women, providing them with a unique form of communication and symbolizing their resistance to marriage and restrictive social norms. Is nüshu a female - only script? This question could not be answered due to the lack of historical sources, and the obvious limitations of previous research that women who used nüshu did not leave clear explanation of the meaning of their poems, the analysis of these poems would be subjective interpretations of other authors themselves. Even if nüshu is not a female-only script, nüshu reflects the pain women have endured while celebrating the bonds and solidarity that connect them.
Nüshu is not only a script and language, but a bond for a community. It has been interpreted as a form of empowerment for women, enabling them to articulate their perspectives and engage in dialogue with one another. However, at the same time, nüshu underlines the systemic marginalization of women in Confucian society, where their voices remained confined to private spaces and largely ignored by men.
Although we cannot reach a definitive conclusion, the questions raised by nüshu are still valuable as they encourage us to reconsider the relationship between gender, language, and patriarchy.
