Hanna Gully

When someone asks me where I’m from, I say I’m from Massachusetts. Though I have national pride, I frame my identity first in terms of my state. Through my interactions with Chinese people, I’ve noticed that Chinese people often distinguish themselves in the same way. When asked where they’re from, Chinese people generally respond with the name of a province - Hebei, Guizhou, Sichuan, etc. According to one of my professors here at East China Normal University, Chinese regionalism is a relatively new phenomenon.

After the People’s Republic of China was established in 1949, the Communist Party of China decided to establish the Household Registration System (hukou), which barred rural residents from moving to urban areas. The party intended this system to foster economic development, but it has had other unintended consequences. Given the restrictions it placed on residency and occupation based on birth, it essentially created a caste system.

After China’s economic reforms in 1979, many peasants left their rural home provinces in search of more lucrative work in cities. Once in urban areas, these people could not establish new permanent lives. Under hukou they were not eligible for city citizenship. Therefore, they lived as illegal immigrants within their own country.

Today, migrants continue to flock to Chinese cities in search of work. The extent of China’s migrant phenomenon is most evident during Chun Jie, the Spring Festival, or New Year’s holiday, when nearly all migrants make the journey back to their home provinces to celebrate with family members. Millions of Chinese take to trains, planes and boats in the largest yearly migration in the world.

Though migrants often find greater opportunity for work in China’s cities, their children suffer educationally. Since migrants don’t have residency, their children are often times cast aside by the school system. Many migrant communities around China have addressed this problem by forming their own ad-hoc migrant schools, but these schools are generally understaffed, overcrowded and disorganized. In country where students’ future success is determined by highly competitive examinations, the poor educational conditions place migrant children at a severe disadvantage.

Recently, some cities in China have begun to absorb the responsibility of educating migrant children. Shanghai has been a model city in promoting the education of migrant children, and here migrant children enjoy greater opportunities than in other cities such as Beijing. While migrant children are often still educated apart from Shanghainese children, they enjoy better facilities, supplies and instruction than in years past.

While studying in Shanghai, I have begun volunteering at a school for migrant children once a week. I teach English to a class of about fifty fourth-graders. I work in tandem with two other American students, and together we craft lessons for the students around such things as fruit and sports. We engage the students by playing games like hangman and telephone, and get them to say simple sentences such as “I like basketball. Do you like basketball?” Though my conversations with the students have not been deep, my time at the migrant school has given me a lens through which to view the public discourse on China’s migrant phenomenon.

Given my previous knowledge of the debate, I was surprised by the school’s fine condition. The building appeared newly constructed and was well kept. All the students had their own supplies – books, bags, pens, and pencils. The classrooms, too, were stocked with equipment. The teachers seemed dedicated, organized and earnest. The children were just as any other fourth graders would be – excitable, eager and sometimes a bit naughty.

But as I began to teach, I noticed a difference between the students. There was a huge gap in the ability level of the students -- some children were excellent at English while others struggled tremendously. This gap was not a reflection of the students’ ability. Instead, it was a product of their families’ transient lifestyle. The students entered the school at all different times and with varying levels of English experience. Those who entered a step or many steps behind had little hope of catching up in large classrooms where there was little time for one-on-one attention.

Despite my concerns about certain students’ progress, I see promise in the overall educational system. Though initially treated like second-class citizens, migrant children are gradually gaining the rights of city children. I can only hope that this push for migrant equality in China will continue despite the growing social tension caused by regionalism.

Before traveling to China for the semester I spent a week with family friends in Seoul. Driving around the city, it was impossible not to notice the crosses littering the skyline. I asked my hosts about them, and they told me that Christianity is extremely popular in Korea. My host father himself said he was raised in a Christian household. Heading from Seoul to Shanghai, I thought I might discover a similar phenomenon of visual Christianity in Shanghai. Though Buddhism and Daoism are often recognized as the key Chinese religions, Christianity is also an important faith in China, and its importance is growing.

Yet, when I arrived in Shanghai I didn’t feel the presence of Christianity, or any religion for that matter. Though religious freedom is limited in China, it does exist, and I was therefore surprised by the lack of visual signs of faith. Shanghai possesses a few famous Buddhist temples and Christian churches but these places seemed to me more like tourist attractions than authentic places of worship.

Over time, I realized that though religion was not visibly apparent when driving around the city, that didn’t mean people weren’t following their faiths. Religion’s true home resided in people’s homes. As I got to know more Chinese families, and visited friends’ apartments I saw that people displayed their faith on crocheted artwork and in sacred spaces. They created areas within their homes that no only paid homage to their religion, but which allowed them to worship in the privacy of their own homes. I learned that religion does exist in China, you just have to look for it.

Of all the faiths, the Christian community has most energetically adopted the practice of worshiping inside the confines of the domicile. For years, Catholics and Protestants alike have been organizing an underground network of “house churches.” This struck me as curious, because I come from a small New England town, where churches were always fixture of local life. Public religious practice fostered a sense of community and belonging, and I wondered, what caused these Chinese people to turn to private worship?

To understand the answer to this question, we must first look at The Constitution of the People’s Republic of China. The Constitution grants the people of China freedom of belief but not of practice. Chinese people are only allowed to practice five religions: Buddhism, Daoism, Islam, Catholicism, and Protestantism. Though the Chinese government permits the practice of five religions, it still restricts and monitors the practice of those permissible religions. For example, when I was looking for a church to attend for Easter Mass in Shanghai, some of the listing said worshipers must bring their passports because services were only open to foreigners. The government did not approve these services, and therefore Chinese people were not allowed to attend.

Additionally, some Catholics choose to worship in their houses because of their loyalty to the Pope. Chinese people aren’t allowed to pledge allegiance to anyone but the Communist Party, and as a result Catholics aren’t allowed to show devotion to the Pope. Furthermore, the Pope isn’t allowed to appoint bishops within China. These points of contention are just some of the many areas of friction between the government and Christian community that are causing believers to worship in private.

My observations of the Christian community showed me that although religion is not displayed in the way I’m used to, it is not only present, but thriving in China. People are so devoted to their faith, that they are putting their lives at risk to practice. Because house churches exist outside of government regulations, they are illegal, and anyone found to be taking part in the house churches is subject to severe repercussions. Despite these risks, people continue to organize and practice. Additionally, the house church community is robust. College students are aware of the underground network of house churches and are able to join if they feel compelled. Based on my observations, I can attest to the existence of a strong and devoted population of believers, undeterred by government regulations.