In recent years, a quiet revolution has been unfolding across China. Young people—particularly those born in the 1990s and 2000s—are increasingly choosing to cut off contact with their families. This phenomenon, known as "duanqin" (断亲), reflects a profound crisis in China's family relationships, rooted in a fundamental disconnect between the values parents instilled in their children and the harsh realities those children now face.
The Great Educational Lie: Study Hard, Change Your Fate
For generations, Chinese parents have told their children one simple truth: "Study hard, and you can change your fate." This mantra was the cornerstone of the Chinese Dream for millions. But for today's youth, this promise has revealed itself as a cruel illusion.
The Chinese education system is not a path to opportunity—it is a gauntlet. With millions of students competing for a handful of spots in top universities, the college entrance exam (gaokao) resembles nothing so much as a real-life Squid Game. It's not about "studying to succeed"; it's about being the last one standing in a brutal elimination game where only the tiny minority wins.
Consider the numbers: in 2025, over 13 million students took the gaokao. Only about 2% of them gained admission to China's elite "985" universities. For the remaining 98%, the dream of social mobility through education remains just that—a dream.
When Virtue Becomes a Prison
Beyond academic pressure, parents taught their children a set of values designed for a different era: work hard, be honest, be kind, love your country, and contribute to society. These noble ideals have become a trap for today's youth.
Walk through any Chinese city, and you will see the contradiction plainly: the people who embody these virtues—hardworking, honest, kind—are often the ones struggling the most. Meanwhile, those who thrive financially often operate in gray areas, leveraging connections, bending rules, or exploiting loopholes.
This creates a psychological prison. Young people find themselves trapped between the moral code they were taught and the reality they must navigate. They are told to be good, but being good doesn't pay. They are told to work hard, but hard work doesn't guarantee success. They are told to believe in the system, but the system seems rigged against them.
The Hidden Costs of "Good Parenting"
Parents wanted better for their children. They sacrificed their own comfort to send kids to school, to buy them books, to ensure they had opportunities they never had. But in doing so, they inadvertently passed down a heavier burden: the weight of expectations.
Today's young Chinese face unprecedented mental health challenges. Depression rates among youth have soared—some studies suggest nearly one in five young people struggles with depressive symptoms. Insomnia is epidemic, fueled by academic pressure, job anxiety, and the constant comparison fostered by social media. Suicide rates among young people have reached alarming levels.
These are not just individual problems—they are the collective symptoms of a generation that was promised one thing and delivered another. The "good life" their parents worked so hard to provide has become a source of suffering.
When Children Blame Their Parents
As young people awaken to the realities of their situation, many are beginning to question the very foundation of their upbringing. They ask: Why was I taught these values that only hold me back? Why did my parents encourage me to play by rules that others don't follow? Why did they raise me to believe in a fairness that doesn't exist?
For some, this realization leads to anger and resentment. They see their parents not as benefactors, but as unwitting collaborators in a system that set them up for disappointment. The poverty they inherited, the lack of connections, the outdated beliefs—all of these become sources of conflict.
Parents, meanwhile, struggle to understand. They did what they thought was right. They sacrificed for their children. Why aren't they grateful? Why won't they just "try harder" like previous generations did?
The Irony of Generational Progress
The parents of today's 90s and 00s generation came of age during China's economic boom. They were part of the workforce that built China into an economic powerhouse. But here's the bitter irony: while they contributed to China's rise, they themselves accumulated little wealth or security.
Many of these parents were migrant workers, factory employees, or small business owners. They worked long hours for modest pay. They saved what they could, but rising housing prices, medical costs, and educational expenses swallowed their savings. They had nothing to pass on to their children except the belief that hard work would pay off.
Now, with class structures hardening and social mobility grinding to a halt, that belief rings hollow. The "effort" they ask their children to make seems futile in the face of systemic barriers.
The Cycle of Suffering
What we're witnessing is a cycle of intergenerational trauma. Parents who suffered hardship want their children to escape it. They push their children to study, to succeed, to "have a better life." But the pressure they apply creates new forms of suffering—anxiety, depression, disillusionment.
When children fail to meet these expectations (and most do, by design), they feel like disappointments. When they succeed, they often do so at great personal cost—broken relationships, mental health struggles, a sense of emptiness.
And so the cycle continues: parents pass down their unfulfilled dreams, children inherit the pressure, and both end up disappointed.
Why Young People Are Cutting Ties
Against this backdrop, "duanqin" makes perfect sense. For many young people, cutting off contact with their families is an act of self-preservation. It's not about hatred—it's about survival.
Here's why it's happening:
1. Unrealistic Expectations
Parents demand success that is statistically impossible for most. Get a good job! Get married! Buy a house! These demands ignore the economic realities of today's China—stagnant wages, sky-high housing costs, and a job market flooded with graduates.
2. Emotional Blackmail
"We worked so hard to raise you." "Don't you know how much we sacrificed?" These phrases weaponize guilt, making children feel responsible for their parents' happiness and financial well-being.
3. Lack of Understanding
Many parents cannot comprehend the challenges their children face. They grew up in a China where hard work could genuinely improve one's circumstances. They don't understand that the rules have changed.
4. The Weight of Inherited Trauma
Children often carry the emotional scars of their parents' struggles—poverty, insecurity, unfulfilled dreams. Cutting ties is a way to break free from this emotional baggage.
The Silent Rebellion: Low Fertility, Late Marriage, Lying Flat
Family estrangement is just one manifestation of a broader generational rebellion. Young Chinese are rejecting the traditional life script in every way:
- Low fertility rates: China's fertility rate now hovers around 1.0, among the lowest in the world. Young people refuse to bring children into a world they see as cruel and unfair.
- Delayed or foregone marriage: Marriage rates have plummeted. Many young people see marriage as a financial and emotional burden they cannot afford.
- The "lying flat" movement: Millions have embraced "tangping"—a philosophy of minimal effort and reduced expectations. Why struggle when the system is rigged?
These are not acts of laziness—they are rational responses to a system that demands sacrifice without offering reward.
The Psychological Prison of "Goodness"
Perhaps the most tragic aspect of this generational conflict is the psychological trap it creates. Young people were taught to be good—to be honest, kind, hardworking, and ethical. But they see around them that these traits don't lead to success.
At the same time, they cannot bring themselves to be "bad"—to cut corners, exploit connections, or engage in the gray-area practices that often lead to wealth. They are trapped in a limbo: not good enough to succeed by the rules, not ruthless enough to succeed outside them.
For many, the only viable path is "duan shan qi shen"—to protect oneself alone. To focus on personal well-being rather than societal expectations. To find peace in a world that offers little of it.
Conclusion: Breaking the Cycle
The family conflict crisis in China is not just about parent-child relationships—it's about a society in transition. The values that served China well during its rise are now holding back its youth.
Breaking this cycle requires more than individual therapy or family counseling. It requires a fundamental rethinking of what success means in modern China. It requires acknowledging that the old promises no longer hold. It requires parents and children alike to confront the reality that the world has changed.
For the young people cutting ties today, this is not an act of betrayal—it is an act of hope. They are refusing to pass down the suffering they inherited. They are choosing to protect their own mental health. They are saying: "Enough. I will not let this cycle continue."
Whether this rebellion leads to positive change or simply to more isolation remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: the traditional Chinese family, as we know it, is undergoing a profound transformation. And there's no going back.