The "Marriage Market" returns in post-pandemic Wuhan

Several people read the search for a mate posters in the "Marriage Market" of Liberation Park in Wuhan.

It's a harsh, cloudy day in Liberation Park, a green oasis among modern skyscrapers in central Wuhan.

In a tree-lined square, several dozen parents and grandparents huddle in their coats, chatting and drinking tea, waiting to find a suitor for their offspring.

There are fewer people than normal, due to the threat of rain.

Two women approach.

Within seconds, the huddle is already half a dozen expectant parents.

"Who is looking for a partner?

Man or woman?

What age?

What weight, what height? ”.

A year after this city became the first focus of the pandemic, the tradition of the "marriage market" has recovered its boom.

Although with some changes.

The so-called “Marriage Market” of the Liberation Park is one of the thousands that exist informally in the cities of China and that have survived the entrance of the country into modernity.

Every weekend dozens of fathers, mothers and grandparents come with the data of their offspring of "marriageable" age.

There they list the merits of their children, meet other parents with the same purpose, chat with them and, if they are lucky and the requirements match, they arrange appointments between the respective offspring to see if a wedding would arise from there.

Although less and less among the younger generations, marriage is still generally considered an essential step in the lives of most Chinese.

Many young people prefer the use of applications such as Tantan or Momo to interact and see this practice as outdated, but they are not completely closed to it either.

Rather, they perceive it as a complementary way to meet people endorsed by family pleasure.

In no case, both parents and children emphasize, is the obligation to make appointments with the candidates proposed by the elders, if the young people do not feel interested.

Between the posts of the square hang, white and pink, laminated, small handwritten folio-size posters detailing the personal details of those seeking a partner for marital purposes and the requirements they ask of the other: age, height, weight, level of education and income, whether they own their own home or not.

Interspersed between them, official notices that prohibit messages of a sexual nature and warn of the possibility that the posters contain false information.

"Those posters are always there, but many are scams," warns Ms. Qin, a woman in her sixties who with a friend scrutinizes possible boyfriends for her daughter.

The best way not to be fooled, says this retiree, is "to talk to parent groups and check data."

The usual routine is for a family member to stand near the sign announcing the marriageable person, in case anyone is interested.

Others will take short walks in the surroundings in search of suitable candidates.

The Liberation Park market, like everything in Wuhan, was put on hold in January last year, when the covid pandemic broke out and its authorities ordered a perimeter confinement first, home later, a measure that then surprised the planet and that months later the disease would force copying in countries around the world.

It took 76 days until the accesses were opened on April 8 and its 11 million inhabitants were able, very gradually, to regain freedom of movement.

Negotiations for matrimonial purposes did not begin to reappear until well after a month after the opening of the city.

Since then, the levels prior to the pandemic have recovered, says Mrs. Chen, looking, together with her husband, for a better half for her only child.

Parents and children have the same interest as before, perhaps more, for young people to find a partner, he says.

"Confinement and the pandemic have reminded us how important family is, connections, being accompanied," he says.

Although the pandemic has brought some changes in the way of thinking and in what is sought in this marriage market.

Not all good.

“Before, the doctors, the health personnel, were considered very good matches, they were always very successful.

A very respectable profession, people concerned about others, and with a secure salary.

Not now".

The cause of this sudden rejection is exposure to the pandemic, Chen says.

“It is possible that they have suffered from the disease and have sequelae, or that sequelae may appear in the future that are not apparent now.

Or that they can pass them on to their children.

Or that they become infected if there is a second wave ”, he explains.

They are fears similar to those raised at the time by the "hibakusha", the survivors of the atomic bomb in Japan, rejected as partners or colleagues by their fellow citizens for fear of radiation and its aftermath.

It does not seem an isolated case.

Although it is not widespread either, psychologists and some recovered patients in Wuhan acknowledge cases in which those who have recovered have been stigmatized in their circles.

People who have felt the rejection of their neighbors, family or friends, fearful of the disease and its consequences.

Some of them - a former university professor who answered a "hope phone" during the confinement said in November - developed pictures of anxiety, feelings of guilt or self-esteem problems.

Beyond the consequences of the pandemic, Ms. Chen also admits other personal suspicions.

“For my son I would not like a teacher.

Those from before, yes, they were educated, patient and good-hearted women.

But now the young girls who are dedicated to teaching are no longer so polite.

Some smoke, some even drink! ”He says, shaking his head in a desolate gesture.

Although both she and Mrs. Qin assure that the important thing, beyond the physical or a profession and adequate income - the ideal boyfriend, says the Chinese saying, must be

gaofushuai

(tall, with money and attractive), the

baifumei

bride

(of skin clear, rich and beautiful) - is that "there is chemistry between them."

"The most important thing is that the two of them are comfortable so that they can spend a lifetime together," insists Qin.

On the other side of the Yangtze, in the district of Wuchang, Weili, a 32-year-old communications worker, has downloaded one of the Chinese applications similar to Western Tinder on his mobile phone.

"My mother and my aunts always want to introduce me to girls, but I don't like the ones they propose to me," he stresses.

“I'll find some on my own.

Not rush".

Information about the coronavirus

- Here you can follow the last hour on the evolution of the pandemic

- Restrictions search engine: What can I do in my municipality?

- This is how the coronavirus curve evolves in the world

- Download the tracking application for Spain

- Guide to action against the disease