China’s Economic Meltdown: Women Fight for Survival on the Streets

A young mother delivering food while carrying her child broke down in tears when she returned from an order and found her electric bike had been stolen. That bike wasn't just a tool. It was her lifeline. This heartbreaking moment reflects the harsh reality in China today, where countless women are forced into exhausting physical labor just to keep their families afloat. For her, losing the bike was not just an inconvenience. It was the crushing blow that shattered her fragile hope. Another story comes from a sophomore girl in Weihai, Shandong, who took on a part-time job as a delivery driver during the summer. After only a short time on the job, she burst into tears, overwhelmed by the pressure and humiliation she endured. She recalled, one customer ordered a bowl of beef noodles for 17 yuan. Their building required an elevator card, but she refused to walk up, saying it wasn't her job. I climbed the stairs to deliver it, but just as I rushed to another order, I got a call demanding I return. When I went back, she threw the noodles on the ground. The soup splashed all over me, and then she threatened to report me. I told her I'd get her another one, even though the shop confirmed nothing was wrong with the food. It was so unfair and humiliating, all this suffering over just a bowl of noodles. She went on to say, people often ask why there are more and more female couriers. But what's so strange about it? It means fewer women staying silent in poverty. It means women desperate for even a few hundred yuan now have a chance to survive. We're working hard not because we want to, but because we must. The collapse of China's economy has forced countless ordinary people into desperation. Housing prices are plunging, leaving homeowners slashing their prices just to sell. Job opportunities are disappearing, positions once easily filled by retired seniors are now taken by young people, leaving the elderly without options. Even in the gig economy, platforms once seen as the last refuge for struggling workers are now flooded not only with unemployed Ph.D.s and master's graduates, but also with married women trying to support their children. Statistics confirm this wave of change. According to the Maituan Research Institute, the number of female delivery drivers jumped from 517,000 in 2022 to 701,000 in 2024, an increase of 35.6% in just two years, far outpacing overall growth. During the same period, the total number of couriers rose from 6.24 million to 7.45 million, up 19.3%. Another report, Quest Mobile's 2025 New Blue Collar Population Insights, revealed that by July 2025, women would make up 24.3% of China's 14 million food delivery workers, compared to less than 5% before 2020. The trend extends beyond food delivery. Ride-hailing giant Didi reported female drivers in mainland China jumped from 600,000 in 2023 to 1.05 million in 2024, a staggering 75% increase in just one year. Women are now stepping into every corner of gig work, not out of choice, but out of sheer necessity. Back in March, Beijing's state-run newspaper, The Beijing News, ran a headline that sounded inspiring. Over 700,000 women gain financial freedom through food delivery. But behind the glossy title lies a harsher truth. Have these women really found independence, or are they simply fighting for survival in a collapsing economy? Sun Ping, a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, who has spent years studying gig workers, revealed staggering data in a 2021 report. Eighty-five percent of female couriers are married. Nearly all of them have children. And almost three-quarters are raising minors who depend on them. These aren't stories of independence. They're stories of mothers carrying entire households on their backs. In July, Lightning News reported on a tragic case. A couple whose child was battling a malignant tumor turned to delivery work to pay for treatment. With no one at home to care for the child, they brought the child along on every order. Often late, they had no choice but to sprint up staircases, carrying their sick child in their arms. In one unbearable moment, the mother placed the child inside a delivery box, while temperatures outside soared to 40 degrees Celsius. That same month, heavy floods ravaged parts of China. In Sichuan, a 24-year-old woman who had been working as a courier for just one month slipped during a storm and was swept away. She left behind a two-year-old child. The story gripped the Internet with grief and outrage. Others shared similar sights. Pregnant women, barely able to walk, still rushing to deliver food. One netizen on Zihu confessed she had seen countless expectant mothers delivering takeout, and every time it left her shaken. These stories are multiplying because China's slowing economy has left women with no other option. Take Yang Yana, a courier in Beijing. During the pandemic, restaurants and malls cut staff, and thousands of women lost steady jobs. For Yang, who came from a poor rural family in Handan, Hebei, the decision was not about choice, it was about survival. She had only a junior high education and spent years as a stay-at-home mother. Hoping to lift her family out of poverty, she and her husband moved to Beijing seven years ago. She worked briefly as a restaurant waitress, but after losing her job, the family quickly sank into financial distress. Her husband's delivery job couldn't cover basic expenses, especially after their second child was born. Kindergarten fees for their eldest and milk powder for their newborn left them drowning in debt. Out of desperation, Yang borrowed from her relatives. Just three weeks after giving birth, she ignored her in-law's pleas and returned to Beijing, this time stepping into the food delivery world herself. Today, Yang is one of countless women who ride through the streets without uniforms, often invisible to customers who never imagine the lives behind the deliveries. Yet she takes solace in one thing. At least I can see money coming in every day. It makes me feel secure. By working every spare hour, she fills the gap left by her husband's limited earnings. Another woman, Wang Ting, illustrates the same painful reality. After separating from her husband, she left Sichuan and moved to Hefei, Anhui with her four-year-old daughter, Wang Xue. With no one else to care for the child and no money for after-school programs, her daughter became her constant companion. After classes, the little girl rode silently on the back of her mother's scooter. When Wang Ting stepped into restaurants to collect orders, her daughter would wait patiently. And when her mother returned, Wang Xue would quietly lift the delivery box lid, helping her mom place the food inside, as if this exhausting routine was the only childhood she knew. Before her divorce, Wang Ting struggled as her husband gave her only 10.20 yuan a day, leaving rent, tuition, and bills on her shoulders. By then, she was over 100,000 yuan in debt. In 2018, desperate to survive, she joined Meituan Le Pao, delivering up to 90 orders a day for more than 10 hours, using every spare yuan to pay off her debts. Her colleagues often joked about her stamina. Some men can't even run faster than me. That's why they call me Brother Ting. But the struggles of female delivery riders go far beyond physical exhaustion. Low pay and widespread discrimination add another layer of pain. Many women earn far less than men for the exact same work. A field survey conducted by Sunping's research team in mid-2021 exposed the shocking pay gap. Among women, only 20% could earn more than 10 yuan per order, 22.45% fell between 5 and 8 yuan, and 44.38% made less than 5 yuan per trip. More than 60% of female riders took home under 5,000 yuan per month. By contrast, 30% of men made over 10 yuan per order, 33.07% earned 5 to 8 yuan, and only 24.29% fell below 5 yuan. Seven out of 10 male riders managed to earn more than 5,000 yuan a month. Even customers often treat women as inferior. Many openly ask for male riders next time, dismissing female couriers as unreliable. For women like Wang Ting, indifference and contempt from strangers have become part of everyday life. The discussion has even spilled over onto Zihu, China's biggest Q&A platform. One hotly debated thread asked, why are there more and more female delivery riders? A top-voted response was brutally blunt. This has nothing to do with gender equality. Delivering food is grueling, dangerous, and better suited for men. But the rise in women joining the delivery industry reveals deeper cracks in society. First, for married women, delivering food usually means the man in the household can no longer provide. Either he's jobless or his salary isn't enough. Out of necessity, women are forced to take on the financial burden that once fell on men. Second, for single women, the growth of what people sarcastically call the dog-licking economy has collapsed. In an age where men themselves struggle to survive, fewer are willing or able to financially support women. As one cynical saying goes, I can barely feed myself. And you still want me to lick your boots? So why don't these women choose easier jobs? The answer is painfully simple. Jobs are scarce, competition is cutthroat, and in traditional industries, women are at a disadvantage compared to men. But in the gig economy, delivery work, DD driving, courier services, the playing field is slightly more balanced. In the end, the truth is clear. China's weakening economy leaves ordinary people with fewer and fewer choices. For countless women, food delivery isn't freedom, independence, or empowerment. It's the last resort in a country where survival itself has become a daily battle.