The Hidden Strain of Cultural Obligations in Chinese Celebrations
At a recent wedding, I found myself in a nerve-wracking role: Ang Bao keeper. Tasked with greeting guests and collecting their red packets in an auspicious bag, I became the protector of what likely amounted to tens of thousands of dollars—a Jason Statham moment with no stunts allowed.
Beyond safeguarding the bag, my duties included meticulously noting the names of each giver on their ang baos. It wasn’t about being calculative; the couple simply wanted accountability, guarding against ang bao theft. However, not all couples share this approach. Some track ang bao contributions to evaluate relationships or even confront guests about ‘missing’ amounts.
The transactional nature of ang bao culture stretches beyond weddings. Parents often ask children to disclose their ang bao earnings to ensure a balanced exchange. A $20 packet from one family means reciprocating with exactly $20. For me, as someone unmarried, Chinese New Year remains a net gain. Yet, with weddings becoming frequent, the financial strain grows.
Increasingly, the joy of a wedding invitation is eclipsed by a single thought: “Can I afford this?” The proliferation of wedding ang bao ‘market rate’ guides amplifies the pressure, turning what was once a symbol of goodwill into an obligation. The rising costs make relationships seem transactional, with online platforms recommending precise amounts for various occasions—from nieces and nephews to parents.
This cultural emphasis on money has deep roots in Chinese history. Abundance and prosperity were core values in ancient agricultural societies, later echoed in modern industrial ideals. Even now, wealth is celebrated—comedian Ronny Chieng humorously points out that Chinese people even have a god of money.
While pragmatic, the evolution of ang baos into a system with unspoken rules has made it burdensome. Singaporean couples hosting weddings expect ang baos to defray banquet costs, perpetuating a cycle where expectations rise annually. Guests who fail to meet ‘market rates’ risk being judged, creating a toxic environment where money outweighs relationships.
Polls reflect frustration with this culture, with many longing for simpler times when ang baos were gifts from the heart. People like Tammy and Bruce share this sentiment, lamenting how the focus on amounts has overshadowed familial bonds.
The financial pressure has led some, like Tammy, to avoid giving ang baos altogether or even skip celebrations. Bruce notes that rising living costs have transformed red packets into obligatory benchmarks rather than heartfelt offerings. For many, weddings now come with price tags too steep to sustain genuine connections.
This issue isn’t unique to Singapore. Hong Kong faces similar challenges, where the cost of living fuels materialism. Such parallels underscore how competitive urban environments reshape cultural practices.
As the cost of social obligations increases, many are reevaluating their relationships. Ang baos, once blessings, now feel like financial burdens. Critics argue that this dynamic benefits only the wedding industry, with rising venue costs passed on to guests.
The growing trend of elopements suggests a quiet rebellion against these norms, with couples opting for intimate, obligation-free celebrations. While it might not solve the issue entirely, it’s a reminder to reassess what truly matters—relationships or monetary exchanges.
