Cantonese amahs were female Chinese domestic workers, usually dressed in black-and-white samfus. They were renowned for their household skills and left an indelible mark on Singapore and Malaysian history. Their quintessential look was hair coiled up in an elegant bun or worn in a single plait down the back, a white blouse paired with ankle-length black trousers, and black slippers.
Apart from their iconic attire, amahs have earned a place in popular memory for their strong work ethic and steadfast loyalty. Many were former silk production workers from the Pearl River Delta of Guangdong province in China. The majority never married and were part of an anti-marriage tradition unique to the silk-producing areas of the region, particularly the district of Shunde, where the phenomenon originated.
Seeking a better life, these women came to this part of the world in the 1930s to work in the homes of wealthy families, eventually dominating the field of paid domestic service well into the 1960s and 70s.4 At a time when women in Chinese society were bound by traditional Confucian values to be “dutiful wives and virtuous mothers” (贤妻良母, xian qi liang mu), Cantonese amahs broke the mould by carving an independent livelihood away from home and determining their own destiny.
Compared with other parts of China where the birth of a girl would be greeted with dismay – female infanticide was tragically common then – women in the Pearl River Delta were valued by their families for their ability to contribute to the household income.5 In the early 1900s, the Pearl River Delta was a major centre for silk production, especially in Shunde. By 1925, about 70 percent of the land there and 80 percent of its population were devoted to the cultivation of silkworms (or sericulture). Women made up a substantial proportion of the labour force engaged in the silk cottage industry.
The Pearl River Delta region was also conducive for a form of agriculture that combined fish breeding with mulberry cultivation. Mulberry trees were important because their leaves were fed to the silkworm larvae, whose excrement in turn became food for the fishes. The region’s balmy tropical climate spurred the rapid growth of mulberry trees such that up to seven broods of silkworms could be produced annually, surpassing the norm of two broods a year in other silk-producing areas of China.
There was a division of labour between the sexes across the different stages of silk production. Men handled the heavier aspects of farm work which, along with fish rearing, included the transport and marketing of mulberry leaves, silkworm eggs and cocoons. Women harvested the mulberry leaves, raised silkworms, and produced silk threads by soaking the cocoons in hot water to loosen the fibres before reeling or spinning them into strands. In some locales, men also helped to weave the silk threads into cloth; such work was an important source of income for many families.
Typically, there were more unmarried women engaged in the silk cottage industry than married ones. With their heavy domestic responsibilities, married women were less likely to participate in sericulture, particularly the stage where silkworm eggs were hatching and turning into larvae, because of the taboo associated with notions about the impurity of the female body during pregnancy and childbirth. In Shunde, married women were also excluded from the thread-loosening process as the constant association with water was believed to affect fertility. Therefore, unmarried women had a higher economic value to their families, and some parents found it more worthwhile to keep a daughter at home for as long as she wished than to marry her off and forgo a key source of income.11
Industrialisation changed the face of silk production and strengthened the impetus for women to remain single. Filatures, or factories where silk is reeled, were set up and these employed an all-female workforce as women were found to be more careful when handling silkworm cocoons and processing them into silk threads. Younger women were also preferred for their smooth hands, nimble fingers and good eyesight that made for skilful work. On top of these physical traits, single or married but childless women were favoured as they were perceived to be less encumbered by family commitments that could interfere with their ability to work.12
As more women migrated to the towns to work in industrial establishments, sericulture in the villages declined as a result of the dwindling labour pool. Mechanisation also obviated the need for male labour in silk production and, with fewer jobs available at home, large numbers of men began to seek employment outside of China, in places such as Singapore, Malaya and Hong Kong. As a result of this exodus, women became the main providers for their families and wielded greater influence over domestic affairs than ever before.13
In her study of marriage resistance in rural Guangdong, anthropologist Marjorie Topley identified the local economic system as a key factor behind the growth of the anti-marriage practice because it gave single women the means to support themselves through paid work outside of the home. With economic self-sufficiency, these women began to question marriage and childbearing as their accepted fate.14
Writing in the 1930s, American journalist Agnes Smedley observed that “thousands of peasant homes depend for a large part of their livelihood upon the modest earnings of a wife or daughter and this important productive role played by women has struck a serious blow at the old idea of the inferiority of women.” She further noted that the silk workers, conscious of their own worth, carried themselves with a “dignified and independent air”.15 Yet, this outlook did not stem from changes in the local economic climate alone, but was rooted in long-standing socio-cultural practices that shaped the women’s resistance towards marriage.
One unique feature of the Pearl River Delta region was the establishment of “girls’ houses” (女仔屋, nü zai wu) in villages. These functioned as a place for adolescent girls from the same village to gather, socialise and learn from one another. They worked during the day and would meet at the girls’ house in the evenings to chat, tell stories, play games and sing ballads. It was common to see girls spending their nights at the house, partly to escape the cramped living conditions and lack of privacy in their own homes. These houses facilitated the informal education and interaction of the girls: older girls would instruct the younger ones in sewing, embroidery, reading, writing, social etiquette as well as religious rites and customs. Girls from the same house formed strong bonds from the experience and would pledge to treat each other like “sisters” (姐妹, jie mei).
The girls’ house also played an instrumental role in the shaping of attitudes against marriage among the women of the Pearl River Delta. Married life, particularly its trials and tribulations, was a topic of discussion among the girls when they reached marriageable age. From having to obey one’s husband and in-laws to the obligatory duty of producing many offspring, especially sons, it was no surprise that many young women came to fear and resent the prospect of being a wife and mother. Marriage and motherhood meant a severe curtailment of their freedom and independence. The improved economic position of unmarried women further strengthened such sentiments, giving rise to unique marriage-resistance practices, of which sworn spinsterhood was one.
In fact there was a special rite that initiated one into spinsterhood. A woman became a sworn spinster through an elaborate ceremony comprising a hairdressing ritual, a vow of celibacy, and worship of domestic gods and ancestors. A sworn spinster then became known as “a woman who combed her own hair up” (自梳女, zi shu nü), in reference to the hairdressing ritual sor hei (梳起, shu qi; which literally means “comb up”) during which her hair would be combed into a bun at the back of her head to symbolise the attainment of social maturity. This ritual was akin to the one traditionally performed to mark a girl’s transition into adulthood upon marriage. Similar to a wedding, the ceremony was an occasion to be celebrated and would be held on an auspicious day and conclude with a banquet for family, friends and fellow “sisters”.18
A sworn spinster was treated like a married daughter and could no longer live with her family or count on parental support. She was forbidden from returning to her village even in old age because of the belief that her death at home would bring misfortune to the family. Spinsters who moved to larger villages and towns for employment typically shared a rented room with other “sisters”. When they grew too old to work, those with the financial means would pay to take up residence in an established “spinsters’ house” (姑婆 屋, gu po wu) – the equivalent of a girls’ house for older, unmarried females – or combine resources with their “sisters” to buy or build one. Another option was retirement in a “vegetarian hall” (斋堂, zhai tang), which was by and large similar to a spinsters’ house except for the observance of a vegetarian diet and heavier emphasis on religious activities.19
Assuming the status of a sworn spinster represented the ultimate strategy by a woman to remain single and pursue an independent life that was socially acceptable and even admired in this part of China. Her decision to remain chaste, to emigrate for employment and to remit part of her wages home to support her family was seen as an honourable sacrifice.
The decline of the silk industry in the 1930s prompted thousands of Cantonese women to leave the Pearl River Delta in search of employment away from home. Meanwhile, as a result of the Great Depression, immigration restrictions were enforced to control the supply of Chinese male labour in Singapore and Malaya. The Aliens Ordinance 1933 enabled the government to adjust the monthly quota of Chinese male immigrants as and when necessary according to the political, social and economic needs of the colony. The immediate effect of the quota – initially set at 1,000 monthly – was to drive up the cost of passage for Chinese males due to stiff competition for limited tickets.21
Since the quota did not apply to Chinese females, shiploads of Cantonese women came to work and support their families in place of their menfolk. Enterprising ticket brokers at the ports in China would sell a ticket for a male passenger only if three to four tickets for female passengers were purchased along with it. As a result, this led to a net increase of over 190,000 Chinese female immigrants to Singapore and Malaya between 1934 and 1938.22 This state of affairs continued until May 1938, when a monthly quota of 500 was imposed on women.
There was a wider range of employment opportunities available in Malaya for these women, who found work in agriculture, tin mining and rubbertapping, especially in the states of Perak and Selangor. However, in urban areas like Singapore and other parts of Malaya such as Penang, Ipoh and Kuala Lumpur, the majority worked as domestic servants for affluent Chinese and European households.23 Domestic service was a popular and practical choice as employment was easy to find and the work was seen as respectable and neither too difficult nor unfamiliar.24 Prior to the 1930s, paid domestic work was mainly carried out by Hainanese men called houseboys. These men were displaced by the arrival of the amah, whose subsequent domination of the industry effectively cemented the association between domestic service and women’s work.25
The pattern of social affiliation and mutual assistance organised along the lines of sisterhood and territorial origins in China was replicated in Singapore and Malaya. Amahs from the same village or district banded to form associations known as kongsi (公司). They pooled their wages to rent accommodations, known as kongsi fong (公司房), which ranged in size from a cubicle to a shophouse with a number of rooms, and in membership from two to as many as 50 women. Some kongsi fong functioned as a place for sleeping and storage of personal belongings, while others were elaborate clubhouses with benefit schemes and social activities for members. A well-organised kongsi fong also served as a recruitment agency and trade guild that helped to connect members with prospective employers as well as to help them negotiate for better employment terms.26
Amahs pooled their wages to rent accommodations, known as kongsi fong (公司房), which ranged in size from a cubicle to a shophouse with a number of rooms. Kongsi fong were typically located in tenement blocks in Chinatown. Courtesy of National Archives of Singapore. A woman intending to emigrate would usually engage the services of a sui haak (水客, shui ke; literally “water guest”), a middleman from the same district or village who, for an agreed fee, would make the necessary travel arrangements and provide advice on all matters relating to immigration and employment in the foreign land.27
Upon arrival at her destination, the newcomer would put up in the home of a friend or relative, or pay a small fee to lodge at a kongsi fong until she found work – most likely through recommendation by a fellow amah. At the same time, it was not unusual for employers needing a servant to enquire directly at the kongsi fong, where a list of the jobs available would be displayed on a board. If several women were keen on the same position, the unwritten rule was to give priority to the one who had been unemployed the longest to be interviewed first.28
Many amahs started out working for less affluent households as an “all-purpose servant”, or yat keok tek (in Cantonese, literally “one-leg-kick”), who managed all domestic tasks single-handedly. More well-to-do families could afford to hire a servant for each area of domestic activity – cooking, cleaning, childcare and general housekeeping – which was usually the case in European households. Working for an expatriate family had its perks in terms of higher wages, better accommodations, well-defined hours and a fixed job scope.
Those working for European employers could expect to earn about twice as much compared with their counterparts employed by local families. However, amahs working in European households were expected to take care of their own meals and pay for this expense from their own purses. Another drawback was having to deal with a foreign culture and unfamiliar lifestyle. Tang Ah Thye, a former amah said, “I didn’t like the idea of working for Europeans. You’d have to bring your pots and pans to do your own cooking. Also rice, oil, etc. It’s like a major move. Also, I didn’t understand their language. I just didn’t like working for them in spite of higher salaries.”
The most pressing concerns for an amah starting a new job were the pay, nature of work, size of the family, type of dwelling and their accommodations. As she gained experience and became familiar with the work, the ability to get along with her employer and family became more important since the work itself was more or less the same everywhere.31
Although the average employment term for an amah was 10 years, there were some who grew close to the families they served and worked for them until retirement, at around 60 years of age.32 Families were, likewise, fond of their amahs too. When expatriate housewife Marjorie Monks was interviewed by The Straits Times in 1957, she had this to say about her amah: “She has a loving loyalty. The children love her and you have only to say that Ah Loke is returning to Singapore to bring streams of tears into the house.” Four years earlier, the Monks and their three children had returned to England, taking Ah Loke with them. When Ah Loke was later offered a six-month paid leave while working in England, she put it off, saying, “Maybe next year if children no cry so much when I go.”
An amah with her employer’s children, 1942. Courtesy of National Archives of Singapore. Amahs who took care of children would dote on them like their own. Many of those who had been raised by amahs continue to regard them with great affection. Peranakan curator Peter Lee, for instance, recalls his amah Yip Ching Sim with fondness (see text box below).
When it came to their kin in China, amahs fulfilled their filial duties through remittances, letters and occasional visits. It was estimated that up to 70 percent of their wages was saved or remitted. Amahs were known for being frugal when it came to their own expenses but generous to their close friends and relatives, especially during special occasions.34 In a Straits Times report, Yip’s nephew recalled, “Life was very hard in China in the 1960s, but my aunt used to send back flour, peanuts, cooking oil, sugar and necessities. Without her, we probably would have starved.” Recounting her visits to China in 1963, 1985 and 1990, he added: “She came back with big straw baskets filled with cleavers, grinding stones, packets of beehoon, shoes and even bicycles. A bicycle was a big deal in those days.”35
For the amah, preparation for retirement and the afterlife was of utmost importance. While some returned to China, as in the case of Ouyang Huanyan, who had worked for the late former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, others like the aforementioned Yip, retired in vegetarian halls or homes for the aged in Singapore. However, not all amahs were as fortunate because access to such options depended on whether they had squirrelled away enough savings for a comfortable retirement.36
Amahs have become a symbol of a bygone era, much like the Samsui women of yesteryear. In search of a better life, these former silk workers left their families and came to Singapore and Malaya in the 1930s. By the 1970s, amahs had become a vanishing breed as they retired from service or returned to China to live out their twilight years. At the same time, as a result of better education and economic development, young women in Singapore preferred jobs in the industrial and commercial sectors over live-in domestic work.
Today, foreign female domestic workers have taken on the role of modern-day amahs in many Singaporean households. Like the amahs of old, many domestic helpers labour from dawn till dusk – sometimes without a day-off – in order to provide a better life for their loved ones back home.
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- Janice Loo, 'A Lifetime of Labour: Cantonese Amahs in Singapore', BiblioAsia, 2018[1].