Is Foot Binding Still Done in China?

Foot binding, a centuries-old Chinese custom that involved tightly wrapping young girls' feet to alter their shape and size, represents one of the most extreme examples of cultural beauty standards imposing physical harm. Emerging during the Song Dynasty around the 10th century, the practice aimed to create "lotus feet," small and pointed, which were seen as symbols of elegance, femininity, and social status. However, this came at a tremendous cost: lifelong pain, mobility restrictions, and health complications for millions of women. The question of whether foot binding is still practiced in China today is crucial for understanding the evolution of cultural norms in a rapidly modernizing society. This essay argues that foot binding is no longer actively practiced in contemporary China, having been eradicated through legal bans, social reforms, and shifting societal values, though its legacy lingers in the lives of a few elderly survivors and cultural memory.

To comprehend the current status of foot binding, it is essential to trace its historical roots. The practice is believed to have originated in the imperial courts of the Southern Tang Dynasty (937-975 AD), inspired by dancers who bound their feet to perform gracefully on tiptoe. It quickly spread among the elite Han Chinese, becoming a marker of refinement and marriageability. By the Ming and Qing Dynasties, foot binding had permeated various social classes, with mothers binding their daughters' feet as early as age five to ensure better prospects in a patriarchal society. The process involved breaking the toes and arch of the foot, wrapping them with cloth bandages that were periodically tightened over years. Ideal "golden lotus" feet measured about three inches long, rendering women dependent on others for mobility and confining them to domestic roles. This was not merely aesthetic; it reinforced Confucian ideals of female subservience and chastity, as bound feet limited women's ability to venture outside the home.

The physical and psychological toll was immense. Women endured excruciating pain during the binding process, often leading to infections, gangrene, or even death if complications arose. Long-term effects included chronic pain, osteoporosis, and increased vulnerability to falls in old age. Despite these horrors, the practice persisted for over a millennium because it was intertwined with economic and social incentives. Families believed that bound feet enhanced a daughter's marriage value, potentially securing unions with wealthier men. In rural areas, it symbolized diligence, as women with bound feet were thought to work harder at sedentary tasks like weaving. Historians estimate that by the 19th century, up to 50% of Chinese women had bound feet, with higher rates among the upper classes. Western observers during the Opium Wars era viewed it as barbaric, fueling missionary efforts to abolish it, but internal resistance was strong due to its deep cultural embedding.

The decline of foot binding began in the late 19th and early 20th centuries amid China's encounters with modernity and Western influences. Reformers like Kang Youwei and Liang Qichao campaigned against it, founding anti-foot-binding societies in the 1890s. The practice was seen as a hindrance to national progress, especially as China sought to strengthen itself against imperialism. In 1912, following the fall of the Qing Dynasty and the establishment of the Republic of China, the government officially banned foot binding. However, enforcement was uneven, particularly in remote rural areas where traditions lingered. It wasn't until the Communist Revolution in 1949 that the practice was fully eradicated. The People's Republic of China, under Mao Zedong, promoted gender equality and women's participation in the workforce, viewing foot binding as a feudal remnant incompatible with socialist ideals. Cadres actively unbound feet and educated communities, leading to its near-total disappearance by the mid-20th century.

Today, foot binding is not practiced in China. No credible reports indicate ongoing instances, even in isolated regions. The last generations of women with bound feet are now in their 80s and 90s, primarily residing in provinces like Yunnan, where the ban was enforced later. Photographers and documentarians, such as Jo Farrell in 2015 and Fabio Nodari in 2025, have captured the stories of these survivors, who often hid their feet due to shame or pain. These women recount the agony of their childhoods but also the societal pressures that compelled their families to bind their feet. With China's rapid urbanization, economic growth, and emphasis on education and equality, such customs have no place in modern life. The one-child policy (1979-2015) and subsequent demographic shifts further diminished traditional gender biases, as families invested equally in daughters. Global human rights awareness and China's integration into international norms have solidified the ban's permanence.

Despite its cessation, foot binding's cultural legacy endures. It serves as a poignant reminder of how beauty standards can oppress women, drawing parallels to contemporary issues like body shaming or cosmetic surgeries worldwide. In China, museums and exhibitions, such as those at the Museum of Anthropology, preserve lotus shoes and artifacts to educate future generations about this dark chapter. Literature and films, like the novel *Snow Flower and the Secret Fan* by Lisa See, explore its emotional impacts. Moreover, the practice highlights the resilience of Chinese women, many of whom, despite their disabilities, contributed to society through handicrafts or family roles.

Foot binding is unequivocally no longer done in China, having been abolished through progressive reforms and societal evolution. What remains are the echoes of a bygone era in the fading memories of its last victims. This history underscores the importance of challenging harmful traditions to foster equality and human dignity. As China continues to advance, reflecting on foot binding ensures that such practices remain relics of the past, not harbingers of the future.

Craig Payne is a University lecturer, runner, cynic, researcher, skeptic, forum admin, woo basher, clinician, rabble-rouser, blogger and a dad.