This results in, for instance, less interest in sex and starting a family—in the traditional sense of the term. Reports from China, South Korea, Japan, Singapore and other East Asian countries have alarmingly highlighted the region’s low fertility rate, with governments trying to come up with financial compensation and new laws to convince women that “they can have it all”. 

But women don’t necessarily want to have it all, and even if they do, the existing systems are ill-equipped to meet their needs on their terms.

“Adding to the high rate of divorce, young people—especially female Gen Z and queer people—are really discouraged from committing and formalising their relationships,” Wong says. “That’s why they are exploring and prioritising new forms of relationships to challenge these power dynamics—that includes non-monogamous relationships, some that aren’t about commitment, some that aren’t heterosexual, and more and foremost: friendships.”

In the past, society made it complicated for female friendships to bloom. The system prevented women from socialising with each other and forced them to compete for men’s attention and support, leaving many deeply isolated, Wong explains. What’s more, “pop culture has been mostly crafted by male directors and artists, who usually presented a biased representation of female friendships, [suggesting they were] childish and superficial, [thus meaning] there was no point of reference for us to build healthy friendships.”

Indeed, there’s a colossal gap between what’s available in terms of representation of women and what women’s lives are actually like. For Kaitlin Chan, a Hong Kong-based cartoonist and gallery director, this is because women’s stories are overly associated with romantic pursuit and sexual desirability. “It feels coercive,” she tells Tatler. “This kind of representation makes it sound like women ought to exist by being at the service of society—and of the male gaze.

“There are a lot of dimensions to real women, and what we’re offered most of the time in pop culture are the same four stereotypes: she’s a nag, she’s sad and single, she’s someone’s mum or someone’s wife. And the representation gets even more superficial when it comes to representation of women of colour,” she adds. “There’s literally not one woman in my life who fits these stereotypes and whose only interest in life is to find a man.”

She says artists play an important role in reshaping these narratives: “It’s scary to challenge the status quo, but visibility and complex representation is crucial because you need to see someone living through it first to believe that you can do it as well,” she says. “Art is meant to show the breadth of life—and that includes showing ways outside of mainstream norms.”

Through her work, Chan invites readers to rethink the importance of their relationships—for example, by representing friendships as a salve in her graphic novel Eric’s Sister (2023) and by representing platonic relationships in her comics—such as in The Notorious Comb Sisters, originally published in Catapult magazine in 2022. In two zines she published in 2024, she also looked at the way we can reframe our crushes and friendships so they might serve us better. 

“Considering a more elastic approach to relationships might liberate us to feel more satisfied by the friendships we have and are yet to form,” she writes in the zine My Loneliness is Killing Me, I Must Confess I Still Believe. In Terrible Fancies, she offers a restructuration of the way we perceive crushes, to take agency of them rather than feel disempowered by them: having a crush can allow you to better understand your needs, feel present in your body and learn important things about how and why you desire, she writes.

“Seeing how positively people have responded to these zines made me realise that there’s hope, that society finally has a certain tolerance for challenging these representations,” she adds. 

Wong and Chan also praise the more complex representation of relationships, womanhood and sisterhood in Hong Kong’s cinema, such as Oliver Chan’s The Montages of a Modern Motherhood (2024) and Ray Yeung’s All Shall Be Well (2024). “Change comes with visibility,” Chan repeats. “There’s always gonna be people who need to break free from whatever dominant system there is, and there’s no scientific explanation to this, but in my experience, there’s a magnetic pull towards each other.”

Change often comes with and through community work. In recent years, communities celebrating friendship and sisterhood have emerged as vital safe spaces for women and allies, fostering collaboration in business, promoting sexual wellness and autonomy, and encouraging engagement in sport. This shift reflects a movement away from isolation towards connection that enhances both individual and collective empowerment in a society that often pits women against one another.

“The sex-positive community I’ve cultivated over the past 15 years is centred on creating safe, judgment-free environments where women can genuinely express themselves,” says Vera Lui, certified sex educator, founder of the intimate lifestyle store Sally Coco and co-founder of the Women’s Festival.

“These spaces are crucial because they foster open dialogues about intimacy, identity and connection, allowing women to engage with these subjects without the fear of stigma. When women feel secure, they gain the confidence to delve into their needs, establish boundaries and build relationships—whether platonic or romantic—that are rooted in trust and authenticity. Sisterhood thrives when we lift one another up, and that’s the essence of what these spaces embody.”

The She Runs Collective is another impactful community initiative, this one seeking to dismantle barriers to participation in physical activities. “We established this collective to create an inclusive environment where women can prioritise their physical, mental and social well-being while opening new pathways into sports and fitness,” writes Amy George, co-founder of the women-only run club. “More than just a running club, She Runs Collective offers a sanctuary where women show up—for themselves and for each other. This community fulfils a need I often felt when I first moved to Hong Kong and had the daunting task of forging friendships as an adult.”

Finally, Sarah Vee, founder of Women of Hong Kong, articulates the need for such supportive networks. “In a city like Hong Kong, where life can be a constant hustle and the expectations are sky-high, Women of Hong Kong offers a vital lifeline—a welcomed reprieve from the pressure,” she explains. “A decade ago, professional relationships often came with a transactional mindset, fostering an environment where women were conditioned to compete rather than collaborate. Today, we are actively rewriting that narrative. For female entrepreneurs, business owners and professionals, this community support is nothing short of transformative. It’s about embracing sisterhood and authenticity, and being present for one another—not merely as professionals or entrepreneurs, but as whole, multifaceted women.”

Through these narratives, it’s clear that sisterhood-based communities in Hong Kong, as well as new cultural representations, are not just fostering individual well-being, but are also challenging and reshaping societal norms. 

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