In the now-deleted post Gu, who is believed to be in her mid-twenties, complained about feeling “trapped” in the industrial city dominated by iron and steel working, and worried that she had “sold her freedom and soul”.
She said she chose to accept the job last year despite having other job offers because she was being pressured by her parents and felt it offered the best chance of job security.
“Back then, I was exhausted every day, dealing with relatives, handling dozens of calls and long voice messages from my mum,” she said. “As time went on, it [the persuasion] escalated into a mix of sarcasm and hysteria.”
Gu was recruited via a programme, known as xuandiaosheng, meaning “selected and assigned graduates”.
It selects students from elite universities to work in twin government and party roles and assigns them to grass roots positions as part of a training procedure for cadres who will go on to higher level jobs.
Her article went viral in late May, and was also picked up by domestic media commentators. Many criticised the graduate for being “selfish”, saying public servants should be dedicated to the country, but others expressed sympathy and said she was just expressing her personal feelings.
It also highlights a dilemma faced by many young Chinese people who face pressure from their families to try to secure a government job, which is seen by many as an “iron rice bowl” that offers stability and respectability.
This has only intensified in recent years as the Chinese economy faltered in the wake of Covid following decades of rapid growth.
The fact that so many were willing to take their chances despite the low odds of success reflects the pressure in the wider job market.
Last year more than 11.5 million graduates entered the job market, a figure expected to hit 11.8 million this year, at a time when unemployment among the 16-24 age group is soaring and job insecurity is rife in some sectors.
Gu resigned from her position in April, according to domestic news platform The Paper. Its report also said that official information about public servants in Jiayuguan city confirmed that she had studied German language and literature.
In the article, Gu, who is from Gansu province’s capital Lanzhou, wrote that she was hoping to be assigned a position in her home city, and was surprised that she was given a position in a small city that is about 800km (500 miles) away.
She recalled her time in Jiayuguan, which she describes as a “harsh environment with dust and howling wind” where she was “endlessly working overtime”.
“Sometimes my mum would drive me [to the station], and when she parked at the station’s entrance, she would actually cry in the car,” Gu wrote.
“She regretted it in her heart, regretted not believing my words, that Jiayuguan was just a backward small county town in the Gobi desert, where I was trapped and couldn’t move freely.
“I couldn’t sleep on the train, and then I felt like a slave, being pulled in a train full of slaves heading to different places … Then I felt like a prostitute, but just selling my freedom and soul.”
She said her supervisor at university had asked her not to take the job saying: “How can you bear to go to such a remote and backward area?”
She also warned that she would not be able to find a suitable partner among the local men, adding: “I won’t allow my student to become a wild woman.”
Last Monday, Study Times, an official Communist Party newspaper, published an article from Jiayuguan’s party chief Liu Yongsheng who said young cadres should be dedicated to their duties and should always “prioritise the cause and the collective in any situation, and minimise personal interests”, he wrote.
On social media platforms, some have criticised the graduate’s description of Jiayuguan for showing “arrogance” and “disrespect”.
“Choosing to express dissatisfaction through a short essay not only lacks basic respect for the city and public officials, but also reflects personal immaturity and a lack of professional ethics,” one Weibo user wrote, adding that she could have “just left with a proper reason”.
But others expressed more understanding, including one poster who wrote: “This is a personal choice. Why subject it to scrutiny under the spotlight? One should be free to live one’s own life. Why impose universal societal values on a young girl who has just graduated?”
said: “It’s understandable that people might look down on small places and aspire to better, higher-paying jobs … [however] there’s no need to speak ill of them, especially in public,” a Weibo user wrote.
Professional commentators also weighed in. Ma Liang, a professor at Renmin University, told The Paper that Gu’s article is more of “an expression of emotions” that should not be subjected to harsh criticism.
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Why so many young Chinese choose to be ‘full-time children’ who work for their parents
Why so many young Chinese choose to be ‘full-time children’ who work for their parents
Hu Xijin, former editor-in-chief of the nationalist newspaper Global Times, also said, in a post on Weibo that people should not be too harsh about her choice, but added that civil servants need to have the right mindset to “serve the needs of the country and obey any assignments”.
He said public sector roles are often “idealised” by jobseekers who overlook the downsides.
“If a person is afraid of working overtime, prioritises ‘personal freedom’ at all times, and cannot accept assignments that go against their personal wishes but only wants a stable nine-to-five job, then they should not choose a career in civil service,” he wrote.
The Post has been unable to contact Gu directly.
