When enrolling in Work and Productive Life, my perspectives were already somehow formed by years of experiences in the industry from dedicated academic research, multiple industry internships to entrepreneurial ventures; I was not bragging when I shared in the course discussion that I’ve been coding for the better part of the past ten years. Consequently, instead of treating this course as an introductory exploration of the upcoming life as a working adult, I entered critically to see what the lecturers and the readings have to offer and to interrogate the underlying assumptions or standards people hold against the notion of meaning in the first place.
Sadly, that meaning is portrayed within the framework of an implicit yet persistent elitism – the first word came to my mind to describe the normative paradigm promoted throughout various lectures and readings. In this reflection, I’ll try to explain my word of choice elitism, why I found that limiting our imagination of work and life after graduation, and an alternate perspective towards Work and Productive Life.
Undercovering Elitism in Course Design
When I claim that the course design is unfortunately under heavy influence of elitism, I refer to how lectures and readings are trying to construct frameworks with the core objective of grading the quality of the meaning we pursue, and the core criteria built on praising mainstream success, especially in the context of modern capitalism and traditional family value in Hong Kong. Course discussions reflected this claim to varying extents, but some examples stand out.
I want to zoom in on the Harvard Study on Adult Development as an emblematic example of how elitist undertones can underline seemingly neutral or authoritative research. The first aspect of elitism I spot in the discussion of Harvard Study is the origins and sample of the study itself. This research has often been heralded as the “world’s longest-running longitudinal study on adult development,” spanning over 75 years, with more than 2,000 participants recruited over time. However, we rarely pause to ponder who these “participants” truly were at the outset. Its original design focused on white male students at Harvard College (and later included a group from Boston’s inner city, but that inclusion is not as often spotlighted in public discourse). Although the study has since evolved, these historical biases can linger in the types of conclusions drawn - conclusions that might feel universal at a glance, but which are still anchored in a very particular social, economic, and cultural vantage point – how representative are these Harvard educated, cis-straight white male who were born pre-WWII anyway?
Even if we could overlook the questionable universality of the study, there is still the glaring issue of blurring the boundary between correlation and causation and abusing statistical methodologies when we were offered a digest of the study’s findings, often for the sake of promoting a specific set of “success metrics”. One of these metrics is to “have strong social networks” since those who did “have better heart health, fewer depression symptoms, and less cognitive decline” – yet it’s not that deep to question whether the former leads to the latter, or cognitive function is something of another topic and people’s ability to have strong social networks is heavily affected by that in the first place.
The promotion of Confucian familial values is another strong example of how the course chose to dig into the replication of success metrics of the elites. Lectures devoted substantial attention to Confucian familial values- filial piety, hierarchical respect, and traditional responsibilities - without critically examining their restrictive implications (V. Lau, personal communication, January 17, 2025). Confucian ideals, while culturally significant, explicitly endorse heterosexual, stable family structures as universally ideal, marginalizing non-traditional relationships and individualistic lifestyles. I was shocked by the level of indifference and ignorance when lecturer suggested no family relationship is “inherently abusive”, all parents “love their children” and hence we shall pay the same level of respect back to the familial relationships. (And shocked again by how nobody in the lecture hall raised any concern over the aforementioned statements.)
What’s more, the readings assigned, though insightful, perpetuate this implicit elitism. Rosso et al. (2010) frame meaningful work primarily around external validation, financial stability, and professional recognition - parameters closely linked with societal status and capitalist success. Even Lips-Wiersma and Morris (2011), while introducing a seemingly holistic model, inadvertently prioritize growth, productivity, and professional success within corporate or institutional contexts. Lyubomirsky’s (2008) encouragement of goal pursuit and positive psychology implicitly ties happiness and purpose to achievements that align with conventional societal standards.
Thus, the course’s pedagogical approach, intentionally or not, reinforces elitist standards as benchmarks of meaningfulness and implies that the path to meaningful life success necessitates adherence to privileged standards of professional stability, familial prosperity, and traditional life progression.
The Problematic Pursuit of Cultural Role Models
When we benchmark our efforts in the making of meaningful life, we are shaping our life choices into the blind pursuit of cultural role models, and that’s the biggest downside of the elitism model we used in the course. Though often framed in neutral or encouraging terms, these role models largely conform to middle-class capitalist ideals, heteronormative family structures, and mainstream productivity. This underlying tendency limits the scope of the discussion and undermines the experiences of those whose lives follow different, often more fluid or marginal, trajectories.
For instance, in Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life, García and Miralles (2016) explore the concept of ikigai - often translated as one's reason for being or life's purpose. While the authors claim that ikigai can stem from any meaningful pursuit, their narrative regularly orbits culturally accepted definitions of meaning, such as professional excellence, long-term commitment, and service to others. The examples cited - painters, teachers, craftsmen, and doctors - are largely people who, despite following their passions, end up contributing productively to society in ways that are widely recognized and celebrated. The focus remains on how these individuals achieve flow and happiness through work that is both personally fulfilling and socially legible. In this sense, Ikigai echoes a meritocratic and individualistic tone that, rather than challenging dominant norms, reinforces them under a more poetic lens.
Even when the course includes more radical or liberating perspectives - such as Nietzsche’s metamorphosis of the spirit from camel to lion to child (V. Lau, personal communication, January 17, 2025) - they are often framed as heroic exceptions. The Nietzschean “Superman” is a figure of immense strength, someone who transcends the herd and redefines values by sheer will. While this model is arguably more liberating than a conformity-based approach, it also sets an impossibly high bar. To break free from social norms, according to this model, requires exceptional courage, almost ascetic suffering, and the ability to rebuild one’s entire value system. Such a path may inspire, but it is inaccessible for many, especially those without the emotional, social, or financial resources to undergo such existential reinvention.
Apart from creating the obvious problem of universally encouraging mainstream success without questioning the construction of such success, the pursuit of moral models also generates mundane struggles and controversies that we must in turn fight through or address without necessarily understanding their root causes within this very framework.
One clear example is the pervasive struggle with 'work-life balance'. This course, like much contemporary discourse, acknowledges this tension, even offers strategies for managing it. However, by upholding role models who embody relentless professional striving (aligned with Rosso et al.'s emphasis on external validation and achievement, or Lyubomirsky's focus on goal commitment) alongside expectations of traditional familial roles (echoing the unexamined Confucian ideals presented), the framework itself creates the conditions for this imbalance. The struggle isn't just an individual failing of time management; it's a systemic pressure cooker generated by trying to simultaneously meet conflicting, demanding ideals derived from these elitist benchmarks. The course, by focusing on the how of achieving balance within the existing structure, misses the critical step of questioning why the structure demands such a difficult balancing act in the first place – why meaningfulness is so tightly bound to relentless productivity and specific domestic arrangements.
Similarly, consider how non-traditional work structures are often framed. Individuals pursuing portfolio careers ('slashers') or freelance paths are frequently presented as 'alternative' or 'special' cases, deviations from the norm of stable, linear employment within established organizations – the implicit baseline suggested by models like Lips-Wiersma and Morris which focus on meaning within organizational contexts. While sometimes celebrated for their autonomy, their legitimacy often still hinges on achieving conventional markers of success (income, recognition, 'making a difference' in legible ways). The 'elitist' framework struggles to conceptualize these paths as inherently valid routes to a meaningful work-life without needing special justification or comparison to the 'gold standard' of a traditional career. The very idea that being a 'slasher' is noteworthy or requires a separate category highlights the limited scope of the dominant model. It doesn't adequately consider that meaning might be found in the fluidity, variety, or autonomy itself, independent of traditional career progression or fitting into the productive, socially celebrated roles. This pursuit of role models implicitly devalues work and life patterns that don't fit neatly into these pre-approved, often institutionally-validated, boxes.
By constantly measuring ourselves against these narrowly defined cultural role models, we internalize their associated pressures and limitations, leading to these everyday conflicts and constraining our imagination of what a truly meaningful work and productive life could encompass beyond these elitist confines.
Reimagining Meaning: Beyond Universal Models
My critique of the elitist framework naturally leads to the following question: what is the alternative? If we reject the notion that meaningfulness is solely defined by adherence to mainstream success metrics, how do we construct a fulfilling work and productive life? I argue the alternative lies in embracing the responsibility of creating our own, grounded in personal authenticity and mutual respect for the diverse paths others choose.
This perspective recognizes that external structures, including conventional family values or career ladders, are social constructs, not inherent truths. The only cornerstone imperative becomes the respect for individual autonomy – the effort to understand and leave space for others navigating their own unique quests for meaning. Consequently, the internal struggle to "find" a singular meaning, or to perfectly balance the socially defined categories of "work" and "life," begins to dissolve - when we cease aligning ourselves rigidly with external definitions, these pressures lose their grip.
The story of Yeye, the drag queen we interviewed, powerfully illustrates this alternative path. Yeye resides in Shenzhen, working a day job but truly coming alive on weekends as a drag performer. This path involved a conscious rejection of the trajectory prescribed by familial and societal expectations – specifically, leaving a stable, low-paying state-owned enterprise job in Fuzhou that family strongly desired. Their hope was for Yeye to follow a conventional path: lifelong employment in the SOE, pension, traditional family, and eventual care in old age – a stark picture of the "success" metrics promoted by traditional values.
Yeye’s decision to move to Shenzhen was fueled by a desire for self-expression and creative fulfillment, initially sparked by wanting to perform his original music Hot Gay Summer. Drag performance emerged later, initially suggested as a novelty act but embraced by Yeye with dedication. This journey wasn't reckless; it involved pragmatic steps like building savings and reputation through the "side hustle" – winning awards in the Ballroom scene and gaining recognition – before making the leap, ensuring financial independence from family. This "为爱发电" (doing it for love/passion) as Yeye suggested multiple times, even when initially costly, built the skills and capital needed for the transition.
Crucially, for Yeye, drag is more than a performance; it is intertwined with identity and community. While facing difficulties coming out to family even as gay, let alone as a drag performer, the drag persona is a form of deeply meaningful work. It's an act of being oneself, where identity itself becomes the work. Yet, its significance transcends personal expression; it contributes to building and preserving a space for the queer community in China, passing on culture and fostering belonging. This commitment to the community resonates with my own experiences contributing to the ballroom scene in Shenzhen, striving alongside others to carve out spaces where diverse identities can flourish, even while navigating a more traditional career path at the same time.
Adopting this perspective fundamentally reframes the struggles highlighted earlier. The agonizing quest for "work-life balance" becomes less relevant when "work" isn't confined to a 9-to-5 job title but encompasses any activity we invest ourselves in, driven by passion, necessity, or a mix thereof – whether a traditional career, freelancing, artistic pursuits like drag, or community building. The definition broadens; work is simply part of life, an activity undertaken with varying levels of commitment and compensation, not a separate entity perpetually at war with "life." The distinction between traditional jobs, slash careers, or freelance gigs becomes less about inherent value and more about the different structures through which we choose to engage our time and energy. Life becomes about pursuing the comforts, connections, and contributions we define as valuable, within the communities we choose.
While privilege undoubtedly plays a role – having supportive (or at least manageable) family dynamics and marketable skills eases this path – the underlying principle holds true even for those facing greater financial or familial constraints. The freedom lies in shifting the focus of meaning-making from external validation to internal conviction and chosen connections. It’s about making something out of one's own understanding of life, within one's circumstances.
Therefore, the alternative "moral model," if we can call it that, is not one that prescribes what constitutes a meaningful life, thereby implicitly closing doors for those who don't fit. Instead, it is a model focused on opening possibilities. It champions the creation of diverse pathways and celebrates the courage to pursue them, fostering a world where more people can define and live lives that feel authentic and significant to them.
Concluding Reflection
My own journey, alongside stories like Yeye’s, reaffirms the possibility and validity of charting a different course. It involves questioning inherited definitions of success, embracing ambiguity, and finding meaning in self-defined pursuits and chosen communities – like the vibrant queer scene we are helping to build; it is about creating meaning rather than finding it pre-packaged.
Whether these alternative paths are appreciated or even understood by those “elites" is, ultimately, secondary. What matters is the authenticity of the choice, and the solidarity found among those who dare to imagine and live differently - I am grateful to have found a community and friends who share this conviction, fostering a space where diverse meanings of work and life can take root and flourish.
References
DeAngelis, T. (2018, October). In search of meaning. Monitor on Psychology, 49(9). https://www.apa.org/monitor/2018/10/cover-search-meaning
Eagleton, T. (2007). The meaning of life: A very short introduction. Oxford University Press. (Your paper references Chapter 4 specifically, but the reference entry is for the whole book).
García, H., & Miralles, F. (2016). Ikigai: The Japanese secret to a long and happy life. Penguin Books.
Lips-Wiersma, M., & Morris, L. (2011). The map of meaning: A guide to sustaining our humanity in the world of work. Greenleaf Publishing.
Lyubomirsky, S. (2008). The how of happiness: A scientific approach to getting the life you want. Penguin Press.
Rosso, B. D., Dekas, K. H., & Wrzesniewski, A. (2010). On the meaning of work: A theoretical integration and review. Research in Organizational Behavior, 30, 91–127. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.riob.2010.09.001