In China, “uncle” isn’t just a family title — it’s a social position that carries real weight. Being called uncle means you’ve reached a certain age and earned a place in the hierarchy: someone to be respected, acknowledged, and even photographed with a gentle bow. Here’s what happened when I unexpectedly became one in Shenzhen.

In the West, an uncle is just a family member, the brother of your mother or father. You can be the cool uncle who lets the kids get away with everything, the one who buys them toys that make lots of noise just to annoy your siblings, or the responsible uncle who backs up the parents. In English and Irish circles you might also be the uncle who’s really just a close family friend. You can be a mix of all of these, the sort asked to fetch a beer from the fridge on a warm evening while a long French-style meal drags on for hours.

Chinese society works differently. An uncle there has reached a certain age and is owed deep respect, not just for the years but for the wisdom and position that comes with the family hierarchy. Individual identity matters less than the collective one, shaped by both Communism and older traditions that predate it. Personal desire takes a back seat to duty. It’s a real contrast to the Western uncle, who’s mostly there for personal relationships and a bit of spoiling.

So, apparently, I’m now of that age and wisdom. I’ve mentioned before how much the Chinese love a selfie to mark a moment, and during Operation Shenzhen Nights I noticed people photographing me from behind — the Father Christmas effect, I assume. But nobody dared approach directly, at least not until the first Shenzhen concert, when I gave in. The Huizhou concert confirmed it: a fellow uncle wanted a selfie with me to show the two of us together, two men from the same generation looking marvellous side by side. It’s a moment I still feel something about. Then there were the youngsters waiting for our buses who worked up the courage to ask for a selfie, some even bowing gently. I felt humbled by the whole thing, and it felt like a real privilege to say yes.

Becoming an uncle in China wasn’t something I saw coming, but it’s stayed with me. The respect for age, the gentle bows, the formality around something as simple as a selfie request, it all highlighted how different things are from home. In England or France, my beard might earn a knowing nod from a fellow facial-hair enthusiast. In China it put me in a role of quiet authority.

What struck me most was how natural it all felt, like this respect was just part of everyday life rather than about status. It made me think about how differently we treat age and experience in the West, where individualism tends to outrank hierarchy and tradition.

I might not carry that role back home, but the experience gave me a new way of thinking about what it means to be acknowledged and, in some small way, part of something bigger than myself.

Also in this series: Introduction  ·  Changsha  ·  Yongzhou  ·  Foshan  ·  Shenzhen Day 2  ·  Shenzhen Nights  ·  Shenzhen Day 3  ·  Shenzhen Day 4  ·  Hangzhou  ·  Shao Xing I  ·  Shao Xing II  ·  Xian Ju  ·  Homeward Bound  ·  Transformation  ·  Uncle  ·  The Final Frame