When Spring Airlines — China’s budget pioneer — placed a recruitment ad seeking women aged 25 to 40, “preferably married or with children,” and proudly called them “air aunties,” social media went into turbulence. The term became an instant trending topic, with millions of posts mocking, questioning, or defending the airline’s decision. Spring’s management insisted the initiative was meant to celebrate empathy and experience, suggesting that mothers and mature women could better care for families, children, and elderly passengers. But critics saw something else: another case of gendered labeling that undermines professionalism and reinforces old stereotypes about women’s worth being tied to age and domesticity.
The ad’s fine print made things worse. Candidates had to stand between 162 cm and 174 cm tall, hold at least a bachelor’s degree, and — preferably — be married with children. According to the company’s spokesperson, “Married women or mothers have more life experience and emotional intelligence.” In theory, this sounds like a progressive step, especially in an industry that has long worshipped youth. But the term “air aunties” landed with a thud. Many Chinese women found it condescending, associating “auntie” (阿姨 āyí) with housekeepers or middle-aged women seen as past their prime. “It’s not empowering to be called ‘auntie’ at work,” one Weibo user wrote. “We want respect, not labels.”
Supporters, however, praised the airline for breaking an unspoken rule: that flight attendants must be young, single, and photogenic. Most Chinese carriers have traditionally hired women aged 18 to 25, prioritizing appearance over experience. Spring’s move, in that sense, challenges an entrenched standard. Yet, paradoxically, it reintroduces a new bias by celebrating one narrow type of woman — the nurturing mother — over others. The company has not said whether it plans to hire “air uncles,” nor whether male cabin crew will face similar criteria.
Across Asia, beauty, age, and gender continue to define the flight-attendant profession more than merit or skill. In South Korea, both Korean Air and Asiana Airlines have faced criticism for age restrictions that once limited new hires to women under 25. In 2006, the National Human Rights Commission ruled that such policies amounted to age discrimination. A decade later, recruitment brochures still emphasized appearance, requiring “straight white teeth” and “clear complexions.” In China, airlines such as China Southern have been known to recruit only single women under 25, reinforcing the idea that youth and availability are part of the job. Even today, many Asian airlines continue to promote “grace and beauty” as brand attributes, subtly implying that aesthetics are part of the uniform.
Malaysia’s AirAsia, meanwhile, has tried to modernize its criteria. Its cabin-crew recruitment page now focuses on customer service, communication, and safety training, with only minimal references to appearance. Candidates must meet height and grooming standards, but the company emphasizes “confidence and personality” rather than marital status or age. Japan’s ANA and Singapore Airlines also market their cabin crews as highly trained professionals, though critics point out that advertising and uniforms still lean heavily on a feminine ideal of elegance and politeness. “It’s progress, but slow and cosmetic,” says a labor-rights expert quoted in Travel Daily Media, adding that “the industry remains deeply gendered.”
Spring Airlines’ experiment reveals the tension between inclusion and stereotyping. On the one hand, opening recruitment to older women could diversify a workforce often limited by rigid beauty norms. On the other, creating a separate label — “air auntie” — reinforces the perception that women over 30 belong in a different category. The move also underscores how language shapes respect: a title meant to honor life experience ended up sounding like a social downgrade. In China, “auntie” can be affectionate, but in a corporate context it becomes a marker of age and class.
Ultimately, the “air aunties” controversy is a reminder that genuine inclusion means more than expanding the age range. It means dismantling the hierarchies of youth, beauty, and marital status that have long defined women’s value in the skies. Mature professionals deserve to fly under their own names, not as tokens of “maternal warmth.” As one critic quipped online, “Call them flight attendants, not aunties. They’re there to ensure safety and service — not to tuck us in like children.” Whether this turbulence leads to industry change or another PR spin, one thing is clear: Asia’s airlines still have a lot to learn about gender equality at cruising altitude.
Oh, hello there, my glamorous Chinese sisters of the sky — the newly minted “Air Aunties”! Welcome to the exclusive club of aunties who work miracles at high altitude while being called something mildly patronizing. From one auntie to another: congratulations! You’ve finally been deemed “employable” past the age of 25 — provided you’re married, maternal, and presumably able to calm crying toddlers while serving instant noodles with infinite patience. Cheers to progress, airline style!
Now, I don’t mean to rain on your in-flight parade, but let’s ask the obvious question: would Spring Airlines (or any other Asian carrier) ever apply the same “life experience” logic to men? Imagine the job ad: “Seeking Air Uncles — preferably balding, beer-bellied, and with deep empathy gained from years of yelling at kids to finish their homework. Must demonstrate the ability to fasten seat belts and discuss football during turbulence.” I can almost hear the HR meeting — “Yes, we prefer gentlemen over 45 with experience in snoring on couches and explaining crypto to strangers.”
It’s almost endearing how airlines in Asia seem obsessed with female flight attendants’ age, weight, and marital status, as if aviation safety depended on eyeliner and fertility. Young and single? Perfect for photo ops. Married and mature? Perfect for PR optics. Men, on the other hand, can look like they just rolled out of a noodle shop after a night shift, and still be hailed as “experienced crew.”
Dear Spring Airlines, inclusivity isn’t achieved by slapping a cute label on older women while quietly keeping the boys’ club intact. If you truly want equality, I suggest launching your “Air Uncle” campaign immediately. I’d love to see glossy posters of middle-aged men with sagging jowls, holding babies while pouring coffee at 36,000 feet. Maybe throw in a slogan: “Because every flight deserves a father figure.”
Still, I’ll give you credit, sisters — you’ve stirred the conversation. You’ve made people realize that women don’t expire after 25. And perhaps one day, being called an “auntie” won’t sound like a downgrade. Until then, let’s keep flying high — mascara waterproof, humor intact — and maybe remind the airlines that experience, competence, and compassion aren’t tied to our wombs.
So buckle up, my “Air Aunties.” You’re making history — and a little turbulence is just part of the flight.