In Vietnam today, the idea of gender-inequality in divorce is not just a legal technicality but a lived reality that affects thousands of women every year, shaping their economic security, social standing, and future wellbeing. Despite laws that enshrine bình đẳng giới (gender equality) in marriage and family relations, women often emerge from divorce proceedings at a stark disadvantage, particularly in the division of marital assets and enforcement of child support — a problem rooted not only in legal practice but in deep-seated cultural norms about gender roles.
After more than a decade since the 2014 Law on Marriage and Family (Luật Hôn nhân và Gia đình) was adopted, its promise of equal rights between spouses still clashes with reality in the courtroom. Legally, Article 59 of that law stipulates that “housework and family care are considered income-generating labor” and should be accounted for when dividing property after divorce. But in practice, many women — especially those who devoted years to raising children, managing the home, or supporting their husband’s career — struggle to translate that legal language into fair asset shares. They find it hard to prove non-monetary contributions such as caregiving or homemaking, while major assets like land, houses, or vehicles are often registered solely in the husband’s name. As a result, courts tend to default to quantifiable economic contributions, leaving women with smaller or unequal shares despite their central role in building the family’s life together.
This gap between legal equality (bình đẳng pháp luật) and its application is compounded by persistent gender stereotypes that frame men as “breadwinners” and women as dependent, domestic figures. Judges and mediators, like everyone else in society, can be influenced by these ingrained perceptions, which leads to inconsistency and a lack of “gender sensitivity” in decisions. Women across urban and rural Vietnam report that their unpaid labor — from raising children to maintaining the household — is undervalued or ignored in divorce settlements, even when the law clearly recognizes its importance.
The economic vulnerability this creates can be profound. After divorce, many women not only receive less than their fair share of assets, but also face the long-term burden of caring for children often without effective enforcement of child support from the non-custodial parent. Court orders for alimony are sometimes delayed, partially paid, or simply evaded, placing ongoing financial strain on the parent — usually the mother — who has custody. This echoes older research showing that only a minority of divorced women actually receive sustained support for raising their children, leaving many and their dependents at risk of poverty and insecurity.
Cultural context helps explain why reform has been slow to take root. Gia đình (family) holds a central place in Vietnamese life, and traditional Confucian-influenced views still define women’s roles as primarily domestic and nurturing. In such a setting, it is harder for society — and by extension, courts — to appreciate caregiving as a form of economic contribution equal to paid work outside the home. This dynamic is not unique to Vietnam, but it interacts with local norms in powerful ways.
At the same time, there have been undeniable strides in gender equality more broadly. Women’s participation in the labor force and their educational attainment have risen significantly over the past decades, reflecting progress that advocates hoped would translate into stronger bargaining power within families and marital breakdowns. But divorce, as research shows, remains gendered in its outcomes. Mothers are more often granted custody — in part due to societal expectations about caregiving — and yet this very responsibility can limit their earning potential and mobility, deepening economic disparities post-divorce.
To bridge the gap between law and lived experience, experts and activists argue for a multifaceted approach. This includes clearer legal guidelines for evaluating non-monetary contributions, enhanced training for judges and mediators on gender equity, and stronger enforcement mechanisms for child support. Beyond the courthouse, there is a call for cultural change that truly values the invisible labor of caregiving and rejects outdated stereotypes about men’s and women’s roles within the family. Only when these shifts occur — legally, institutionally, and socially — can Vietnam move closer to the promise of true gender equality in divorce as in marriage.
Spicy Auntie here, stirring her tea a little harder than usual, because divorce is one of those topics where polite smiles and legal jargon hide a lot of quiet cruelty. Vietnam likes to say it believes in harmony, fairness, and family values — and yes, gia đình (family) really does matter. But Auntie has learned that when marriages fall apart, the soft words evaporate quickly, and women are often left holding the bill for everyone’s so-called harmony.
On paper, Vietnamese law says housework counts. On paper, caregiving has value. On paper, wives and husbands are equals. Auntie has a whole drawer of “on paper” promises from different countries, and they all age badly. In real life, when a woman has spent years cooking, cleaning, raising children, smoothing egos, and quietly keeping everything together, the courtroom suddenly wants receipts. Land titles. Bank transfers. Hard proof. Love, labour, and lost opportunities? Sorry, chị ơi (dear sister), those don’t scan into evidence.
What really gets Auntie grinding her chili peppers is the hypocrisy. Society praises women for sacrifice during marriage — be patient, endure, think of the children, giữ thể diện (save face). But once divorce happens, that same sacrifice becomes invisible. Suddenly she’s “dependent.” Suddenly she should be grateful for whatever she gets. Suddenly unpaid labour is just… what women do. Free. Naturally. Like rain or rice.
And let’s talk about custody. Women are expected to take the kids — because motherhood, of course — but not necessarily the money, the house, or the long-term security that makes caregiving sustainable. The logic is magical thinking at its finest: love your children deeply, raise them well, but don’t expect structural support. Auntie has seen this movie too many times, and it always ends with exhausted mothers patching together survival while men move on faster, lighter, wealthier.
This isn’t about Vietnamese women being weak. Quite the opposite. They are resilient, strategic, endlessly resourceful. But resilience is not justice. Strength should not be used as an excuse to keep systems unfair. When courts undervalue care work, they reinforce a message women have heard since forever: your contribution matters emotionally, not economically. Which is another way of saying it doesn’t matter when money is on the table.
Auntie is not anti-family, anti-marriage, or anti-love. At all. She is anti-fantasy. If Vietnam wants to talk seriously about bình đẳng giới (gender equality), it has to follow women beyond wedding photos and into courtrooms, bank accounts, and broken homes. Count the invisible work. Enforce support. Train judges to see care as capital.
Because until divorce stops punishing women for doing exactly what society asked of them, all that talk about equality is just decorative calligraphy on very old walls.