Vietnam is waking up to a demographic time bomb: a looming shortage of women that could reshape family life, social norms, and the very fabric of Vietnamese society over the coming decades. New projections show that by 2049 Vietnam may face a deficit of some 1.3 million women of marriageable age, a swelling gap rooted in years of skewed birth ratios, evolving cultural expectations, and broader social change.
The statistics are stark. According to the Vietnam Population Forecast 2024–2074 released by the General Statistics Office (GSO), the sex ratio at birth — the number of boys born for every 100 girls — has been unnaturally high for nearly two decades. In 2024 it reached roughly 111.4 boys per 100 girls, well above the natural biological range of about 104–106. When populations skew male at birth over many years, a marriage squeeze occurs: cohorts of young men eventually outnumber women in the cohort of ages most associated with forming partnerships and families.
Already today, there are about 415,200 more men than women aged 20–39 in Vietnam. By 2029, the surplus will be more pronounced: for every 100 men in that age category there will be more than three men lacking equivalent female partners. By 2034 the imbalance could reach over 700,000, and by 2049 it could peak near that 1.3 million mark — nearly 8.7 per cent of the male population in the prime marriage ages.
Beyond the cold numbers, this demographic shift reflects deep-rooted social and cultural patterns in Vietnam — from traditional thiên vị nam (son preference) and enduring beliefs about lineage and family support, to legal and policy legacies such as the erstwhile two-child policy that shaped reproductive decisions for decades. Vietnam’s abortion laws are among the most liberal globally, and while sex-selective abortion is technically illegal, enforcement has often lagged behind practice, enabling parents inclined toward sons to act on their preferences.
Vietnam is not alone in grappling with these trends; several East and Southeast Asian countries have faced similar imbalances due to a combination of low fertility and son preference. But the implications for Vietnam are uniquely intersected with rapid urbanisation, rising tuổi kết hôn (age at marriage), and the real pressures of modern economic life. In cities like Hà Nội and Thành phố Hồ Chí Minh, young adults delay or forego marriage and childbearing, often citing economic barriers — from spiralling housing prices to unstable job markets — as well as shifting aspirations around careers, personal freedom, and gender roles.
For many Vietnamese families, marriage is still deeply tied to ideas of gia đình (family duty) and inherited lineage. Yet the generation now in their late twenties and early thirties increasingly talks about marriage — and especially the idea of having children — with pragmatism rather than romanticism. In part, this is a response to real material constraints: high housing costs, competitive careers, and the rising chi phí nuôi dạy con (cost of raising children) make couples think twice before committing to traditional family models.
The social consequences of a male-heavy demographic profile could be far-reaching. Social scientists warn that when large cohorts of men struggle to find partners — a scenario known as a marriage squeeze — societies can see subtle but meaningful shifts in behaviour and stability, from increased competition over spouses to potential rises in trafficking and other forms of exploitation. The Government and civil society groups are already exploring ways to hạn chế mất cân bằng giới tính khi sinh (reduce sex imbalance at birth), including public education campaigns and strengthened monitoring of prenatal sex determination services.
Longer-term projections suggest that after peaking mid-century, this gender gap may slowly narrow as birth ratios rebalance and as mortality and migration patterns evolve. But the cohorts already born into imbalance will carry its effects for decades: into family formation patterns, social expectations around đám cưới (weddings), and even labour market structures.
Vietnam’s demographic story in the 21st century is no longer just about population size — it’s about the shape of society itself, who finds a partner, who forms a family, and how cultural traditions adapt in the face of shifting ratios. As policymakers, community leaders, and families grapple with this transition, the conversation around gender equity, reproductive choices, and economic pressures will continue to evolve — and shape the Vietnam of tomorrow.
Spicy Auntie has been watching Vietnam’s numbers with a raised eyebrow and a sigh that smells faintly of strong coffee and impatience. A “shortage of women,” they say. A “marriage squeeze.” Millions of men who may never find a wife. Cue the panic. Cue the hand-wringing. Cue the same old question dressed up as demographic concern: who will marry the men? Not, mind you, why did we get here—or what do women actually want.
Let’s be clear: women didn’t vanish into thin air. They were filtered out, one ultrasound at a time, by trọng nam khinh nữ (son preference), by inheritance anxiety, by lineage obsession, by the quiet belief that a daughter is a temporary guest while a son is an investment. For years, society whispered—or shouted—that boys matter more. And now, surprise: there are more boys. This is not a natural disaster. This is math doing its job.
What fascinates Auntie is how quickly concern for “social stability” appears once men are the ones facing scarcity. For decades, women were told to marry early, marry well, marry patiently, marry even if it hurts. We were warned about becoming ế chồng (unsellable spinsters), as if we were discounted vegetables at the wet market. Now the tables wobble slightly, and suddenly the nation discovers empathy—for men who might stay single.
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: fewer women does not automatically mean women will lower their standards. If anything, it may do the opposite. Vietnamese women today are more educated, more urban, more financially aware, and far less enchanted by the fantasy of self-sacrifice. Many are looking at marriage and asking a radical question: what’s in it for me? If the answer is unpaid labour, double shifts, emotional management, and polite tolerance of bad behaviour, then Auntie understands perfectly why some women choose peace.
The demographic imbalance also exposes a deeper contradiction. Society wants women to marry, but not too late. To work, but not too much. To be modern, but not demanding. To be independent, but not independent enough to walk away. You cannot raise daughters in a cage of expectations and then act shocked when they decide not to line up obediently for marriage.
So no, Auntie is not losing sleep over a “bride shortage.” What worries her is whether Vietnam will finally confront the gender logic that produced it. That means valuing daughters as much as sons, sharing domestic labour, respecting women’s autonomy, and accepting that marriage is a choice—not a social repair mechanism.
If there are fewer weddings in the future, perhaps that’s not a crisis. Perhaps it’s feedback.