Hit podcasts reveal the angst of China’s youth

In 2007 David Brooks, an American columnist, suggested that the period from adolescence to adulthood should be called the “odyssey years”, alluding to the hazards of the voyage described in Homer’s epic poem. This year the term, aodesai shiqi, has turned viral online in China.

Young people use it to describe the many torments they face on life’s journey including getting a job, finding a partner and getting on the housing ladder. State media, forever striving to sound upbeat, offer them little guidance.

Instead, growing numbers are turning to an independent and remarkably feisty forum: podcasts. After a slow start, China’s podcast industry has boomed in recent years. It is still small compared with that of America, but it is tapping into huge demand from angst-ridden youngsters.

(UNSPLASH)On his hit show, “Qingdao Kuaima”, Fu Yu offers words of comfort. “The odyssey years can transform the trivial, trial-and-error nature of life into a heroic, epic-like trajectory of personal growth,” the 34-year-old tells his half-million listeners.

It was reassuring to hear him explain why young people are insecure, a fan commented. After a slow start, China’s podcast industry has boomed in recent years. It is still small compared with that of America, but it is tapping into huge demand from angst-ridden youngsters.

Enthusiasts call 2020 “year zero”. That was when China’s first big podcast app, Xiaoyuzhou, or “Little Universe”, was launched. It made finding and hosting shows much easier. Now more than one in ten people in China, about 150m, tune into podcasts on Xiaoyuzhou, Himalaya and other Chinese apps, reckons the Chinese Podcast Association, an industry group.

Users of Xiaoyuzhou listen for an average of 80 minutes per day; more than 80% are aged between 18 and 35. Though few podcasts are state-run, they all still have to heed censors’ guidelines. In public, no one in China is allowed to question the Communist Party’s rule.

But podcasts are changing the media landscape by providing room for more open discussion. State media shun mention of the love lives of gay and lesbian people; social media sometimes scrub references to the topic. Podcasts offer more freedom.

They don’t have to use coded language or euphemisms, says Huang Yalan of Jinan University. The government is suspicious of feminism, but many hosts are proudly feminist and eagerly discuss women’s rights. The often slow-burn style of China’s podcasts gives them protection.

Fifteen-second videos on platforms such as Douyin (as TikTok is known in China) are more likely to run afoul of censors because they need to make a striking point to attract viewers. People with the patience to listen to an hour-long show are unlikely to report them, says Yi Yang, who co-founded JustPod, China’s largest podcast-production firm.

In 2025 the most listened-to genre on Xiaoyuzhou was personal growth. Liu Hongxing, a data analyst in Beijing, likes a podcast of this type called “Self-Evolution Theory”, which is the app’s third-most-popular. She says it has introduced her to the idea of living the way she wants to.

Previously young people thought self-improvement was about becoming cleverer, says Mr Yang. Recently it has become more about meditating, receiving therapy and learning to understand that life’s problems are not all one’s own fault.

The longer length of podcasts allows for reflection, whereas short videos tend to oversimplify and stoke anger, says Mr Fu, the podcaster. “Young people...are experiencing anxiety, confusion and pain,” he says. But he refuses to join those who grumble about the privileges enjoyed by the older generation, who have spent much of their adulthood in years of staggering economic growth.

Armed with a sociology PhD, he aims to help young people understand the forces behind their problems, such as finding a stable job or—for those who want to opt out of the rat race—deciding where to retreat. Blake Chen, the 33-year-old founder of a media company in Guangzhou, says his generation has never been able to find its place.

He believes the gap between young people and their parents is vast—much larger than that between their parents and grandparents. So the young seek guidance from peers. A popular podcast made by Mr Chen’s firm offers discussions on issues such as how to manage inter-generational conflict and whether to marry.

Some hit podcasts are hosted by older professionals. Qian Jing, a professor, invites young people to call in with their woes, exuding authority as she tells them how to cope with burnout and find meaning in life. Zhang Chun, a psychological counsellor, describes her own podcast, which is also in the top 50, as collective therapy.

In a leafy district of eastern Beijing, Daxiao Café’s free recording-studio has hosted more than 200 podcasts about everything from psychology and women’s health to running and books. Few of the presenters aim to make money (and few do): they simply enjoy airing views and connecting with other people.

But this may change—brands are eyeing opportunities. Giada, a luxury fashion firm, launched Xiaoyuzhou’s top podcast called “Flower on the Rock”, which features interviews with women. The host is Chen Luyu, who is often described as China’s Oprah Winfrey.

As podcasts expand their reach, however, censors will pay more attention. Some apps already use artificial intelligence to screen content. In August broadcasting regulators called for “red lines” to be drawn around podcast content and said shows should uphold “mainstream values”.

One show sometimes posts short clips on Xiaoyuzhou saying an episode cannot be uploaded for “technical reasons”—meaning, problems with censors. But it tells listeners how to find the podcast elsewhere.