According to statistics from the Ministry of the Interior, more than 57,000 couples in Taiwan divorced in 2011. Taking male divorcees as a point of reference, while most of the men who divorced were in the 35–49 age group, the number of 50–64 year-olds was up 3.11 times compared to 10 years ago, making it the fastest-growing segment.

Moreover, according to an MOI report on the elderly, the percentage of divorced or separated couples between the ages of 55 and 64 shot up to 5.82% in 2009 from 5.65% in 2005. For the 65-and-over set the figure increased from 2.48% to 3.53% over the same period—86,000 divorcees, to be precise. It seems that more and more seniors are experiencing a solitary senescence.

Nor is Taiwan unique in this respect. Around the world, divorce rates are climbing much faster amongst the middle-aged than the young.

In their report “The Gray Divorce Revolution” published in March of this year, Bowling Green State University sociology professors Susan Brown and Lin I-fen, a graduate of Fu Jen University in Taiwan, mention that one out of every four divorces that took place in 2009 in the US involved couples over the age of 50, and the incidence of divorce is 2.5 times greater within that demographic compared to 20 years ago. It is worth mentioning that in most cases the instigator of the divorce is the wife, for the reasons that women of the post-war “baby boomer” generation tend to focus on personal fulfillment and have the prerequisite financial independence to fend for themselves.

Just a short way off from Taiwan, in Japan, the tide of divorce continues to rise unchecked. Statistics reveal that the divorce rate amongst couples married for over 20 years was twice as high in 2005 as in 1985, and for mature couples married over 30 years the rate quadrupled over the same 20-year period.

Japanese cultural critics point the finger at the bifurcated social structure that placed men in the workplace and women in the home, as well as the deeply ingrained culture of male chauvinism. The iron-clad, lifelong job security the older generation enjoyed meant that the housework rendered by wives was only compensated indirectly through a premium in the husband’s wages, and also gave rise to a super-loyal, zealous work ethic in which men were compelled to prioritize work over family. After retirement, these men idle around the house, misogynistic attitudes on full display, and before long their wives find themselves thinking about “retiring” from their household roles.

Psychologists suggest that older couples need to keep up an active social life amongst friends and relatives in order to have the best chance at happiness.

While divorce rates in Taiwan haven’t scaled astronomical American heights or imitated the dramatic ascent in Japan, gray divorce is nonetheless a palpable reality that draws strength from expanding female consciousness and autonomy.

“The stakes of a divorce vary greatly according to a woman’s stage in life,” explains Chuang Chiao-ju, an attorney who serves as one of two executive directors for the Awakening Foundation, a woman’s advocacy group. Women in the working prime decades—their 30s and 40s—are more disposed to endure an imperfect marriage for a number of factors: firstly, they are still very much engaged in the effort to consolidate their careers and unwilling to be sidelined by enervating divorce proceedings; secondly, as a divorcee­ and likely single parent, they face crippling social stigma that could impair work prospects; finally, there is the fear of losing custodial rights and therefore access to their children.

Wan-ting, who holds a master’s in psychology, in her youth was deeply involved in the women’s rights movement and an ardent believer in free love. Yet, at age 37, longing to end her single existence and to bear children, she married her wealthy beau. Five years into the relationship, however, she began to feel like she had been sold a bill of goods. She had a charming son and daughter and a seemingly comfortable existence as a housewife. But her domineering husband would vent his ire on the children whenever she dared to contradict his dictatorial ways. Her days were fraught with tension and loneliness.

She considered divorce, but the obstacles weighed heavily on her. Were she to divorce, she would probably be compelled to eke out a tenuous living as a consultant, plus “there was the stigma and rejection attached to being a single parent.” Her husband’s affluence meant that she could support her family. “Keeping the status quo was best for all the people I cared about, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness. I knew that if I stayed in the relationship my parents and children would never want for anything.” Wan-ting’s misgivings and internal struggles would surely strike a familiar chord with many women her age.

Can a wedding banquet turn into a battleground for feuding ex-spouses? In 2008, Public Television Service explored this very issue in their “Life Story” series.

Older women approach divorce with a different set of bargaining chips. Typically, successful career women can take a more resolute stance, but even they, like the others, can’t escape the emotional, lifestyle, and financial entanglements that it brings.

When 57-year-old Wu ­Shuzi retired early from her job as a university librarian, with her steady pension and three responsible children, she appeared at a casual glance to be on the cusp of a tranquil final chapter of her life spent in the company of her longtime husband.

“In truth, even prior to retirement I had already mapped out a timeline for exiting my marriage, which had been cold and inhospitable for years. I made my youngest son’s college graduation the deadline. I began to distance myself emotionally and to prepare for life alone. I also started saving money regularly.” However, an intense domestic conflict precipitated her move three years ago, and she began the life of a de facto divorcee.

Now separated from her husband, Wu has lived frugally in a rented apartment. She has published two novels that explored gender consciousness, and traveled around from city to city conducting writing workshops. She also has continued to participate in self-help programs to heal her emotional scars and to discover her future path.

As the deputy director of the Warm Life Association for Women, Shen Shu­juan has considerable experience as a provider of marital and legal counsel. By her count, in recent years 20% of all of the women they help are past age 51. Even more arresting is the fact that “more and more often it is the adult children of these women who will call us on their mother’s behalf or encourage their mother to get in contact with us!”

Sixty-seven-year-old Cai Meifang separated from her husband 30 years ago on account of his infidelity. Her husband cut her off financially after their split, and, without the advantage of a higher education, she toiled as a domestic servant to provide for her two sons. She also volunteered at women’s organizations. Though her life continually improved following the separation, she never accepted her husband’s proposals that they divorce. “I wasn’t interested in remarrying, so whether I divorced or not at that point was irrelevant. My primary concern was to take care myself.”

But the attitudes of her two grown sons were in stark contrast with her own passivity. They repeatedly pressured her to go through the divorce and secure ownership of the house—Cai had paid off the mortgage herself, yet the deed was in her husband’s name. At the close of last year, her younger son and a notary friend stood as witnesses as she finally divorced her husband, whom she had not seen in years. She recalls: “The day we signed the divorce papers, I said to him, ‘Can I have a hug? Thank you for giving me two precious sons.’” He thanked her for going through with it, and said, “You’re always welcome at family gatherings.” Those words allowed her a glimpse of her ex-husband’s remorse, dissolving the tension that had built over the years.

Learning to be a compassionate individual is the work of a lifetime.

A divorce, regardless of the culture in which it occurs, is likely to arouse tabloid interest and set idle tongues into motion: Was it an affair? How long had it been going on?

Allen Li, a research fellow at the Institute of European and American Studies at Academia Sinica, specializes in changing trends in family and marriage. As he sees it, these questions all involve preconceived moral positions, and more often than not, people mistake consequences for causes.

Li observes that in the United States, “people frequently remarry quickly after divorcing,” but it is relatively uncommon for people to seek the divorce on the grounds of infidelity. The “no-fault divorce” laws in the US disburden petitioners from having to supply evidence of infidelity or other wrongdoing; likewise, the “separation” system safeguards the rights of a couple to seek out new happiness. “Divorce usually comes after an individual has already determined to wed someone new, hence the brief interval between divorce and second marriage,” he explains.

In Taiwan, many estranged couples find other ways to cope, such as living apart or with different children or simply maintaining separate lives even whilst occupying the same space.

“Taiwan’s divorce statistics don’t include separated couples—to say nothing of the fact that the people surveyed often give misleading answers—and as a result, they fail to fully disclose the compromised state of marriage. What we can conclude from this is that divorce still carries a powerful stigma,” Li comments.

Chuang Chiao-ju notes that while extramarital affairs certainly are not uniquely male behavior, men have a much better time escaping social censure and recrimination than women who transgress.

She has observed that many women, after their marriage has hit the skids, end up leading a sexless life. It isn’t that they don’t have needs; on the contrary, it is only when they reach a mature age that they are willing to surmount the taboos surrounding extramarital affairs and deal frankly with their desires.

What makes couples part after more than 20 years of marriage? Only those who have experienced it themselves can fully comprehend their pain.

Of course, a bad marriage can cause a man to suffer as much as a woman, but the traditional masculine imperatives dictate that a man must endure it stoically.

Leaving his 17-year marriage was no easy feat for Mr. Chen—it took him about a year to finalize the settlement, and thinking of it pains him even now, 10 years after the fact. “The marital system is just awful! You stumble into it blindly, but it’s impossible to extricate yourself once things sour! In the meantime, you’re supposed to carry on living together,” he laments.

After his divorce, his friends dubbed him “the best, most eligible bachelor,” but he repeatedly declined his friends’ matchmaking efforts. “I guess I don’t have the guts for marriage anymore,” he says.

Chen fell in love and married at 29. On the surface, his family situation appeared ideal. His and his wife’s careers were progressing smoothly, plus they were raising two sons. But the reality was much darker: “We found out in those first few years of marriage how unsuited we were for one another. She had an imperious streak. She would lose control and become emotionally abusive and even showed violent tendencies at times—pinching, punching, throwing flower vases,” he says. The ever-stoic Chen never breathed a word to family or friends about his situation, though he did call a depression hotline three times—“No one picked up, so I just hung up.”

“Perhaps I viewed marriage as a sacrament, that once you’ve entered into the covenant it isn’t to be broken. But looking back, I now realize that it would have been better to end it so much earlier. I hope that my children will understand someday that true happiness doesn’t come from preserving a marriage regardless of the cost, and I hope that they know that my love for them has been constant throughout,” he says.

The well-known psychiatrist Wang Hao-wei once remarked in an interview that a typical Taiwanese married couple’s relationship is fraught with bitterness and is a tumultuous cycle of resentment and gratitude. Wang refers to a comment made by American psychologist John Gottman about how he, Gottman, could tell if a couple he was counseling would divorce within three years by looking for specific telltales. One such indicator was when “couples simply cannot refrain from constantly belittling one another.” However accurate it might be in the West, this behavior could not, in Wang’s opinion, serve as a bellwether for Taiwanese couples. “Those kinds of potshots are entirely too common to mean anything. Perhaps the difference is that marriage in Taiwan has less to do with love and more to do with social and familial responsibilities,” he says.

As people reach middle age, they become more concerned with spending their remaining time meaningfully.

Chuang notes that thanks to feminist activism, Taiwan divorce law has undergone significant positive change. One of the most important reforms targeted the old system’s allowance of only two types of divorce, by consensus and by decree, the former applying when both parties wished to divorce and the latter only being necessary when one party refused. Consensual divorce tended to be too lax, with the woman’s interests nearly always receiving short shrift. On the other hand, arbitrated divorces were officious, protracted affairs which could only be initiated by the “guiltless” party. Moreover, after the court handed down its decision, the still-married couple was forced to head off to a local household registration office to formalize the split. Even worse, she says, “During the court hearings, in order to substantiate each other’s guilt, the couples would engage in ferocious arguments that served only to further antagonize them and harm their children.”

Taking into consideration the volatile emotional nature of divorce cases, beginning in 2009 the courts introduced mediation which allowed divorcing couples to deal with property, custody, and other important concerns one item at a time. The process was made more compact and convenient, as well, with the upshot of preventing further emotional fallout.

Is Taiwan headed away from the old principle of “culpability” towards lenient Western-style “no-fault” divorce law? Those who oppose the trend fear that once the floodgates to easy divorce have been thrown wide open, women will be at an even greater disadvantage than before. Chuang for one maintains that Taiwanese society differs fundamentally from the West and should not be overly eager to adopt a more casual haphazard view of divorce.

“All of us have been through it!” The Warm Life Association, which offers counseling, assistance, and camaraderie to divorced women, brims with sisterly love and support.

Ye Tao­jing, an experienced counselor at the Warm Life Association, points out a number of emotional issues with which a divorced person must cope: misgivings about new relationships, probing their failed marriage for insights and epiphanies, adjusting expectations for their new life, repairing parent-child relations, and smoothing things out with family members who may or may not approve of the divorce.

Warm Life’s founder, author Shih Chi-ching, chronicled her own divorce, which took place in the conservative early 1990s. Twenty years later, after two decades of advocating for women, she and her two sons co-wrote another volume, My Mother is a Brand, which offers the reader glimpses into their startling journey of healing as told from multiple perspectives.

Shih freely admits that writing the work induced plenty of tears. “I had buried so much of my grief deep under heaps of anger. And that grief arose from my experiences growing up apart from my parents and later from being denied access to my children after the divorce. Now that I’ve finally had a chance to vent my pent-up angst, I’ve come to realize how my anger has come from unspeakable grief,” she says.

Taking a positive slant on things, gray divorce may actually be a blessing in disguise. In this rapidly transitioning contemporary society, all individuals, married or divorced, single parents or single people, have an obligation to scrutinize their intimate relationships to advance the cause of a gender-egalitarian, tolerant, and diverse society.