Thank you, Hong Kong
Firstly, I owe Hong Kong a sorry. I misunderstood them for many years.
I might have traveled more. But my perception about the world didn’t necessarily go beyond my fellow mainland Chinese — when I came back home, my influence on them was negligible compared to that they had upon me. I was never able to cross the cultural difference between China mainland and HK, with the ironic premises that this shouldn’t exist as we share the same ethnic root. I met many HKers in my career life. I since worked in an office building in Shanghai called “Hong Kong New World Plaza”. Hong Kong investment companies used to own many high-end buildings in mega mainland cities. Many mainland companies listed on HK or US stock markets liked to hire HK managers for their connection with the west and language skills. They are widely considered as the elite group — wrapped in BOSS suits and TUMI backpacks, uttering single English words amid mother language in any kind of talk. They are polite but reserved, smart but sticking to rules, working hard and staying low-key.
Unfortunately I didn’t develop any friendship with HKers out of the meeting room. Along with other mainlanders, I found it hard to share a topic with HKers — they might think the same about us. The language was another gap. Often times we had to talk in English. We have the same language but the dialects drive us apart more than a foreign language.
What drives us more apart is the workstyle. HKers are reluctant to give promises while mainlanders like to paint pictures. They tend to work on numbers while we try to tell big stories. They are mostly light drinkers –totally aliens in the wild, endless business parties across the mainland. They stay incongruously put in the VIP room of Karaoke orgy that runs till dawn. Since more and more mainlanders went to HK for shopping and food-binge, instead of finding common interests, we found both sides increasingly point figures to each other. Mainlanders complained about HKers’ hubris toward the mainland, and by extension, the denial of Chinese identity; HKers leered at mainlanders of the ostentatious lifestyle and lack of social behavior, and by extension, the loss of traditions.
For years I joined fellow mainlanders jesting about HKers with labels like conceit, boring, and anti-mainland. But a sense of apology started to grow when I watched the “Umbrella Revolution” in 2014. Over 200 thousand HKers took to streets to protest CCP’s manipulation over HK’s election — as agreed in 1997 when Britain handed HK over to China, it has an independent election. A student strike grew into citizen protest, then occupying government locations. All of a sudden HKers were not boring and numb. They knew what they wanted and fought for it relentlessly. Tear gas and triads from the policy bounced on seas of umbrellas. Yellow ribbons flooded every corner of the city. Repression only got more HKers to the streets. The mainland media, under CCP’s control, reported with words of rioting and thugs and promised revenge. I had the luxury of seeing more news while traveling abroad. What shocked the world was HKer’s self-discipline and tenacity in face of police violence. Volunteers set up the lines and guides, food and drinks were delivered by restaurant owners, seniors bowed to marching groups at sideways. No looting, no littering, no violence during the occupancy. And they shocked me with the stark comparison — what I saw as people of solitude and lethargy moved like jaguars.
The anti-government protest led to more disputes between the people. The mainland side only hears what the government wants them to hear. In an autocratic country, the rulers can easily transfer the political adversary to hostility among people. Watching the clash on social media, I often feel sorry and ashamed. My fellow mainlanders mostly love swears not reasoning. There are so many of them that HKers or HK supporters are only able to send out one line “we agreed on this” before drawn in an ocean of curses. And I realized a hard fact: after seven decades under the authoritarian regime, the spirit of freedom is long gone in the mainland. While after 150 years of colonization, Hong Kong is still ready to die for freedom.
My apology turned into thank you last year in the Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill Protest. Again HK shocked the world, a way stronger magnitude. Living in the US already, I have free access to all media. While the mainland news still reported with the words “a small group of thugs”, I watched the live stream of two million citizens marching on the streets. This is just an island of seven million people. Two out of seven being thugs in a city only turns it into Sodom and it’s doomed by its own sins — false news only makes the city and people more sacred. What they were fighting for was a criminal extradition policy, which involves a fraction of the population. “We cannot let them pass this. If they do for the first time, they will pass other laws. One day our freedom will be taken away.”
I believe what was shocked the most was the mainland government. Two tricks are always in rulers’ favor: violence and time. But neither worked on HKers this time. Nearly one-third of the city flooded to streets, marching on in silence or joining in the chorus of the song “Glory to Hong Kong”. Police’s battering only drew more people to the streets. Parents brought kids to show how they fought for the future, college students left death notes at home, an old man opened his arms between the police’s gun and young protesters.
When HK governor announced the withdrawal of the Bill on Oct. 23, thousands of HKers lost their lives, tens of thousands missing. And the marching still went on with “Five Demands, No one Less.”
They are my heroes, and my pride as we share the same root. But the excitement can’t be shared with my fellow mainlanders. Sensitive words on social media are deleted immediately and the account is closed. All news is filtered by censorship. Talking to mainland family and friends, their tunes in amazing unison: they are thugs; they want to get Hong Kong independent.
Soon Covid-19 swept the world. Then BLM protests broke out in summer 2020. Watching the chaos and riots across the U.S. and globe, I am more amazed by my HK heroes. Two million people marching on in one city, the oppressors were a combination of police and military soldiers (disguised). No protester violence. The faces calm, the eyes unwavering, the power unbending.
If the Chinese tradition had lost anything, the fight for liberty and freedom should be one of them — or maybe it’s never been there given China never truly gets out of totalitarianism. After 150 years of the colony, however, HKers never lost the heart and daring for freedom. And they never resort to violence. This is not the denial of Chinese identity; this is the essence of human being they try to bring to this old ethnicity.
I hardly see any HKers now. But if one day I do, I will bow to them and say, Thank you.
