A few weeks ago, I had to decide where to travel to in Asia. I spent weeks agonizing over this decision and finally, picked Hong Kong. For many, this is not an obvious decision, especially when I could have gone to surf in the Philippines.
In the midst of my indecisive haze, I had remembered the protests. As Israel's streets become crammed with chants and flags, I felt a deep urge to meet Hong Kong, perhaps the international capital of protesting. I started reading this book right after booking my tickets.
In professional and passionate prose, Dapiran describes the protest movement, starting from the Umbrella movement and working his way to 2019. This book was easy to read, even if it took me a while to do so. It does a fine job of telling about individuals as well as the broader context. Occasionally, there's some theory, which I really appreciated. As a longtime Hong Kong resident, Dapiran feels like the right candidate to tell this story- it is clear how much he loves the city.
When I got to Hong Kong, staying at Tsim Sha Tsui, I quickly learned that 2023 Hong Kong is not 2019 Hong Kong. I was greeted by so many Chinese flags, so many little signs implying that it is China. The security law was ever present in every corner. Having spoken about politics with Palestinians and Russians, I thought I was used to seeing repressed freedom of speech but in Hong Kong, it was an entirely different level.
I wanted to love Hong Kong yet I felt a deep sense of unease and eeriness throughout my entire time. I kept thinking of how it is essentially an endangered city, so unstable on a political level. Every time I saw children (and compared to Tokyo and Seoul, I saw many), I found myself wondering in which country will they grow up in. What will Hong Kong look like in the future?
Who is Hong Kong, really? Dapiran writes that the protests had created the Hong Konger identity, perhaps for the first time ("Hong Kongers, add oil"). When you walk through the narrow streets, it is so vivid: Hong Kong has been a tool for colonialism, utilized for its harbors and passage to China. Hong Kongers have never been given a chance to tell their own political story, to forge their society.
For example, Hong Kong is not a merge of British and Chinese culture, as it is often described. Instead, it's parallels worlds. It's cafes with fantastic vegan food (and the best avocado toast I ever had) next to little hole in the wall restaurants offering dumplings. The worlds do not mix: English is either spoken by all or by none. The dissonance screams. Who is Hong Kong, really? What could it be? What does Hong Kong mean?
In other times, I felt as though Hong Kong was simply something else entirely: the Hong Kong sense of style, so put together, kings of the passive aggressive stare, skyscrapers and old men climbing on unstable ladders to fix their roofs. On my second night, someone explained how they know who's from the mainland and really, in the coming days, I could see it. Immigrant city, safe space, Tokyo envy, film empire, Hong Kong is its own story.
Dapiran concludes the book on a positive note- the victorious elections, the US paying attention to their independence movement, geopolitics perhaps playing into their favor, the rise of the identity. Nevertheless, this optimism felt almost out of place with my own experiences (the heartbreak in their voice, the flash of fury, the mocking of mainland people, silent yet every present). She said, "Hong Kongers have spirit. Sometimes, on the MTR, I see people wearing yellow socks, even now. They have style- they apologized each time the blue paint impacted the neighborhoods," but what can socks possibly mean when the community is refugees and prisoners?
Even though it was published a mere three years ago, this book feels like a relic from a different time. It gave me a taste of the protest days which clashed deeply with what modern day Hong Kong looks like.
What I'm Taking With Me
- Near the end, it's suggested that only a tiny minority seek true independence. This is fascinating- what sort of autonomy could work? It's said that the 50 years deal also forces HK into political stagnation, 50 years frozen in time, it cannot hold. Colonialist paradigms, limiting natural growth.
- I thought it was a baffling idea that Hong Kong just shifts ownership but the argument that people had expected China to also change is interesting, as if the British were placing bets on modernization, everyone thought it could be different.
- And I do want to say that I don't feel that I'm wildly anti-China in this American sort of way- it is the lack of choice, above all, that haunts me.
And now, cause obviously everyone wants more of my HK experiences, here's some more moments:
- Hong Kong is an empire of overpasses. You never really know where solid ground is. The amount of times that I thought I was on the first floor but actually, I was on the third floor, or the entire ground was a bridge. Architecture wonder, Hong Kong is an island of manmade capitalism.
- Modeling for the art group and being able to see it as a meditation. Being given 9 drawings of myself, looking so serene and yes, I could be upset about my body but no, I see beauty. I look calm. Happy. Within my body. I can love that person.
- I'm sorry but I spent 6 months in Korea and only got the public transportation wrong once, I spent one week in Hong Kong and got it wrong four times. HK is hostile to pedestrians, with its traffic laws and endless highways.
- And Chinese flags are everywhere. She said, "they're fucking cowards, they want to take over and for us to pretend to be happy about it", and the Chinese place the flags always higher, often bigger.
- Barbie! I can't think critically about it because rushing in the rain to the theater, nearly getting run over (again, fuck you, HK traffic laws), soaking wet, walking through the theater to help a friend who had forgot her phone.
- I wish I could tell 10 yo me that one day we'll go alone to Disneyland and it will be phenomenal. I spoiled myself, with absolutely disgusting coffee and vegan chicken, with my favorite rides, zero consideration for other people's feelings.
- I booked the dorm rooms and yet, somehow got a tiny room with a bunk bed. For my first night, a Chinese dude. We were absolutely mutually fascinated by each other's lives ("you've been to Taiwan?" "You live in Beijing?"). For my second roommate, a British dude who literally did not speak to me at all. For my third roommate, a bubbly and cheerful outgoing Argentinian. We stayed up too late each night chatting and the minute we learned we're both queer, the entire room atmosphere shifted. How beautiful.
-Feeling alienated in the immigrant spaces of HK. I was struck by an urge to say, "see, I look white but my country is a mess. We're fighting an impending theocracy, don't be fooled by my accent, I can barter like the best of them".
- Chatting about how the UK screwed over our countries like no, you can't just leave.
- In a gallery in which we could create our own poetry, "Change" kept slipping, sliding down the wall. I added "think free" because this is what I wish for us all.
- Being questioned three times in the synagogue like come on, my middle name is literally Jewish. At the end, I got annoyed and when asked where I'm from, pulled out my inner Israeli and condescendingly asked, "tell me, how familiar are you with Israeli geography". That's when they believed me that yes, I am, in fact, Jewish.
-The look in my friend's eyes as she said "I'm sorry but I can't talk to you about this. I'm scared for my family," and this is why I want to study politics, for a few minutes, my friend became an object of the state, controlled by their ideologies and we are never free from our nationalities.
- Celebrating Peru's independence in a small Peruvian bar, fantastic alcohol and great vibes