Disclaimer: This is NOT a piece CONDEMNING certain groups, nor is it a piece to impose political views. In fact, you won’t find any political views in this piece, just humanitarian ones.
Why did you forget about love? I often ask that question to myself and others around me. I like to think that I have never forgotten about love: love for my city, love for my people, love for change. However, does assuming that others forgot about it speak to my own neglect? I’m not sure. My heart breaks when I read about yet another instagram thread on the “horrendous human rights violations” in Hong Kong, or walk on the streets in familiar Causeway Bay now washed with graffiti condemning a part of our own population. I think my feelings are real; therefore, my love is real.
I don’t pretend to understand the winding political interests behind these riots/outrages/protests/battles, or the romantic ideals some stand for. However, I do see how it all affects the people. By people, I mean the ones cowering in fear, begging for the safety of their one year old daughters as cloaked figures pounced on an old man. I do think the police have done some pretty messed up things, but are they the only ones razing this land? Are they the only ones to blame? We’re all just people. Blue ribbons or yellow ribbons, we’re all just one Hong Kong. How can we fight for the romantic ideals some stand for when we are a broken family with our own problems?
I think there are different kinds of love. There’s the love for those romantic ideals, the love for the people, and many more. There are also different ways of showing one’s love for these things. After all, Hong Kong is a place of union and integration. However, as these ideals fade away and break my heart, I start to wonder if I’m questioning and doubting the kinds of love in Hong Kong, do I have love myself?
About the Author:
Abby Lu
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The Big Duck 