我在中国出生，在美国上学，唯一的香港之旅只持续两天，这座城市却成为我生命的转折点。
我曾是好奇的游客，在街巷间寻觅香港的旧貌新颜。我用英语和粤语与友善的市民聊天，瞭解到本地文化和生活方式。不过也遇到一位说话带有普通话口音的男子，他不高兴地问：「你既然会国语为什什偏偏不说？」可是在香港，粤语和英语作为本土语言的历史长达一百五十多年。
生气归生气，男子还是给我指了去六四纪念馆的路。这个纪念馆纪念着一场屠杀，罪行的发生地努力淡忘并禁止谈论它。那里的志愿者和我一般大，这让我很震惊，因为他们付出心力记录了很多名字，自己却从未见证他们被坦克和机枪吞没 — — 那是在一座遥远的城，在他们尚未出生的时刻。然而在那座城，广场已经变成膜拜刽子手的庙宇，而有些膜拜者曾有友邻被谋杀。
紧接着到了2014，泪水、苦难、决心与希望在这一年交织。香港孩子为了真普选而游行和静坐，在肆虐的警方面前坚守阵地，我在8139英里之外注视着他们。最终我也和上百名香港同学一起走上北美街头，中华帝国的红旗在我们头上虎视眈眈。我们在那个晴朗的日子擎著雨伞，它是千禧一代不屈于胡椒喷雾和橡胶子弹的象征；我们素不相识，在那一刻却被胸前的黄丝带连成手足。
感谢香港的雨伞和黄丝带，它们让我意识到稚嫩的肩膀可以撼动成熟的暴政，鼓励我做一些一直想做却很少付诸实践的事。我开始为报纸写文章，在电视上做点评，在校园里组织活动。2015年我接到邀请，与议员和其他活动人士在国会共进早餐，受邀者也包括两位香港学生，可惜临时未能成行。又过了一段时间，我在电视上看到其中一位学生戴着手铐，神色镇静。
在金钟，在元朗，警棍与凶器同飞，人们头破血流。香港沦陷已有二十二年，她正在中国占领下挣扎求生。我没法去香港分担那里的磨难和反抗，然而作为外国人，希望香港手足不要灰心，时间在他们一边。只要希望之火还燃在胸中，自由之花就不会凋谢。未来之路或许很漫长，但这段险途结束之后，香港将成为一个远离恐惧和锁链的独立国家。
翻译自英文：From Tiananmen to Independence: Unyielding Hong Kong in My Eyes
Born in China and studying in the U.S, I have visited Hong Kong only once and stayed there for no more than two days , but this city has become a turning point in my life.
A few years ago, I was a curious tourist walking in Hong Kong streets and hunting for the city’s past and present. I talked with people in English and Cantonese to learn about local culture and life. Most people were friendly and ready to help, except a man with a Mandarin accent. He questioned why I didn’t speak the national language despite being able to. However, English and Cantonese had been spoken by Hongkongers for more than 150 years.
Unhappy though he was, this man showed me the way to the June 4th Museum, a memorial institute for a massacre whose name couldn’t be said at the site of crime. I was astonished to see volunteers in that museum to be of my age. They dedicated their time and energy to recording the many names which vanished in a distant city in an old year they hadn’t experienced. But back in the Tiananmen Square and around, where people fell under military bullets and tanks, the murderers’ greatness was now enshrined, even by some of the victims’ previous friends and neighbors.
And then came 2014, a year full of tears, pains, determination and hope, as highschoolers and college kids marched and sat for true universal suffrage. 8139 miles away from Hong Kong, I watched how students stood their grounds in the face of abusive police. Ultimately in Washington D.C, I took to the streets with hundreds of Hong Kong students under the threatening gazes of the Middle Empire’s red flags. On this clear day, we held umbrellas, a symbol of millennial defiance against a brutal regime’s pepper spray and rubber bullets. Not knowing each other’s names, we felt a strong bond of minds as brothers and sisters, by the yellow ribbons we wore on our chests.
Thanks to those umbrellas and yellow ribbons. They showed me that young shoulders could send shivers down the spine of an adult tyranny and encouraged me to do some rightful things I had meant for long but never dared to put into practice. I began writing in newspapers, commenting on TV and organizing campaigns on campus. In 2015, I was invited to a Congressional Breakfast with lawmakers and other activists, including two Hong Kong student leaders. I failed to be present at that breakfast and later saw one of them on TV, with cuffs around his hands and composure in his eyes.
Having been under occupation for 22 years, Hongkongers are in the streets again to fight a new injustice for their city to survive. They stay at Admiralty and Yuen Long, with their blood shed by police batons and thugs’ clubs. I’m not able to share my brothers and sisters’ sufferings and struggles but as a foreigner, I would like them to know that time is on their side. I believe Hong Kong’s freedom will not die once her citizens’ hearts remain warm. While it can be a long journey into the future, that dangerous trek will reward HongKongers with an independent nation free from fear and shackles.