The watershed of my life is not 2020, it is 2019

It’s been more than a month since I became an intern at Matters. If it wasn’t for the fact that I suddenly had to sort out related articles on a topic today, I would have almost forgotten why I paid attention to this content platform in the first place. I almost really thought that I started paying attention to Matters just because of the concepts of "decentralization" and "anti-censorship". Until I opened an article about the Pokfulam Society, I suddenly remembered: I first learned about Matters because of the 2019 Hong Kong Democracy Movement and because I followed Zhang Jieping on FB.

I almost forgot that the academy used to do such a questionnaire on mainland students’ views on political issues, and I can’t even remember how I answered it; I almost forgot that when the conflict between China and Hong Kong reached its peak, The things about tearing down the Lennon Wall and singing the national anthem in Zhongshan Square, it seems that I was still studying in the library that afternoon; I almost forgot, I saw a lot of black-shirted young people walking around in the school on the morning of the suspension, and I was a little scared. They, they were also a little bit afraid of me; I even kind of forget why I was afraid at the time. Since 2019, my memory has been entangled like a mass of gray sticky silk threads. Time has taken on a different texture since then. It is no longer linear and distinct as before, but wet It was almost sticking together, very heavy and heavy. Since then, I have occasionally been unclear about the order of some things.

Friends who are studying in the mainland often remember 2019 on social platforms. I don’t know how to respond, because the watershed in my life has never been 2020. I can't tell, in fact, my life has been shaking violently from the beginning of 2019 until now. From outsiders, my life doesn’t seem to be affected. I exchange normally, although it is online, and I apply normally, although because I was in a different place with my boyfriend at the time, I was consumed by the change of the epidemic isolation policy every day. My family relationship is stable, and I can breathe. Heartbeat is normal.

But some things have changed. I started to call it "Mandarin" and "Mandarin"; I used to use traditional Chinese characters when sending messages to my friends; when I was talking to my friends on the streets of Hong Kong, I could communicate in dialect but not Mandarin; I contacted the psychological counselor to communicate, because she may not be able to help me in the context of the mainland. I know that these choices can be put into a larger context to analyze and understand, but I will continue to make such choices in the real world. And I know that the shadow of identity will always hang over me. Whether it is self-expression, daily social interaction, or intimacy, I will repeatedly experience these fragmentary choices, and these subconscious contempt and avoidance of myself have instead made me The perception of one's own identity is stronger.

I was chatting with a friend that day, and I heard that many freshmen of the School of Media and Communication wanted to be journalists because of Teacher Zhang Jieping. I replied, "Yes, she was my life-saver at that time." When I came to a possibility of reconciliation with my identity and experience, it was as if the pain and confusion that I had been unable to fully express for a long time was finally expressed for me, and these pains were finally recognized and seen.

When I attended an online seminar on political science last week, I was fascinated by the research directions of "voter attitude" and "party strategy". I usually seldom listen to the sharing of these topics, because I feel that it is too far from my life experience. . Thinking of the research topics that I and other mainland students studying social science are generally interested in: censorship, suppression of civil society, publicity... I suddenly realized that our research direction never means a kind of "own", It itself represents a kind of "missing". As a mainland student who is interested in political research, all I can do is to examine my past life over and over again, find my wounds and shortcomings, and then open up my own gaps and explain to many people who have not been hurt. listen.

Recently, there have been more people in the school because of all face-to-face teaching. I suddenly remembered that the last time there were so many people was in 2019. Occasionally, some corners of the school still leave some black stains that cannot be wiped off, and some latest progress of the trial will also be seen on social media. These details are reminding me: those moments really happened, those people really passed, and I did experience 2019.