English not considered the right language to tell stories of Hong Kong.
“Needless to say, a collection of English fiction still has its limitations. English to some extent remains a language exclusive to those who are relatively privileged and well educated in Hong Kong, so the issues concerned in this book are frequently “upper-middle-class” issues.”
- “Queen of Statue Square review, ”Asiatic Volume 9, December 2015 by Shi Huiwen, University of Hong Kong
If there is a language that divides the privileged and the under privileged in Hong Kong, it would be English. In 1894, King George V School was opened to cater the children of British expatriates living in Britain’s colony. At the time when I went there, you had to show proof of a foreign passport to attend, that you were not a native Hong Konger, that your English was fluent enough to handle a British school curriculum.
We weren’t allowed to speak Cantonese on the premises. That worked because we had a common tongue by which all students of all nationalities can communicate in. It maintained the traditional teacher-student power dynamic where we could not talk back or gossip against our teachers in a language they did not understand.
There was always a lot of prejudice against international school kids. They were rich, elitist, and lived in bubbles that excluded the rest of Hong Kong. These bubbles robbed most international school kids a life of one that would be more assimilated - why be in Rome and not do as the Romans did? Yet, there were plenty of international schools to choose from: Chinese International School taught classes in Cantonese, Mandarin and English (Can you imagine my shock of working in the world of real-estate where blonde-haired brokers spoke perfectly accented Cantonese? I envied their education) and even more culturally catered schools like German Swiss International or French International school, where children of European expatriates were able to study under the curriculums their parents studied under, to perhaps even go back to their native countries to work. Even Hong Kong parents, who had their eyes set on their child attending top universities of the world sent their kids to international schools, perhaps highlighting the bigger elephant in the room: what was wrong with Hong Kong’s public school system?
The English Schools Foundation received a lot of criticism because it was a school funded by the colonialists, and also because someone had to take advantage of the government stipend and buy oysters for lunch.
One of my most direct confrontation with English as a privilege was playing rugby for the Hong Kong national youth team. At the time in 2004, there were only a few all-female teams in the country, and we played as DEA Tigers against the formidable Gai Wu. In fact, Gai Wu prides themselves in being the “all-Asian” rugby team to combat the British Colonialists at their own sport - their name is a mah jong term “to win” with the lower hand. Their goal was to upset those who were considered physically larger than them, the creators of the sport. They approached each game with a ferocity and determination that was unparalleled.
When we tried out for the Hong Kong national team, and ended up on the same team as native Cantonese speakers, one of the most difficult challenges was trying to find the right language to communicate in. It wasn’t hard to learn “yao” (right) and “jor” (left) for our passes, to let one another know where we were, to confuse and disguise our moves against English-speaking teams abroad or at the Rugby Sevens. What was hard was understanding that while we as international kids saw rugby as a certain kind of beer-guzzling, party-going lifestyle, half of our team saw it as a job. Some of our Hong Kong teammates saw rugby as a way to get out of the Chinese school system. Some of them saw rugby as a way to be a part of Hong Kong’s rich and diverse product from an oppressive past where their voices did not matter.
I don’t speak for all international students, nor do I speak for all of my international teammates on our team. But if English is the common language of reaching large publishers and publications, then why are those who write in English still getting the same flack?
“Zuk Sing” (bamboo stem) is a Cantonese term to describe Chinese people born in Western countries, who are hollow inside in terms of their knowledge of Chinese culture and tradition, one that was brought up in Shi Huiwen’s review of the “Queen of Statue Square.” In America, the term is Banana, for when you are white on the inside but yellow on the outside.
But this term is not applicable to third world culture kids who are not hollow but in fact, full of many cultures and traditions, who are born into many cultures and traditions. A Thai girl who lives in Hong Kong and speaks Cantonese and English should be able to write about whatever the hell she wants without being coined as inauthentic by the “Authenticity Police”. How do you even sign up to belong to the Authentic Police Force? Terms that shame “inauthentic” story-tellers should be obsolete because in our ever-expanding globalized world, there is a place for many different stories, many different voices and an opportunity to have conversation about what it means to tell those stories, and who gets to tell them. Without this open mindedness, we risk narrowing our world for our children, and our children’s children.
1. http://linguisticpulse.com/2013/06/26/language-privilege-what-it-is-and-why-it-matters/
2. http://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/bitstream/handle/2027.42/84509/bdavila_1.pdf?sequence=1
3. http://clarissahirst.com/latest-post/do-you-need-to-check-your-linguistic-privilege/
