The day is humid as heat blankets the pedestrians walking through the streets of Hong Kong. The sound of lapping water from the harbour reaches those strolling through the famous Avenue of Stars, with many locals and tourists alike posing for photos. On the other side of the harbour, on Hong Kong island, the clamour of people shopping fills the streets. Residents dine in the many restaurants lining the road, rummaging through drawers of chopsticks as they sip communal tea. Just outside the establishments, a tram rattles past, accompanied by the sound of a ringing bell. A rapid clicking sound then calls the many civilians to finally cross the road, and soon, the streets are crowded with people.
This glimpse into Hong Kong daily life is experienced by many. The region is coined as “Asia’s melting pot”, with roughly 8,4% of the population recorded in 2021 being non-Chinese. In numerous cases, international residents also consider themselves to be from Hong Kong, having lived the majority of their lives here despite not speaking the predominant language or integrating fully into the local community.
This image may seem odd at a first glance, and begs the question of: How do people of different cultural backgrounds identify with being ‘from Hong Kong’? To better understand this, I interviewed two young women who consider themselves to be from Hong Kong, yet come from quite different upbringings.
Note that their names have been changed to maintain anonymity.
English, Cantonese, and Mandarin speaking, I spoke to Iris. Born and raised in Hong Kong, Iris is of Chinese descent and has lived here for the past 20 years of her life. She attended public school during her upbringing and spent her childhood growing up in Sham Shui Po - which she considers the poorest district of Hong Kong - before moving to Kowloon Bay. When reflecting upon her identity, she shared that she is “feeling what I’m born and grown into. And the people I get around.”
Parallel to this conversation, I talked to Anne, a 21-year-old student who has been living in Hong Kong for the past seventeen years. Born in India, Anne first moved to the city with her family at the age of three, and was introduced to the international English School Foundation system that provided her education ever since. While her family heritage lies in India, she shared with me that Hong Kong is “so culturally diverse” that she “never felt misplaced”, and she “wouldn't really consider home anywhere else.”
Iris: “Yeah, Cantonese [is] definitely the main language that we are using.”
When strolling through the streets of Hong Kong, the language predominantly spoken is Cantonese. Over 55 million individuals speak it, and it is used in places such as Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Macau. While locals are also able to interact in Mandarin, Iris expresses how “unique” Cantonese is as a language entirely of its own; Cantonese has up to nine tones while Mandarin has four. She briefly shared how the language is now “less influential, and less commonly used”, with Cantonese phrases gradually being replaced with Mandarin and English ones. Iris shared that “more and more people are using the [Mandarin]-style Cantonese, but not the Cantonese-style Cantonese.” Additionally, she even described a “phenomenon” in which young Hong Kong people incorporate more English phrases in daily conversation. To Iris, this was to express an international status, describing it as “to make them feel like they are ‘Yeah, we are [from] Hong Kong, but you know, I grew up in another place so I speak in this way’”. However, Iris feels that language is an integral part of Hong Kong culture. Recounting a memory from a swim meet in secondary school, she recalled herself thinking “Oh, you can speak Cantonese, oh you’re [from] Hong Kong”; Cantonese is spoken in very few places worldwide.
Anne: “You feel more like language could be a binding factor for identity as well. But I've learned over the last couple of years that it's not the biggest problem in the world. It's really how you treat yourself growing up in the environment the most.”
Anne, however, did not learn Cantonese during her upbringing. Placed in an international school system, English was the language of instruction. Students here were taught Mandarin, which Anne studied between the ages of five to thirteen. Reflecting on this, she acknowledged that “the environment that I was placed in was already very different.” When continuing her studies in university, Anne first confronted a clash in language use; while being used to speaking English, she shared that “maybe my understanding of what it is like to be from Hong Kong is so different from others, because everyone spoke in Cantonese”. Through this period, she picked up Cantonese words to use in conversations with Cantonese-speaking locals, to “build a relationship”. However, she was aware that solely knowing a few “Canto” words does not fully “bridge the gap”, and that immersing herself in learning the language would be the way to “feel that full connection”. Anne recognises the cultural significance of Cantonese, stating “I think it's very important, which is why I do want to learn it … I think it's its own language. It's not exactly a dialect because it's so different from Mandarin.” Nevertheless, while respecting the role of language in connecting with others, Anne shared that “I have [a connection] regardless, with language only being one sort of avenue, not all the avenues, if that makes sense.” She does not rely on language as the “avenue” for connection and identity, believing that her own perception of her identity is more important than others’ perceptions of her.
Anne: “We share the fact that we live here.”
So, if not language, what avenues does Anne use to identify with Hong Kong? Anne bonds with other international people attending English-speaking institutions, who share a similar background and upbringing. Together, they connect with Hong Kong by spending time in nature and the city: hiking to the peak of Lion’s Rock, shopping in the famous Mongkok area, and picnics in West Kowloon or Cheung Sha. Anne shares that this “helps with the identity, kind of, placement, when you put it like that. Because we've all kind of- we share that, right?”. Sharing a familiarity with the region, as well as nostalgic memories, brings Anne and her peers together, enabling them to resonate with Hong Kong for their identity. Anne shared that this is “something very simple like that makes you feel like, okay, I know where I have grown up.” At home, Anne’s family also often cook Hong Kong delicacies, sharing that her “mom will, [...], make dumplings all the time, she makes killer Cheung Fun.”
Alongside day-to-day activities and cuisine to connect with Hong Kong, Anne also connects with Hong Kong during certain festivities. She celebrates Lunar New Year, a popular celebration in Chinese culture, by receiving Lai See packets: red envelopes with paper money inside, gifted to loved ones to bestow good luck upon in the New Year. Anne shared that “I can't give it [Lai See packets] out because I'm not married, but like my parents can, right? So we would give it out.” However, some celebrations are from religions she doesn’t follow, such as Hong Kong’s Qingming (Grave Sweeping) Festival, derived from Buddhism. She describes this as “sending paper money up to your ancestors in heaven, because they burn the paper into the fire.” While Anne does celebrate certain festivities alongside Hong Kong, she instead appreciates other celebrations from a cultural aspect due to differences in religion, without partaking in their events.
Iris: “Every week, you at least have to spend two to three days to have dinner with your family and have a chat. I think this is quite important for me.”
For Lunar New Year, Iris also exchanges Lai See with her loved ones, sharing that money is an important part of Hong Kong culture. While she does spend time shopping in Mongkok and Sham Shui Po like Anne, she also expressed the importance of food to identify with Hong Kong. To her, Dim Sum with traditional Chinese tea resembles a family reunion, allowing her to feel close to home. However, she often does not cook Dim Sum at home, as “cooking it yourself is very complicated.” She recounted a memory with her family at home, saying “we tried to make the bun, because it’s relatively easier [to make].”
This concept of “reunion” is integral to the culture, Iris tells me, and sharing meals is quintessential to this practice. Notably, she reunites with her family annually to celebrate Lunar New Year and Mid-Autumn festival with a festive dinner altogether. During these events, families typically feast on the various traditional dishes such as “tangyuan:’ a sweet dumpling that Iris says is a “must-have” for the Mid-Autumn festival. This dumpling resembles a full moon, symbolising the concept of reunion that is relevant to the story behind Mid-Autumn festival. It is common for Hong Kong locals to know the origins of their traditional celebrations, Iris says, having learnt it in their primary years of public school. However, not all Hong Kong residents like Anne share this experience, having been brought up through an international school system.
As a city with the most skyscrapers, the highest percentage of people using public transport, and one of the most expensive to live in worldwide, Hong Kong upholds an irreplicable character. While these differences in Anne and Iris’ stories maintain elements unique to the city’s landscape, there are themes that are not exclusive to this case. Worldwide, amidst global interconnectedness, it is more common for people to live in multiple places and wield complex identities. Even in Maastricht, an international student population presents a cosmopolitan sphere in which culture and identity is not straightforward for any one person. The struggle for identity and self-perception is universal, with Hong Kong as an undeniably distinctive example for its blend of expats and locals in such an interconnected environment. Though identities may be validated through a variety of means, it lies within us to determine which ‘avenue’ is most important to ourselves. Is it where you were born? Your parents’ culture? The place where you spent most of your life? Or all of the above?
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