Grieving Hong Kong: Living with the Loss of a Home
Reflecting on grief, betrayal, and what it means to lose a city that once stood for freedom.
Learning to Mourn a City
No one teaches you how to mourn the loss of a place. When we lose a loved one, rituals are there to hold us. But when your city, your home, your sanctuary, collapses under the weight of tyranny, there is no ceremony, no closure: only confusion, rage, and an aching absence that follows you wherever you go.
That is where I find myself now. I have watched Hong Kong fall, not in a single moment but in a thousand cuts: each protest suppressed, each voice silenced, each promise broken. And I am left with the question that haunts many of us: what do you do with your grief when the thing you lost is your home?
The Unravelling of Hong Kong
The story of Hong Kong’s demise did not begin with the 2019 protests or even the 1997 handover. It began long before, in colonial hesitations and geopolitical calculations, in decisions made in London boardrooms far removed from the Kowloon streets.
When Britain returned Hong Kong to China in 1997, the agreement, enshrined in the Sino-British Joint Declaration, promised fifty years of autonomy under the principle of “One Country, Two Systems.” The world watched and hoped that this bold experiment in dual governance would hold. It did, for a time. Sadly, like so many fragile structures, it collapsed under pressure.
The turning point came in 2019, when the Hong Kong government proposed an extradition bill that would have allowed suspects to be sent to mainland China for trial. What followed was an unprecedented outpouring of public resistance. Millions marched in peaceful protest, only to be met with batons, tear gas, and brutality. When the people demanded democracy, Beijing delivered a National Security Law: broad, punitive, and irreversible.
With its enactment in 2020, dissent became criminal, protest became terrorism, and civil society evaporated almost overnight. Student unions, independent media, labour groups, and political parties disappeared. Elections lost meaning, art was censored, and education became indoctrination. The Hong Kong Police Force, once regarded as among the world’s most trusted, became enforcers of Beijing’s will, often in collusion with pro-CCP triads.
An Economic Shell of Its Former Self
Once a global financial powerhouse, Hong Kong has now become an economic cautionary tale. The Hang Seng Index, once a symbol of prosperity, has lost nearly half its value since the democracy protests began. Meanwhile, the exodus of foreign investment and skilled labourers continues unabated.
Hong Kong’s financial woes are not isolated. They reflect deeper malaise: a loss of trust in its future, in its institutions, and in the stability it once offered. Mainland China’s economy, mired in debt and demographic decline, no longer supports Hong Kong as a rising tide. Instead, it drags the city further into stagnation.
Worse still, Hong Kong is caught in the geopolitical crossfire between China and the United States. The U.S.-led “friendshoring” campaign, intended to reduce dependence on authoritarian regimes, has pushed many of Hong Kong’s regional partners to distance themselves. Trade volumes shrink and talent flees. The myth that the National Security Law would restore “stability” has unravelled with every new business closure, every emigrating family.
The Personal Cost of Authoritarianism
I think often of the friends I’ve lost. Of those who can no longer find meaningful work. Of those whose children are now forced to salute a flag they no longer believe in. For those of us abroad, the dissonance is jarring, especially when relatives in places like Scarborough or the United States parrot propaganda about the Chinese Communist Party not being “so bad.”
What do you say to someone who praises the system that destroyed your neighbourhood, your career, your culture? Do you tell them about the artists silenced, the teachers fired, the families broken? Do you ask why, if the CCP is so admirable, they continue to enjoy the liberties of Canada or America rather than move to Shanghai or Shenzhen?
The betrayal is visceral: it is not just political, it is personal.
A Lesson for Taiwan, A Warning to the World
If Hong Kong has one unintended legacy, it is as a warning to Taiwan. The events of the past five years have made it abundantly clear that China's assurances are meaningless. “One Country, Two Systems” was always a mirage. Its violent death in Hong Kong makes any future reconciliation with Taiwan not only impossible but unthinkable.
The message from Beijing was clear: even when peaceful, even when prosperous, even when promised fifty years of freedom, autonomy can be taken at any time, with no recourse. It was not a strategic miscalculation; it was a deliberate act to crush an alternative model.
Hong Kong showed that a Chinese city could be free, open, and successful. That reality could not be tolerated.
No Leadership, No Vision
Hong Kong’s leadership today is a hollow shell of governance. The city is run by a former police officer who knows command but not consensus, discipline but not dialogue. Even well-meaning initiatives, such as the waste levy, collapse under bureaucratic incompetence. Officials suggest refrigerating food waste, revealing not just ignorance but contempt for the people’s daily struggles.
Good governance requires more than loyalty to Beijing. It demands empathy, strategy, and courage. None of these qualities can be found in today’s government.
How to Live with the Loss
I often find myself mourning a city that no longer exists. I miss the noise of Mong Kok, the smell of egg tarts, the quiet dignity of candlelight vigils in Victoria Park.
You cannot vote, you cannot protest. Most of all, you cannot teach your children to think freely without fear. Even the weather feels greyer in the city now, its optimism drained. The soul of Hong Kong, its civil society, its media, and its art, has been gutted.
Nonetheless, the grief must be lived, not buried.
To cope is not to forget. I write because it is the only way I know to remember what Hong Kong was, and what it might one day be again.
A Future Still Worth Fighting For
Hong Kong’s current trajectory may seem irreversible, but authoritarian power is never as absolute as it seems. It is brittle: it fears the truth and it fears memory.
Those of us in the diaspora have a role to play. We can amplify the truth. We can build bridges of solidarity. We can vote where we still have rights, protest where we are still free, and speak where others have been silenced.
We can tell our children about the Hong Kong that once was and help them imagine the Hong Kong that could be.
Maybe one day, when the tides shift, as they always do, we can help rebuild.
If this resonated with you, I invite you to share it. Talk to a friend who needs to hear it. Subscribe for more stories of resistance and renewal. Or buy me a coffee if you believe in keeping these voices alive.
For those who still carry Hong Kong in their hearts, you are not alone.
