Reporter: Angel Woo
Editor: Mandy Yim, Hayley Wong
Gordon Mathews, an anthropology professor and an American citizen chooses to stay in Hong Kong while lots of Hongkongers are leaving after the enactment of the national security law.
Fandom – Editor’s Note
Fandom brings people together. The entertainment industry can be a source of strength, happiness and fond memories for many, as fans do stars chasing in cyber world, physical world and golden age of the world.
Our Periscope section explores fandom in Hong Kong and China who pursue idols in three different worlds. In Hong Kong, youngsters find comfort in old Cantopop as a wave of nostalgia hits, as the city is still clouded with a gloomy mood due to the pandemic and political depression. Fans of virtual idols in China meanwhile are growing in number in the cyber world, while the Chinese government has launched the recent Qinglang Campaign (清朗行動) to crack down online fan activities which boost traffic data for idols in the real world.
Virtual idol industry is expected to grow from RMB ¥3.46 billion (US $540 million) in 2020 to RMB¥6.22 billion (US $970 million) this year, according to Chinese data mining and analysis platform iiMedia Research.
But in the meantime, the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC) launched Qinglang campaign to put an end to “chaos” involving online fan clubs on June 15, 2021. The CAC has banned five kinds of online fan activities, such as the contribution of money to idols and manipulation of social media comments, drawing mixed reactions from the fandom.
Longing for the golden age of old Hong Kong, many youngsters fall in love with late pop stars like Leslie Cheung and Anita Mui, who are cultural symbols of the city’s golden era. Varsity looks into how these Cantopop legends live in youngster’s hearts with their intoxicating charms.
This issue of Varsity also features stories about other various social issues. For example, the future of Hong Kong district council, cyberbullying and body shaming of youngsters in China, and the disappearance of feminism and LGBTQ+ accounts on Chinese social media.
Our team explores an emerging trend of using emoticons in South Korea, the initiative of time banks to build social capital, and the introduction of Cantonese characters in new digital typeface designs. Varsity also talks to local illustrator Choi Ming-sum, vendors at the Yau Ma Tei Fruit Market and the French community in Hong Kong.
Have an enjoyable read!
Kelly Yu
Managing Editor
Illustrations Put Us in Sync
Illustrator Choi Ming-sum, who goes by the name Choi Sum, shares how her drawings which were only meant to be the chicken soup for her own soul, have now blessed many souls.
By Kajal Aidasani
Hong Kong illustrator Choi Ming-sum, or better known as Choi Sum, has never thought her drawings can warm others’ hearts and help her carve out a career.
“I first started drawing because it was fun. Now, drawing means much more to me. It leads me to a state of mind called flow that I become fully immersed in drawing. This helps me meditate,” Choi says.
Choi’s drawings and her iconic sloth products were featured in ViuTV’s TV drama Single Papa starring Ronald Cheng Chung-kei and Maggie Cheung Ho-yee last winter.
The drama is about a single father learning to love himself and others after his wife passed away in an accident. Choi’s drawings were featured in a sketchbook left by the wife where she captured moments spent with her son. Choi’s sloth products were her son’s favourite toys.
It was Choi’s idea to add sloth elements to the drama. She has always loved drawing sloths and calls it a “self-portrait”.
“Sloths like to live in their own worlds and they are reluctant to work. They adopt a passive aggressive attitude when they feel powerless. That is what I often do too,” Choi says.
She believes one of the reasons her sloth products went viral is that many Hongkongers also shared this mentality – unwilling to work and to deal with the powerlessness in life.
Working on the TV drama aside from her full-time job, Choi felt overwhelmed when her work won praise from audiences. She received over 1,000 enquiries on Instagram about her illustration book and sloth products shown on television. Her Instagram account has reached over 13,900 followers as of early December.
“It is really beyond my imagination. The drama director spotted a drawing I gave my pregnant friend as a gift by accident. He then invited me to work together. I had never thought the audience would like to buy my artwork. But I am happy to go with the flow,” the 31-year-old illustrator says.
“Indeed, the sloth collection is the first milestone in my art journey. But I hope someday when people think of me, it would be more than just sloths,” she adds.
Choi fell in love with drawing when she was three and she studied visual arts in secondary school. She took a turn to study geography and resource management at the Chinese University of Hong Kong and cultural heritage at University College London. Drawing has always been her favourite pastime.
“While I studied in London, I was also a staff at the British Museum. I went to work an hour early with my own canvas and sat at the empty Parthenon Gallery full of Greek sculptures to draw freely,” Choi recalls.
“I draw for myself, and I never intend to impress anyone. Whenever I draw, I feel like I can clear my mind and stop thinking. Some people call it being in the zone. Drawing is my mental therapy. It has healing power and warmth,” she says.
Her picture book Prejudice and Pride about a pet cat’s journey with its owner from life to death was released this September. Choi says unlike most picture books published for children, her new book is for adults.
“We have many resources to take care of children but not adults. I find adults always claim to be fine when they are not. They are so used to suppressing their emotions. So I hope they can find peace and comfort from my book,” she says.
Choi is now in Taiwan since her husband is pursuing further education there. Apart from learning yoga, she devotes most of her time to a 365-day drawing project she posts online.
With ample time, Choi notes down her feelings every day and expresses them through creation. She finds it helpful in organizing her thoughts and understanding herself more.
The 365-day project started off merely as a challenge for herself on the first two days. But later Choi decided to share the drawings on her Instagram page to encourage others with her own experiences and encounters in life.
“Even if my drawings only warm others’ hearts for one minute, they have served their purpose,” she says.
Choi feels motivated every time her followers send messages to thank her for cheering up their lives. She believes this is the power of art, kindling positivity from one to another.
Looking back on her art journey, Choi finds it an unexpected adventure. She feels grateful since she has never thought of changing her career path from the heritage field to the creative industry.
“I did not expect the Centre for Architectural Heritage Research where I worked full-time to close suddenly so I could engage in full-time illustration work, nor did I expect to continue to run the Instagram page I launched for the TV drama and has a stirring effect on others. Things fall into place themselves,” she says.
Choi will return to Hong Kong in March to prepare for exhibitions, picture book productions, bazaars, and potential art classes. Though she is uncertain if she will be an illustrator for good, right now she is committed to drawing.
“Given Hong Kong’s plight and the global pandemic, we are all clouded by this gloomy mood. I will keep drawing. I think human beings are lonely, so I hope my drawings can keep myself and others company,” she says.
Edited by Linn Wu
Sub-edited by Mandy Yim
District Council: What Lies Ahead?
The dim pathway of pro-democracy district councilors
Leung Pak-hei
Wong Pit-man resigned from her post as Kwai Tsing district councilor on July 9 and is now member of a concern group “Tsing Yi People”.
“I will continue to actively participate in social affairs to help connect residents in the district,” Wong says.
She was one of the 327 pro-democracy district councilors who quitted after various local media outlets reported in July that the government might ask them to repay salaries they received if their oath to pledge allegiance to the Hong Kong government was declared invalid.
District councilors, same as senior government officials, legislators and judges, are required to swear to uphold the Basic Law and pledge allegiance to the city to ensure they are sufficiently patriotic following Beijing’s imposition of the national security law in June 2020.
Wong’s fear of being asked by the government to repay salaries and reimbursed expenses was proven true.
Kwok Tin-lap, a former Kowloon City district councilor from the Democratic Party, who was unseated on September 29 after his oath to pledge allegiance to the SAR government was declared invalid. He revealed on October 14 that the Home Affairs Bureau required him to pay back over HK$110,000 worth of expenses.
As of now, Kwok is the only former councilor being asked to pay back expenses.
Kwok stated in a Facebook post on October 22 that he would continue to communicate with the Home Affairs Bureau and reserve all legal rights on this incident. But on November 12 he said he left Hong Kong “owing to personal reasons”, adding he would be back “sometime in the future”.
The city’s District Council, envisioned as advisory bodies for the government at the municipal level, became a stronghold for the opposition camp following a landslide win in the 2019 elections, which took place at the height of that year’s anti-government protests.
Among the 452 elected councilors, 389 were from the pro-democracy camp.
Only 62 of the pro-democracy councilors remain in the council now. The large number of resignations and disqualifications means that many district councils have too few members to properly function. In the Central and Western District Council, where there were originally 15 councilors, only three remain now.
Those Who Left
Wong is angered by how the government has made use of the oath taking procedure to remove elected pro-democracy councilors.
“I think this is shameful. It shows that the government is unwilling to accept opposition and will do everything in their power to eliminate opposing views, even when our views are solid and reflect public opinion,” she says.
Wong points out it is more challenging to deal with district affairs without the official title of “district councilor”.
“Now we can only focus on general district issues, such as buses being late, instead of being able to take care of resident’s wellbeing, such as air conditioning in their flats,” she says.
“It is also harder to follow up issues. A bus company used to respond quickly to our enquiries but now it is very difficult to get a reply,” she continues.
Wong thinks it is meaningless for democrats to participate in future district council elections as the government screens candidates basing on their political beliefs.
“I think this is shameful. It shows that the government is unwilling to accept opposition and will do everything in their power to eliminate opposing views, even when our views are solid and reflect public opinion,”
Those Who Remain
Some pro-democracy district councilors such as Yuen Hoi-man, though passed the oath-taking procedure, are also feeling gloomy about the council’s future.
“The conditions for disqualification are unclear. This gives the government the power to remove a district councilor at any time,” Yuen, who has been a district councilor in Sham Shui Po since 2015, says.
He adds that some councilors’ oath to pledge allegiance to the government was declared invalid without a legitimate reason, and the government did not accept their explanations when they argued for their cases. The government even has accused some councilors of conducting actions that they have not done.
“The conditions for disqualification are unclear. This gives the government the power to remove a district councilor at any time,”
Yuen also criticizes the government of not holding by-elections to replace the resigned or disqualified councilors.
“This shows that the government does not value the district council and does not respect public opinion. This is unfair to Hong Kong people. The government is also imposing more restrictions over district council operations, such as stripping away its power to approve funds,” the councilor says.
The Financial Services and the Treasury Bureau suggested to the Legislative Council’s Financial Committee on October 15 to transfer the District Council’s power to fund minor work projects to other government departments such as the Home Affairs Department.
Yuen says he will still voice opinion on issues such as consumers’ rights and vaccination. But he will be more wary when dealing with political issues.
“The National Security Law, which is vaguely drafted, has generated worries and fear. But I will still express views on issues about human rights and social distancing policy,” the councilor explains.
He also states he will continue to distribute candles to commemorate the 1989 Tiananmen Incident.
“This shows that the government does not value the district council and does not respect public opinion.”
The Future of the District Council
Ma Ngok, an associate professor from the Chinese University of Hong Kong’s Department of Government and Public Administration, says some district councils are paralyzed as many councilors have resigned or been disqualified.
“Under such circumstances, the government has the responsibility to organize by-elections. But the government has refused to do so because they fear that candidates from the pro-democracy camp may win many seats in the elections,” Ma says.
He also points out that the government has tightened control over the District Council by stripping away the councils’ power to approve funds to avoid political trouble.
Ma believes that democrats can no longer use the district council as a stepping stone to win seats in the Legislative Council and can only focus on dealing with district affairs.
“But the government has refused to do so because they fear that candidates from the pro-democracy camp may win many seats in the elections,”
Election System Overhaul In The Future?
Lau Siu-kai, vice-president of the semi-official Chinese Association of Hong Kong and Macau Studies, says he is unfamiliar with the subject, when responding to Varsity’s request for an interview.
But when speaking to local media on September 15, he said reforming the district council will be inevitable to prevent from becoming a platform for political struggle.
Executive Council convenor Bernard Chan admitted on March 10 that overhauling the district council would wipe out the city’s democratic development since the handover, but he stressed it would be needed to “give confidence to the Central Government that ‘One County, Two Systems’ could carry on”.
Liz Truss, foreign secretary of the United Kingdom, issued a statement objecting to the disqualification of district councilors on October 21. She said she was “deeply concerned” about the development and urged the Hong Kong government to “uphold freedom of speech and allow the public a genuine choice of political representatives”.
The Hong Kong government responded on October 22 that the oath-taking of district councilors was “conducted in full compliance to the Basic Law”, and “strongly deplores and condemns” the smearing and unfair comments by foreign governments.
Changes in the District Council electoral system
| 1982 | First District Council Election: All citizen aged 21 or above and had lived in Hong Kong for at least seven years are eligible to vote. |
| 1985 | Government officials no longer took office as district councilors. |
| 1994 | Governor Chris Patten’s reform: Most appointed seats abolished (except for 27 seats ex-officio members for Rural Committee Chairmen in the New Territories). Almost all directly elected seats adopted “single-seat, single-vote system”, voting age reduced from 21 to 18. |
| 1999 | Increased number of directly elected seats to 390 but reinstated 102 “appointed seats”. |
| 2016 | Most appointed seats abolished (except for 27 seats ex-officio members for Rural Committee Chairmen in the New Territories). Total voter turnout in the 2015 District Council Election was around 47 percent. |
| 2019 | Historic voter turnout of over 70 percent in the 2019 District Council Election: Pro-democracy camp won 389 out of 452 seats. |
| 2020-2021 | 327 pro-democracy district councilors left office due to resignations, disqualifications, and arrests. |
Edited by Lok Chung-yin
Sub-edited by Linn Wu
😀😂😢😡💭
Emoticon is popular among Koreans for its cute and delicate way of delivering emotion.
By Chaelim Kim
Kim Kang-eun is an emoticon collector, and she has 33 series of different emoticons in her KakaoTalk account, the most popular instant messaging application in South Korea. As there are at least 24 emoticons in one series, she owns nearly 1,000 emoticons.
“My favourite emoticon is ‘I’m a university student’ series designed by Yurang. There are 24 animated emoticons in the series, featuring university life such as staying up late, doing assignments, skipping lectures, and stressing out because of grades.”
“It speaks my heart as a university student,” Kim says. She says emoticons help her express her emotion better than words.
“Emoticons can deliver delicate feelings that words cannot. Plus, they are very cute,” Kim adds.
Emoticon, or emotion icon, refers to simple artworks used in online communication. KakaoTalk, an application used by 46 million Koreans, launched its first official emoticon ‘Kakao Friends’ in November 2012.
According to Adobe’s ‘Report on Global Emoticon Trend’ published in July 2021, emoticon usage was 10 per cent higher in South Korea than the worldwide average. About 76 per cent of Koreans use emoticons instead of words in online communication.
Moon Jong-beum is the creator of the emoticon series ‘Platypus Ogu’. He studied pottery and started designing emoticons since 2017.
“I started designing emoticons after reading an article about emoticon designers making a fortune. I thought it was worth a try since I studied art in college,” the 31-year-old designer says.
Ogu is Moon’s most popular emoticon character and one of the most successful emoticon characters in KakaoTalk, with at least 30,000 series sold monthly. Each series is sold at 2,500 won (US $2.5). The series is very popular among young Koreans for its cute and simple design.
“Emoticons can deliver delicate feelings that words cannot.”
“Ogu was originally designed for a lamp. I thought the platypus tail resembles a lightbulb,” says Moon. “I turned it into an emoticon, as I thought it was cute too,” he says.
“I feel so happy because many people love Ogu. And I am happy too, as there is no cost such as rental spending and material cost when I design emoticons,” says Moon. “All I need is a tablet PC. The income also makes me feel happy,” he chuckles.
Moon shares that the hardest part of creating emoticons is giving them ‘emotions’. “Anger, for example, can be expressed in so many different ways. I have to find the right expression for each emoticon,” he says.
“I want to show something new when I create a new series,” says Moon. “I have created more than 20 Ogu series now. I do not want to reuse expressions that have been used before,” he adds.
Moon recommends his job to people who are patient and enjoy drawing. “You have to draw the same picture over and over again, so patience is crucial,” he says. “I draw at least 100 sketches for one series.”
Before an emoticon is available for sale in KakaoTalk Emoticon Shop, it has to go through rounds and rounds of evaluations by Kakao Emoticon Studio. “One of my emoticons was passed after being submitted 14 times,” says Moon.
The popularity of emoticons allows some successful emoticon designers to expand their business such as mobile games, merchandises, snacks, clothing and so on. Moon also opened a pop-up store in May 2019 and sold stationery products and small cushions that have Ogu on them.
Moon’s creation, Ogu, started from a lamp, then an emoticon, and soon it will be a game character. He is currently launching a mobile game featuring Ogu.
“I am developing the game for franchising Ogu,” says Moon. “Mario and Pikachu were first introduced as game characters and are now known worldwide,” he says.
“I hope Ogu can be the ‘Snoopy’ of Korea, giving heart-warming messages and love to all generations,” he says.
Professor Yun Min Hie, who researches formative arts in the College of Art and Design of Kyung Hee University, says emoticon is not a new creation.
“Images were used to deliver meanings before language was used. Emoticon may seem like a fairly new concept, but its origin goes back to the ancient time,” she says.
Yun points out that emoticons were first used in the 1990s in South Korea when PC communication emerged.
“People began using symbols like ^^ and -.- to represent facial expressions. That is the origin of the modern emoticon in Korea,” Yun says.
“Koreans call themselves ‘the people of jest’. We like to find humour in everyday life, even in bad situations. Emoticon fits just right with the Korean lifestyle by making the conversation funnier,” Yun says.
Yun believes that the emoticon industry will stay prosperous. “Emoticon industry is run by KakaoTalk and is related to many other businesses.”
“There is no limit in the growth of the emoticon industry,” says Yun. “It is diverse, it is effective, and it is cute.”
“Emoticon fits just right with the Korean lifestyle by making the conversation funnier.”
Edited by Soweon Park
Sub-edited by Eve Lee
Virtual Idols, Real Fans
Virtual idol industry is booming in China, attracting millions of fans who chat and play with their idols online
By Ella Lang
Li Jingyuan became a fan of A-SOUL this April, after accidentally clicking into their live streaming channel on BiliBili, a Chinese video-sharing platform. “It was interesting to watch their live streaming,” Li says.
“They read fans’ live comments, chat with fans, and play games designed for interaction with fans when live streaming. I feel like I am a close friend of theirs,” the Year Two university student says.
Debuted on December 11, 2020, A-SOUL is a virtual girl group created by Yuehua Entertainment and technologically assisted by ByteDance. The group has five members, who are Ava, Bella, Carol, Diana, and Eileen.
The virtual girl group has 288,000 fans on BiliBili. Their latest single Super Sensitive was released on May 1, 2021,and it received over 4 million views and 156,000 likes on BiliBili as of December 6, 2021.
Though Li is a student with no income, he has spent approximately RMB ¥1,500 (US $235) from his pocket money on buying animation merchandises including a fan-made doll and virtual presents on BiliBili.
Recognising himself as an animation, comics, and games (ACG) lover, Li pays very little attention to real Chinese stars. He says A-SOUL is his first and only idol.
“If A-SOUL were real human beings, I probably would not have become their fan,” Li says.
“Real idols’ fan groups are too alienating. For example, raising funds through personal channels, voting from day to night, and battling with other fan groups. And here comes the Qinglang campaign to regulate them. I feel lucky to be in a harmonious and peaceful fan community,” he adds.
The Qinglang campaign was introduced by the Cyberspace Administration of China in June to regulate “chaotic” online fan club activities.
Apart from A-SOUL, a new wave of China-born virtual stars is emerging, such as Yousa from BiliBili or Xing Tong (星瞳), a virtual idol from Tencent.
Virtual idols can be roughly divided into two categories, both using avatars as performance fronts. One is a virtual singer, represented by Luo Tianyi (洛天依) and Hatsune Miku (初音未來). Their vocals are synthesised using Yamaha’s Vocaloid, a voice synthesiser software, which allows users to pay for voice database and compose songs.
The other type is a virtual Youtuber or virtual live streamer like A-SOUL. Behind the virtual idol, there is a real human actor who never shows up on camera. By using motion capture technology or software, the actor’s movements and expressions are reflected on the virtual image.
The scale of the virtual idol industry in China increased 70.3 per cent year on year to RMB ¥3.46 billion (US $540 million) in 2020. It is predicted to reach RMB ¥6.22 billion (US $970 million) this year, according to Chinese data mining and analysis platform iiMedia Research.
Love across Screens
Alex Guo became a fan of A-SOUL after watching its member Diana’s birthday live streaming on March 7, which was his first click on A-SOUL’s live channel.
“I was impressed by the heart-to-heart communication between Diana and fans. I became her fan when she read letters from fans and shed tears,” Guo says.
So far, Guo has spent RMB ¥1,000 (US $156) on buying animation merchandises and virtual presents. He uploaded A-SOUL’s spoof videos on BiliBili in June and August 2021, which attracted 970,000 total views as of December 7, 2021.
“In fact, A-SOUL’s appearance,vocal and dance skills are not outstanding compared to other virtual Youtubers. But they continue to improve. I am glad to witness their progress,” Guo says.
In the fan group, some fans produce songs for virtual singers. Steven Tan, a fan of the first Mandarin-speaking virtual singer Luo Tianyi, is one of them.
“As a composer with no reputation and not enough budget, it was difficult to find a singer for my compositions. So I thought virtual singer was a good choice,” he says.
Tan bought three virtual singers’ vocal databases, each at a price of around RMB ¥500 (US $79). He composed 36 songs and released five albums. All songs were sung by virtual singers.
“I think virtual singers can overcome the limitations of real singers. Virtual singers never get tired, and they can reach a very high pitch,” Tan says.
“A virtual singer can sing thousands of songs in a month because its vocal database is accessible to anyone who pays. But it may take months for a real singer to release one song,” he adds.
“I think virtual singers can overcome the limitations of real singers. Virtual singers never get tired, and they can reach a very high pitch,” Tan says.
Still a Long Way to Go
Anthony Fung Ying-him, professor of the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, thinks virtual idols in China have a bright future.
“The Qinglang Campaign influences real stars by measures such as shutting down accounts and cracking down on fan activities, but it will not affect virtual idols and their fans. This helps the virtual idol industry to grow,” he says.
Fung points out that the core attraction of virtual idols is the interaction between fans and idols. “Virtual idol fans can chat, play games with, and produce content for their idols. It is almost impossible for real idol fans to approach their idols,” he says.
“But there is still a long way to go for virtual idols to replace real idols. It is hard for virtual idols to reach diverse groups of people because it is essentially a kind of subculture,” Fung adds.
Edited by Eve Lee
Edited by Eve Lee
Sub-edited by Lynne Rao
The Market Never Sleeps
Vendors recall the good old days at the Yau Ma Tei Fruit Market ahead of an urban renewal plan that aims to revitalise the market into a tourist attraction.
By Gloria Chan Yi-lam
Stacks of boxes with fresh fruit from different countries fill up Waterloo Road, Shek Lung Street, and Reclamation Street. Middle-aged workers yell fruit names against the buzz of rumbling electric pallet jacks.
Hectic and chaotic it might seem, fruit vendors begin just another ordinary day of work at midnight in Yau Ma Tei Wholesale Market, Hong Kong’s biggest fruit market.
Like his fellow vendor, Jacky from Raw Fruit, a small stall on Waterloo Road of the market, starts his day at midnight.
“We arrive at the airport to collect fruit at around 10 p.m. and return to the fruit market at around 12 a.m. Our stall closes at around 4 a.m. after our customers pick up fruit they order from us,” says Jacky, owner of the stall, who declines to reveal his full name.
Jacky and his partner started doing fruit wholesale business five years ago. They took over the fruit stall from their mentor who taught them how to do business.
“My partner and I looked for fruit suppliers as we wanted to start a fruit stall. This is how we met our mentor. It is fate,” he recalls.
“My mentor operated the stall for around 30 years. We took over the stall after he migrated,” he says.
Jacky learns the industry’s vibrant history from his mentor. “There were more than a hundred fruit stalls before a fire accident in 2016…Those were the good old days of the fruit market. Now only around 30 stalls remain,” he sighs.
Jacky places boxes of fruit to his truck for delivery. The tailboard of his truck lifts up both himself and the electric pallet jack.
A three-alarm fire broke out at a stall near Shek Lung Street in Yau Ma Tei Wholesale Market on September 4, 2016. At least 10 fruit stalls were destroyed.
“Some stalls were destroyed and closed down after the fire. Fewer people are joining this business. The industry starts to die down,” he says.
Yau Ma Tei Wholesale Market was built in 1913. Originally named “Government Vegetables Market”, it once handled nearly all fresh food sold in Kowloon. In 1965, the government relocated the wholesale of vegetables, poultry, and fish to Cheung Sha Wan. Since then, the market has only operated wholesale business of fruit.
Commonly known as “guo laan”, meaning “fruit market” in Cantonese, the market stretches along Shek Lung Street. It was classified as a Grade 2 historic building by the Antiquities Advisory Board in 2009, covering an area of roughly 14,000 square metres.
Jacky says there are unwritten rules about the fruit market operation.
“Vendors can place fruit boxes on one of the two traffic lanes of Reclamation Road and Waterloo Road after 9 p.m.,” he says.
“Since some wholesale customers order a large amount of fruit, this (placing fruit boxes on traffic lanes) is convenient for them to collect their fruit,” he adds.
Over the years, Jacky has built a close tie with the customers. “There are loyal customers who have been buying fruit from our stall for many years,” he says, adding that he sells fruit to them at cost price to thank them for their support.
Despite this, Jacky says sometimes they are misunderstood. “Our burly figure makes others think we are unfriendly. But vendors are actually nice and patient. We share knowledge about fruit with customers and show them how to pick good quality fruit. It is okay to ask us questions, we will not scold you out of the blue,” he says.
Electric pallet jacks are jammed in the middle of Waterloo Road.
A vendor offers big green grapes as free samples for customers.
But the flavour of the market is about to change.
The Urban Renewal Authority proposed a plan to revitalize Yau Ma Tei Wholesale Fruit Market to the Legislation Council in September this year.
Under the proposed plan, the market will be turned into a tourist spot, complemented by a new boutique hotel, open space and an art and cultural area. The wholesale operations will be relocated to a commercial building near the market at Hau Cheung Street.
Jacky finds the change hard to swallow.
“The flavour will be changed when the appearance and the location are changed. This is like copying Japan’s Shinsaibashi and pasting it into Hong Kong. People will not come once the original spirit is gone,” he sighs.
This is like copying Japan’s Shinsaibashi and pasting it into Hong Kong. People will not come once the original spirit is gone.
Jacky is not the only one who doubts the urban renewal plan. Suzanne Wu Sui-shan, former chairman of Working Group on Concern for Yau Ma Tei Fruit Market, says some fruit vendors do not want to turn the market into a tourist spot.
“Most fruit vendors think that their main customers are not tourists but people who live in the neighbourhood,” says Wu, who was also a district councilor in Yau Ma Tei for the past year.
Also she thinks the redevelopment plan will not solve traffic and noise problems in the district.
“Their (fruit vendors’) pallet jacks always occupy traffic lanes, which causes traffic jams,” she says, adding that the relocation will simply shift the traffic problems to another place.
Wu says there is a need to strike a balance between conservation and development. “(The government) does not necessarily have to destroy something old in order to develop the city,” she says.
Fruit vendors occupy traffic lanes of Waterloo Road with fruit boxes and pallet jacks at 9 p.m.
Fruit vendors clear up the traffic lanes gradually, while vehicles drive past smoothly at 6 a.m.
Edited by Kelly Yu
Sub-edited by Isaiah Hui
Turning Time into Love and Money
NGOs run time banks to build social capital in a caring community.
By Winkie Ng
Living in Shek Kip Mei with many elderlies, Wong Kit-ling, a participant of the Sham Shui Po Sham Shum Fook Time Bank scheme, has helped to run exercise classes for the elderly since November 2021.
She first joined the scheme in March 2021 to help a blind elderly buy food and cook meals.
“Some disabled elderlies need help for daily living. Seeking help has been more difficult after many district councillors resigned. Even if some organizations can offer help, they charge around HK$80 to HK$90 per hour. Not everyone can afford it,” the 67-year-old woman sighs.
Under the Sham Shum Fook time bank scheme, participants can earn time credits at a rate of one time credit per minute by doing social services. They can either spend them on participating in services, trainings and activities or donate them.
Wong thinks the scheme is meaningful to ageing communities like Shek Kip Mei as elderlies there need Sham Shum Fook. She says that the scheme makes the community full of love and care.
“The core value of the scheme is promoting mutual aid in elderly communities. This is the goal we set in our first meeting,” she says.
The core value of the scheme is promoting mutual aid in elderly communities.
Across the City
Ko Ming-hui, a supervisor of Sham Shum Fook, has assisted elderlies to run a time bank in Tseung Kwan O since 2016 under Hong Kong Sheng Kung Hui Welfare Council.
“Upon retirement, I have co-organised Sham Shum Fook with People Serving Centre, an NGO serving the underprivileged in Sham Shui Po. As what the elderlies living in Tseung Kwan O hope, we promote time banks in Hong Kong,” the former social worker says.
Since March 2021, Ko has assisted the Sham Shum Fook preparation committee to run the time bank by promoting it to more people.
“I try to raise people’s awareness by explaining the scheme and interacting with Sham Shui Po residents during briefing sessions,” she says.
Ko thinks recruiting members is difficult as they lack manpower and resources to promote the scheme to the whole community. The scheme now has 40 members.
“Sham Shui Po is too big. We are now promoting in two estates by setting street counters and distributing leaflets, but many other estates have not been covered,” she says.
The Pioneer
Another time bank advocator, Dora Cheng Shuke-ching, had been involved in a time bank scheme named St. James Settlement Community-Oriented Mutual Economy Project (COME) before leaving in 2017.
COME, which targeted Wan Chai residents, was launched in December 2001 to promote using time coupons to exchange goods and services.
“People can join COME after understanding the whole project and the concept of the time bank. Members will receive time coupons when they complete voluntary services, such as household cleaning and childcare. Later when they need help, they can use time coupons to exchange for goods and services,” she explains.
The first event they had was a bazaar in Wan Chai in 2002. There were stalls of traditional craftmanship, such as threading and Chinese paper cutting. Members and stall owners used time coupons in exchange for services and products with one another.
“For example, some farmers sold vegetables to get time coupons, which they could use to exchange for foods or recruit members to help with farming,” she adds.
They then held more diversified events including tutorial class matchings. Now COME has around 2000 members.
According to an evaluation study on COME conducted by the Hong Kong Polytechnic University in 2015, over 170 COME members were polled and more than half of them thought COME improved living standard and community connections.
Cheng is now an entrepreneur selling organic foods and healthy products. Using what she has learnt at St. James’ Settlement, she plans to adopt the concept of the time bank to her business for the sake of community mutual supports.
“I am still thinking of ways to exchange time. The target group will be the middle class or people who understand the concept of green money. For example, I will collect time coupons when I teach tea brewing,” she says.
Development of Time Banks
Wong Hung, an associate professor from the Department of Social Work at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, was one of the advisors of COME in 2001.
He says time banks can either exchange voluntary services or community currencies.
“In the past, voluntary services were not recorded, which means you may only gain happiness and certificates. But now time banks encourage more people to be volunteers by donating their time. Then they can store their serving hours for taking services as rewards in the future,” he explains.
For the latter type, he says it can help with the community economy as it confines the consumption and production of goods and services to the local community.
Wong says the concept of the time bank, which originated in the United States in 1980s, has now spread to other European, South American, and Asian countries.
He thinks the development of time banks in Hong Kong is still at its infant stage.
“It is a community work that needs help from social workers. But now the government has no funding for it. Social workers need to use their time and source fundings to run time bank. The biggest difficulty is that social workers do not have sufficient resources,” he explains.
It is a community work that needs help from social workers. But now the government has no funding for it. Social workers need to use their time and source fundings to run time bank. The biggest difficulty is that social workers do not have sufficient resources.
But he still believes the time bank has its potential in Hong Kong by adopting the UK experience, which is having small time banks in different communities to form a bigger time bank.
“It is because the ageing population in Hong Kong is increasing. Retirees have higher educational levels so they can handle applications for using time banks better,” he says.
Edited by Isaiah Hui
Sub-edited by Gloria Wei
New Blood for Font Design Family
By Felicia Lam
Hong Kong computer font designers introduce Cantonese characters in new digital typeface designs, fueling the city’s rise of Cantonese culture.
Have you ever wondered where computer fonts like Times New Roman and Arial come from? These commonly used English fonts are produced by font designers using computer software. In the Google Fonts library platform, there are only 12 sets of Chinese typographies or just one per cent of the whole free and open-source font family. The rest are mostly English typography. With increasing interest in Chinese and Cantonese culture in Hong Kong, font designers find demand for traditional Chinese and Cantonese fonts has grown.
Eddie Yuen Hing-cheong designed Hard Gothic（硬黑體）in 1997. He learnt how to draw and design fonts with software himself. It took him four years to finish the typeface as he needed to design 5,000 traditional Chinese digital fonts.
“I was inspired by Choi Kai-yan, a famous graphic designer. I have become interested and even fallen in love with traditional Chinese character designs. I find that there are so many possibilities for traditional Chinese characters designs,” he says.
Yuen’s traditional Chinese font with bold and straight strokes was put on sale in 2002 for $300 per set. He gave up selling his font design three years later because of his busy work as a door plate manufacturer to maintain his living. He only sold 40 sets of fonts making a few thousand dollars in the end.
“I also have to take care of my kids and make a living to take care of my family. I think it is impossible for a full-time font designer in Hong Kong to survive,” he adds.
But Yuen decided to revamp his font design after learning that his font design was used by DDED, a local comic artist, in his comic book in 2016. He finished revamping his font design in 2018 and added more traditional Chinese characters to his design.
“I THINK IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO SURVIVE AS A FULL-TIME INDIVIDUAL FONT DESIGNER IN HONG KONG.”
“I added Cantonese characters like 「㗎 」 and 「𠻹」in my design to meet stronger demand for fonts for typing Cantonese,” Yuen says.
Yuen finds adding Cantonese characters to his font design has brought convenience to users who create artworks using computer software.
“Before my revamp, comic artists like DDED had to draw Cantonese characters using illustration software instead of directly typing them out. He now can just type Cantonese characters using the set of fonts that I designed, which is more convenient,” he says.
Similar to Yuen, Roy Chan Ching-hin, owner of Moodmen Font, which is an online shop selling products with artistic character designs, also observes growing demand for traditional Chinese font sets with Cantonese words in the city.
He and his teammates realised that there was a problem of lacking a font for eye-catching titles for media content like YouTube video thumbnails years ago, and they wanted to solve this problem with a new font design.
“Our team did some research on market demand for font design which is used for eye-catching titles. We also asked whether people would like to pay for our design in the research,” he says.
After the research, the team developed Moodmen Reborn Font（思緒重生體）, a font design with bold and angular strokes, in 2020.
With the new design, the team believes that this can help promote font design in Hong Kong. “We want more people to know that there is font design in Hong Kong, and we hope that they will pay for the use of official font designs. We also hope more will join our industry,” he says.
Chan designed the characters for Moodmen Reborn Font with distinctive elements to serve the need for eye-catching titles.
“For each character, the upper part was designed to be narrower than the lower part so that its shape is similar to a trapezium. Also, I tried to leave more space between strokes so that the characters will not mash up when they are printed in small font sizes,” Chan explains.
“WE WANT MORE PEOPLE TO KNOW THAT THERE IS FONT DESIGN IN HONG KONG, AND WE HOPE THAT THEY WILL PAY FOR THE USE OF OFFICIAL FONT DESIGNS.”
“Our team has been producing products with artistic traditional Chinese characters designs for more than two years. We can work out a set of font design which is different from typical designs and promote the beauty of traditional Chinese characters with it,” he adds.
Chan also included Cantonese characters like「係」 in his design as he believes that it is part of Hong Kong culture.
“I am a Hongkonger and I speak Cantonese every day. I do not have to think whether I should include Cantonese characters in my typography as it is natural for me to do so,” Chan says.
Kwok Bit-chee, associate professor of the Department of Chinese Language and Literature and director of the Research Centre of Cantonese at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, observes more people have become interested in Cantonese and traditional Chinese characters.
“People used to think there is no need to preserve Cantonese as it is already part of our lives. But now more people are concerned about this because of the social environment in recent years,” he says.
The scholar finds that there is a stronger interest in researching Cantonese and traditional Chinese characters in the academic circle in recent years as well.
“Many research projects by postgraduate students in our faculty are about Cantonese. Our ex-colleague, Ben Sir, is also working on preserving Cantonese culture via his social media page and media exposure,” he says.
Kwok believes that the growing interest in Cantonese font designs can help promote Cantonese culture in Hong Kong.
“Traditional Chinese characters are commonly used by publications in regions like Hong Kong and Taiwan. People love traditional Chinese font designs especially when Cantonese are included,” he says.
Edited by Mandy Yim
Sub-edited by Coco Zhang and Charlie Yip
Missing Accounts
Feminist and LGBTQ+ accounts on Chinese social media have been made disappear.
By Ryan Li
Cat Wang* and some other members of Catch-Up Sisters, a women rights concern group in China, found that they were banned from reposting feeds on their Weibo account (@CatchUp性别公正姐妹) on September 14.
Their official account had around 56,000 followers on Weibo, one of China’s biggest social media platforms, by the time it was suddenly suspended.
“Other users could not view our account page …we were made invisible (in the cyber world),” Wang says in an online interview.
Their Weibo account cannot be searched by other users from then on. A notice saying “the account cannot be viewed because of complaints on violating Weibo’s rules” appears when attempts are made to look for their account.
Catch Up Sisters has long been focusing on feminism and gender issues in mainland China. Their discussion on Weibo covered women reproductive rights, career development and Chinese women’s living conditions in rural areas.
Unclear Reason
Wang received a phone call from Weibo on her mobile number that was connected to their account, telling her to “avoid posting sensitive contents” on the same day.
Wang and her team asked a Weibo staff why the account was suspended, but the staff did not reveal any details.
According to China Digital Times (CDT), a California-based news website aggregating information censored on Chinese internet, at least 47 other Weibo accounts were also suspended that day.
The news website points out these social media accounts might be banned due to the second trial of Xianzi’s case at Beijing Haidian District People’s Court.
“Users who have posted and reposted information regarding the trial or expressed support towards Xianzi were censored,” CDT writes on its website in an article on September 14.
Xianzi, surnamed Zhou, accused Zhu Jun, a famous host at China’s state broadcaster CCTV, of sexually harassing the then 21-year-old intern in his dressing room in 2014. The case was seen as a landmark of China’s #MeToo movement and feminist campaigns.
Wang also suspects that their Weibo account ban was related to Xianzi’s case, as the account reposted two posts supporting the plaintiff on that day.
This is the third time Catch Up Sisters’ account has been suspended since the team’s establishment in 2016. Their previous two accounts were forcefully closed respectively in 2019 and April of 2021. No reason was given.
“We were very angry after the first two suspensions, but we are rather calm this time. We somehow get used to it,” Wang says.
The group used to create new accounts using the same logo and adapting subtle changes to the user’s name to restart the operation. They did the same soon after the incident on September 14, but the new account (@CU姊妹) was immediately suspended, without posting anything.
“WE WERE VERY ANGRY AFTER THE FIRST TWO SUSPENSIONS, BUT WE ARE RATHER CALM THIS TIME. WE SOMEHOW GET USED TO IT.”
They opened Twitter and Instagram accounts afterwards by migrating contents from their previous accounts. “We don’t want to waste our years of efforts made in building the account,” Wang adds.
Another Victim
Apart from social media accounts related to Metoo and feminism, discussions related to sexual minorities are also considered as sensitive contents.
On July 6, 2021, several public accounts related to sexual minority issues run by students across Chinese universities were suddenly suspended, including Purple at Tsing Hua University, Colorsworld at Peking University, and Zhihe Society at Fudan University. Their original account names were replaced by “unnamed public accounts”, which later was used by netizens to refer to the suspension of all the social media accounts by university students.
Zhihe Society, a student association at Fudan University in Shanghai focusing on gender and LGBT+ issues, also has similar experience. The society’s WeChat public account “ZhiheSociety at Fudan University” (復旦大學知和社) was suspended on July 6, 2021.
The account run by several Fudan University students hosted discussions which were academic in nature, providing readers with information including academic papers and sharing sessions related to gender or sexual minority topics, according to Jamie Cai*, one of the former core members of the society serving from September 2020 to September 2021.
“We received no notice of any kind. Our public account’s main page was turned to a total blank, leaving a message saying that our account ‘has violated rules of the Administration of Internet News Information Services’,” Cai recalls.
Cai says the team of core members decided not to make an appeal. “We thought that was no use,” he adds.
Established in 2005, Zhihe Society has been officially registered as a formal student association under Fudan University’s Youth League Committee Office. “We are one of the first LGBT-related student associations recognized by the university,” Cai says.
But their move was under the office’s close control. “They (the office) will try hard not to approve any of our offline events. Prevention of COVID-19 outbreak was always cited as the reason or should we say their excuse,” Cai says.
The society’s main social media account on WeChat was also under surveillance. The public account shared a notice in January 2021 about an upcoming sharing session on feminism at Fudan University featuring Wang Zheng, associate professor at the University of Michigan who researches feminism in China.
“Around five minutes after we published the notice, we received a phone call from the office asking us to delete it,” Cai says. “The reason given was that Professor Wang was not in a good relationship with the university,” he adds.
According to Cai, the Committee Office at Fudan University was not involved in the society’s WeChat account suspension on July 6, indicating the decision was not made by the school, but by WeChat instead.
“They (the office) had no idea about the incident when we first approached them to ask what had happened after being suspended,” Cai says.
After two months of “disappearance”, Zhihe Society resumed operation on WeChat in September 2021, using a back-up account created in 2017. In a post on September 10, the association introduced what they have done in the past two months and called for students to join them at the beginning of the school year.
Voice or Noise
Guo Lifu, a PhD student at the University of Tokyo, who has been researching LGBT+ movement and queer politics in China since 2015, finds the Chinese authorities have become more cautious about feminism and LGBT+ movement.
Guo says the current tension between China and the U.S., and Chinese president Xi Jinping’s strong attitude towards western ideologies, “have together turned these (feminism and LGBT+) issues into bargaining chips during the competitive race between the two world powers.”
“Feminism and LGBT+ thoughts are indeed imported to China from western societies. These are not included in the system of the China Communist Party, symbolizing democratization that they fear,” he adds.
“In Chinese social media ecology, some netizens even do not even know what feminism or LGBT+ rights really are. They just showcase their patriotism and anti-U.S. emotions through opposing these ‘western’ thoughts,” says Guo, viewing the situation as a consequence of “political framing”.
“FEMINISM AND LGBT+ THOUGHTS ARE INDEED IMPORTED TO CHINA FROM WESTERN SOCIETIES. THESE ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THE SYSTEM OF THE CHINA COMMUNIST PARTY, SYMBOLIZING DEMOCRATIZATION THAT THEY FEAR.”
Fang Kecheng, associate professor from the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, believes the censorship cannot completely suppress these voices, as “feminism is about women’s daily lives and can cover a wide range of social issues.”
For feminist and LGBT+ social media accounts, Fang suggests that they should try to stay flexible, for example, try creating more diverse content which focuses on individual experiences and stories considered less sensitive.
“Forming deeper connections with more people within a relatively small range may work better under the current situation,” he says.
Where is Peng Shuai? Chinese Player Not Seen Since Post About Sex Assault
Peng Shuai, a Chinese top tennis player, accused the country’s former vice premier, Zhang Gaoli, of forcing her to have sexual relations in a post on Weibo, China’s Twitter-like social media platform, on the night of November 2, 2021.
The original post was quickly removed and cannot be viewed by users. Comments on Peng’s account were turned off. According to China Digital Times, names involved such as Peng Shuai, Zhang Gaoli and Kang Jie (Zhang’s wife) were listed as sensitive keywords and strictly censored.
In the 1600-word post, Peng said she had a three-year lover relationship with Zhang with knowledge of Zhang’s wife, Kang Jie. Zhang has not responded to the accusation so far.
Steve Simon, chairman and chief executive officer of Women’s Tennis Association (WTA) made an announcement on the organization’s official website calling for “full, fair and transparent investigation” into the allegations on November 14.
Peng was away from the public eye after she made the allegations on Weibo. On November 17, after Peng’s two-week disappearance, China’s state affiliated media CGTN posted a screencap of Peng’s “email to Steve Simon” on its Twitter account. The picture attached refuted previous allegations, adding that WTA should “verify” with her before posting any further news without her consent. However, WTA said the video was “insufficient evidence” of Peng’s safety.
On December 1, WTA announced immediate suspension of all tournaments in China, including Hong Kong.
Chinese feminism accounts on Instagram have paid great attention on Peng’s safety. Feminist China, based in the U.S., organized both online and offline campaigns including “#Where is Peng Shuai” to support Peng and demand justice.
*Names changed at interviewee’s request
Edited by Coco Zhang & Lynne Rao
Sub-edited by Fiona Cheung
