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Dilemma Faced by Young Gays in China

Some gay men think coming out to parents will only cause trouble.

Young gays in China are struggling whether to tell their parents the truth…

By Jack Deng in Shenzhen

Ivan Chen*’s father threatened to cut ties with him when he talked with the family about homosexuals.

“If I know that you are having any connection with these people (homosexuals), I am going to break your legs and will never recognise you as my son,” Chen recalled what his father told him in 2014.

That was his father’s reaction when Chen tried to test his parents’ attitude towards homosexuals when he was a secondary school student.

The current year three university student who lives in Shenzhen realised he was gay when he was a boy. 

He finally decided to come out to his parents in 2018 when he was 17. His parents could not accept it. 

“After I told them that I am gay, my dad left home quietly for a while, as he could not believe what I told him,” Chen says.  

Chen’s mother believes that being gay is a kind of mental illness, which is against the law of nature and can be cured.

“Every day she keeps asking me when I will find a girlfriend. She pretends that I am straight,” Chen says. 

Chen’s parents think the continuity of their bloodline is the most important for the family. 

“I understand my parents’ thoughts but it is uncomfortable for me to live in a family that doesn’t accept me as I am,” Chen says. 

The Only Child

Unlike Chen, Austin Gong* chooses not to tell his parents that he is gay.

Gong is currently studying at Shandong University. As the only child in his family, his parents are urging him to get married and have a child after graduation.

The Chinese government introduced One-Child Policy in 1978. Under the policy, married couples could only have one child. Having a gay child in a family means the end of their family bloodline.

The government relaxed the policy in 2016 and married couples now can have two children.   

Gong once overheard a conversation between his father and his father’s friends. Gong’s father said to his friends that he would wait for Gong to have a child rather than having another child himself.

Knowing his father’s thoughts, Gong decided to keep his homosexuality a secret. 

“I have no confidence in my parents. They will not accept that I am gay. They cannot understand what is happening,” Gong says.

Gong is afraid of making his parents feel sad and disappointed. He thinks telling his parents his sexual orientation will only cause trouble. His solution is to bury his head in the sand just like an ostrich.

“The conservative views of older generations are the biggest barrier in communication. My parents might be afraid of people gossiping about me,” Gong says.

“I do not think same-sex marriage will be legalised in Mainland China. I probably will not tell my parents that I am gay forever. I can say that I am a DINK (Double-Income-No-Kids, couples who both have salaries but do not want children) to explain why I do not want to have babies,” Gong adds.

LGBT community in China.

Hesitation

Facing an equally difficult situation, Justin Zhang*, a gay student who is studying at Wuhan University, has a practical concern.

Zhang hesitates to come out to his parents due to his fear of losing their financial support.

“I can’t live on my own, so I have to get along with my parents well,” Zhang says.

Many times, Zhang’s father has asked him “When will you find a girlfriend?” publicly during family gatherings. This makes him speechless.

“I feel helpless when hearing what he says. I have no idea what reaction I should have. So I  pretend that I do not hear him,” he says.

Zhang says that he is still finding a proper way to tell his parents that he is gay. He is not afraid of dealing with troubles or communicating with the older generation.

 “I would like to tell them that only if I can live the way I want, I will be happy,” he says. 

Keep Moving Forward

“It definitely takes time for the elderly to look at the gay community from a new angle, no matter they are parents from China or foreign countries.”

Ying Xin, executive director of Beijing LGBT Centre and a visiting scholar of Human Rights Advocate Programme (HRAP), School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University, points out that it takes time for parents to accept the gay community.

“It definitely takes time for the elderly to look at the gay community from a new angle, no matter they are parents from China or foreign countries,” Xin says. 

Xin acknowledges the influence of the One-Child Policy on the gay community.

 “Many Chinese parents are eager to have grandchildren, and this puts pressure on their gay children. To seek a more liberal atmosphere and escape from their parents, these young people will move to big cities like Beijing or Shanghai. But that might make their parents feel even more worried. It is a vicious cycle,” Xin says. 

 Xin hopes that the public will accept the gay community, as the attitude of the Chinese government has become more positive.

“We can now see that discussions related to the homosexual group are happening in many areas such as policy, education, and culture. The cooperation opportunities of NGOs and enterprises are increasing. Our future path won’t be easy, but we will keep moving forward,” she says.

*Name changed at interviewee’s request/to protect the interviewee.

Edited by Charleen Chen
Sub-edited by Laurissa Liu

Meet doctors online

Telemedicine has become a more common practice in recent years, owing to COVID-19 and its convenience.

By Winkie Ng

Wilson Leung Wai-Hon takes a picture of his tongue and sends it to a Chinese medicine practitioner through WhatsApp for consultation when he feels unwell.

The 58-year-old man has started using this new mode of medical consultation, telemedicine, since the beginning of 2020.

“I am too busy to go to the clinic, but I need to consult my Chinese medicine practitioner. So I use WhatsApp for consultation,” he says.

Leung has so far used telemedicine two to three times. He says he will keep using it, even pulse diagnosis cannot be conducted. “It saves me at least an hour of waiting,” he says.

“It saves me at least an hour of waiting.”

According to the World Medical Association, telemedicine is the practice of medicine over a distance, in which interventions, diagnoses, therapeutic decisions, and subsequent treatment recommendations are based on patient data, documents, and other information transmitted through telecommunication systems.

In Hong Kong, both public and private hospitals are developing and practising telemedicine in recent years.

The Hospital Authority has developed an application for patients who opt for telemed service.

Hospital Authority (HA) has expanded the application of teleconsultation service to non-urgent patients like psychiatric patients or patients requiring follow-up consultations amidst the pandemic, according to its website.

Video consultation has also been applied by HA for follow-up treatment. Rehabilitation of patients is supported through its mobile application, called “HA Go”, launched on December 12, 2019.

One of the features is “TeleHealth”, where patients can attend medical appointments remotely to have consultations with doctors or nurses via the app.

The Kowloon East Cluster with three hospitals piloted video consultation in March 2020, firstly introduced in six departments, including ear, nose and throat.

Private hospitals like Matilda International Hospital and Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital also provide online consultations, charging one-time video consultations for family medicine for HK$320 to HK$560.

Doctors Adapting the New Mode

Lau Sin-yu, a registered Chinese medicine practitioner from Yu Yat Tong Chinese Medicine Clinic, has started practising telemedicine since mid-February 2020.

Lau Sin-yu, a registered Chinese medicine practitioner from Yu Yat Tong Chinese Medicine Clinic. (Photo courtesy of Lau Sin-yu)

“The service was launched during the COVID-19 surge. The infection risk is higher for the infirm like the elderly and patients with chronic illness. But medical supplies were not enough,” she says. “Telemedicine was helpful in providing remote treatment and follow-up during that time.”

“Telemedicine was helpful in providing remote treatment and follow-up during that time.”

Lau explained that before treatment, patients are asked to note down their symptoms on a form.  Doctors will receive it and look through the related documents attached, such as pictures of patient’s tongue or skin problems. Details of patients’ situations will be asked over phone calls. Medicine will then be delivered to their home.

“By referring to the forms submitted beforehand, we can learn about patients’ symptoms and related information to get ready, which is more efficient,” she says.

“For common internal diseases like menstrual disorder and skin problems, sufficient information can be collected from observation and interrogation for treatment,” Lau adds.

But she points out that telemedicine is not suitable for urgent cases and trauma like sprain, as palpation cannot be carried out.

Through telemedicine, she says doctors can overcome geographical limitations to treat the disabled and patients living in remote areas with internal diseases.

Mediating Doctors and Patients

DoctorNow is a video consultation application launched in January 2020.

David Wong, the chief operating officer of DoctorNow, sees the potential of telemedicine in Hong Kong. He is optimistic about the future of telemedicine because of its convenience and technological advancement.

DoctorNow is a video consultation application launched in January 2020, helping patients with mild illnesses such as cold, skin problems, and minor emotional distress. It also arranges follow-up consultations for patients with chronic illness.

It now has around 4,000 users, of which about 60% are locals and the rest are expatriates. It has handled about 2,000 cases, mostly aged from 30 to 50.

“Customers started using our app because of COVID-19. But what keeps them using it is its convenience, comparing to consulting doctors in physical clinics,” he says.

“Customers started using our app because of COVID-19. But what keeps them using it is its convenience, comparing to consulting doctors in physical clinics.”

For the elderly, Wong says they need help from family members to have video consultations. “They have video consultations through Zoom and WhatsApp video call, but not our app, as it is too complicated for them,” he adds.

Steps for using DoctorNow App (Sources: David Wong and DoctorNow’s website)

Wong recalls difficulties they had when developing the application.

“We wanted an app with many functions, just like another Zoom. But the cost is quite high. It took about HK $3 million for invention and maintenance,” he says.

Wong says it took them a year to recruit 22 doctors, as many doctors are not familiar with conducting video consultations. Now the platform has 38 doctors.

“In the future, we plan to add more features to the app such as autonomous health management platform and selling health products,” he says.

Present and Future of Telemedicine in Hong Kong

Dr. Daniel Tong King-hung founded the Hong Kong Telemedicine Association (HKTA) in 2016. He sees telemedicine as one of the applications of technology in the practice of medicine, not a replacement for traditional medical consultation.

“Using technology appropriately in different situations can reduce medical costs and cut down waiting time for patients… It does not take away doctors’ professional responsibilities, instead, it provides easier access for patients to receive medical services,” Tong adds.

“I used to work for HA, where I saw the shortcomings of the healthcare system in Hong Kong, so I founded this association. Hong Kong should have a more effective method to run the health care system,” he says.

Tong thinks the development of telemedicine in Hong Kong is lagging behind, comparing to other countries.

The health department under the Australian government launched “Telehealth Pilots Programme” in 2012 to subsidize successful pilot project proposals to develop and deliver telehealth services. 

In December 2019, the Hong Kong Medical Council laid down the “Ethical Guidelines on Practice of Telemedicine” that stipulates some generic principles for medical practitioners who substitute telehealth for traditional modes of medical care delivery and/or advice.

“Everything has to start somewhere. Though slowly, we can still create things perfectly step by step. Even though Hong Kong is lagging behind, we may take reference from others’ practices and apply them into suitable aspects. I believe telemedicine would develop pretty well here,” Tong says.

Edited by Laurissa Liu
Sub-edited by Bonita Wong

China Podcast: Where are we? Where to go?

While 2020 was marked as a banner year for China Podcast, the industry remains niche and faces heavier censorship.

By Ryan Li in Shanghai

When Shawn Gong initiated his programme Liqi X Podcast (利器X播客) in January 2019, his goal was to find out how Chinese podcasters produce their series and to provide practical information for beginners in this field. 

Having interviewed around ten independent podcasters in China, he found that it is easy to join but difficult to stay in the industry. 

Gong says podcasters have to decide what to talk about and whom to talk with when preparing for an episode. Discussion outlines have to be written and communicated with guest speakers in advance.

“It seems easy to simply talk in podcasts, but it takes great effort to produce inspiring contents,” Gong says.

2020 Boom

Chen Caiwei is a bilingual reporter and a former English podcast producer based in Beijing who used to produce works for other programmes. She decided to start her own show in January 2021.

“Podcasts have drawn much attention in 2020, and I would like to have my own show at the beginning of a new year,” Chen says.

First episode of Chen Caiwei’s podcast.

Her first episode was about YouTuber Uncle Roger, a Malaysian American famous for criticising westerners for wrongly cooking egg-fried rice, and went on to discuss self-identity of Asian Americans. 

As a member of “Generation Z” herself, the 24-year-old lady wants to do something new in the podcast market. “I’ve always wanted to be a critic discussing internet phenomenon from a youngster’s perspective,” Chen says.

The podcast industry in China witnessed a boom in the last three quarters of 2020, with thousands of newcomers like Chen joining the field. According to ListenNotes, a podcast search engine and database, 6,539 new Chinese podcast players joined the market during this period.

Podcast is nothing new to China. Podcast programmes such as Antiwave (反波), in which the hosts examined Chinese media in a critical way, can be traced back to 2005. But it took a long time to build an audience.

Play with the Rules

While 2020 was marked as a banner year for China podcast, podcasters are wary of censorship as popularity of the medium grows.

Qi Zhenyu started The Unemployable (無業游民) with several friends in 2018. He came to Hong Kong in 2010 for graduate study, and worked as a journalist for various local media for 6 years, including covering Chinese politics for The Initium, a Hong Kong-based online media outlet.

Since all media outlets Qi worked for are blocked in mainland China, Mainland Chinese without Virtual Private Network (VPN) cannot read stories he produced. Through podcast, Qi wants to reach to those inside the Great Firewall of China. 

But it is not easy. As a former Chinese politics observer, he knows well that not a single field in China can go beyond government’s control. Podcast is no exception.  

“I am not optimistic that Chinese podcasts could broaden the boundaries of public discussion by a large margin,” he adds.

“Are there any podcasts covering controversial political issues? Have any of them discussed the flood that happened in Southern China during July and August?”

There is growing evidence that podcasts aiming at discussion of politics are under increasing pressure in China. Podcast programme Surplus Value (剩餘價值), in which three female media practitioners discuss social issues from a feminist perspective is one example. 

The show was permanently suspended in February 2020 after one of its episodes criticised government policies, such as shutting down Wuhan city during the outbreak of COVID-19, as improper. Its Weibo and Alipay accounts were also shut down.

The 51th episode of Surplus Value is now unavailable.

“Are there any podcasts covering controversial political issues? Have any of them discussed the flood that happened in Southern China during July and August?” Qi asks.

The answer is no. But it does not mean that nothing can be done.

“Sometimes playing with the rules is like writing an essay with an assigned topic, and this is exactly what most current Chinese podcasters, who are also former professional media practitioners, are good at,” Qi says. 

The three podcasters of Surplus Value, after the programme was permanently shut down, established a new podcast Stochastic Volatility (隨機波動) in March 2020, using the same initials in English, covering similar topics.

“I still believe that there is space to work around the system and do something interesting,” Qi adds.

“Sometimes playing with the rules is like writing an essay with an assigned topic, and this is exactly what most current Chinese podcasters, who are also former professional media practitioners, are good at.” 

An “Unhealthy” Industry

Yang Yi, co-founder and chief operating officer (COO) of JustPod, a Chinese digital audio company which specialises in podcast production established in 2018, thinks the current Chinese podcast industry is “unhealthy”.

Yang Yi (middle) conducts an interview for podcast Left-Right.
(Photo courtesy of Yang Yi)

“It’s not an ideal situation. What’s the point of only having independent podcasts in this field?” Yang says, referring to the situation that most podcasters are independent or amateur, while there are few podcasts produced by big companies. 

Yang, who is also a long-term podcast industry observer, witnesses that in the U.S., leading production agencies such as New York Times, NPR and Gimlet media coexist with independent podcasts covering trivia such as pizzas or elevators.

Data from Edison Research and Triton Digital, which conducts market research for businesses and media organizations, shows that 55 per cent of Americans aged 12 or above have listened to a podcast in 2020.

In China, most listeners were young and single, highly educated and living in big cities, according to the Audience and Consumption Research conducted by PodFest China, an annual conference for Chinese podcasters and others involved in the field, in 2020.

“Since these people only constitute a minority of the whole Chinese society, it’s definitely problematic that they take up 90 per cent of the resources of podcast as a medium,” Yang explains. “Podcast should be accessible to everyone,” he says.

Yang also observes that most podcast shows are conversations and talks. He thinks such tradition can be traced back to the country’s traditional broadcasting system.

“Talk shows or phone-in programmes are typical. That’s all we know about audio. We’ve never listened to anything else,” he adds, referring to the lack of narrative and fictional shows telling intriguing stories in China’s podcast market.

But Yang also believes Chinese podcasts have great potential to develop and create their own way. How diverse podcasts are professionally and institutionally produced in more mature Western markets can be learnt and applied to China’s context.

“To a certain extent, we are standing on the shoulders of giants,” he says.

Edited by Savoki Zhang

Sub-edited by Laurissa Liu

Can Art Really Go Online?

Wong Chun-hei virtually travels to Mount Fuji with Google Earth. (Photo courtesy of Wong Chun-hei)

Local artists and art organisations are taking creative ways to adapt to the virtual realm under COVID-19 pandemic, but some fear that joys, experiences, and transactions of the art world are hard to replicate on-screen.

By Bonnie Yam

Stephen Wong Chun-hei, who used to do frequent outdoor sketching, can only paint virtual scenery at home now as pandemic wears on. 

The 34-year-old landscape artist has started “travelling” and painting with Google Earth since March 2020. He shares his works with his 2,255 followers on Facebook. 

Wong has “travelled” to many places, such as Salisbury Cathedral in England, which he visited before, and Merry Cemetery in Romania. Wong also takes virtual tours to some destinations he never thought he could visit in real life, such as unreachable sites around Mount Fuji.

Wong Chun-hei virtually travelled to Mount Fuji in August 2020.
(Photo courtesy of Wong Chun-hei)

Other than painting alone, Wong occasionally invites friends and followers to join his virtual trips by initiating the “Google Earth Sketching Challenge”. 

In the challenge, he tags friends under each of his virtual scenery paintings and provides them with a GPS coordinate that refers to a specific place. Individuals taking on the challenge are required to paint the scenery on screen. Participants include Wong’s social media followers, as well as famous local artists Chow Chun-fai and Yeung Hok-tak.

Individuals taking on the “Google Earth Sketching Challenge” are required to paint sceneries on screen.

“I am surprised that artists who have not been tagged by me on Facebook still voluntarily join the ‘challenge’,” Wong says. “Although all artists I tagged previously accepted the invitation, there is no large circulation, as it takes time to finish a piece,” Wong adds.

“Though I enjoy sketching with Google Earth, I still prefer doing outdoor sketching. But for the moment, it is the best alternative I have,” he says. 

Innovating under the Pandemic

As fears of COVID-19 infection keep buyers away from galleries, exhibitions and networking events, art organisations also innovate by pushing for digital transformation of art sales.

‘Art in the Field’, a local non-profit art organisation, launched a Takeaway Art project in December 2020.

“Shutdown of venues made us rethink the possibility of art under the pandemic,” Roy Wong Chung-him, programme coordinator of Art in the Field, says.  

Art in the Field, a local non-profit art organisation, launched the Takeaway Art project in December 2020.
(Photo courtesy of Art in the Field)

Under the project, the team provides administrative service while artists arrange transactions with buyers by themselves. 

“We used to work in physical venues that are more controllable and familiar to us,” Wong recalls. “There are many uncertainties with art takeaway, such as the content and venue,” he says.

Although more preparation is needed, he hopes that Takeaway Art can attract artists to employ different art mediums.

Apart from hosting art events online, May Cheung Yuet-ming, chairman of Innovative Arts & Media Association, says many local artists put their works up for sale on online platforms. 

Online sales of artworks worldwide accounted for 37 per cent of total sales in the first half of 2020, a huge jump from 10 per cent in 2019, according to a report co-published by UBS and Art Basel.

But Cheung noted that while the online mode boosts flexibility, it is hardly sustainable or scalable. 

“As there is no cost for sharing or liking, netizens are more willing to like or share than buying their works,” Cheung says.

“Many netizens bought artworks to support the artists, but not in appreciation of their works. So artists cannot secure continuous income from online platforms,” she explains. 

Cheung suggests that artists improve administrative and executive skills, such as writing themselves an attractive bibliography. She points out while most foreign artists have a bibliography, only around 10 per cent of local, non-commercial artists that she knows has one. 

“Many netizens bought artworks to support the artists, but not in appreciation of their works. So artists cannot secure continuous income from online platforms.”

A Poor Substitute

While both artists and art organisations actively adapt to the virtual realm, Teresa Kwong Pui-see, Programme Director at Hong Kong Arts Centre, says online mode cannot replace physical events for artistic exchanges.

Kwong was initially surprised by audiences’ active participation during the first online workshop under the Cultural Masseurs Programme in November 2020, as physical ones were cancelled under the pandemic. 

The programme was designed to bring art into lives via guided tours, talks, workshops, internship and apprenticeship, as well as the process of art-making.

Cultural Masseurs held various art workshops via Zoom and Facebook to boost cross-disciplinary online learning. 
Source: official website of Cultural Masseurs

“Since audiences now cannot reach out to others physically, they have a strong desire to collaborate, communicate and express themselves,” Kwong says. “So when opportunities for group work come, they are very keen to show great willingness inparticipating,” she adds.

Kwong later finds that online workshops are not an ideal substitute for physical interaction. “We really want to have a chit-chat salon in which guests and artists can mingle. But physical networking events are suspended up until today,” Kwong says.

The Hong Kong government relaxed temporary ban on some businesses on February 18, allowing the re-opening of cinemas, performance venues and museums. But Cultural Masseurs will still hold their workshops online for February and March.

Art lover, Ray Chan Chak, shares Kwong’s view. He finds virtual art experiences unpleasant. 

Chan joined the online PolyU Design Degree Show last year, and quit just after 10 minutes of viewing.

“My eyes felt uncomfortable,” Chan recalls. “The sense of reality was absent, so I did not want to continue watching the online exhibition,” he explains.

“I find physical interaction important in artistic activities. As the interaction allows audiences to feel artists’ emotions and thoughts more intimately,” Chan adds.  

“The sense of reality was absent, so I did not want to continue watching the online exhibition.”

Editd by Savoki Zhang

Sub-edited by Sarah Ryou

Lost in Translation

Chinese as a Second Language learners struggle to learn Chinese under the current curriculum.

By Victoria Fong

Alysha Bibi, a year one student at the University of Hong Kong, only started to learn Hong Kong Chinese seriously when she was first enrolled in a local secondary school in Hong Kong at the age of 12. While local students were having regular Chinese classes at school, she had to attend one-on-one Chinese classes to catch up to her peers when she was in Form One. Form One is the first year of secondary school in Hong Kong, traditionally taken at the age of 12 or 13.

Despite being born and raised in Hong Kong, Bibi never received proper Chinese education before secondary school. The journalism student studied at Li Cheng Uk Government Primary School, where traditionally a large part of the student body hails from ethnic minority backgrounds. Chinese lessons there only covered basic knowledge.

“I didn’t even know how to write my name (in Chinese) when I was in primary school. I didn’t even know how to write my school’s Chinese name either. All I remember was counting numbers,” Bibi says.

When Bibi entered secondary school, she discovered that her Chinese knowledge was not enough to handle the curriculum. She remembers being unable to answer questions in Form One Chinese History classes due to her inadequate Chinese level.

“The question was ‘What policy was implemented by the emperor?’ and I remember my Chinese was so bad that I answered: ‘He ate fruit,’” she recalls.

Bibi’s Chinese improved after attending one-on-one classes in Form One. In Form Three, she started learning Chinese with Form One Chinese students. In Form Six, she eventually took the Applied Learning Chinese (ApL(C)) examination.

The ApL(C) subject was introduced as an alternative qualification for the Chinese Language (Category A) subject in the Hong Kong Diploma of Secondary Education (HKDSE) examination in the school year of 2014-2015.

According to the Hong Kong Examinations and Assessment Authority (HKEAA), the results of Attained and Attained with Distinction in ApL(C) are equivalent to Level 2 and Level 3 or above of the Category A Chinese subject in HKDSE respectively.

Her school’s focus on Bibi’s Chinese education came at the expense of other learning opportunities. Believing Bibi needed to set aside more time to study Chinese, her teachers persuaded her to take only two DSE electives.

“(The teachers) said, ‘You need (to focus on) Chinese, it’s too difficult for you’, so I ended up choosing two electives,” she explains.

To enter any of the Joint University Programmes Admissions System (JUPAS) participating institutions, applicants are required to attain Level 3 or above in the Category A Chinese Language DSE exam. Non-Chinese speaking (NCS) students are allowed to take alternative Chinese language exams as a substitute for this requirement. ApL(C) is one of the alternative options.

Alternative Chinese language qualifications and the minimum grade required for admission into the JUPAS participating institutions*

*Source from JUPAS
*Certain programmes do not accept alternative Chinese language requirements, or will require applicants to submit additional proof of Chinese language proficiency in order to be accepted into the programme.

Two Sides of the Same Coin

While some non-Chinese speaking (NCS) students, like Bibi, spend their secondary school catching up on Chinese, other NCS students enter secondary school to discover that they are sent back to square one.

Chetrit Nipurna KC is one of them. KC, also born and raised in Hong Kong, is a 21-year-old studying law at City University of Hong Kong.

KC learned Chinese in primary school. When she left primary school, her Chinese level was comparable to other local Primary Six students.

She then continued her study at Delia Memorial School (Hip Wo). She was placed in her school’s Chinese as a Second Language (CSL) curriculum where she studied the General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) Chinese curriculum. GCSE Chinese is equivalent to Primary Three level in Hong Kong.

Sample assessment material of the GCSE Chinese Speaking in Chinese exam.

KC observes that her class was composed of students with varying Chinese levels. While some of her classmates found the curriculum useful, she found it repetitive.

“There were students from other countries who had never learned Chinese before and those who were relatively weaker in Chinese, so (the GCSE Chinese curriculum) was beneficial to them. But for me, it wasn’t very beneficial,” she explains.

KC believes her Chinese would be better if she had progressed instead of going backwards in secondary school.

“I felt like my efforts in primary school were in vain,” she says. “By adjusting the level in Form One, it made me think Chinese was easy and demotivated me to learn Chinese.”

“I felt like my efforts in primary school were in vain. By adjusting the level in Form One, it made me think Chinese was easy and demotivated me to learn Chinese.”

Bibi and KC’s experiences stem from the lack of a standardised CSL curriculum.

The Curriculum Development Council of the Education Bureau published a Supplementary Guide to the Chinese Language Curriculum for Non-Chinese Speaking Students in 2008. The guide explains the Chinese Language curriculum framework “provides schools with flexibility and autonomy”. Teachers are advised to adjust the curriculum and teaching strategies according to the abilities and interests of NCS students.

But the guide is not a standardised CSL curriculum.

According to Hong Kong Unison, a non-government organization advocating for ethnic minority rights, the lack of concrete objectives means Chinese learning is school-based. Different schools offer different examinations and curricula, based on university entrance requirements.

JUPAS, the main system for students to apply for undergraduate programmes in Hong Kong, accepts six alternative qualifications in Chinese for NCS students, including ApL(C) and GCSE. The alternative qualifications vary greatly in their level of difficulty, resulting in uneven levels of achievement for CSL learners.

Local School’s Struggle    

Wong Kai-chi is a Chinese teacher for non-Chinese speaking students in True Light Girls’ College, a local secondary school. He identifies the difference in NCS students’ Chinese proficiency as a serious challenge.

NCS students in the school take international Chinese examinations in Form Four or Five, such as GCSE and General Certificate of Education (GCE).

The school has admitted students whose Chinese are at Primary One standards. One student did not know any Chinese. At the same time, they have admitted students whose abilities are on par with their local peers.

He questions how teachers could design curricula for students with such different language levels. “What if these students are in the same form or the same class? How should teachers design the curriculum? Which textbook should be used? Does the textbook matter in this case?” he says.

Chinese learning materials for Chinese as a Second Language learners.

“We try our best to help our students. But if we had to arrange tutorial classes for students with different Chinese abilities, then we would need infinite classes,” he says.

“If we had to arrange tutorial classes for students with different Chinese abilities, then we would need infinite classes.“

Turning Over a New Leaf

Professor Gary Wong Yu-ka from the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the Chinese University of Hong Kong explains that the CSL framework does not provide clear instructions for teachers.

“Without clear instructions, teachers are unsure of what exactly they should do to achieve the learning goals of the framework,” says Wong.

“For first language learners, there are textbooks, clear level descriptors and assessment tools. Teachers have a clear picture on how to teach them,” he adds.

Wong believes that the first step to improve the CSL curriculum is to implement a systemic assessment for NCS students in Hong Kong.

“We have to first understand the general performance of these students before we can establish reasonable learning goals,” he says. The education professor believes this is feasible, as territory-wide assessments like the HKDSE examination have long existed.

Wong believes that there must be a clear understanding of their abilities. Only then can scholars and teachers design a curriculum with specific learning purposes and assessment tools. “Without a set of standards for reference, discussions on a better curriculum would be groundless,” he says.

Imagining a New Curriculum

Pete Cheng Juk-hei, communication officer of Hong Kong Unison, explains that the government’s framework lacks a “second language learning perspective element.” The framework divides the learning stages for the first-language curriculum into smaller fractions, which is called the ‘small-step’ approach.

“The current framework is a fragmented version of the first-language curriculum,” Cheng explains. “Supplementary resources are still based on a framework that is developed from a first-language perspective,” he adds.

“A better education policy should include assessment methods, effective monitoring, key performance indicators, professional development for teachers, home-school cooperation, and holistic description of stages of learning,” he says.

Edited by Patricia Ricafort
Sub-edited by Shell Zhang

Christian Music Connecting With the City

Gabby Yeung and her group Sea of Glass Worship sang Christian songs composed by her group at a prayer and worship rally in front of the Court of Final Appeal on August 30, 2019. (Photo courtesy of Gabby Yeung)

Christians are integrating into today’s society with their “Made in Hong Kong” worship songs.

By Kajal Aidasani

Gabby Yeung is a musician of a Christian group, Sea of Glass Worship, which composes Christian music in Hong Kong’s context. 

Her group held a prayer and worship meeting in front of the Court of Final Appeal with over a thousand participants on August 30, 2019 when there was a continuation of protests throughout Hong Kong.

One of their original songs about justice (願祢公義降臨), has more than 900,000 views on YouTube. Christians have brought this song to protest sites and it was once again sung in the rally that night.

“In times of social movement, many Christians struggled to find what they could do for the city they love. They had demands and harboured anger and frustrations that needed to be channelled. And those were the objectives of the rally: to pray, to cry out for the city and to encourage one another not to lose hope,” the 35-year-old vocal teacher says.

“Some participants were non-Christians. They felt powerless against the city’s gloomy future and wanted to be present in our rally, providing us with an opportunity to bring them emotional healing through music,” Yeung adds.

Over a thousand participated in the prayer and worship rally in front of the Court of Final Appeal held by Sea of Glass Worship on August 30, 2019.
(Photo courtesy of Gabby Yeung)

Yeung is happy to see Christian music being sung by Christians and non-Christians and that they can relate their desperation for justice with Christian music. 

“I did not listen much to Cantonese worship songs in the past. They were directly translated by foreign missionaries, so I found it hard to relate to. There are more music productions from Hong Kong worship groups now, resulting in more contemporary and cooler Christian music,” Yeung adds. 

Another musician of a worship group Raw Harmony, Matthew Li, 35, composes and sings Christian songs. He also shares Yeung’s thoughts about Christian music.

Li says he intends to address what is happening in Hong Kong with songs he writes. “It is impossible to neglect what is going on in the city and simply write about religion. Words like ‘death’, ‘suppressed’, ‘diseases’ came to my mind naturally and are used in my songs,” he says.

Instead of writing lyrics about life in general, Li hopes to set his music apart from traditional Christian music and that his music can resonate with different classes in society.

Members of Raw Harmony.
(Photo courtesy of Matthew Li)

Echoing Li, a musician of Milk&Honey Worship group, Matches Mak, agrees that having ‘Made in Hong Kong’ worship music is crucial.

“Most worship songs praise God and have positive meanings. These songs do not quite reflect the current social context in Hong Kong. That is why we have more songs that can address Hongkongers’ fear and despair,” the 31-year-old singer and composer says.

A song produced by Milk&Honey Worship was voted as the Most Favourite Christian Song of the Year at a Christian music award ceremony in December 2020.
(Photo courtesy of Matches Mak)

“These songs do not quite reflect the current social context in Hong Kong. That is why we have more songs that can address Hongkongers’ fear and despair.” 

Citing a scene from the movie Titanic in which passengers were busy putting on lifejackets when musicians continued playing music, Mak says: “That is exactly what we want to do for our city.” 

Sharing the belief that Christian music should keep up with today’s society, Harold Chan founded the Hypersonic Lab, an online platform featuring a broad spectrum of Christian music ranging from classical, pop, R&B to electronic music in 2019. The platform has over 4000 followers on Facebook.

Apart from holding a Christian music award ceremony in December last year and introducing new Christian music monthly, The Lab also organised a Christian music festival on March 7 this year to promote more diversified Christian music. 

Hypersonic Lab held the first Christian music award ceremony HORN on December 26, 2020.
(Photo courtesy of Harold Chan)

“Because of the social movements, Hong Kong Christian music productions like songs written by Milk&Honey Worship have become more known to the public. That changes the public perception of Christian music. Our music can also be down-to-earth and have various genres,” Chan says.

Through his platform, the 31-year-old passionate musician hopes to push the Christian music industry forward by subverting the stereotype of Christian music being off-note and old-school. He wants to prove Christian music can also be trendy as well. 

One of the young worshippers, who enjoys singing these trendy Christian songs with a Hong Kong context, is Ariel Li Yuet.

Ariel Li Yuet went busking with her church Tsung Tsin Mission of Hong Kong Kam Tai Church on July 3, 2020.
(Photo courtesy of Ariel Li Yuet)

“I believe there is more than echoing in worship music, there is hope, strength, and there is healing.” 

The 20-year-old journalism student from the Chinese University of Hong Kong sings songs produced by the three worship groups, Sea of Glass Worship, Raw Harmony and Milk&Honey Worship, at both campus and church.

“We Christians feel encouraged to see Christian music becoming more popular and known to the public after the social movements. I think these songs allow us to channel our troubled feelings and struggles in life to God,” she says.

“I believe there is more than echoing in worship music, there is hope, strength, and there is healing,” Li adds.

Enoch Lam Yee-lok, an adjunct lecturer in the music department at the Hong Kong Baptist University and Lumina College, shares that Christian music has a significant role to play in shifting people’s perceptions on Christianity. 

“Christians are no longer seen as detached, called names on the Internet, nor is their music only known to be old-fashioned,” the scholar says.

Lam states that Christians started reflecting upon the purpose of worshipping during the Umbrella Movement in 2014, and in 2019 when bigger issues arose, Christians became more involved and brought the unofficial anthem Sing Hallelujah to the Lord to demonstration sites.

Enoch Lam Yee-lok gave a talk on the new mode of contemporary worship at the Christian Congregation Music Conference 2019.
(Photo courtesy of Enoch Lam Yee-lok)

“At the end of the day, the value of our music is not measured by statistics. What matters most is being able to bless people by connecting with them,” says the 43-year-old experienced church musician.

Edited by Kassandra Lai

Sub-edited by Patricia Ricafort

Blind Box Fever

Introducing blind box and the craze behind.

By Ella Lang in Chongqing

Winter Liu Tianyu caught a glimpse of Molly’s giant statue outside a shop in August 2019 when she was walking through the streets in Beijing. She then bought her first blind box with a Molly doll inside.

Though Liu is a student with no income, she has spent approximately RMB ¥2,500 (US $380) so far on buying blind boxes. The 19-year-old girl is now a big fan of blind box toys.

The standard market price of a blind box toy is RMB ¥59 (US $9). Liu now has 41 figurines in her collection and will keep on buying more in the future.

“I glued my favourite figurines on my desk. Looking at them from time to time has become my daily routine,” Liu says.

“I glued my favourite figurines on my desk. Looking at them from time to time has become my daily routine.”

Blind box toys are figurines packed in boxes with the same design. A series of blind box toys contains 12 different designs. Each set includes one limited edition that only appears in 1 out of 144 boxes. Buyers do not know which figurine they will get until they unpack the box.

As a consumer, Liu thinks that uncertainty and surprise are important factors that make blind boxes more irresistible than other toys.

“I probably will not buy the figurine if I know exactly what I will get. The element of surprise in blind boxes is just alluring,” Liu says.

Uncertainty and surprise also motivate Liu to keep buying blind boxes.

“I am not lucky. I did not get even one limited edition from all 41 blind boxes I bought. But the joy I have every time I open the box makes me buy more and more,” she says.

Booming Market in China

Blind box has become popular among the young. Collecting figurines has become the most popular hobby among consumers born after 1995, surpassing trendy trainers and video games, according to a buying behaviour report in 2019 by Tmall, the largest cross border E-commerce platform in China.

The same report shows that nearly 200,000 consumers spend around RMB ¥20,000 (US $3100) a year on blind boxes, and some even spend RMB ¥1 million (US $155 135) a year to buy blind boxes.

Blind boxes in a Pop Mart store.

“Compared with those who spend tens of thousands of yuan or even more on blind boxes every month, I am just a rookie blind box toy collector,” Liu says.

“I am not obsessed with collecting all figurines in one series, and I never buy limited editions at high prices in second-hand markets,” she adds.

On the Single’s Day shopping festival in 2019, more than two million blind boxes were sold on Tmall, with sales of RMB ¥82.12 million (US $12.6 million).

According to Report of Produce & Sale Demand And Investment Forecast On China Toy Industry (2021-2026) conducted by Qianzhan Intelligence, a Shenzhen-based business consultancy, the market for blind boxes is estimated to reach RMB ¥25 billion (US $3.8 billion) in 2025.

Behind the Popularity

Pop Mart’s product designs capture consumers’ attention and make them keep purchasing. “I bought my first blind box because of its cute design,” says Katy Dong Wenjing, who has just become a blind box toy collector last summer.

The leading blind box company cooperates with many Hong Kong artists to create popular figures. Molly, Pucky, Labubu and many sought-after figures were given birth under the brushes of Hong Kong artists.

A Molly series.

Molly, a little girl with big acid blue eyes and pursing red lips, is the Midas touch for Pop Mart.

Designed by Hong Kong artist Kenny Wong, Molly is the most popular toy figure, generating 27 per cent of revenue in 2019.

Apart from selling original blind boxes, the toy company also collaborates with a variety of brands such as Naruto, Pokémon and Harry Potter.

Dong’s favourite blind box toy is a palm-sized figurine of Rapunzel from the Disney movie Tangled. “As a big fan of Disney, I was so excited about the series,” she says.

“I am expecting more collaboration with other brands in the future, and I will surely buy blind boxes of my favourite characters,” Dong says.

Blind box buyers are likely to purchase the same series over and over until they get their desired piece. “I bought the same blind box five times. After getting Jasmine, Moana, Tiana and Mulan, I finally got the Rapunzel figurine in the Disney princess series,” Dong says.

Dong’s five toys in the Disney princess series. (Photo courtesy of Dong Wenjing)

“I am expecting more collaboration with other brands in the future, and I will surely buy blind boxes of my favourite characters.”

Shen Luxi, assistant professor of the Department of Marketing at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, explains blind box’s marketing mechanism with consumer psychology.

“Blind boxes give people a taste of satisfaction and curiosity. And that will motivate people to keep repeating the activity. We call this positive reinforcement in psychology,” she says.

Shen points out that the mystery packaging brings customers extra joy. “You can think of blind box as a packaging strategy that has another layer of fun. You get to guess what’s in it,” she says.

“Imagine if all Christmas gifts are wrapped in transparent paper, that will kill the fun. You still get the gift, but you do not get the fun,” Shen adds.

Edited by Bonita Wong
Sub-edited by Agnes Lam

Rolling with K-wave

While COVID-19 put brakes on travel, cross-border sales and concerts, in Hong Kong, fans and business operators do not see the local K-pop craze stemmed.

By Lesley Lam

Ikea Lam Tsz-kwan used to fly to different places to see her idols once every three to four months. Now, she cannot do so due to government restrictions around the world and flights cancellation during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Lam is a fansite owner who posts photos of Korean pop idols she has taken at events and concerts since January 2019. She has nearly 6,000 followers on Twitter.

“I feel really bored now. I miss those days when I could follow my idols to different places. It was fulfilling. I feel like I have nothing to do and have to stay at home every day now,” Lam says.

Knowing that fans like Lam are eager to see their idols but cannot see them in person, K-pop entertainment companies have organised online concerts and events to soothe their urge and engage fans in other countries since the start of 2020.

Instead of taking photos herself, Lam now shares retouched screen captures of online events and concerts on her fansite account.

Offline concerts of Lam’s idols. (Photo courtesy of Ikea Lam Tsz-kwan)

“I feel really bored now. I miss those days when I could follow my idols to different places. It was fulfilling. I feel like I have nothing to do and have to stay at home every day now”

Adapting with Passion

Another K-pop fan Hong Tsz-tung is also adapting to the new online mode.

Hong went to Kwun Tong Promenade with her friends to watch an online concert together in May 2020.

“A huge part of the grass lawn there was closed to the public to prevent social gatherings, but we still managed to find a spot to sit down and watch the concert,” she recalls.

The 20-year-old girl says that in Hong Kong, K-pop fans usually meet up to buy and sell fan-made goods, such as trading cards and dolls at a flyover on the second floor of Langham Place.

Fan-made K-pop goods. (Photo courtesy of Gloria Hong Tsz-tung)

She adds that before the pandemic, security guards only asked fans to scatter if they were blocking pedestrians’ way. Now, the guards ask fans to disperse whenever they are gathering due to social distancing policies.

“Fans are not really affected by this though, I once saw a photo on Instagram in which BTS (a k-pop boy group) fans clustered together at the flyover to get fan-made supporting items,” Hong says.

Manageable Difficulties

Due to the stark increase in coronavirus infections in July 2020, Hong stopped going to the shopping mall in Mongkok. She chose to mail self-made items to other fans instead but was faced with problems.

“There were incidents of mailing goods to the wrong people and missing mails,” Hong says. 

The problem of logistics is shared by K-pop merchandise shop owner Kary Wong Ka-man and her husband. 

The couple buys goods of different idol groups such as albums, lightsticks and keyrings, from official websites of those idol groups and K-pop stores in Korea. They cannot predict what merchandises will arrive and when they will arrive even after placing the order.

They can only wait for shipping warehouses in South Korea to mail the merchandises. And the warehouses only do so when the goods reach a certain weight. 

Reliance on Korean purchasing agents and suppliers also causes logistics problem. “Since we are not in Korea ourselves (to check the quantity of the goods), sometimes goods that are supposed to be shipped aren’t shipped,” Wong says. 

She adds that agents sometimes fail to buy timely merchandises. “For example, Seventeen (a K-pop boy group) has debuted for years and the agents once bought us goods consisting of the group’s debut photos.”

K-pop goods and delivery boxes in which goods were shipped. (Photo courtesy of Kary Wong Ka-man)

Revenue of the couple’s business dropped by around 50 per cent in the first half of 2020. 

“Our shop is located in a shopping mall which was sometimes closed, and the shopper flow was low. Also, we were not familiar with the new changes caused by the pandemic at first,” she says. 

Wong thinks the people have become more used to changes brought by the pandemic since the second half of 2020. They have become more willing to go out and consume. 

“Our revenue now is more or less the same as it was before,” she says.

The Industry Strives to Survive

Event organizing companies in Hong Kong that work with Korean entertainment companies are still badly affected by the pandemic.

Nicole Leung Nga-wai, an event organiser with ten years of experience, says companies relying heavily on hosting K-pop shows are hit hard by the pandemic. 

“For example the companies I used to work for mainly work on projects involving Korean artists and more than 80 per cent of the shows hosted are for K-pop stars. They rarely host shows for Chinese-speaking artists, only once or twice a year,” Leung says.

Leung says these companies are surviving by helping brand products companies to find K-pop stars as spokespersons, operating e-commerce of Korean goods, or promoting K-pop artists in Hong Kong depending on their specialties.

She adds that only a few Hong Kong organisers will buy exclusive rights of screening online concerts from Korean entertainment companies. In Hong Kong, it is also rare to have exclusive online video chat fan-sign events, in which usually 50 fans interact with their idols one-on-one directly.

“When we have online events now, organisers lose the edge of having Chinese fans joining events hosted by Hong Kong organisers. They will join the Mainland ones instead,” she explains. 

Chinese fans account for a huge part of the audiences in Hong Kong K-pop events. “The ratio of Mainland Chinese audience in Hong Kong K-pop concerts can be up to 50 per cent or even more for some Korean artists’ shows,” Leung says.

Leung notes that the Korean Restriction Order in China was the reason why Chinese fans came to Hong Kong to meet their idols before the pandemic.

The order was China’s response to Korea’s deployment of the Terminal High Altitude Area Defense in 2016. Many Korean entertainment events have been banned in the Mainland since then.

“2017 was the year in which a record number of K-pop concerts were held in Hong Kong because these shows could not be hosted in China. Investors in China decided to host shows in Hong Kong instead,” Leung says. 

Leung points out that the trend of hosting shows in Hong Kong continued until the Anti-Extradition Bill Law Movement in 2019 and dropped to zero after the pandemic broke out.

The Future of K-pop in Hong Kong

Steve Chung Lok-wai, assistant lecturer of the global studies programme at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, says Hong Kong is no longer the most favoured market in the eyes of Korean entertainment companies.

“Korean entertainment companies are shifting their focus to Southeast Asian markets like Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, as well as European countries and the U.S.,” he says.

“Korean entertainment companies are shifting their focus to Southeast Asian markets like Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, as well as European countries and the U.S.”

Chung believes the reason behind such change is that the Hong Kong market is small and already stable, so companies choose to direct promotional efforts to other markets instead.

“But since fans here have high purchasing power, it is most likely that Korean entertainment companies would still arrange events and concerts in Hong Kong,” Chung says.

Leung, who is also a fan of ‘Hallyu’, or the wave of Korean pop culture, believes Koreans still value the Hong Kong market. She thinks they have a special emotional affiliation to Hong Kong, probably stemmed from the city’s golden age of entertainment.

“The popularity of K-pop in Hong Kong is greatly related to its popularity worldwide. If it still thrives globally, I don’t think the Hong Kong market will respond differently,” the fan-turned event organiser says.

Edited by Kassandra Lai
Sub-edited by Sarah Ryou

A Noise Lullaby

A girl listening to ASMR videos when sleeping.

People suffering from sleeping problems listen to ASMR to help them fall asleep.

By Gloria Chan Yi Lam

Tsui Lai-ying has been suffering from sleeping problems since last year. She has developed a habit of listening to autonomous sensory meridian response (ASMR) videos to help her fall asleep.

“When I fall asleep late, I feel tired the next day. I don’t know why I cannot fall asleep. Then I sleep late and feel tired the next day. I am trapped in this vicious cycle,” Tsui sighs. 

Tsui was introduced by her friend to ASMR videos last year. She now listens to ASMR videos every night. She sometimes listens to ASMR on the bus to help her relax.  

According to Psychology Today, “those who experience ASMR say that the sensation is triggered by soft noises, such as a whispering voice, or repetitive visuals, like towels being folded – essentially an array of seemingly ordinary sights and sounds.”

“I did not expect listening to ASMR videos could help me (fall asleep),” the 23-year-old says. She used to rely on steaming eye patches when going to bed.

Even though Tsui likes listening to ASMR videos, she is not attracted to all kinds of sounds. She finds crackling sounds of opening food packages irritating. She prefers listening to sounds of nature and whispering. Tsui also likes ASMR videos produced by a Hong Kong Youtuber, RUBYHEHAHA, who uploads clips of whispers.

Screen capture from YouTube: the most-viewed ASMR video by Hung Man-chong.

Youtuber Hung Man-chong, has been posting ASMR videos on her YouTube channel under the name RUBYHEHAHA since February 2020. She has more than 2,880 subscribers.

“I found out that no one in Hong Kong was producing ASMR videos. I would like to produce these videos specifically designed for Hongkongers,” Hung, who produces videos of her whispering in Cantonese, says.

Hung is a sales assistant. She produces ASMR videos amateurly. She uploads videos when she has free time. 

The most-viewed video in which she whispers while doing a role-play of an ear wax cleaner gains around 38,000 views.

“My viewers tell me they feel relieved and their emotions become stable after watching my videos,” Hung says. “Many commented on my videos saying that they would like to go to sleep after listening to my voice,” she adds.

“Whenever they are stressed and depressed, especially when having exams, arguments, or even break-ups, they feel relaxed after watching my ASMR videos. They fall asleep easily afterward,” Hung says. 

She feels happy and motivated when people share their positive experiences after listening to her ASMR videos.

Jennifer Tang (Photo courtesy of Jennifer Tang)

Jennifer Tang, principal trainer of Sound Therapy Hong Kong says that brain waves speed up when one is awake, while sounds of ASMR slow down human brain waves.

She explains that sounds can be put into two main categories. The first kind is single and repetitive sounds, like rubbing papers and combing hair. Another kind is slow and deep sounds, like human whispering. 

“These sounds are proven to be slowing down brain waves, which generates relaxation,” Tang says. “Brain waves are slowed down, which is a physical reaction (prompted by listening to ASMR). This helps people fall asleep,” Tang says. 

However, Tang reminds people who listen to ASMR videos to be mindful, especially those who often listen to whispering.

“Videos featuring whispering sounds convey messages. Users have to beware of the content that may affect their mindset negatively,” Tang says. 

“The content of ASMR videos is designed by content providers (who are not professionals in curing insomnia). They are not structured,” she adds. 

She also reminds users that listening to ASMR can only help them fall asleep. But users should not take it as official therapy for curing insomnia. 

Tang agrees that compared with other sleeping therapies, ASMR in Hong Kong still lacks research. “If you would like to upgrade your quality of life, feel happier and healthier in your daily life, the first step is sleeping well.”


“If you would like to upgrade your quality of life, feel happier and healthier in your daily life, the first step is sleeping well.”

“We (members of Sound Therapy Hong Kong) witness a lot of cases who have been suffering from insomnia for 10 to 20 years. Sleeping problems can lead to physical illness,” Tang says.

Edited by Sarah Ryou
Sub-edited by Savoki Zhang

Redefining Feng Shui with Fashion

Feng shui expert Thierry Chow Yik-tung. (Photo courtesy of Thierry Chow Yik-tung)

Feng shui expert Thierry Chow Yik-tung shares how she brings fashion and feng shui together and talks about her feng shui philosophy.

By Angel Woo

Feng shui designer Thierry Chow Yik-tung’s iconic split dyed hair and sophisticated fashion style makes her stand out from other feng shui masters who wear traditional Tangzhuang all the time.

The 33-year-old’s stylish look shocks people that meet her. “Everyone is so surprised and thinks I’m a fashion designer. Almost every time, it takes them a while to accept that I am a feng shui designer,” she says.

After studying illustration in Toronto, she returned to Hong Kong in 2010, and worked as an art teacher in a private studio.

“At that time, I was very lost and depressed. My dream of being a designer did not come true. One day when I was having a meal with my father, I suddenly had a strong gut feeling that I had to learn feng shui from my dad. I felt like someone needed to reform this tradition and provide a new lens for people to understand it,” she says.

From 2011, she started learning feng shui from her father, Chow Hon-ming, a renowned feng shui master in Hong Kong who boasts Citibank and PCCW as his clients.

The intuition brought a new chapter in Chow’s life. She then became a full-time apprentice of her father for five years and found new perspectives to understand feng shui.

“For the first few years, I followed my father to meet his clients every day and had to memorise all the signs and symbols in feng shui. It was not easy because I don’t have good memory,” she says with a laugh.

Chow’s Unique Philosophy of Feng Shui

After the five years of full-time apprenticing under her father, Chow has found her own way to redefine feng shui. She emphasises the relationship between nature and humans in feng shui. To her, humans are attached to nature.

“Living in a city may make us feel separated from nature. But if we take a look at our surroundings, we will find the connection with nature. For example, a wooden desk, things made of metal…they are all from nature,” Chow says.

Objects designed by Thierry Chow Yik-tung for promoting personal wellness. (Photo courtesy of Thierry Chow Yik-tung)

In her philosophy, feng shui is a way for people to transform their surroundings into a space that makes them feel good. It has nothing to do with superstition and magic.

“Feng shui is not magic. It cannot wipe away all of one’s worries. But it can bring positivity and a clear mind when one is encountering challenges,” she says.

“Feng shui is not magic. It cannot wipe away all of one’s worries. But it can bring positivity and a clear mind when one is encountering challenges.”

When asked what her feng shui philosophy is, she cites a quote from The Book of Changes (易經) – Break impasse with change. Change leads to solutions. (窮則變，變則通)

Chow believes it is always good to have change. “When changes come, we are forced to face challenges which make us grow. Changing means leaving your comfort zone and entering a bigger world.”

“Everything changes. If one can understand this principle, one can be stronger when facing challenges,” Chow says. “Challenges make us a better person and add colours to our life. Life would be boring without challenges. If you choose to give up when encountering challenges, then you lose the chance to succeed.”

Combining Modern Fashion with Traditional Feng Shui

The feng shui expert has been a fashion lover since she was young. Combining her fashion sense with her family’s traditional feng shui practices, she creates designs with feng shui concepts.

Until now, she has already collaborated with several major brands like Kenzo, Lane Crawford, Max & Co for events.

A promotional picture for Thierry Chow Yik-tung’s collaboration with Farfetch. (Photo courtesy of Thierry Chow Yik-tung)

“I was in a Kenzo video campaign for their seasonal launch and did feng shui consultation at their launch event. I also collaborated with Lane Crawford to design a capsule collection of jade rings,” she says.

While she was learning feng shui from her father, she found that her father advised his clients on what to wear. The thought of modernising feng shui through fashion then popped up in her mind.

“The main concept of feng shui styling is to balance. In feng shui, there are five elements – Fire, Wood, Earth, Metal, and Water. Everybody has a personal element and they may lack a certain kind of element, so we can balance it with clothing,” she says.

Chow says the five elements also represent different patterns and shapes, which brings more variety when styling fashion with feng shui concepts.

Thierry Chow Yik-tung for her collaboration with Fortnum & Mason. (Photo courtesy of Thierry Chow Yik-tung)

The feng shui expert wants to modernise feng shui through fashion and attract more attention from young people by combining the two.

In 2019, Chow collaborated with jadeite expert Samuel Kung along with Lane Crawford to design a jade jewellery collection. She gave the traditional gemstone a modern look through Western designs.

She also explains how she applies feng shui in jewellery. “Jade is in the earth category, it has very calming effect and will interact with the person that wears it. The colour (of the jade) will shift or change accordingly (based on the wearer’s mentality),” Chow says.

The Future of Feng Shui

Chow hopes feng shui can be listed as a form of local and global intangible cultural heritage one day, as she strongly believes that feng shui culture should be inherited.

“I would like to write a feng shui book in English. It is a way to globalise feng shui. I see great potential in the Western audience – some of them are very interested in oriental culture,” she says.

Chow also wants to clear up public misconceptions about feng shui.

“Some may think if they put a feng shui product at home, they would become wealthy immediately without doing anything. People usually misunderstand it as something related to magic, religion, or superstition, but it is not,” she says.

“It takes time to clear up these misconceptions. I will work harder on it,” Chow says.

Edited by Patricia Ricafort
Sub-edited by Kassandra Lai

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