| by Meredith McBride
I became interested in sex crime in Hong Kong several months ago when a friend mentioned that sex crime was often not officially documented in Hong Kong because of the government’s desire to keep crime statistics low. This is especially true if the woman is of a minority: Indonesian, Filipina, and Thai are predominant. The concept of ‘face’ is very important in Chinese culture, meaning that it is important to keep up appearances to avoid embarrassment. This can be applied on a personal and national level. Hong Kong values its appearance as a clean, crime free, safe city open for international investment and travel. To portray otherwise could mean decrease in businesses coming to the city and less tourists spending their hard earned money here.
Meredith McBride: Works at the India desk of the Asian Human Rights Commission, researching and drafting Urgent Appeals and reports. Holds degrees in Finance and Asian Studies from the University of Nevada.
( May 2, 2013, Hong Kong, Sri Lanka Guardian) While living in India last August, I was faced with the life changing decision of where to call my future home. I had narrowed down my options to Bangkok and Hong Kong and ultimately based my decision on Hong Kong's record of being safe and relatively crime free. Having been a British colony for over 150 years, Hong Kong has developed under a common law legal system and after rampant corruption hit the city along with the influx of international investment in the 1970s, the government began making strides to limit criminal activity.
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I do wish that I had taken that photo. The man on the MTR may go home to a wife, children, friends, and all will be the same. I doubt that I am the first victim of his objectification and I won’t be the last. We cannot continue to pretend these things don’t happen. This culture of silence, known predominantly as an Indian problem, is prevalent in many parts of Asia, and Hong Kong is not an exception.
Since moving to Hong Kong in September, I have been shocked to find myself subject to various forms of sexual objectification and harassment. And no, I’m not talking about Saturdays in Lan Kwai Fong.
The first event occurred not long after I first moved to the city, when a man palmed my upper thigh while I was headed to a coffee shop in the middle of a crowd in Mong Kok. The second occurred when a man exposed himself to me while I was walking to the MTR from my teaching job at Hilton Plaza in Sha Tin. I reported the second case to the local police authorities, but have not received any follow up. Immediately after the event, I called my boss to tell her to take an alternative route, and in a follow up email asked her if she had a master list of the staff’s emails so I could send out a warning to the other girls, to which I never received a response.
The final straw in me writing this post came earlier this evening, while I was riding home on the MTR from my job at the Asian Human Rights Commission in Kwun Tong. I boarded the MTR with a grocery bag of food to make at home for dinner and moved from the doors to the opposite side of the car. The car hadn’t begun moving when I noticed a man, who appeared to be a local, staring at me. At 6’ tall with blonde hair, I accept that I am something of an anomaly, but staring is never appreciated. In attempt to let him know he was being rude, I stared blankly back at the bald man who appeared to be in his 40s or 50s. I was taller than him but he had a stockier build and seemed to be coming from work as he was wearing a suit.
The man began moving his lips and simulating oral sex while continuing to stare. There were two people in between us, but no one commented or appeared to notice. I fumbled about in my purse and grabbed my phone as a distraction. As I stared at the home screen of my phone, I briefly debated taking a photo of the man, who was still making lewd gestures, but instead logged on to Facebook in an attempt to occupy myself. As people disembarked two stops later, the man moved back towards where I was standing until he was directly in front of me. As people stepped on to the MTR seconds later, I put several people between us by making a quick maneuver into crux of two cars, where I was more hidden from view.
I got off the train a few stops early to prevent him from knowing which neighborhood I lived in. As I walked around the station waiting for the next train, I silently cursed myself for not taking the photo.
“Next time!” I thought, “I will be sure to take a photo of the next pervert!”
Next time?
Why the hell should there be a next time?
Why should I have to put forethought into a response to harassment on public transit?
Immediately I looked over my clothing – but my collared shirt, sweater and jeans were hardly provocative. I was wearing some powder and mascara, but my makeup didn’t even compare to the dolls of Wan Chai. I then realized that even if I was rocking a mini skirt, tube top and makeup that would make Ke$ha blushes, none of these are justifications for harassment. It was so automatic for me to first blame myself.
As a worker in human rights, I am aware of the deep trauma caused by sexual violence. The harassment I have found myself subject to in Hong Kong has made me more empathetic to the reactions of women who have been through sexual crime. I understand how it feels to be a little bit more jumpy whenever a man gets too close. I keep a constant watch for men in my peripherals when I am walking alone or in busy crowds. I feel a little bit less safe walking home. And as violated as I feel, I can’t imagine how awful it must be to be raped and tortured and have no hope for justice.
What happened to me today on the MTR had nothing to do with how I was dressed, it had nothing to do with me being out at night, it had nothing to do with me being flirtatious or provocative in any way. It had to do with a sad man who finds it acceptable to harass young women. It has to do with him knowing that he won’t be caught. It has to do with a social acceptability of his actions perpetuated by not speaking out about these issues.
I do wish that I had taken that photo. The man on the MTR may go home to a wife, children, friends, and all will be the same. I doubt that I am the first victim of his objectification and I won’t be the last. We cannot continue to pretend these things don’t happen. This culture of silence, known predominantly as an Indian problem, is prevalent in many parts of Asia, and Hong Kong is not an exception. We must become vocal about speaking out about these issues if anything is to change in Asia.
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