I turned 21 earlier this month so they moved me from the young offenders’ institution where I was being held to an adult prison here in Hong Kong called the Tung Tau correctional institution.



It gave me a good chance to reflect on life during my first 10 weeks behind bars.



Each day the routine had been the same: marching exercises, vocational training, housekeeping chores and classes. It was a dull and miserable schedule but it taught me at least one thing – prisons are places that force individuals to blindly obey.



From the instant I opened my eyes in the morning to the second I fell asleep at night, every little thing I had to do had been designed to impede the free spirit. I had no liberty to take even the smallest decisions. Rather, I was a machine that was required to follow whatever orders the guards gave. It took unequal power relations to the extreme.



The facility in which the regime had imprisoned me was a place where discipline overrides independent thinking. It couldn’t suppress my will and tenacity to fight on, though. I constantly reminded myself not to waste any time. I read the papers every day to follow the news – both in Hong Kong and internationally – so I wouldn’t lose track of what was going on in the world outside.



Being locked up also gave me a rare opportunity to chat with fellow convicts, people I otherwise wouldn’t have met. I met many essentially good, kindhearted teenagers who shared with me the stories of why they had taken the risks that landed them in jail. It gave me even more sympathy for those living on the fringes of society who are often misunderstood, if not disregarded completely.



I wanted to do my part to guarantee more humane treatment for all of us. For merely suggesting more relaxed haircut rules, however, I was warned not to “incite disorder”.



There is a passage about overcoming adversity in the Book of Romans. “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance; and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,” it says. I was convinced that being locked up could still eventually become a meaningful chapter of my life. But that would happen only if I was able to overcome the harsh conditions and stay alert to the unjust behaviour meted out to my peers, while also maintaining my own critical thinking so my hopes for freedom would not fade.

From 2011’s crusade against moral and national education, to 2014’s peaceful, 79-day “umbrella movement”, to the election of my friend and fellow activist Nathan Law last year, I’ve spent the past six years constantly on the front line of Hong Kong’s youth democracy struggle. I expect to spend much of the rest of my seventh year of activism behind bars, removed from my day-to-day duties.



But if this is to be my “sabbath” year, I shall spend it on retreat, putting spiritual growth ahead of materialistic pursuits. As I reflect on the successes and failures of our push for democracy, reading widely in search for a path out of authoritarian rule, I’ll keep writing to encourage myself and those on my side. These are hard times to get through, but nothing will stop us.



These are hard times to get through, but nothing will stop us. Joshua Wong

It is for my role in the “umbrella movement” that I’ve been found guilty. So naturally, I’ve been spending most of my time meditating on those weeks that we spent camped out on the streets of Hong Kong. Many Hong Kongers and overseas observers attribute that historic mobilisation to the courage of my fellow student leaders and I. But I think most have overlooked how these massive sit-ins actually began not in 2014 but back in 1984, when Martin Lee and his companions started calling for democracy. The beautiful blossom of yellow umbrellas has thus built on what Hong Kong’s vibrant civil society has achieved over three long decades.



There are now exactly three long decades ahead for our generation before 2047, when Hong Kong’s “one country, two systems”, which was supposed to guarantee us 50 years of autonomy from Beijing’s rule, is due to expire. Between now and then, it’s my hope that an even larger-scale mass demonstration will materialise in Hong Kong demanding the right to self-determination. We should perhaps ask ourselves not whether we have the instantaneous fervour to make small waves in this boundless sea. Instead, we should ask whether we have the patience to consolidate our strength and stockpile our chips despite repeated blows from President Xi Jinping’s iron fist.

I admit that right now we don’t yet have enough leverage to win any major concessions from Beijing. But I believe in the attraction of our cause. Since going to jail, I’m grateful to have received 777 pages of correspondence from our supporters – including even from pro-China fanatics who have opposed me in the past. I’m truly convinced that by living up to the values we stand for, we can serve as a moral inspiration for others, just as we’ve been morally inspired by those who came before us.



Last week, Nathan and I were granted a brief period of bail while our appeals were heard. The first fresh breath of freedom, the scene of seeing my friends and family once again and my reunion with my smartphone reminded me how important the basic liberties I’ve always taken for granted really are.



It’s highly likely that I’ll have to return to prison before too long since I’ve been found guilty of other charges related to the umbrella movement. But the temporary freedom I am now enjoying serves as a small reminder not to give up the battle for greater, everlasting freedoms.

Translated by Jeffrey Ngo

