Shuli Ren is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering Asian markets. She previously wrote on markets for Barron's, following a career as an investment banker, and is a CFA charterholder. Read more opinion LISTEN TO ARTICLE 6:39 SHARE THIS ARTICLE Share Tweet Post Email

Photographer: Phiip Fong/AFP/Getty Images Photographer: Phiip Fong/AFP/Getty Images

I am one of more than two million mainland Chinese living in Hong Kong. And, like many of them, I have grown alarmed and disillusioned by the anti-Chinese rhetoric some locals have taken up as they battle for greater democratic freedoms. Many of us moved here precisely so we could enjoy similar liberties. The hate that’s infecting the city threatens to alienate even those of us who should be the protesters’ strongest allies.

In 1996, I left my hometown Shanghai for the U.S., to gain a proper liberal arts education and to see the world. In 2010, I swapped the spreadsheets of my banking job for WordPress and returned -- to Hong Kong -- hoping for a different kind of adventure. I wanted to understand the new China, and write about its meteoric rise and inevitable stumbles. Hong Kong, where freedom of speech had long been treasured, seemed like the perfect perch for an aspiring journalist.

At first, I did not care much for the city. Apartments are notoriously cramped and neighbors can be aloof if one doesn’t speak Cantonese, the local dialect. Within a year or two, however, I fell in love. I loved the city’s proximity to the mainland, its incredible efficiency and the way its traditional culture flourished amid a steel jungle. I found journalism exhilarating. I discovered yoga. Often, at dawn, walking to the office or the yoga studio, I would marvel at my luck. I could think of nowhere else I would rather have been.

I still roam the empty streets of Hong Kong’s business district in the predawn hours. Now, though, all I feel is sadness.

Since June, as street protests sparked by the introduction of an extradition bill have grown more chaotic and violent, mainlanders like myself have felt less and less welcome, or even safe, in the city we, too, call home. We’ve all heard about the mainlander working for J.P. Morgan Chase & Co. who got punched in broad daylight in Central for saying, “We are all Chinese.” We’ve seen the distressing video of a 57-year-old man set on fire for arguing with masked protesters.

We keep quiet and have adopted low profiles. Shop owners in my neighborhood have warned me to be careful because I look distinctly different than local Cantonese -- I am about half a head taller. I’ve stopped speaking Mandarin in public.

Even still, nasty attacks have become disturbingly common. “Go back to the mainland!” I was told at one dinner debate over politics. Another time, a local accused mainlanders like myself of “flooding out” native Hong Kongers.

I spent more than a decade in the U.S., much of it in predominantly white New England. I experienced far less animosity there than I have in Hong Kong recently.

Roughly 30% of Hong Kong’s 7.5 million residents were, like me, born on the mainland, the latest census data show. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the number one topic of discussion for many of us now is the possibility of moving back. For instance, I’ve happily discovered that I can leapfrog China’s Great Firewall -- an important consideration for any journalist hoping to work on the mainland -- by using new browsing tools such as Kuniao.

Meanwhile, parents with the means are taking their children out of local schools and putting them into the international system, all the way across the border in Shenzhen. Not wanting their children to be bullied is, of course, one motivating factor. More importantly, many parents don’t want their children to grow up hating China.

The irony is that in the past two decades, China itself has tamed some of its local prejudices -- not through propaganda campaigns but through urbanization. Thanks to mass migration -- a deep pool of more than 280 million workers has spread across the country -- city-dwellers especially have bought into the idea that China is a melting pot.

I, for one, do not mind the fact that my hometown Shanghai has doubled in size, or that my local dialect is no longer the only one heard on the streets. In exchange, I’m exposed to more diverse cuisines when I visit and meet more interesting people. And thanks to the wonderful, hard-working “little brothers” -- almost always migrants -- I can get bubble tea delivered to my doorstep within half an hour.

In that sense, the most cosmopolitan Chinese cities now resemble New York. It doesn’t matter where you’re from; as long as you live there, you can call yourself a New Yorker. Hong Kong, on the other hand, has grown bitterly divided into tribal camps -- locals, expats, mainlanders and domestic helpers.

Driving away mainlanders cannot possibly further the protesters’ cause. Since the collapse of Lehman Brothers, Hong Kong has attracted more than $115 billion in foreign portfolio investment, or roughly one-third of its annual GDP, based on my estimates. While the city’s stable legal and financial systems are obviously a magnet, foreigners wouldn’t be parking their money here if Hong Kong weren’t situated next to the mainland. And, without mainland professionals working here and serving as bridge to the new China, I wonder how many foreigners would feel comfortable investing in that wild, wild land.

More directly, mainland tourists account for about 40% of Hong Kong’s retail sales, while the city’s retail, restaurants and hotels employ roughly half a million people. What will happen to their livelihoods when those tourists are too scared to cross the border?

If the central government had qualms about taking a hard line against the protesters before, it surely doesn’t now that they enjoy negligible support from mainland Chinese. An even simpler strategy would be to let Hong Kong decline slowly. Neighboring Shenzhen, home to local champions such as Huawei Technologies Co Ltd. and Tencent Holdings Ltd., is already keen to steal away high-tech firms. Corporate tax rates at the Qianhai free trade zone, for instance, are lower than Hong Kong’s.

And this is not just a question of money. I am not the only liberal mainlander living in Hong Kong. We naturally root for the city’s democratic advances. After all, why did we leave China in the first place? Why shouldn’t Hong Kong, one of the world’s wealthiest and most global metropolises, be governed by its people?

Yet, our support for the protests is rapidly dwindling because we suspect that the anger on the streets has less and less to do with the city’s political system, and more to do with a nativist dislike of mainlanders and immigrants -- not unlike the anger driving populist protests in the U.S. and Europe.

I applaud that these young Hong Kongers are battling for democracy and accountability, for a better future. But, here’s the thing with democracy: We can agree to disagree. I should not have to worry that I might be lit ablaze if I air a different viewpoint. That’s exactly the kind of stifling atmosphere that allowed the Cultural Revolution to flourish, something many “native” Hong Kongers fled to the city to escape.

I still love this city and want it to succeed. But, I hope my Hong Kong neighbors understand that no true democracy will emerge if people like me are too afraid to walk its jammed, noisy, exhilarating streets.

This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.