Perhaps our closest equivalent to an anthem before the 1980s was Roman Tam’s “Below the Lion Rock,” a ballad that served as the theme song for a TV show of the same name, which first aired in 1972. The show, which focused on the daily lives of ordinary Hongkongers struggling to make a living, struck a chord with many, and the lyrics of “Below the Lion Rock” evoked the hardships people faced while still trying to come together “to pen the everlasting Hong Kong story.” The show and song gave birth to the so-called “Lion Rock spirit” — but the ballad, while beautiful, is not easy to sing along to. And as Hong Kong has evolved into a first-world society, its lyrics no longer resonate in quite the same way, particularly with young people who dream of more than just a job that keeps food on the table.

We did, briefly, have the Cantonese song “For Freedom.” Written exactly 30 years ago when the pro-democracy movement in China seemed to be gaining momentum and Hong Kong’s entertainment business was at its peak and still at the forefront of the city’s political fights, the song was written and performed by the era’s brightest Canto-pop stars. “For Freedom” served as the theme of the Concert for Democracy in China, a 12-hour marathon concert attended by hundreds of thousands of people to raise money for students in Beijing on May 27, 1989. Structured like an eighties power ballad, with a distinctive rhythm, “For Freedom” is largely in Cantonese, though the key lines — “Love freedom, for freedom” — are in Mandarin.

At the time, 10-year-old me also attempted to play the song on the piano at home, despite my very limited skills. But China’s pro-democracy movement ended in bloodshed and in the decades since, “For Freedom” seems to have been largely forgotten. The celebrities who once led the people of Hong Kong in singing “for freedom, you and I, hand in hand, fight together” have either passed away or moved on. Some, like Alan Tam, Kenny Bee and Maria Cordero, who sang for students in Beijing 30 years ago, have become supporters of the police today, attending pro-police, pro-government rallies.

Then there was “Boundless Ocean, Vast Skies,” a song by the legendary Hong Kong rock band Beyond. The song evokes a yearning for freedom in spite of obstacles. Five years ago, it became the de facto anthem of the pro-democracy Umbrella Movement, eclipsing another song, “Raise the Umbrella,” which had been written to capture the spirit of the protests. But the song is relatively mellow; its appeal to the emotions is subtle. It does not have the swelling orchestral strains of “Glory to Hong Kong,” which seem to have channeled Hongkongers’ hopes, fears and despair in a unique way.

As “Glory to Hong Kong” spread like wildfire over the past week, echoing through the atriums of shopping malls across the city day after day, I felt both inspired and nervous. The song both symbolizes and accelerates the birth of a renewed Hong Kong identity — the last thing Beijing wants. It was only a few months ago that the Hong Kong government was planning to introduce a new national anthem law that proposed making intentional insults to “March of the Volunteers” — the national anthem of the People’s Republic of China — a criminal offense. That bill has been postponed amid the current crisis, but in the meantime “March of the Volunteers” is being deployed by pro-Beijing protesters, like those who sang it during lunch hour at a Central Hong Kong mall last Thursday, creating a cacophony of dueling anthems.