Hundreds of Chinese government supporters, or thousands according to the organisers, marched in Sydney last Saturday to express their opposition to pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong. The attendees were mostly young Chinese students. They held red Chinese flags while singing the Chinese national anthem, chanting “Long Live China”. They turned three blocks of George Street red.

The students, dressed in designer labels, cheerfully hurled insults at an elderly man who held opposing views (“Traitor! Traitor! F--k off!” ) and physically attacked another. After reporting on their aggression for the Herald, I too, became a target. “You were gang-raped by white men and your parents are better off raising a piece of char siu (barbeque pork) than you,” they told me on WeChat, a Chinese messaging app. They threatened to come along to a speech I'm giving this week to egg me.

Hundreds of thousands of anti-government protesters braved the heavy rain to join a rally in the Asian financial hub on August 18.

Many have asked how could this aggression happen on Australian soil? How could we let the mainland Chinese students engage in such thuggery and abuse the freedom of speech in Australia? How do we curb their nationalism that threatens the wellbeing of Australian residents? Should they be deported?

I’m opposed to violence and the filth from online trolls made me physically sick, but as a former university student from mainland China, I am sympathetic towards these students. I understand where they’re coming from. Rather than be shocked and fearful of them, supporters of human rights and democracy should embrace the opportunity to understand them, open a dialogue and educate them so they can make up their own minds about China. My experience as a nationalistic-student-turned-journalist proves it can be done.

After all, the students are here to learn, and education is the third largest export in Australia, generating a revenue of $17 billion annually. More than a quarter of the 700,000 international students here are from China. The vast majority of them are Chinese government supporters. We can’t, and we won’t deport all of them.

April 2016 — only a little over three years ago — I fought my tutor at the University of Melbourne. It was a creative writing class, and even in this class, I found an opportunity to recite Chinese state media rhetoric on human rights. I did a presentation defending the North Korean regime. When my tutor called me “brainwashed” in an off-hand comment, I reported her to the course coordinator, claiming I had been discriminated against due to a political difference.

I had been in Australia for almost two years. I had learnt about the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown (after initial shock, I did some research and concluded it was a CIA inside job). I read about Tibet, Xinjiang, all kinds of accounts of horrors that had happened in China. But my brain refused to absorb any of it. After spending most of my life in China, believing in my country and the party, I could not admit I was wrong: that human rights do matter. I felt defensive, which only strengthened my nationalism.

Luckily, this did not translate to aggression. But if I’m honest, I could see the 2016 version of me being in the Saturday rally, hurling insults at pro-democracy Hong Kongers over a loudspeaker. Like these students, I was the victim of an educational system and society where the No. 1 criterion to be a good student, a good citizen, is to love the country without question. Student handbook rule No. 1: be loyal to the party. Rule No. 10: do not litter.

My views started to change after one-on-one interview sessions with Chinese dissidents and refugees as a student journalist. After one particular meeting with a Chinese refugee who was jailed for political dissent, where he recounted forced labor in prison and showed me his chapped hands, the brutality of authoritarian rule sank in. I needed to hear his voice and see his pain to feel the weight of the oppression and find the empathy, and humanity in me.

I have always been outspoken — only three years ago, I was an outspoken defender of the Chinese government’s polices, just like the students who marched on Sydney streets. But from that point on, I’ve became an outspoken defender of human rights.

Vicky Xiuzhong Xu was trolled by pro-Beijing students for reporting on the Sydney protests. Supplied

It should be our universities' responsibility to educate international students about democratic values, freedom of speech, and civility. I was fortunate that in my political science degree I was exposed to, and confronted by, information that challenged my pre-existing views. Many other students from mainland China who study commerce or engineering do not have access to the same experience, and they need their professors, peers, and the general public to fill them in.

I am hopeful that like me, they will learn about their own country, come to their own conclusions, and truly enjoy freedom of speech and their time living in a democracy. In the past few years, evidence shows that Chinese officials and consulates have orchestrated a number of pro-China rallies in Australia — one in 2017 mobilised 6,000 attendees. But if we can find empathy in ourselves and help the young students find theirs, hopefully, less will show up at the next pro-China rally.

Vicky Xiuzhong Xu is a journalist and standup comic. She will deliver The Inevitable Inaugural Chaser Lecture on Thursday at the University of Sydney.