Heritage and identity: what’s the difference?

Ringo Lung

Now more than ever, people in Hong Kong choose to identify themselves as Hongkongers rather than as Chinese, and it’s a question I often ask myself. What’s the difference?

My parents are from Hong Kong, and although  born and raised in the UK, I’ve always been very conscious of my ‘Chinese’ identity. I looked different to the kids at school; ate very different meals. At home I spoke Cantonese, and rather than Jesus or Mary sitting on our mantelpiece , we had the spear-wielding God of War. I am proud to be British, and  I am equally proud to be Chinese.

For me, the foundation of a Chinese identity is our richly storied history. I have travelled across the Great Wall, from those winding, monumental grey bricks in the East to the scattered, rammed-earth remnants in the West. I followed Xuanzong’s pilgrimage to find the true Buddhist scriptures, a journey which inspired the beloved Chinese classic Journey to the West. When I visited these places and learned their stories, I felt a deep-rooted connection to them. I didn’t think of this history as being separate to my more immediate, personal lineage. All of this was my history. 

Beyond this, our greatest common denominator is our shared socio-cultural structures and customs. The majority of Chinese families are raised in households rooted in Confucian ideology, championing a society based on fixed hierarchies, rigid roles and devout piety to family, both past and present. Having grown up in a society where these ideals are not prevalent, I have occasionally rallied against them, but nonetheless, they make sense to me .

The final, and perhaps most complicated denominator, is language. There are hundreds of variations and dialects considered to be ‘Chinese’. Some are  wildly different, but the breadth of this family of languages contribute to a beautifully rich cultural tapestry. From Hong Kong and China to Malaysia and Singapore: it is common to hear variants of the Chinese language outside of the most widely-spoken Mandarin, like Cantonese Hakka and Hokkien to name a few.  

I’m sharing this because there are also clear political implications to consider with sweeping generalisations. he reality is, when most people say Chinese, they will implicitly mean ‘China’. A nation where absolute autocratic power is enforced by gross and systematic violations of human rights. An individual’s identity is subject to state approval. Differing ideologies, cultures and beliefs are at best controlled, and at worst, violently suppressed. Their vision of individual identity is forcefully imposed. This is not the Chinese that I identify with. 

In a globalised world, where the concept of nationhood is becoming increasingly artificial, choosing an identity based on a passport is irrational. I am proud to be connected with this wonderfully diverse community across the world. I am British. I am a Hongkonger. I am also Chinese. I can be all these things in equal measures, because country borders don’t truly define all that I am. However, I am continually pushed to reconsider what these things mean, both to myself and to others. If being Chinese means to subvert and to oppress, then I choose not to be Chinese. But if it connects me to the billions across the planet with whom I can share my history, heritage and culture with, then that’s the Chinese I’ve signed up for. 

Ringo