Dante | Expelled from home - choosing between values and family
Dante, 24, is the founder of the group Syun Mahn which designs promotional materials for the Anti-ELAB Movement. He is also a volunteer driver and the admin for a group that coordinates supplies. He narrates the experience of being kicked out of his home, but he has no regrets in participating in the movement.
“The moment I stepped out of the door, the word “home” has lost all the connotations it once had.
I don’t even think of my parents as family anymore, because I can’t wrap my head around how my parents could say such words to their son whom they had raised for 24 years. This makes me very sad.”
Journalist: 王白几
Illustrator: Orange Peel
I am afraid of exposing myself to the media, and I don’t want to reveal my identity to too many people because I take up many roles in this movement. I founded Syun Mahn, help coordinate volunteer drivers, organize the chain of supplies and connect with the frontliners. If I were exposed, the consequences would be disastrous.
I have been living with a YOLO attitude during this movement. Back in the Umbrella Movement in 2014, I only donated a box of water and sang at the protest site. My participation then was quite useless and futile, so this time I plan on participating more as an act of redemption.
Born in the ’90s, I’m a pessimist. I witnessed the “failure” of the Umbrella Movement which is why teenagers today have to take to the streets and block bullets. I’ve also witnessed how materialism has compelled the older generations to blindly support the government and the police—a significant mismatch with the values of today’s younger generation.
The great divide between my parents and me
I’ve been kicked out of my home because my parents and I share different political views. For three weeks, I had to live on the streets.
It was in late July when my mom first told me, “if you’re going to live here, eat, shower, and sleep without saying a word, you might as well leave—even your dad agrees.” I explained that I’ve been staying silent because I didn’t want to touch on political issues that may create a rift between us, but I ended up getting scolded by my mom.
After two weeks or so, as tensions rose, my mom called me a “rioter” and my dad told me, “we don't need rioters like you who support the Anti-ELAB Movement here!” I packed my stuff without saying a word and left.
The moment I stepped out of the door, the word “home” has lost all the connotations it once had.
I don’t even think of my parents as family anymore, because I can’t wrap my head around how my parents could say such words to their son whom they had raised for 24 years. This makes me very sad.
For three weeks afterwards, I slept in parks, at piers, and on beaches. I would find an isolated corner, lay a few sheets of newspaper on the ground, hold on closely to my rucksack, and sleep. Sometimes I would sleep leaning against a tree. However, later on when the heat became unbearable, I resorted to being a “McRefugee” and rested with the elderly in a McDonald’s. I was the only youngster there—even the staff recognised me.
Taking care of hopeless children
During my homeless days, I found myself asking repeatedly, ‘what have I done to deserve this?’ I’ve even questioned my own values, and whether it had led to the rift in my family. I also thought of my prior suicide attempts.
Since high school, I’ve had lumbar ankylosing spondylitis—the muscles around my waist were inflamed on a long term basis, and as I’ve grown older, the problem has only exacerbated. At its worst, my disease can lead to deformed joints and physical disability which is why I haven’t been to the frontlines. During high school and post-secondary education, I’ve attempted suicide twice by overdosing on medication because I couldn’t stand the pain. I kept questioning myself: what’s the point of living?
I didn’t see a point so I attempted to kill myself.
When I was first kicked out of my home, I pondered that question again, and eventually, I became depressed.
In hindsight, I found my suicide attempts really selfish, as I wished to pass the problem on to someone else simply because I didn’t want to bear the pain. To this day, I still haven’t found the meaning of life, but the search for it has become my motivation to continue living.
The intimacy between “children” and their “parents”
After I was kicked out of my home, I found a few “parents” on Telegram groups. They continue to support, encourage, and take care of me, and they helped me out of my negative emotions. Although some haven’t met me in person, they’re closer to me than my birth parents. I have also adopted two “children” of my own. After all there are so many youngsters, like me, who have been kicked out by their families.
As a millennial, I’m fortunate—at least I have a stable job and can make ends meet. My “children” who were born in the 2000s don’t have a job nor a place to live, and have used up all their money to buy protective gear. Since I still have the energy to be a “parent,” I hope I can give my all to my “children”, whether it be financial or emotional support—both are equally important.
Just like when I was first kicked out of my home, I needed the help of my “parents” to pull myself together.
Being able to help others is greatly satisfying. Apart from the joy in hearing words of thanks from another person, we also develop mutual trust. Trust is not a given especially when communicating on Telegram, but as long as you are willing to put in a sincere effort, mutual trust can be built.
I won’t give up on mending the rift with my parents, but as long as the movement continues, I can only isolate myself for now. What’s most important to me is to protect our future generations.
I hope one day we can live in a free country.
“I am Dante, I am a HKer.”
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