I Remember by Shannon Choi

To this day, I remember. 

I remember when the world was pure and white, when I would hold dear to my parents’ hand -- colossal, warm and sturdy -- to walk the streets of hawker food stalls, go out for Dim Sum and pay Chinese New Year visits. I remember the praising gazes and compliments I was met with, about how beautiful I looked in flowery dresses, stylish shorts and fitting attires, which made me so fond of dressing up -- once. 

I remember detesting puberty, for it tied me to my cardigan irrespective of the changing of seasons. I detested the way my chest was beginning to curve and the fact that my breasts seemed to always be enlarging, for its protuberance only served to make it more uncomfortably identifiable and prone to lustful stares from unknown strangers. So despite the torridity of the weather, I would draw that white piece of clothing close to my body, in hopes of concealing my developing breasts from the sight of passersby on the street. Mother had told me that there were always creepy men prowling around on the streets so I was better off shielding myself from these people, and so I did, in the best way a child in primary school could. 

I remember being asked to stop wearing tight leggings when out in my early secondary years, for I was a “young lady” now. Instead, baggy trousers were the way to go, for then my thick thighs and pale legs wouldn’t be exposed for creeps to look me up and down as if I was a commodity to be assessed for its worth and desirability. My buttocks would not be outlined and defined for men to easily “check out”, whistle at and make the centre of their dubious fantasies and

delusions when walking. It was of the utmost importance to seclude our 3Bs - breasts, buttocks and backs, we were told. It was better to be safe than sorry, we were told. 

I remember being told the news of schoolmates getting “upskirted” every so often. Men around our school district would discreetly slip their phones under the front seat and point their cameras at our skirts and dresses on the minibus, repeatedly taking unconsented, abhorrent and sexually intrusive photographs of us. I remember being the relayer of the reemergence of such an event in my first year of being in the Student Council, and seeing the faces of my upperclassmen whom I personally knew and adored in those images, who looked all too naïve and clueless as to what was happening to them. I remember receiving emails telling us we had to better protect ourselves from these reprobates, and take responsibility for our own personal safety when commuting, notably by dressing less revealingly and alluringly. 

Yet, I remember not having once asked for this. Nor do I remember doing anything wrong to end up at the centre of all this danger and suffering. I do not know what I or any of my schoolmates, young girls and even women in Hong Kong have done to deserve this kind of treatment, this endless cycle of sexualization. 

To this day, my heart still sinks whenever I recall hearing those specifics from my teachers, seeing the explicit advisory emails given to us after the incidents, and having to tell my friends and teachers about what I had witnessed firsthand. Yet, all these incidences have also made me wonder: Why must we as girls carry the sole responsibility of grounding men and perpetrators to reality, preventing them from perceiving anything even remotely sexual, and removing any

possible sources of their unclean, illicit thoughts from their line of sight? Why are we taught from a young age that our features are humiliating and improper to display in public? Why are young girls and women, as potential victims of sexualization, sexual assaults and sexual abuse, dubbed the “reapers of our own fruits”? 

Perhaps in this yet traditional and patriarchal society of Hong Kong, this problem facing young girls and women isn’t going to be eradicated anytime soon. Yet what we can do at this instant to mediate the problem is to shine more light on it. Put these incidents on the news, make headlines, and draw more attention to the severity of this problem. Publish more reputable articles that discuss the sexualization of young girls to prompt youngsters and fellow female students to rethink their disposition, circumstances and take on this matter. For when we become enlightened will we only know to challenge the old ways and bid goodbye to sexist social norms.