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I was back in Australia for a holiday, but my itinerary quickly filled up: comedy show, media interviews, protests, and assault. I could hardly catch a break. Why can’t I catch a break? Is it because I don’t want one, or that I don’t deserve it?
This non-fiction story is part of a series documenting my ongoing (mis)adventures. You can find previous installments on my Substack homepage. To receive weekly updates in your inbox, subscribe.
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Audio version
Previously
Hours after Kai* moved into my place with all his favorite fitness equipment, he realized we couldn’t be together, and that he was scared of falling in love with me. I flew back to Melbourne and caught a shitty metal performance that tried to mimic rage.
This Chapter starts here
Lewis woke up and went home. I took a car to Club Voltaire, a comedy club I performed at two years prior. This was how that set went:
I walked onto the stage and said My name is Vicky, and I’m a refugee.
When I tell people that I’m a refugee they often respond, but you don’t look like a refugee, or sound like a refugee.
My question is, what does a refugee sound like?
Is this what a refugee sounds like?
I took a small step away from the microphone, and screamed into the audience for a few seconds.
The club was dead silent.
I didn’t give up. And what does a refugee look like? I kicked off one shoe and paced the stage with a pretend-limp. Is this what we’re supposed to look like?
Silence still.
How much time do I have left? I asked the lighting technician. Two minutes, they said.
Fuck me. Story time. Here is how I became a refugee – I’m a journalist from China and I wrote about concentration camps and forced labor in China, among other human rights violations. So I became persecuted by the Chinese government. So I can no longer return home and I became stateless and sought asylum here. Big sacrifices for the sake of humanity, I would say. I don’t ask the world to show me kindness in return. I don’t ask for anybody’s gratitude. I guess being here on this stage all I am asking is for you to laugh with me. I can’t even have that.
Whoop! A lone person yelped.
Thank you I’ve been Vicky Xu. Have a good night. I bowed out.
The bar manager, a silver-haired smiley man, handed me a beer and congratulated me.
For what? I bombed. Nobody laughed.
It was a good performance, he said.
When I came through his door a second time, two years later, he didn't remember me anymore. Why don’t you take your coat off? It’s warm inside. He said.
I just popped in to quickly talk to you, I said. I didn’t know that was my plan until the sentence was well out of my mouth.
Oh, I thought you were here to see the show.
There is a show?
The man glanced at a young woman by the curtains that separated the bar area from the show space. She was taking off her jacket, revealing a lot of skin, a black lace bra, matching stockings, and garter. We’re about to start the second half, she said, rubbing her own arms to keep warm. The ticket is twenty dollars, but you can watch for ten.
A young comedian emceed. Punchlines about anal sex and buttholes. The young woman performed a hoop routine and made out with another young woman. They seemed uncomfortable. I thought if they were uncomfortable they had no business making out on stage. I also thought if given the chance to discuss sex on stage I could do so much better.
I tiptoed back to the bar area and asked the manager if they had availability within the next 6 days for a comedy show. He said yes.
I decided to name the show “Party with Vicky Xu” – party, of course, refers to both a fiesta and the Chinese Communist Party. For the poster, I picked an old photo where I gaze into the camera with vacant eyes and a cigarette on my lips. I was 25 then, had a sweet bob parted in the middle, and a lot of disdain for the world.
I remembered that Kai* said he has a couple of Melbourne-based brothers. I texted to ask if they were available or knew someone scary-looking who could act as my security guards.
Kai* replied with one word, which was no.
For my 6 days in Melbourne I trained at a martial arts gym in the city. I asked the front desk there if any scary-looking members might be open to freelance bodyguard work. A wrestling coach expressed interest, but did not follow through. In the end my friend Rob who operates in the defense world referred me to a security firm he’s familiar with.
Two days before the show I grabbed coffee with journalist Cheng Lei. She grew up between China and Australia, and was imprisoned in China between 2020 and 2023 on trumped-up national security charges. I told her about my upcoming comedy show. I want to do comedy, too, she said.
Do it at my show.
Really?
Yeah. You’re hilarious. I’ve been laughing at every other thing that you’ve said today. Worst case scenario — even if you bomb, people will still shower you with love and admiration. It will be a China-informed audience, most of whom are probably your supporters already.
We posed for photos and took interviews from journalists – who were curious whether we had timed the show to coincide with the Chinese Premier Li Qiang’s visit to Australia. No we did not.
The day of the show, I met the security guards for the first time in the bar area. You guys look scary! I chirped, which made them laugh. They asked me not to resist if at any point they deemed it necessary to evacuate me from the venue. Okay, I said, but if it's a really dangerous, life-threatening situation, feel free to leave without me. I give you permission to protect yourselves first. This is casual employment, I can’t ask you to risk your lives for me, I said. They were shocked, shocked! What are you talking about? We won’t leave without you. It’s our job to protect you. We got you. This almost made me cry. Ever since the threesome I’d been so easy to cry.
Lei made a joke about wanting to reciprocate China’s hospitality by providing the Premier with rent-free accommodation. Premier you look worried but I insist, she said, don’t you want a bit of a digital detox weight-loss program? The Guardian journalist in the audience quoted her on that. The audience loved her. The audience loved us. Love was intoxicating.
When we broke for intermission I was told there were suspected spies in the back row not laughing, and filming.
As the second half began I asked the lighting technician to keep the lights on. Dragging the microphone cord I walked into the audience.
What’s your name, man? You, on your phone in the black hoodie.
Vicky, he said, after much hesitation.
Me: I’ve met fans, but none who’d name themselves after me. You must be a super fan. Or maybe, you’re the worst spy I’ve ever met – who doesn’t even have a cover story.
Two days later I flew to Sydney. It was a Saturday, and the day the Chinese Premier arrived in Australia. The whole weekend, wherever I went, I was reminded that the Chinese Premier was in the country, breathing the same air as I was. Journalists rang, wanting a sound bite on reasons to oppose the visit. I gave the soundbites, putting emphasis on buzzwords like transnational repression.
A news story came out, saying that foreign interference victims, namely myself and activist Drew Pavlou, decided to break our silence. The Australian Federal Police had raided a Chinese spy operation the previous year, and discovered that the spies were looking for our addresses in Australia. We were given security advice, such as to walk at an inconsistent pace, make false visits to places, and avoid visiting the same cafe too many times. We should keep all this a secret, because the police could potentially take the case to court, we were told. Ten months after we were first notified about the spies, the case still hadn’t gone to court, and we hadn’t received any updates on the supposed ongoing investigation. We thought it didn’t make sense for such blatant violation of sovereignty to be suppressed from public knowledge, and eventually decided to come forward – we did time this one with the Premier’s visit.
On Monday, I gave another interview about the Premier’s visit. I, of course, welcome the improved trade ties and reduced tariffs, I said, but trade should not come at the expense of sovereignty and citizens’ lives. An innocent Australian writer is currently languishing in Chinese jail under a suspended death sentence. Australians including myself have been terrorized within our own borders. What will happen to Australian business people when they run into problems in China? Will they not face unjust imprisonment or exit bans?
The host asked if I had noticed an uptick in transnational repression from China leading up to the Premier’s visit.
Not that I’m aware of, I said. I left Australia 15 months ago, when it became clear that there wasn’t much the authorities here could do to further protect my safety. I’ve been traveling, or nomading, to ensure my own safety, and it’s been working so far.
I should have said “I’ve been traveling, or nomading, to evade the Chinese government’s surveillance and harassment.” Australia is a democracy within the Five Eyes alliance. It is unlikely that I would face violent attacks within its borders. I didn’t leave because the Australian authorities would let the CCP kill me. I left because (to my knowledge) the Australian authorities wouldn’t do anything about the suspected CCP agents staking outside my apartment complex. I didn’t want to maintain a permanent residence in Australia anymore, which came with blatant, unpunished surveillance.
Once I packed my bags, the world was my oyster, kind of. Frequent travels and border-crossing make it more complicated, and expensive, for the Chinese government to track me, but it also makes my safety even more precarious. Inevitably I pass through corrupt countries or regions that have close ties with China, and the risks are being abducted or assaulted. I suppose this was why I was very quiet in Taiwan right until I was about to leave, and also why once I arrived in Melbourne, I felt the urge to make a show and experience my freedom of speech fully, being as loud as possible.
Me, still being interviewed: This time I just so happen to be in Australia during the Premier’s visit. I’ve been happily catching up with friends and colleagues and enjoying a good time. After this interview I’m going to Canberra to welcome the Premier to Australia.
The last line got a horrified laugh out of the host. What does your version of welcome look like? She asked.
Well, you know, there will be rallies of Chinese government supporters, and protestors too — including Falun Gong practitioners, Tibetans, Uyghurs, pro-democracy activists, Hong Kongers, and Taiwanese. I guess I’ll see how things play out. I’m turning thirty this year. In all of the protests and rallies I’ve been to, I took part in my capacity as a reporter. This time I’m on holiday and not working for any news organization. It’s going to be the first time in my life I’m actually participating in a protest, and I’m really looking forward to that.
Four hours later I arrived in Parliament House, Canberra. The two camps of people – Chinese government supporters, and various groups of protesters – had gathered out front. I said hi to friends and reporters. Someone asked if I wanted to speak. Sure, I said, I’ll address the group with the Chinese flags.
I had to scream through the megaphone to be heard above the loudspeakers blasting red songs. I started my speech by trying to find common ground. Hello, compatriots, I said, surprised by my own word choice.
We have something in common. We chose to leave China and build a new life from scratch. That’s no easy feat. We made that tough choice because we wanted clean air, free internet, rights, and dignity. You know what I’m talking about. So I’m confused now – why welcome the leader of the dictatorship you left behind? You’re here welcoming bilateral ties being repaired. What that means is Australia, at least for the time being, will be letting Beijing have its ways. There will be no more criticism, no more condemnation, and certainly no efforts to stop the the Chinese government’s human rights abuses at home and abroad. I’ve lived in Australia for almost a decade, and I’ve never experienced as much censorship here as I do now. Never before have my criticisms of the Chinese government been muted, edited out, in this supposedly free country. As a former citizen of the People’s Republic of China, I am experiencing severe déjà vu. All I want to ask is: Is this really what you want for your new home?
I passed the megaphone to the next speaker and went looking for my friend Andy Chen, a former Chinese diplomat who defected to Australia. He’s one of the first Chinese dissidents I’ve ever met. In my early days as a journalist, when I didn’t belong to any newsroom and had no money for taxis, he lodged me in his female friend’s house and drove me around between interviews.
I spotted Andy in the center of a crowd, his back in a high arch, chin tucked, like a frightened cat. He squared off against a small group of Australian police officers, who seemed ready to pounce. Andy was shielding from them a Chinese Communist Party flag he wanted to burn – a plan he’d shared with me, though neither of us expected a menacing police response.
I strode forward with a hand outstretched, prepared to separate Andy from the police. I'd done this many times before, stepping between two men who are about to engage in a fight. I always successfully stopped the clash because no honorable man would hit a woman — and most people who posture to fight don’t really want to fight.
Why are you trying to take my friend’s possession? I asked the police. The flag is his personal property.
Someone grabbed my shoulder. I spun around to find it was a police officer. Don’t you dare touch me, I warned, pointing a finger at him. You have no right to touch me. As I spoke, more hands seized me. Some tugged at my arms, one twisted my finger, and another gripped my neck. My feet left the ground. My wig flew off my head. In the moment I thought fuck martial arts. All that training, all the blood and sweat, and I ended up falling to the ground like an autumn leaf. Simultaneously I thought of Kai*.
This photo, taken by RFA photographer Lionel Chiou, captures the moment before my feet left the ground.
Stay tuned for more next week.
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Posts here are non-fiction and adhere to journalistic standards. A note on formatting: pseudonyms are marked with an asterisk* at each instance, quotes recalled are not placed inside quotation marks, and sensitive information will be redacted to ensure the safety of myself and others.
我回到澳洲的本意是要度假,但行程很快就被排滿:喜劇表演、媒體訪談、抗議活動,還有一次襲擊。同時,我喜歡的男生以最撲朔迷離的姿態淡出了我的生活。
這篇非虛構寫作是我奇怪人生連載的章節之一。如果還沒讀過之前的章節,可以到我的Substack主頁查閱。如果想要第一時間收到更新,請考慮訂閱。
作為讀者,我很討厭付費牆;作為作者,我需要支付帳單。這個電子信所有章節都免費。如果你喜歡我的文字,請考慮選擇付費訂閱。
音頻版本
前情提要
凱*帶著背包來我家,一副要搬進來的架勢。短短幾個小時後,他就意識到我們其實不合適,他「很怕會愛上我」。我們「分手」時,我一邊看著他把東西一樣一樣裝進包包,一邊在電話上給記者提供關於天安門血案的評論。兩天以後,我回到了墨爾本,和朋友一起看了一場很爛、假裝憤怒的金屬表演。(點擊這裡閱讀上一期)
這一章從這裡開始
Lewis醒來以後就回家了。我搭車去了伏爾泰俱樂部(Club Voltaire)。兩年前,我在那裡表演過一次單口喜劇。經過如下:
我走上台說,我的名字叫微其,我是一位難民。
當我告訴別人我是難民的時候,經常有人會說:但你看起來不像難民耶!或者:但你講話聽起來不像難民耶!
我想問,難民怎樣講話?
難民是這樣講話嗎?
我稍微後退一步,對著麥克風大聲尖叫十秒鐘。
俱樂部裡鴉雀無聲。
我:難民看起來是什麼樣子?
我踢掉一隻鞋,假裝一瘸一拐地在台上轉圈踱步。
難民應該長這樣嗎?我問。
觀眾沉默依舊。
我這場表演還剩多少時間?我問燈光師。
兩分鐘,燈光師說。
操。好。那我來給大家講故事好了。我會變成難民是因為我是一名來自中國的記者,之前報導過新疆集中營和強迫勞動的事情。因為這些報導,我被中國政府迫害,沒辦法回家,變成了無國籍人士,在澳洲尋求庇護。我算是為了人道主義犧牲。我不要求這個世界以善意回報,也不需要任何人的感激。站在這個舞臺上,我唯一想要的就是你們和我一起笑幾聲。但連這個我都得不到。
哇嗚!一位觀眾喊了一聲。
謝謝大家,我是許微其。晚安。我鞠躬退場。
俱樂部經理是一位面帶微笑的銀髮男士。他打開一瓶啤酒遞給我,跟我說「恭喜」。
恭喜什麼?剛才完全沒人笑啊!
表演很棒,他說。
兩年後,我第二次走進這間店時,這位經理已經不記得我了。他微笑著和我打招呼:怎麼不脫掉外套?這裡很暖和。
我:我只是想和你快速聊一下。
話說出口,我才意識到,原來我回來這裡是想和他聊天。
經理:哦,我以為你是來看表演的。
我:有表演嗎?
伏爾泰俱樂部二樓的空間包括劇場和酒吧,兩者由紅色絲絨的布簾隔開。經理看向一位站在布簾邊的年輕女生。她正在脫外套,露出大片的裸露肌膚,黑色蕾絲內衣、絲襪和吊襪帶。她一邊用交叉在胸前的雙手摩擦上臂,嘗試取暖,一邊對我說:下半場馬上開始,票價二十澳元,你給我十澳元就好了。
演出由一位年輕喜劇演員主持,大部分笑話都是關於性:肛交、屁眼,等等。那位年輕女生表演了呼拉圈舞,然後和另一位看起來差不多年紀的女生在台上公開親熱。但看起來有些不自在。我想,如果她們不自在,是不是不該在舞台上表演這種內容?我還想:如果要談性,我可以做出比這更有趣的表演。
我輕手輕腳回到酒吧,問經理在接下來六天內有沒有空檔,可以把劇場租給我一晚做喜劇表演。他說沒問題。
我決定將這場演出命名為「Party with Vicky Xu」。Party一詞可以指派對,也可以指政黨,所以這個名字具有雙重涵義:「和許微其一起狂歡」,或者「共產黨和許微其」。做海報時我選了一張舊照給設計師。照片裡我眼神空洞地凝視著鏡頭,嘴裡叼著一根香煙,對世界充滿了不屑。那時我25歲,髮型是可愛的中分鮑伯頭。
我想起凱*說他在墨爾本有兄弟。我傳訊息給他:我要在墨爾本辦表演,你的兄弟有沒有空,或者認識其他看起來嚇人的壯漢來充當我的臨時保鑣?
「沒」,他只回我一個字。
在墨爾本的六天,我在市區的一間綜合格鬥道館訓練。繳會費時,我問櫃檯,道館裡有沒有看起來比較可怕的成員、或者教練願意做保鑣工作。隔天我收到答覆,一位摔角教練表示有興趣。我請櫃檯轉交了我的名片,可那位教練並沒聯繫我。最後我問在國防領域工作的老朋友Rob,他推薦了一家熟悉的保安公司給我。
演出前兩天,我和澳籍華人記者成蕾見面喝咖啡。她在中國工作時,因為無中生有的國家安全罪名被當局監禁了三年多。我和她提到正在籌劃的喜劇演出。
她:我也想講單口喜劇。
我:那就講啊。來我的演出講。
她:真的假的?
我:當然真的啊。你很好笑,我今天一直被你逗笑。而且就算你到時候沒辦法逗笑任何人,觀眾還是會很愛妳、很崇敬妳。會買我的票的觀眾應該是都對中國有一定的了解,其中大多人可能已經是你的支持者了。
於是我們一起拍宣傳照、接受記者採訪來給演出造勢。記者們好奇我們是否故意把演出安排在中國總理李強訪問澳洲期間。答案是沒有。
演出當天,我在俱樂部的酒吧第一次見到我的兩位保鑣。
你們看起來還蠻嚇人的耶!太棒了吧!我笑嘻嘻地說。他們被我逗笑了。
一位保鑣對我說:如果出任何狀況,我們判定妳應該撤離,請一定不要反抗,跟我們走。
我點頭表示同意。
我:但如果真的遇到危險,你們不帶我、自己先離開也可以。我希望你們先保護自己。這只是臨時工作,我不能要求你們為我冒生命危險。
他們超震驚。問我:妳在講什麼?我們不可能不帶妳離開啊。我們的工作就是保護妳。我們一定會保護妳安全離開。
我又快要哭出來。自從和凱*還有馬克*度過的那晚以後,我好像就特別愛哭。
演出時,成蕾說想為正在訪問澳洲的中國總理提供免費住宿,來回報中國之前的盛情款待。
成蕾:總理,您看起來很擔心,但我堅持一定要招待您。難道您不想順便戒斷網癮、節食減肥嗎?
台下的《衛報》記者引述了這個笑話。觀眾們很愛成蕾。觀眾們很愛我們兩人。愛讓人沉醉。
中場休息時,有人告訴我懷疑後排有間諜。那人全程都沒笑,還一直用手機錄影。
下半場開始時,我請燈光師不要關燈,拖著麥克風線走進了觀眾中。
我:嘿,後排穿黑色帽衫,正在滑手機那位——你叫什麼名字?
他猶豫了一陣,然後回答:Vicky。
我:我有很多粉絲,他們都很支持我,但從來沒有支持我到會跟我姓。你一定是我的超級粉絲!不然,你就是我見過最爛的間諜,連個用來掩護的故事都沒有。
兩天後我飛往雪梨。那是個星期六,也是中國總理抵達澳洲的日子。整個週末,無論我去哪裡,都不斷被提醒中國總理現在在這裡,和我呼吸著同樣的空氣。記者們打電話來想要我發表評論,提供反對這次訪問的理由。我說了我該說的話,加重語氣強調「跨國鎮壓」等流行詞。
《雪梨先驅晨報》發布報導,稱兩名跨國鎮壓受害者,也就是我和社運人士Drew Pavlou,決定打破沉默、說出我們的遭遇。澳洲聯邦警察在前一年突襲了一個間諜據點,發現中共間諜正在搜尋我和Drew的地址。警察給了我們一些安全上的建議,比如在外走路時應該時快時慢、走一下跑一下;或是外出時不要直接去目的地,故意走錯路來誤導跟蹤我們的人;還有避免頻繁去同一家咖啡館或酒吧。警方要我們對被間諜追蹤的事情保密,因為他們將來可能會將此案提起公訴。在接到這個通知十個月之後,公訴並沒有發生,我們再也沒接到關於案件進展的通知。我們認為這起跨國鎮壓案是中國對澳洲明目張膽的主權侵犯,不應被隱瞞。這一次,我們確實是故意選在中國總理訪問的時機,站出來添亂。
三天後的禮拜一,我接受澳洲廣播公司採訪,又是要談有關中國總理訪澳。
我:我當然也歡迎貿易關係改善、關稅降低,但貿易不應以主權和公民的生命為代價。無辜的澳洲作家楊恆均正在中國的監獄裡遭受折磨、被判死緩。包括我在內的澳洲人,在我們自己的國土上受到中共恐嚇。如果澳洲人去中國行商,和當地勢力發生衝突,會發生什麼事情?難道他們不會莫名其妙被監禁,或被邊控(禁止出境)嗎?
主持人:考慮到中國總理正在訪澳,你最近是否注意到來自中國的跨國鎮壓有所增加?
我:沒有。15個月前,當我意識到澳洲政府對我的保護有限以後,我就決定離開澳洲。這段時間以來我一直在國外旅行,或者說流浪,來確保我自己的安全。到目前為止,這個辦法似乎是奏效的。
其實更準確的說法應該是「用流浪來試圖規避中共的騷擾和監控」。澳洲是五眼聯盟中的民主國家,我在其境內遭到襲擊的風險較小。我離開並不是因為澳洲當局會任由中共殺了我,而是因為澳洲當局任由疑似中國特工的人在我公寓外徘徊。如果在澳洲一直住在同一個地方,我就會繼續遭到明目張膽的監控,而監控我的人也多半不會受到任何懲罰。
收好行李、開始遊牧生活以後,我就有種海闊天空,任我馳騁的錯覺。持續旅行、頻繁穿越國境,會增加中共追蹤我的難度和經費,但這種生活方式也很危險。我在流浪過程中會不可避免地經過和中共交好、或腐敗的國家和地區,被襲擊的風險也隨之上升。這也是為什麼在臺灣生活時我一直隱姓埋名,而一回到澳洲就充滿了表達欲,突發奇想做喜劇表演吧。
我:這次中國總理訪澳,我是碰巧在澳洲度假。這幾個星期我都在和老朋友以及同事碰面,玩得很開心,安全方面其實沒有太多顧慮。這個採訪結束後,我準備去坎培拉親自歡迎中國總理訪澳。
主持人驚訝地笑了出來:你的版本的「歡迎」會是什麼?
我:到時候現場應該會有支持中國政府的人群,也會有抗議者——包括法輪功學員、藏人、維吾爾人、民主運動人士、香港人和台灣人。我會到現場看看局勢如何發展。我今年要滿三十歲了。我參與過的所有抗議和集會中,我都是以記者的身份在場。這次碰巧我在度假,也不再為任何新聞機構工作。這將是我人生中第一次真正參加抗議,我真的很期待。
四小時後我抵達了坎培拉。中國政府支持者和各類抗議者已經以兩個敵對陣營的型態聚集在國會大廈前。我跟在場的朋友和幾位記者們打了招呼。有人問我是否想發言。我說好啊,我有話想和對面揮舞著中國國旗的「敵方陣營」講。
中共支持者們用音箱把紅色歌曲放得震天響。雖然拿著擴音器,我也要大喊才能讓我的聲音被聽到。我試著和小粉紅們共情。
我:同胞們,你們好!
我很驚訝自己怎麼會用這種詞。
我:我們有很多共同點。我們都選擇離開中國,從零開始建立新生活。這不是一件容易的事。我們做出這個艱難的選擇,是因為我們想要清新的空氣、自由的網路、以及作為人的基本權利和尊嚴。你們知道我在說什麼。所以我現在覺得很困惑——為什麼要歡迎你所離開的獨裁政權的領導人?你們在這裡慶祝雙邊關係的修復。你們很清楚所謂修復到底意味著什麼:接下來這段時間,澳洲將會放任中共隨心所欲;不再批評、不再譴責,更不要說阻攔中共在國內、國外的人權侵害。我在澳洲生活了將近十年,從未在這裡感受到如此多的言論審查。在這個號稱自由的國家,我對中國政府的批評從未像現在這樣被消音或刪減過。中國總理來訪這短短幾天,澳洲的輿論現狀讓我覺得好像又回到了中國。我想問的是:你們真的希望你們的新家變得越來越像中國嗎?
說完以後,我把擴音器遞給下一位演講者,然後去找我的朋友陳用林(我按中國的習慣叫他陳老師),他曾經是中共的外交官,2005年叛逃到澳洲。他是我最早認識的來自中國的異議人士之一。最早遇到他的時候,我剛開始做記者,既不屬於任何新聞機構,也沒錢搭車去新聞現場。他把我安置在他女性朋友的家裡,還開車載我到處跑。
我看到陳老師被人群圍在中間,他的背拱得很高,下巴緊收著,像隻受驚的貓。他右手握著一面中共黨旗,試圖把它藏進西裝外套左側的衣襟裡。他對面是一小群看起來隨時準備動手搶旗的澳洲警察。早些時候他告訴過我,他想燒掉這面旗子,但我們都沒預料到這會引起警方這麼激烈的反應。
我大步向前,伸出一隻手,準備把陳老師與警察隔開。這個動作我做過很多次了——當兩個男人馬上要打起來的時候,我就會把我自己插進他們兩人中間。這個舉動總會成功制止衝突,因為沒有一個有自尊的男人會打一個來勸架的女生,而我也給了他們一個台階下。大多數擺出打架姿態的人其實並不想真的動手。
我質問警察:你們為什麼要搶我朋友的東西?那面旗子是他的個人財物。
有一隻手抓住我的肩膀。我回頭一看,是一名警察。
我用一根手指指著他,警告:你他媽不要碰我。你沒有權利碰我。
正當我說話時,更多的手抓住了我。有人拉扯我的手臂,扭到我的手指,還有人掐住我的脖子。我的腳離開了地面,假髮從頭上飛了下來。那一刻我的內心獨白是「去他媽的綜合格鬥」。我訓練得那麼辛苦,流血流汗,最後還不是像秋天的葉子一樣悄無聲息地掉在地上。同時我想到凱*。
這張照片由RFA攝影師邱德真拍攝,捕捉了我雙腳離開地面之前的那一刻。
未完待續,下週見。
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Whoa, Vicky! What an interesting and exciting chapter! But now I'm worried about you, concerned for your well-being. Since you're writing about this encounter with the police officers at the demonstrations, perhaps my trepidation is illogical - but I feel like I'm gaining a better appreciation of your status as more than just a writer/entertainer, but as a real dissident who has bravely spoken out about China's repressive policies and who has gained the serious attention of their operatives. Consequently, my respect and admiration for your writing also includes an understanding of the courage which you obviously possess. I'll quit babbling for now, but I'm really looking forward to the next installment, and hope that my eyes, and those of the others who are fascinated by your journey, will serve to keep you safe!
The scream you did in your stand-up act was funny. If you're good at screaming, you should record a song with Pussy Riot and get the word out, so to speak. 🌲🙏🌲