As Long As There Is Heart, Distance Doesn’t Matter That Much.”

After dramatic changes in the past few years, issues such as fluctuations in property prices and stock market, or even citywide crazes like McGriddles, have come to dominate media attention. Apparently, Hong Kong society returned to normal, yet beneath this calm lies a sharp decline in attention toward the social movement and arrested comrades. Whenever discussions about the movement resurface, comments like “the comrades have already been abandoned” inevitably appear, pouring cold water on the conversation.

Although calls to continue standing by imprisoned comrades are still heard, one has to ask honestly: have we truly forgotten those companions who are still serving sentences?

As organizations and support groups advocating prisoners’ rights have been forced to shut down one by one for various reasons, even the most dedicated supporters inevitably grow weary and pessimistic at times. Contacting imprisoned comrades has also become increasingly difficult. When the prisoners’ rights group Stonewall Tree announced its closure in 2021, together with the earlier comprehensive blockage of the “De-boredom Factory” news aggregation, a huge void suddenly appeared in information flow inside prison walls. Seeing the vacuum in letter-matching for imprisoned comrades, “Ah Hei,” a member of the letter-writing community, took an extra step by extending their own network to fill part of the matching service—a role they have continued to this day.

A period of four years could be a DSE candidate’s examination journey, or the time to start a new life abroad. For Ah Hei, the period marked his transition into the workforce and also bore his witness to changes in society’s attention toward arrested comrades. Since letter-writing emerged alongside the social movement, the question “What’s the point of writing?” has never stopped being asked. Some see writing as a daily practice to support those on the same path; some aim to inject humor to relieve boredom; others simply wish to offer companionship.

As someone involved in pen-pal matching, Ah Hei has a deeper understanding of what companionship means. He described becoming pen pals with friends behind bars as feeling much like making online friends at first—having never met in person, it can actually be easier to reveal one’s true self, entrusting feelings that are hard to express to family or close friends. Especially during imprisonment, emotional states inevitably fluctuate. This distance can just catch the other person’s negative emotions, allowing comrades to release their anxiety properly—like in a football match, where someone off the ball takes an extra step to cover the space.

Beyond filling the absence of companionship for imprisoned comrades through words, the needs of caregivers outside the prison walls are often overlooked. The idea of “covering space” also extends to taking care of comrades’ families. Taking companionship a step further, volunteers send small gifts to family members on behalf of imprisoned comrades during festivals and holidays, hoping to narrow the distance between the two sides of the high walls and bringing a little comfort.

Ah Hei says that many family members project emotions they have nowhere else to place onto the volunteers. Beyond practical matters, those who “cover space” outside the walls take on these expressions of care and concern, joking that at times they feel like “part-time sons and daughters.” In addition to meeting up with familiar families during festivals, exchanging greetings over WhatsApp briefly fills the gap left by their loved ones’ absence.

For the many comrades still facing trials or serving sentences and their families, maintaining correspondence with those inside the walls brings fresh air into stifling prison cells. Letter writers shoulder a heavy burden, especially when censorship are opaque and the challenges of correspondence across prison walls are ever greater. Ah Hei explains that letters now inevitably undergo a layer of filtering before being sent, with the primary consideration being the safety of both sides—some things are better left unsaid. Still, beneath the unspoken red lines, they do not wish to over-censor themselves or surrender to fear.

Compared with more established overseas support systems, prisoner support in Hong Kong started relatively late. Being pen pals with imprisoned comrades remains a new experience, and everyone is still finding their way. Ah Hei adds that another purpose of screening letters is to avoid content that might provoke or even harm comrades inside. Even if there is no ill intent, there is no need to increase the burden on those behind the walls.

The letter-writing network has been operating for nearly four years, but recently the pace of recruiting new pen pals has noticeably slowed down. One major challenge in the matching process is simply that the two sides may not “click.” Ah Hei explains that the strategy is usually to start with self-introductions and light topics, then tailor letters once interests are understood. Still, pen-pal relationships also depend on chance and coincidence—many exchanges stop after just a few letters. Ultimately, the key lies in having more people actively participate.

Many letter writers reported that and they received no reply after writing to someone inside for a long time. They gradually stop contacting them and feel discouraged. Ah Hei sighs that this is often not because comrades are deliberately leaving messages unread, but the Correctional Services Department occasionally confiscates letters at random on the grounds of rule violations. Compared to adult prisons, this happens more frequently in juvenile correctional institutions, further increasing the difficulty of matching pen pals with younger comrades.

Hundreds of thousands of people left Hong Kong over the past three years, and whether the claim of “from chaos to prosperity” holds true is visible to the naked eye. When asked about the impact of emigration on prisoner support, Ah Hei responds, “As long as there is heart, distance doesn’t matter that much,” noting that the actual impact has not been as severe as portrayed. Some letter writers who have already emigrated continue corresponding with comrades across oceans until they are released.

However, Ah Hei has observed that not only has the response to pen-pal recruitment cooled recently, but participation in support activities such as attending court hearings has also declined. At the root of the issue is again the drop in public attention. Ah Hei hopes more people will understand that as long as someone walks alongside you—even if all they can do is listen—it can make painful periods pass more quickly. They do not want to see anyone being left behind again.

Illustration: @wl.aandd

Text: Vincent Vega

Translation: Leo

* A report by the “Hong Kong Democracy Council” (@hkdc.us) stated that as of mid-2022, more than 1,000 people were arrested and prosecuted in connection with the 2019 protest movement, 15% of whom were minors. Many experienced years of pre-trial detention; young protesters were forced to suspend their studies and suffered both physical and psychological trauma while in prison.

** “Bonham Tree Aid” provides monthly humanitarian assistance of £380 (approximately HKD 3,800) to families of imprisoned protesters in need, easing the pressure on comrades’ families. Since its establishment in October 2021, more than HKD 13 million has been distributed to assist nearly 300 families. About 110 families are currently still on the waiting list and in urgent need of support.

Donate now to support our comrades!