【He was a social worker-to-be until his licence renewal was rejected; a hundred Job applications left him without Income for 10 months】

The reality faced by formerly incarcerated people is often beyond public imagination. “They continue to be oppressed and deprived of opportunities. There is another wall beyond the prison walls,” David says. “Returning to normality is a false hope when you can’t even find someone willing to hire you.”

I called David for this interview while I was overseas. He was in Hong Kong, on a bus journey home. I recognised the familiar announcement in the background: “Next stop is…”. I suddenly realised that he might be speaking publicly for the first time. While many would hesitate, David said he was neither concerned nor did he think himself particularly brave. “I was charged and imprisoned. I’m not famous, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Back in 2019, David was a social work student when he was arrested for participating in protests. By the time he was charged with rioting, he had already completed his degree. He was later convicted and sentenced to 20 months in prison.

Behind bars, daily life was filled with discomfort. Maintaining personal hygiene was difficult when he could not even properly wash his clothes. The food, he recalls, was “memorable.” Apart from the occasional edible fried fish fillet, rice would clump together into hard lumps, meat was scarce and sometimes undercooked, and vegetables were often yellowed or burnt. Whenever he looked at the prison door, he was reminded that he was living in a different world.

After his release, David followed through on his plan to register as a social worker with the Social Workers Registration Board, hoping to fulfil his professional aspirations. Having completed his degree and internship, he met the formal requirements. Despite his conviction, his department, teachers, and internship institution all recognised his competence and supported his application.

The response came quickly. In a brief statement, the Board deemed him “not suitable” due to his criminal record. His academic and professional performance were not addressed. Encouraged by mentors, David reapplied, this time including a personal statement and reference letters. The outcome did not change. “They didn’t even ask me to explain,” he recalls. It became clear that he would not be allowed to practise as a registered social worker.

The rejection left David in a precarious situation, not only emotionally but also financially. He needed income to survive. He took on various temporary jobs, including beauty retail, food delivery, video editing, tutoring, and working at a gym reception. None provided stability. For several months, he struggled to cover basic expenses. At times, he had almost no income at all.

Still, he hoped to return to his chosen profession. His criminal record continued to shadow him. When he disclosed it in interviews, he was often rejected immediately. When he did not, employers became suspicious, questioning why someone with a social work degree would apply for lower-level roles or why he had not worked for several years.

“You have to come up with a reason,” David says. He would sometimes claim he had taken time off to care for family members, but even he found it unconvincing. “I wouldn’t believe it myself.”

Eventually, he found a role in an organisation that accepted his background and valued his training and experience. Specialised in supporting homeless people, David’s work involves assessing clients’ needs, making referrals, following up on cases, and organising group activities. For the first time since his release, he felt reconnected to frontline social work.

“I can only be grateful,” he says. In today’s Hong Kong, he does not take such acceptance for granted. “Being able to continue working … that’s what matters.”

Yet, he is aware of his position within the system. Without official registration, his job title and salary remain lower than those of registered social workers, despite similar training, responsibilities, and emotional demands. His criminal record creates a clear boundary.

While others may advance in their careers, that path is effectively closed to him. Like many Hongkongers, David has considered leaving the city. For him, it is not only about politics, but about whether the broader social environment is suitable for long-term life.

“Even before 2019, Hong Kong wasn’t a place where I wanted to build a family and raise children,” he says, citing the city’s high-pressure lifestyle and overcrowding. If he were to leave, what would he do? He jokes that he might run a small hostel where he would have just enough to make a living while meeting people and hearing their stories.

Despite everything, his connection to Hong Kong remains strong. “I really love this place,” he says. He recalls riding the tram one day and realising that these ordinary scenes might become the memories he would cherish most if he left. And, of course, there are the people. “They’re all good people,” he adds with a laugh. “Just a bit sharp-tongued.”

The past few years have changed his outlook on life. “I’ve learned to be grateful,” he reflects. Access to hot water, a comfortable shower, a regular meal are no longer things he takes for granted. In a fast-paced city, he has also learned to slow down and appreciate the present.

As a former social worker, David speaks openly about the challenges faced by political prisoners and formerly incarcerated individuals. “The general public doesn’t really understand what we go through,” he says. Beyond systemic barriers, stigma remains a major obstacle. While financial support exists, he believes it is not enough. “Donations matter, but what’s essential is acceptance.” Opportunities are rare. “For those returning, being trusted even just once is incredibly valuable.”

【Afterword】

Among many formerly incarcerated comrades, David may be considered one of the more fortunate. He has found an organisation that accepts his background, allowing him to pursue his passion and begin rebuilding his life. However, the hardships he has endured are immense. His experience highlights that, even when someone has completed the necessary education and training, a politically charged conviction can define them by excluding them from the system and denying them the opportunities they deserve.

Bonham Tree Aid aims to support comrades who face such barriers to reintegration. By providing basic living support, we seek to help them rebuild their lives and return to society. If you would like to support our work, please visit the link on our homepage to learn more about our current fundraising projects.

Illustration: Hongkonger

Text: G

Edit: @mingyeung_

Translation: Kai