The voice of millions unheard: a girl was born in Communist China

I was born in a small fishing town called Jiexia in Fujian, a province on the southeastern coast of China. I grew up in a two bedroom unit with my parents and sister in the eastern suburb of Melbourne. I had a very what some people might call 'typical' Chinese-Australian upbringing; I spoke min nan hua (Chinese dialect) with my parents at home, unwillingly sat through two hours of Chinese school every Saturday, ate mooncakes during the mid-Autumn festival, and received red envelopes filled with money during Chinese New Year.

In my late twenties I decided to go in search of my roots as I grew up knowing very little about the culture and the country. I listened to Chinese music. I watched Chinese shows. I befriended international students from China. I've always thought that my progression from despising my culture to loving it has made me pretty 'Chinese'. It's only after I visited China, however, that I realised just how Australian I am. During this time, I uncovered the disturbing truth about my birth and background, from my mother hiding in three separate locations while pregnant with me to almost being trafficked to the orphanage as a toddler.

In my research, between 30 and 60 million 'missing girls' in China, were killed in the womb after birth, abandoned at birth, or were confiscated by the authorities because of China's one-child policy. I was born at a time when China's family planning policy was at its strictest, in the late 1980s and early 1990s. In pursuit of studying abroad in Australia, my father kissed and bid farewell to my sister and my mother who was just pregnant with me in China. My mother hoped her second child would be a boy, but instead she had another girl.

A day after giving birth to me, she met another mother at the hospital who was disappointed about having her third boy as she was hoping for a girl who would be raised to help with house chores. My mother proposed the idea of switching me with the woman's newborn son to dissolve gender disappointment for both parties. The idea was refuted by my grandpa as he would never in his right mind swap his granddaughter despite the inheritance law that favoured boys at the time. However, the decision to keep his illegally born granddaughter came at a substantial financial cost where the family was ordered to pay 'maintenance fees' to the authorities for having a second child and a societal burden that resorted to frequent taunting.

In compliance with the one-child policy, the county Chinese Communist Party (CCP) laid down a military order to ensure the citizens abide by it. And if anyone was caught breaking the law, this would not only lead to grave consequences for the individual and their family, but the whole county would suffer. At first our friends and neighbours didn't know my mother was pregnant, but nearing the end of her second trimester, my mother was reported to the authorities by our neighbours. A group of people wearing masks and white gowns barged into our home wanting to take my mother to the county health institution. While they frantically searched for my mother, they questioned all the family members and threatened to take my grandpa to prison if he refused to tell the truth.

Meanwhile, my mother was visiting a friend after washing a basket full of clothes at the shared common well two streets from our home. When the news about the authorities broke, she immediately fled the scene and went into hiding at my aunt's place in a different town. My mother stayed for a month and was discovered and reported by my aunt's neighbour. My aunt was afraid of getting into trouble and didn't dare to keep her, so she helped pack food and clean clothes and let her go. In the early hours of the next morning, she fled and went into hiding at her childhood friend's place in another town. By this time, she was nearing full term of pregnancy so she made the decision to return to her hometown to deliver the baby. But she didn't dare to do so in daylight or on the main road for fear of being arrested.

When I turned two, my mother took my hand and carried me to the county's office to meet with strangers who wanted to take me to the orphanage far away from my village. In return, they would reward her with a monetary sum she couldn't resist. When my grandpa heard about the news that I was gone, he stopped working on the field and rushed to search for me. He shielded me from my mother and scolded her for making a foolish decision that she will surely regret. That evening he carried me on his back to the village theatre to watch xiqu (Chinese opera) and bought rice popcorn to snack on.

The day I was born and took my first breath, the midwife who saw me crying and sucking on my thumb complimented on how I would have a good appetite when I grow older. Meanwhile, my step grandma and two uncles who visited my mother at the hospital made disparaging comments about having another girl and further expressed their disappointment by telling the whole village that I was the most hideous baby they've ever seen. This was the weight of humiliation my mother carried with her from the moment I was born.

Seven months prior to my birth, a major historical event occurred at Beijing's Tiananmen Square which attracted a wave of global media attention. At the height of the demonstration, a million people who were mostly students assembled to stand up for democracy, freedom of press, and freedom of speech. The former Australian prime minister Bob Hawke broke down in tears on the nation's television as he described the massacre of pro-democracy protesters in Beijing's Tiananmen Square days before. During his speech, he offered asylum to some 42,000 Chinese nationals in Australia as a consequence of the massacre. While my father was in Australia temporarily to learn English, the events of June 4th, 1989 would change our lives forever.

It's hard to escape the conclusion that it has been almost thirty-three years since the lives of tens of thousands of Chinese people were changed as I publish this story on my thirty-second birthday. As I struggled and carefully listened to my mother softly speak about the trauma suffered during her pregnancy with me over video chat, I questioned why I had been denied my rights of existence and why the untold stories of the 'missing girls' in China should never vanish from the history books.

"I can give birth to you," my mother said. "But I cannot change your fate."