Freedom is not Free

罗胜春，2020年8月31日

I

听到家喜被抓的消息时，我和女儿正在夏威夷度圣诞节假期。我在临海的山道上爬山, 两个女儿在山下的海滩戏水。天湛蓝，海湛蓝，白色沙滩在下午的阳光里一望无际。留宿家喜的北京朋友来电说，家喜26号晚上被一群山东口音的警察连人带物一起带走了，他们家里被翻得一塌糊涂，密码锁被破坏，但警察没有留下任何法律文书。

夏威夷之行本是我们一家四口许多年前的一个旅游计划。我和孩子等家喜等了多年，等不到他，决定这个圣诞节我们自己去玩。两个女儿不停地问我，“妈妈你没事吧？”我心里沉重而迟钝，像跌入了一个梦境，但又知道这是真的。

第二天晚上我们从夏威夷飞到了波士顿。在波士顿我把消息告诉了我最要好的、像我的妈妈一样一直关心我的朋友Carla。Carla说，他们一直都在盯着他是吗？他们早就想找理由抓他是吗？这次他们终于找到理由了？但找的是什么理由呢？

按照中国法律，人被拘留24小时之内，家属应该收到通知书，告知家属羁押的原因、地址和法律依据，但是我们什么也没有收到。两周后律师收到的一份不予会见通知书是家属和律师直到6月23日前收到的唯一一份正式通知书。6月23日我们收到了家喜被正式逮捕的通知。 从家喜被抓到现在八个月过去了，我除了知道他被抓是因为去年12初与一些朋友在厦门的一次聚会有关外，仍然不知道“理由”。 这八个月里，他经历了将近六个月的单独秘密羁押，即臭名昭著的“指定居所监视居住”。这八个月里，律师多次要求会见而被拒绝。这八个月里，我不能和家喜通信。6月19日，和他一起被抓的三个人被取保候审，他和许志永则被正式逮捕，并转入山东省临沂市公安局管辖的临沭县看守所。他的真实名字被隐藏，律师的会见请求仍然遭到拒绝。外界一直没有办法得知他的现状。

II

我们一家上次团圆是2017年秋天。家喜2016年10月出狱后马上去申请签证来看我们，但是遭到拒签。直到2017年9月，他才终于获得签证。他让我给他买的来回票，他告诉我只计划在阿尔弗雷德呆两个月。我非常伤心。我说我等了你四年，你只给我两个月的时间，太过分了。

他在阿尔弗雷德这两个月，我大部分时间在上班，很忙。孩子们也都在上学。他每天做饭、洗衣服、看书，跟朋友聊天、听各种各样的新闻频道。他跟我一块去散步，去会朋友，去教堂。他很愿意认识我所认识的所有人。他还跟我一块去跳民间舞，看艺术展，听音乐会，甚至早起和我去练瑜伽。九月、十月正好是阿尔弗雷德的生活最丰富的时候，他陪着我一一去体验。

我的朋友们都知道他曾经是一位律师，但是因为在中国参与倡导人权被强加罪名蹲过三年多的监狱，也知道他从监狱出来后一直没有放弃自己的理想。

我们讨论他留下来还是回去，基本上每天都在讨论。但是我知道这种讨论是没有结果的，因为我知道他一定是要回去的，我不过就是想留他多呆一阵子。我对他这么快回去一直不满。他完全可以待到圣诞节等孩子们都从学校回来。他只要多待两个月，感恩节、圣诞节、新年我们就都可以在一块过了。

我们的小女儿沙沙那时还在上中学。他陪沙沙打网球，到学校去看沙沙打球。但是大女儿豆豆在大学里，没有时间和爸爸相处，他们父女只是一起吃了两三顿饭。

2013年我们刚回到阿尔弗雷德时, 豆豆经历了一段难以自拔的痛苦。她对于爸爸的选择很不以为然，认为他忽略了家庭责任，不是一个称职的丈夫和父亲。二女儿升大学的时候写入学声明, 也不愿意提爸爸，因为她也很痛苦，不能理解爸爸为什么说爱我们，但又要离开我们回中国。

我经常跟家喜争辩：你为什么要回中国？你个人的力量太有限了，只有神的力量才可以改变中国。你完全可以在美国看着中国发生变化，在这里做你力所能及的事。他则反复跟我讲他为什么不能离开中国这片土壤。

住了一个多月后，他开始心不在焉了。他有一种焦躁，急着回中国。他觉得好像再待长一点，就会回不去似的。我当时恨不得中国政府不让他回中国。我在阿尔斯通公司的同事甚至说，你把他的护照烧了、扔了不行吗？你让他回去干什么？

但是我相信上帝，我觉得他着了魔的要回去，是上帝在选择他，不是他自己、也不是我在选择他。我记得我喜欢的一个电影《梅兰芳》。如同梅兰芳这个艺术家不属于一个小家庭，而属于社会一样，我也一直有一种感觉，丁家喜不属于我们这个家庭，他属于这个社会，他属于中国这个大家庭，他不是我能把他关得住的。

家喜在阿尔弗雷德的两个月，我们和Joe, Nancy, Vicky, Emrys, Bonnie, Bob, Laurel, John, Genie等老朋友在一起聚了几次。走之前，我们请朋友们到家里晚餐，给家喜饯行。家喜谈了他在监狱里的生活，他出狱后的打算，他的理念，中国为什么要倡导公民社会等。大家也问他为什么一定要回去，家喜便把他跟我说的又跟大家说了一遍，基本上就是说那是他的土壤，他需要在那里和人接触。

他走的那天，我一个人把他送到水牛城机场搭飞机。我非常痛苦，心里跟刀割一样。我不知道我是怎么把车开回来的。 2018年5月，家喜准备前来美国参加大女儿的毕业典礼，但在北京首都机场被海关拦下，被告知他出境会“危害国家安全”。我一个星期睡不着觉，肝肠寸断。我甚至觉得我们这辈子没有机会再见面了。

III

我第一次来到阿尔弗雷德是2000年8月。订机票时，我把地图放大了好几倍，才在纽约上州罗彻斯特附近找到了这个只有五千人口的大学城。我在阿尔弗雷德大学跟随Dr. Linda Jones读材料科学研究生。毕业后在阿尔斯通公司工作了一年后，2004年我带着两个女儿回到中国。2013年在家喜被捕后不久，我带着两个女儿再次回到阿尔弗雷德，在这里安家、工作、生活到现在。阿尔弗雷德是我在美国唯一住过的地方。这里是我的家。

元旦过后，教会的许多朋友们开始录制视频，对家喜再次被捕表达震惊、愤怒、担忧。

教会牧师Laurie说：“教会所有人都很担心Sophie 的先生的现状，担心他遭受不公正的对待，担心他的基本人权不能得以保障，我们将尽我们所能帮助Sophie寻找她先生的下落。” Jami Snyder, Sarah Coty, Larry and Jan Casey, Robert Reginio, Janis Porter, Jen 和Tom Smith 一家, Debbie 和 Rick Steven, Amie Acton, Cathy Rees和教会许多朋友录制了一人一视频 (大多数视频有中文字幕)。Peter O’Connor说的是大家共同的心声：“我们在美国听到中国发生这样的事感到非常愤怒。每个国家都要支持人权，我们将持续关注丁家喜先生直到他被无罪释放为止！” Cathy Rees说：“不允许律师会见，极大的增加了他们被酷刑和虐待的可能性。我们都知道他们的被羁押，仅仅是因为他们的和平而且完全合法的争取人权的活动。中国政府应当立即释放罗胜春的丈夫和他的朋友们，停止任意羁押！”

教会成员，还有教会主日学校的孩子们, 和我举着自由丁家喜的标语合影。我把这些照片一一放到了推特和脸书上。

一月我和关心厦门案的朋友们在华盛顿见到美国白宫官员、国会行政当局中国委员会的官员、美国国务院人权官员。我接受了美国之音采访。在纽约，我见到了民主党众议员、国会及行政当局中国委员会（CECC）共同主席吉姆·麦戈文 (Jim McGovern) 先生和纽约大学中国法律专家科恩教授。

二月份，我在阿尔弗雷德大学做了一个演讲。参加的人有各系的教授，学生，教会的朋友，我的邻居。校长Mark Zupan，一位经济学家，也来了。我十多年前在阿尔弗雷德大学读书时的东道主家庭Joe专门从俄亥俄州开车六个多小时赶过来。和我一起跳舞，一起练瑜伽的朋友也来了。

我讲了我们一家和阿尔弗雷德的联系； 2013-2014年间对新公民运动的镇压；中国公民运动；我讲了家喜如何因为和朋友在厦门的一次会面而遭到秘密羁押。

那时，武汉李文亮医生刚刚死于新冠肺炎。他2019年12月底因为警告武汉出现一种类似萨斯的冠状病毒而被医院行政部门以及警察训诫。他是一位共产党员医生，但是他留给世人最后的一句话是 “一个健康的社会应该有不止有一种声音。” 的确，一个压制言论、压制异见、拒绝透明的国家，它的危害，绝不停止于其国界内。

家喜和李文亮医生没有任何交集，但是在这一点上，他们是一致的。

四月份，《阿尔弗雷德太阳报》转载了改变中国编辑曹雅学2017年和家喜的访谈。那是迄今家喜亲述的最完整的故事了。更多阿尔弗雷德人由此了解了家喜和我的处境。

我的税表差不多拖到了最后一天。我给税务师打电话告诉她我今年家里碰到了难事，拖延到现在。她说：我很理解，因为我知道你先生的事，我看了你的视频，也看到了报纸对家喜的报导，我知道你为什么这么忙，你真不容易！我希望我可以帮你减轻负担。

我去交水费的时候，工作人员也说她读了家喜的消息。“如果我能做什么，请告诉我，”她说。

在阿尔弗雷德的日用品小店，店员说她知道我先生的事，问我有没有消息。“我能帮上什么，请别犹豫告诉我。”

阿尔弗雷德没什么中国人，只有主街的街角有一家经营平淡的中餐馆。另外就是阿尔弗雷德大学孔子学院的中国人。他们是中国政府的派员，对我为家喜发声敬而远之。他们中有一两个人对家喜的遭遇表示了同情，向我表示要帮我联系中国驻纽约总领馆的人，看看能不能帮我打听到家喜的消息。但是后来她告诉我中领馆的答复是：驻纽约领馆的人只帮助在美国这边遇到困难的中国人。我问她：“我生活在美国，我还是持中国护照，我丈夫失踪了，我不算是在美国遇到困难的中国人吗？”她哑口无言。

我们教会每周为家喜和他的朋友们集体祈祷。礼拜后，我们到教堂对面的教会活动中心写信。在纽约州发布新冠病毒居家隔离令之前，我们给烟台市公安局寄出了近60封信。我的两个女儿在学校分别收到了近30封鼓励、安慰、支持的信和卡片。三月底，我把要求无罪释放家喜和他的朋友的请愿信和代表来自美国6个州（NY, CA, MA, MN, OH, PA) 第一批共329个签名的32张签名页寄给了中国公安部赵克志部长、烟台市公安局赵峰局长和中国驻美领馆崔天凯大使。

四月中，和家喜一同被捕的人的家属给家人写来了信。我心里燃起了希望。也许我也会收到家喜的信了。但是没有。我决定开始给家喜写信。我把写好的信用短信发给烟台公安局指定和被捕家属联系的刘警官转交，但没有得到任何回音。我只好把这些信公布在推特和脸书上。我告诉家喜疫情如何从中国开始肆虐全球；告诉家喜他的妈妈知道他的儿子没犯罪，也知道谁才是真正的罪犯；告诉家喜今年的春天姗姗来迟；告诉家喜疫情期间我和孩子们怎么享受工作和生活；告诉家喜我们后院的勿忘我、荷包牡丹、兰花和细葱花如何一一绽放，我希望和家喜分享我们生活里的各种美丽和希望。

IV

家喜第一次来美国是2001年1月份，他带着我们五岁的大女儿豆豆来探亲，住了一个月。我那时学业很紧张，但闲暇或周末时，我就会带着家喜和豆豆去朋友家参加聚会。聚会是阿尔弗雷德的特色之一。阿尔弗雷德的冬天非常冷，雪总是很厚，Joe和 Nancy带我们去滑雪，家喜和豆豆一下就学会了，而且都非常喜欢。我上课的时候，他们父女俩常去滑雪，玩得很开心。

此外，家喜大部分的时间是带着豆豆去听附近村镇各个法院旁听庭审。他很想了解美国的法律体系，了解陪审员制度。他从外面旁听开庭回来，就滔滔不绝跟我讲他的感受。

后来我们有了小女儿沙沙。沙沙出生的时候，家喜带着豆豆过来，在阿尔弗雷德尽心当了100天全职爸爸。

2004我回到北京的时候，家喜刚刚创办了自己的律师事务所不久。那时候他的目标是证明自己可以赚钱，可以成功。这个律师事务所他经营了正好10年，从第一年的200万年收入发展到第十年的2500万年收入，有执业律师20个，合伙人9个，在北京属于中上规模。

家喜是学航空发动机的,也许这里面有一定的联系，他一直对改良治理的细节十分用心。有一些年，他很热衷通过诸如写提案向政府提出各种建议，如加强奶粉质量监管（他在2008年发生毒奶粉事件前写提案）、简化二手车过户手续、设立网站公开全国的执行案件等。这些提议要么石沉大海，要么在他提议后很多年里才部分成为政府的政策。

另一方面，家喜在那些年里并不是一个过分关心政治的人。他虽然是八九一代（我也是），大学三年级那年参加了天安门广场民主运动，但他对那些年的人权大事基本上没有了解。

这种情况在2011年发生了变化。那一年，他到位于纽约的福德姆大学 (Fordham University) 法学院做了一学年访问学者。那时他才开始接触大量自由信息，开始了解中国那些年发生的抗争。用我女儿的话描述，爸爸那时候天天在房间里踱步。前不久，我把他那时写的文章、以及罗列的一些议题从电脑里找出来，我看到，他在思考权利与权力的关系，尝试对中国的法律体系进行“清理”，探讨言论自由、社会保障、土地私有等这样的内容。

从美国回去后，家喜开始参加公民运动倡导者许志永博士和北京一些知识分子、律师们的定期聚会。家喜有时和我谈他的想法，他为什么做这个做那个，我都很赞同、理解他。对于他的改变，我一开始没太在意。但是当国保（也就是政治安全警察）开始跟踪他的时候，我才开始觉得不舒服了。警察经常找他“约谈”，家里的日常生活，比如接送孩子，受到影响。到了2012-13年，新公民运动开始到街头倡导官员公示财产的时候，国保甚至驻扎到了我们家门外。 2013年春天，家喜辞去了律所主任职务。之后不久，4月13日晚，一群国保突然闯到我们北航的家里进行搜查，然后又去他事务所搜查，之后把家喜带走了。

VI

根据中国法律，公民有通信自由，即使是犯罪嫌疑人，其通信受到公安机关和检察院检查，但任何机关和个人无权扣留信件，阻挠通信。我迄今给家喜写了14封信，他们全都没有交给家喜。

根据中国法律，律师有权利会见犯罪嫌疑人，有权利和犯罪嫌疑人通信，但家喜的律师先后三次要求会见，均被拒绝，律师写给家喜的信也被扣留，没有转交。

根据中国法律，公安机关应当及时告知律师基本案情和犯罪事实，但至今8个多月过去了，家喜的律师对案情和犯罪事实一无所知。

根据中国法律，公安机关应当向家属公开他们申请的犯罪嫌疑人健康状况、看守监管状况等信息，但是我向临沂市公安局申请信息公开，却被告知我申请公开的信息“不属于《中华人民共和国政府信息公开条例》第二条规定的政府信息。”根据中国法律，八月十九日侦查期满，公安机关应当通知律师是延长侦查还是移送审查起诉，但是家喜的律师没有收到任何有关通知。 为了把一个无辜公民送进监狱，当局把所有的法律程序变成秘密：秘密羁押，秘密审讯，从近年的案例看，下一步他们通常做法会是秘密解除家属聘请的律师，秘密开庭，秘密宣判。如不是亲身经历，我不能相信一个国家、一个政府可以无耻操控法律到这种地步。

VI

六月到七月，我从非正式途径听到了一些关于家喜的消息。它证实了我最大的担忧：家喜遭到酷刑了。 丁家喜在烟台遭受了长时间剥夺睡眠，噪音整日骚扰，日光灯24小时照射，固定睡姿，长时间固定坐姿，坐在一个安装了铁笼子的铁椅子上接收审讯，不给餐食或者只给极少量餐食等酷刑。专案组不仅从各地抽调了一百多名警察负责看管丁家喜等被监视居住的人，而且不断捕风捉影，试图将案件性质升级。一开始他们试图把案件办成涉枪涉恐，后来又把参会人员参加过的非暴力抗争课程描绘成培训颠覆政权。他们试图把这次厦门聚会确定为非法组织的成立大会。

我通过国内好友向临沂市检察院、山东省检察院、省公安厅、最高检、公安部等各级权力机关负责人和部门邮寄了十封投诉。我的小女儿为爸爸发起了一次联署请愿，要求中国司法部门公开、公正、透明审理丁家喜案。已经有来自17个国家的635人签了名。读者，我希望你读到这里，也去签名支持丁家喜，网址是：

https://www.freedingjiaxi.com/sign-the-petition-free-ding-jiaxi

我的朋友、阿尔弗雷德大学哲学系教授Emrys Westacott 春天的时候发表了一篇名为《释放丁家喜》的文章。他写道：“Kwame Anthony Appiah 在其2011年著作《荣誉准则》中写到，以恐怖的妇女缠足传统为例，统治者意识到其他文明世界对此做法嗤之以鼻之后所萌发的耻辱感，对终结此陋习起到了关键性的作用。作为一种策略，对丁家喜这样的良心犯加以最大程度的公开呼吁，亦是籍羞耻感作为杠杆去撬动改变。犬儒主义者也许会说中国的统治者不知羞耻，但事实并非如此。他们感到需要粉饰自己的鬼魅行径，他们很在意国际社会对其人权记录的批评，凡此种种，显示出其某种程度的道德焦虑。此外，对在监牢里饱受煎熬的如丁家喜这样的英雄个体，公开就是阳光，它温暖人心，揭露丑恶，灭杀病毒。”

这一次，我一天也不会停止说话，直到家喜重获自由。 在阿尔弗雷德, 我不是孤身一人。

LI Qiaochu 李翹楚 2020年9月26日

A Note at the Beginning: As we set out to document our personal histories through words and images, when the year 2020 is recalled in the future, my story will be one of vulnerability and struggle. It will be a tale of holding on to love through separation, of the solidarity and mutual aid within our community, and of the sordid faces of those who do harm… They may try to silence us, to suppress what we say, but what we’ve lived through, what we’ve remembered, remains beyond their control. When the time comes to fight again, let us not forget to keep a smile on our lips and a song of freedom in our hearts.

June 19, 2020, was the day I was released on bail awaiting trial, and also the day Xu Zhiyong was officially arrested and transferred to Linshu County Detention Center on charges of “inciting to subvert state power.” As the national security vehicle carrying me approached the spot where my parents were waiting to pick me up, just a few hundred meters away, they removed the cloth from over my head. Four months later, when my parents saw me again, they found me trembling uncontrollably as I got out of the car. My mother held me and cried for a long time.

From the “small prison” back to the “big prison,” the one person I cared most about had not regained his “freedom.” On that day, I was deeply saddened that I could walk out, but he was being sent off to Shandong. Ahead of me lay a lonely and dark path, and I stood at the crossroads, all alone.

Today marks 100 days since June 19th. Protest and public expression are a process of self-empowerment. What has kept me going is my understanding of the concept of “citizenship,” my feelings for my partner, the support of friends around me, and the question I ask myself every time I overcome fear: “Can I move forward just a little more?” Though my steps may be shaky and ungraceful, I firmly believe that one day, things will turn around.

Handcuffed, Crossing Into the New Year

Question: “Has there been any change in yourself in 2020?” Answer: “I’ve become a little braver.”

In the summer of 2019, I was on the subway when Xu Zhiyong got into a dispute with a security officer over an ID check. I stood at a distance, nervously thinking to myself, “Please don’t let them take us to the police station.” At that time, I was the kind of person who would shrink away in a crisis. I never could have imagined how different my life would be just half a year later.

Back then, I had just been diagnosed with depression and had started medication and counseling. Most of my spare time outside of work was spent with Zhiyong, following the ongoing public events and trying to make a difference in whatever small ways we could. I remember the details vividly: 

• June 28: Li Wenzu, after four years of searching for her husband, visited Wang Quanzhang in prison for the first time.
• July 4: Zhang Baocheng, who had been detained for over a month, was formally arrested — his sixth time in prison.
• July 23: Lawyer Wu Lei’s license was revoked; he was the quiet figure who exited as the curtain rose on a new stage.
• July 24: Three public welfare workers from Changsha were arrested, and I helped translate breaking news in the volunteer group.
• July 29: Huang Qi was sentenced to 12 years in prison, where he would remain a voice for freedom and conscience.
• August 12: Zhang Jialong was taken from his home and formally arrested a month later.
• September 19: Chen Yunfei was detained for expressing concern over Hong Kong.
• October 17: Xueqin was detained by the Guangzhou police, later placed under residential surveillance.
• October 31: Qin Yongpei was arrested in Nanning.
• December 17: Xiangzi was taken away and administratively detained.

During that period, I learned how to use WordPress and GitHub. Zhiyong and I compiled his more than 200 articles and the major events of the civil rights movement, creating the “Beautiful China” website: https://cmcn.blog/. He joked, half-seriously, “If I ever get arrested, let people get to know me through this site.”

I can’t recall the exact date Zhiyong left home, but I remember it was after the first snow in Beijing. He kissed me goodbye as usual and went out. A while later, he sent me a message saying he’d managed to shake off the tailing state security and got on the subway. I asked him how long it would take before he could return, and he reassured me he would be back before my 29th birthday.

On December 27, I suddenly saw news online about the arrest of lawyer Ding Jiaxi and three other citizens. My heart tightened. Soon after, I received a message from Zhiyong: “Honey, I may have to lie low for a while. If something happens to me, go find my sister and sign the lawyer’s power of attorney. Take care of yourself. I love you.” I was stunned, not knowing how to respond or what was happening. Slowly, I typed a few words: “Stay safe, I’ll always be here.” After that, we lost contact.

For the next few days, I spent hours scrolling through Twitter and Facebook, trying to understand what was happening. The only indication I had that Zhiyong was safe came from his social media updates. I couldn’t sleep all night, crying as I stared at my phone, feeling helpless and uncertain about what I could do or who I could turn to.

December 30, 2019, I finally received an email from Zhiyong. He said he was still safe and sent me the completed “Beautiful China” anthology, asking me to upload it to the website. I went to a quiet café and began entering his articles on the site, tears flowing uncontrollably. Later that afternoon, while browsing the news, I was shocked and saddened to read that Pastor Wang Yi had been sentenced to 9 years in prison. It felt like a dark cloud had suddenly swept over me, completely engulfing me. After that, I wrote Zhiyong in an email: “If it comes to the point of a verdict, can we apply to get married? I can’t bear the thought of not being able to see you for such a long time.” He replied, “I also really want to marry you, but we must prepare ourselves for the fact that the application process may be very difficult.” Reading his response, I burst into tears, then smiled through the tears. In that moment, I felt that was enough.

December 31, 2019, in the morning, the state security began raiding homes and summoning people. I experienced firsthand how vast the gap is between the law and reality. “Disturbing the peace” can be stretched to mean “guilt by association.” I was locked up in a case-handling center, officially listed as a “Jane Doe.” There were even instances where state security, during interrogations, mentioned my name, as if they had a list of things they planned to search for in my house. One of them mocked, saying: “You’re someone who studied economics management. How would you understand these things? It’s clear you learned it from Xu Zhiyong. Even if we didn’t have the proper papers, what could you do about it if we just wanted to question you?”

From January 1, 2020, my life turned into a daily routine of being followed and watched. In the first few days, I recorded my feelings of despair and helplessness on my phone: “Today, the national security agent following me is a huge guy, he looks so fierce,””How dare they follow me so openly? They don’t even feel guilty,” “I can’t let myself get used to this life. This is not what a normal country or a normal citizen should have to endure.”

On January 9, after discussing it with Zhiyong via email, I finally gathered the courage to publicly disclose the details of my summons and the reasons behind it, in a post titled “Handcuffed, Crossing Into the New Year.” I felt the need to step into the light, to use the truth to fight against the oppression and harassment.

Fighting With You, I Am Happy

Love is a daring adventure that insists on holding on, a belief in true democracy and freedom. It’s about loving this land, acting in the face of the impossible, standing against the powers that be. Thank you, for always keeping your head held high.

In early January, the state security tracked me down through the project team at the Sociology Department of Tsinghua University, and soon after, I lost my job. From then on, my daily routine became: checking emails, writing emails, updating the website with articles, supporting the four citizens under residential surveillance, and publicly sharing the oppression and surveillance that were ever-present in my life.

Through emails, Zhiyong and I exchanged thoughts on the unfolding public events, how to support the detained citizens, and expressed our longing for one another, sharing the status of our lives. He would always ask about my emotional well-being and the status of my therapy. His comfort, optimism, and calmness helped me hold onto a sense of inner peace, even in such a cramped, tense environment. I think that gentleness is like a nerve—once severed, it can’t be sewn back together. Despite the pain and violence he endured, Zhiyong survived—and kept his gentleness intact. It’s a rare feat. With his encouragement, I gradually overcame my fear of being followed. Eventually, I began taking pictures of the cars tracking me and even learned some specific skills—like identifying if I was being followed and how to shake off the agents trailing me.

On January 23rd, the COVID-19 pandemic erupted, and Wuhan was locked down overnight. In the grand narrative of a “great nation,” the people seemed so “insignificant.” Behind the cold numbers of death were individual stories of families torn apart: a woman in Hanyang, Wuhan, used a basin on her balcony to “bang a gong to save her mother,” crying out for a hospital bed for her critically ill mother; a 70-year-old dialysis patient, suspected of having contracted COVID-19, was unable to receive treatment at the hospital and couldn’t wait for a community-arranged nucleic acid test, ultimately jumping to his death…  From that day on, I also became a volunteer, providing online assistance to the families of COVID-19 patients in Wuhan. During this period, Xu Zhiyong’s writings also related to the pandemic. Since he had limited access to the internet while in hiding, I would, in between my volunteer work, gather and send him the relevant news of the day.

Every day, I worried about whether he was managing basic survival during his time in hiding. Exile in one’s own homeland is never as “romantic” as it may seem on paper. I am so grateful for friends like lawyer Yang Bin and others, whose help allowed him to maintain some dignity during that bitter winter of escape. Thanks to their support, he was not left in an undignified state, even when he was taken away, still well-dressed and composed.

On February 14, Valentine’s Day, Zhiyong sent me a video he had recorded for the occasion. Even in the midst of our busy work, we made time to send each other blessings. That was the last email he sent me before his arrest. On February 15, a friend contacted me saying Zhiyong had likely been detained. After finishing up work on a ventilator connection project, I sent him email after email, crying alone in my room, helpless. I never got a reply from him. Instead, the state security came to my door in the dead of night to take me away.

My Period Under Residential Surveillance

The body is soft, but we are not cogs in a political or activist machine. How much we must struggle, just to live as we are—normal, human.

I have already publicly shared the details of my arrest and the summons at the case-handling center, and I will continue to do so. Here, I want to share my feelings about this period in my life.

My mind is filled with fragmented memories, such as:

The black hood and handcuffs, the closed room, the constant harsh white light;

The guards who watched me closely, the stern reprimands or the slightly kinder treatment, the white coats and the pills;

The fixed posture I had to maintain while sitting and sleeping, the 24-hour surveillance cameras and intercoms, the lukewarm tap water;

The longing for sunlight, the way I calculated time in my mind, the heightened sensitivity of my hearing, and the ability to capture even the faintest details…

My memory was unusually sharp during that time. I remember every interrogator’s appearance, their manner of speaking, their role-playing, even the sound of their footsteps… They told me I had committed serious crimes, and I often dared not speak for fear of falling into a trap. But the interrogation was the only time I could speak, and at times, the loneliness made me “look forward” to being called in for questioning.

I experienced Stockholm Syndrome: I thanked them in my “confession” for giving me medicine. I often vomited after meals due to emotional distress, and the guards, frustrated and angry, scolded me, threatening to increase the number of personnel watching me from two to three and cancel my time outside. I found myself apologizing for my vomiting, nearly begging them. When I cried, the guards handed me tissues to wipe my tears, and I thanked them. When the interrogators brought me oranges, chocolate, and crispy rice during questioning, I ate them all…

A huge part of what kept me going in that place was knowing that during those months—or even the coming years—those were the closest moments I would get to being near Xu Zhiyong. I longed desperately for some special power or telepathic connection to “talk” to him. The interrogators showed me our photos stored on their computers, and I tried my best to imprint those images in my mind. I replayed in my head the everyday moments we shared, hoping that these scenes would appear in my dreams.

I learned to meditate on the films, poems, and novels I had once seen or read, to fill the vast empty spaces of time while sitting in the chair. Those precious memories allowed me to slowly filter out the brainwashing content they tried to force on me, preserving my own vitality and refusing to let myself become the machine they sought to mold me into. I used up every ounce of my energy.

On the morning of June 19, when the state security read me the decision to grant bail, I sat there, somewhat numb, in the chair. There was no joy in being granted freedom. More than anything, I felt lost, unsure of how to walk the solitary road ahead. The day after I was released, I tried to process my experiences in detention, and I realized I had lost memory of some of the painful moments. Our social movement often emphasizes the need to be strong, to not fear hardship, and showing vulnerability is discouraged. The focus and publicity go toward grand, heroic themes, while the psychological trauma is often ignored or stigmatized.

In the days following my release, I struggled with fear, nightmares, insomnia, lack of focus, heightened alertness, traumatic flashbacks, and trembling limbs. At the same time, I became a “quasi-undercover” individual. When meeting friends, I would speak in whispers, constantly on edge, scanning my surroundings. My parents, worried for my safety, became hypersensitive, self-censoring their thoughts. They worried every time I left the house, feared I was speaking too much, feared I might be followed by “informers,” and even worried that the national security had a bad impression of me. I felt as though our entire family had contracted “paranoia.”

I often dreamt of situations where I was writing confessions. The guilt and humiliation tortured me endlessly, and I constantly blamed myself: Why did I obediently stand there, watching them search through my things and put handcuffs and a hood on me? Why did I sit obediently in that chair, positioned halfway? What did I have to cling to? Alone, helpless, my strength and will bound, that feeling controlled me. We are oppressed by the system, and each of us, in our own way, has contributed to building this system. But in the end, we are powerless to resist, even passively. Our obedience makes it possible for those actively serving the system to do as they please, creating a space for evil to flourish. How can we escape from it?

Breaking the Silence, Confronting the Fear

If we cannot speak courageously, we cannot act freely. We must not shy away, nor avoid the trouble of speaking out. We must share the details, the trauma, and the weakness—because what they fear most is exactly what we must do.

After I was released on June 19, I entered a period of “silence,” afraid to reach out to anyone, terrified of being taken back into detention. On June 24, I nervously posted my first tweet after my release. Although I only dared to post a subtle image, I was happy that I had taken that first step. Not long after, the national security officers called me, saying they were closely monitoring the internet to see if my voice appeared online, warning me to “disappear as if I never existed.” On June 25, I posted my first tweet with text: “They warned me to disappear, I’m so scared of being erased.” As soon as I sent it, I felt my heart leap to my throat, and every time the phone rang, I became tense. But I knew that no matter how silent, evasive, or compliant I was, the national security would still come to harass and monitor me. Since I couldn’t avoid it, why not fight for some space? Perhaps I could carve out even a little freedom.

On July 8, Xu Zhiyong’s second sister went to the detention center to deposit money for him. First, they said they couldn’t find his name, and then they said it had to be approved by the special investigation team. From that day onward, I began speaking out on Twitter about the illegal actions in the case procedures, such as using aliases for detention, denying lawyer visits, and restricting communication. On July 13, I started filing public information requests to the Linyi Public Security Bureau. A month later, I filed for administrative reconsideration, followed by awaiting administrative litigation. On August 27, I began filing requests for information about my rights violations. Every step, no matter how small, was worthwhile—if nothing else, to show people how incredibly difficult it is to protect one’s rights under the law in China. These actions mattered.

As I continued to speak out and take action, national security officers began summoning me more frequently. The number of officers grew from two to three to four. Every time I received a call, my heart would race. During these interrogations, I often struggled to respond, usually just sitting in silence. But each time I returned, I forced myself to write down what happened and share it publicly. The most recent interrogation involved just two officers again, and their tone seemed to have softened somewhat. From the beginning, even just asserting my presence would get me reprimanded; now, it seems that I have gained some space to speak out and take action. Only I know the fear and caution I experienced throughout the whole process. I was so isolated, yet I had to speak out, even though I knew that at any moment, I could be silenced again. Who would take over if that happened? I still dare not imagine that outcome.

On August 19, I published my first detailed account of being placed under residential surveillance. On August 24, I published the second. After that, frequent threats and interrogations disrupted my plan to publish one article per week, but these interruptions inadvertently helped expand the reach of my words and attract more attention. I will continue to speak out. Rage and indignation can fade with time, but facts do not change. Even if everyone forgets, the facts still have their witnesses. We must continue to push for the truth and hold those who do wrong accountable. Whether it’s covert oppression, open threats, or attempts to distort the truth, we cannot be silent or tolerate it.

We need to recognize the kind of fear the authorities want us to feel. It is a fear of punishment, exile, and imprisonment—a deep, all-encompassing fear. We must have the courage to speak of this fear openly, for it shows the connection that binds us together in this struggle. We need to let go of the obsession with individual heroes, public intellectuals, or personal courage. We need to realize that we have the power to support each other, to create a world where fear has less of a grip on us. That is the effort we must make.

What I’m Fighting Against Is Not Only Oppression, But Also Depression

Depression is not an absolute disaster; it can also bring a strength beyond what I ever imagined. I continue with my treatment because, in the end, I still care about myself.

Throughout this struggle, my depression has been unpredictable, never truly leaving. I’ve had thoughts of suicides, and I’ve engaged in self-harm behaviors countless times. When Zhiyong was by my side, there were moments when I locked myself in the closet, holding onto a coat, inhaling the scent of the fabric, trying to feel like I was more than just a body. He would gently encourage me to open a small crack in the door, sitting outside on a chair with one hand reaching through the gap to hold mine. We would just sit there, quietly, together.

After the incident, my depression worsened. The doctor increased my medication, but because of my first experience with being summoned, I feared that if I were arrested again, the medication would control me. So, I often secretly reduced the dosage, ignoring the doctor’s advice, and the situation only got worse. At times, I felt like a puddle of mud, lying on the ground, unable to do anything. But in the end, driven by my deep love, admiration, and curiosity for this world, by my confusion, reluctance, and unwillingness to give up, and by that fragile, almost imperceptible hope for the future, I learned to accept my illness. I continue to walk with it—through this dark, lonely path—determined to see it through to the end.

I Am No Island

The fight continues because I do not want to leave my comrades behind. And by “comrades,” I mean not only the families of those involved in the same case, but all families of those caught in similar struggles, and all those who seek freedom and justice…

The appearance of the 709 families has become a standard for the fight of family members. Yet, I know that the current environment is still different from theirs. So, what should I do?

The first person to reach out to me was Sister Shengchun, the wife of lawyer Ding Jiaxi, who was involved in the same case. Day after day, I followed her on Twitter, witnessing how she “gave everything” to call for attention to her husband’s case. On the tenth day since Ding’s disappearance, she began making videos telling his story, calling for broader awareness. On the twentieth day, she posted videos in both Chinese and English, appealing to the international community. On the twenty-eighth day, she stood on the streets of Washington, holding signs. On the thirty-second day, she started making “one person, one video,” encouraging friends to speak up for her husband. On the forty-third day, she began collecting signatures and sending letters to the Minister of Public Security. On the 271st day, she appeared at the United Nations Human Rights Council to speak out for him… She sent a total of 15 letters to Ding, tirelessly filing complaints to relevant authorities to protect his right to communicate. Her relentless persistence always moved me. Whenever I felt powerless, just seeing Sister Shengchun still in action gave me the strength to keep going.

Cheng Yuan has been arbitrarily detained for over 340 days. He has dedicated his work to advocating for people living with HIV/AIDS and hepatitis B, and promoting reforms in family planning and the household registration system. Since his detention in July 2019 on charges of “subverting state power,” he has had no news. His wife, Shi Minglei, has withstood pressure and threats, speaking out for him and fighting for her own rights. Her gentle strength has been a powerful resistance against injustice. Through seeing Minglei’s perseverance, I came to understand what a remarkable person Cheng Yuan is. Recently, there were reports that the Changsha Public Welfare Three were secretly tried. On that day, I almost lost hope. But the next morning, I woke up to see Minglei holding her little Pea, fully recharged and ready to go back to the courthouse. I was moved to tears.

In addition, there are Chen Kun, the brother of Chen Mei in the Duandianxing case; Hong Bo, the girlfriend of Cai Wei; Liu Lijiao, the wife of artist Zhuihun; Xu Yan, the wife of lawyer Yu Wensheng; Deng Xiaoyun, the wife of lawyer Qin Yongpei; poet Wang Cang and his wife Wang Li; He Fangmei, the mother of the “vaccination baby”; Pu Wenqing, the mother of Huang Qi; and Zhang Zhan, the citizen journalist who has been on hunger strike for days… I think of so many people, many of whom I may have never met in person. But this is what it means to be part of a “community.” We are rooted in the same land, waiting together for the snow to melt and for spring to arrive.

And beyond the cases unfolding right now, my community includes all those who are fighting. They have stood by the families of those wrongly accused, by workers facing injustice, by petitioners suffering violence and persecution, and by migrant workers in urban villages facing eviction… But because of the filth and corruption in the iron tower, their voices have been branded as “crimes.” In an environment where people fear speaking of politics, they are marginalized and stigmatized.

Speech is Resistance

We must learn to approach life with a positive attitude, and, within our own abilities, perspectives, time, and burdens, explore richer forms of social resistance. Above all, we must strive to maintain a self that is “genuine, responsible, and dignified.”

I know I need a social support network, but what if there isn’t one readily available? Then I must start building it myself. I first formed a mutual aid group with friends who had similar experiences of being placed under residential surveillance. It gave us a space where we could express ourselves safely and feel understood, reminding us that we were not alone and helping me regain the confidence to keep going in life.

But what if I don’t want to stop here? What if we want more people to understand the significance of our cries for help? What if we want more than just the fleeting attention of public opinion and seek a long-lasting social consensus? What if we wish to shift the understanding of the concept of “residential surveillance,” so that others need not pay the same price of suffering to have their voices heard?

I believe this is the meaning behind my decision to publicly share my own experience of being placed under residential surveillance. I hope it can encourage others who have gone through similar experiences to speak out about their own stories. Perhaps, there never needed to be a distinction between “us” and “the others.” In the face of such a powerful system, what we can do is preserve our dignity and autonomy, and reduce the crushing force and harm that power inflicts upon the individual.

Conclusion

Not long ago, I did a photoshoot in a wedding dress. I hope one day I’ll have the chance to send the photos to Xu Zhiyong, to let him know that the time spent together with him was filled with happiness, and that the life we fought for together was also a life of joy. During the times I was summoned, followed, questioned, or placed under residential surveillance, those experiences have always taught me how to grow stronger. But when I face known or unknown hardships, what I miss most is him, and I regret that, in my best years, he cannot be by my side.

Looking back, I may never return to the life I once knew. As I continue this journey, I’ve encountered more families, more activists, and along the way, I’ve come to rediscover the people I love, my own rights, and the kind of environment I want for future generations. I’ve come to realize that “being human” can be this way—one can choose to live with integrity, with authenticity.

As long as Xu Zhiyong is not free, I will not stop speaking out or taking action.

Click the following link for the Chinese version: https://seriousli.home.blog/2020/09/30/100/

李翹楚 2020年9月26日

寫在前面的話：我們要圖文並茂的書寫我們個人的歷史，日後再提起2020年，我的故事，是自我的脆弱與掙扎，是與愛人的堅守與分離，是共同體之間的守望相助，還有作惡者的齷齪嘴臉……他們可以阻止我們發表什麽，但是我們經歷過什麽記住了什麽，依舊無法被控制。再次開始戰鬥的時候，別忘了嘴角保持微笑，心裏唱著自由的歌。

2020年6月19日是我取保候審的日子，也是許志永被以“煽動顛覆國家政權罪”正式逮捕轉往臨沭縣看守所的日子。囯保的車距離我父母接我的地點還有幾百米的時候，他們解下罩在我頭上的衣服，4個月后重新看到我，見我下車時四肢都無法控制的發抖，我媽媽抱著我哭了很久。從“小監獄”回到“大監獄”，我最牽挂的人卻沒能重獲“自由”。那一天，我爲自己能出去但他卻被送往山東而難過不已，我前面有一條孤獨而黑暗的路，我站在路口，隻身一人。

今天距離6月19日已經100天了，抗爭和公共表達是自我賦權的過程，支撐我走下去的，是對“公民”的理念認知、是對伴侶的感情、是身邊朋友的支持、是每一次跨過恐懼後對自己說“還能不能更往前走一些？”顫顫微微的走路姿勢也許不好看，但我總相信會迎來翻盤的那一天。

戴手銬，跨新年

提問：“2020年的自己有什麼變化嗎？”——回答：“勇敢了一點點”

2019年的夏天，有一次乘地鐵，許志永因爲查身份證的事情跟協警爭吵，我遠遠的躲在一邊，心裏想著“可千萬別把我們帶去派出所呀”，那個時候遇事便躲的我，可能不會想到半年之後的生活吧。

當時我剛被確診抑鬱症，開始接受藥物治療和心理輔導，工作業餘的大部分時間，我跟志永一起關注著不斷發生的公共事件，也盡力去做一些什麽。我能記得的事包括：6月28日，走了四年多“尋夫路”的李文足第一次在監獄中探望到王全璋；7月4日，被帶走一個多月的張寶成被正式逮捕，這已經是他的第六次入獄；7月23日，伍雷律師被吊証，他是大幕拉開時，那個悄然退場的人；7月24日，長沙公益仨被抓，我作爲志願者在群裏幫忙翻譯快訊；7月29日，黃琦被重判12年，他在年月的囚籠中，教曉人們何爲自由與良知；8月12日，張賈龍被從家中帶走，1個月後被正式逮捕；9月19日，陳雲飛因爲對香港的關注被刑拘；10月17日，雪琴被廣州警方刑拘，而後被指定居所監視居住；10月31日，覃永沛被南寧市警方抓捕；12月17日，祥子被帶走后行政拘留……

也是在那段時間，我學會了如何操作wordpress和github，我和志永一起整理了他的兩百多篇文章和公民運動的各階段大事記，做了“美好中國”這個網站：https://cmcn.blog/，當時他半開玩笑的說：“我將來要是被抓了，你就讓大家通過這個網站認識我吧。”

志永離家的具體日期我記不得了，只記得是在北京的第一場雪過後，他像往常一樣親了親我便出門了，過了一會兒發來信息說成功甩掉了跟蹤他的國保上了地鐵，我問他這次出門大概要多久才能回家，他再三保證要在我29嵗生日前趕回家。

12月27日，我突然在網絡上看到了丁家喜律師和另外三位公民被抓捕的消息，心裏一緊。隨後收到志永發來的信息“親愛的，我可能會在外躲一段時間，如果我出事，你就去找我姐姐簽律師委托書，照顧好自己，愛你”，我愣在那裏不知如何回復，也不知道發生了什麽事情，慢吞吞的打了幾個字“注意安全，我會一直在的”。之後，我便與他失去了聯係。接下來的幾天，我拿著手機不停的刷twitter和facebook瞭解事情的原委，也僅能從志永還在更新的狀態獲知他還安全。我整晚失眠，邊看手機邊哭，不知道自己可以做什麽，也不知道可以向誰傾訴。

12月30日，我終於收到了志永發來的郵件，他說自己還算安全，并把已經完成的“美好中國”文集發給我，讓我更新在網站上。我找了閒咖啡館開始在網站上錄入他的文章，眼淚止不住的流下來，下午看新聞時，猛然看到了王怡牧師被重判9年的消息，又震驚又難過，覺得有片烏雲飃過來把我整個罩住了。之後，我在郵件上問志永“如果會走到判決那一步，我們申請結婚好嗎？我無法想象漫長的時間裏都無法見到你”，他回復我“我也很想與你結婚，但我們也要有心理准備可能在申請程序上會很艱難。”看到他的回應，我破涕爲笑，覺得那一刻，就足夠了。

12月31日上午，囯保開始了抄家和傳喚，我亲身体会到了法律与真实的缝隙有多大：“寻衅滋事”原来可以是因为“连坐”；被关进办案中心原来可以被署名“无名氏”；甚至有国保在讯问的时候还提到我当天上午在他们抄家时要搜查证的事情，讽刺道：“你一个学经济管理的，哪懂这些，一听就是许志永教你的吧，别说我们有这些手续，就是没有，想找你问话，你能怎么办？”

从2020年1月1日开始，我便過上了每日出行被监视跟踪的生活。开始的几天，我在手机上记录着自己绝望无助的心情：“今天跟踪我的国保是个彪形大汉，长得好凶”、“他们凭什么可以明目张胆的盯着我，丝毫不感到心虚”、“我不能允许自己习惯这样的生活，这不是一个正常的国家、正常的公民应该遭遇的事情”……

1月9日，在郵件中和志永商量之後，我终于鼓起勇气公开了自己被传唤的具体经过和事由（《戴手銬，跨新年》），我需要把自己置于阳光之下，用真相去对抗打压和骚扰。

和你抗爭，我很愉快

愛，是一種堅持到底的冒險，是對於真正民主自由的信念，愛著這片土地，在不可能中行動，站到強權的對立面，謝謝你，始終頭顱向上。

1月初，國保找到了我所在的清華社會學系項目組，之後我便失去了工作。接下來的日子，我的日常生活變成了：看郵件、寫郵件、更新網站文章、聲援被指定居所監視居住的4位公民、公開隨時會出現的打壓和跟蹤。

我與志永通過郵件交流正在發生的公共事件、如何聲援被捕公民，也通過郵件表達思念，分享彼此的生活狀態。他每天一定會問到我的情緒和看診狀況，他的安慰、樂觀、從容，讓我在那樣逼仄緊張的環境裏依然保有著内心的平安，我想，温柔一定是根神经，断了就无法再次缝上，志永在历经痛苦和暴力的考验之后仍能幸存——罕见的壮举——他依然保持温柔。在他的鼓勵下，我從原先懼怕被跟蹤，到之後追著跟蹤我的車輛拍照，還學會了一些特殊的技能，比如：辨別自己是否被跟蹤、甩掉跟蹤自己的國保。

1月23日，新冠疫情爆發，武漢連夜封城，民眾在「大國敘事」中顯得如此「微不足道」，冰冷的死亡數字背後是一個個家破人亡的故事：武漢漢陽一名女子在家中陽台用臉盆「敲鑼救母」，為重症母親哭求一張醫院牀位；70歲的尿毒症患者疑似患上新冠肺炎，無法在醫院透析，也等不到社區安排核酸檢測，跳樓身亡……我從那天起也投入了志願者工作，為武漢疫情病患家屬提供些線上幫助。志永那段時間的文章也與疫情有關，他逃亡期間上網不便，我在志願工作之餘也會隨手將當天的相關新聞整理好發給他。

我每天都會擔心他在逃亡期間的基本生活能不能得到保障，在寒冬裏自己的祖國流亡從不是書面上那麼「浪漫」。所以至今都很感謝像楊斌律師那樣的朋友，ta們的相助讓他在那個寒冬逃亡期間也保持了生活上的體面，不至於太狼狽，即使被帶走的那一刻也可以衣著整潔、從容不迫。

2月14日是情人節，志永一早便給我發來他錄好的節日視頻，我們兩人在緊張工作之餘也抽空給了對方祝福。那也是他被抓之前發給我的最後一封郵件。2月15日晚上，有朋友聯繫我說志永可能被抓了，我忙完手頭的呼吸機對接工作，一封接著一封的給他發郵件，一個人在房間裡無助的哭著，沒能等來他的回覆，卻等來了深夜上門抓我的國保。

我的指定監居時期

肉身是柔軟的，人不是政治或運動的機器零件，我們要多努力，才能把自己活成生命常態。

關於指定居所監視居住的細節經歷，我已經公開了被抓捕當天和在辦案中心被傳喚的過程，還會繼續公開，我在這裡想分享的，是自己關於這段經歷的感受。

我的頭腦中留有很多碎片化的東西，比如：

黑頭套和手銬、封閉的房間、24小時的白燈光；

貼身監視的看守們、嚴厲訓斥我或和顏悅色的管教、白大褂和藥片；

固定的坐姿和睡姿、24小時的監控錄像和對講機、不冷不熱的白開水；

對陽光的渴望、默算時間的方法、異常敏感的聽覺和信息捕捉……

我的記憶力在那段時間裏出奇的好，我記得每個審訊人員的相貌特徵、說話方式、角色扮演、甚至走路的聲音……他們說我犯了重罪，我經常不敢開口，害怕一開口便掉入陷阱，但審訊期間卻是我唯一能說話的機會，孤獨感有時也會讓我「盼著」被提訊。

我產生過斯德哥爾摩：我在「悔過書」中感謝他們給我吃藥；我因為情緒原因經常飯後嘔吐，氣急敗壞的管教訓斥我，威脅要把看守人員從2個換回3個、取消活動時間，我竟為自己的嘔吐向ta道歉，近乎乞求；我哭泣時，看守人員遞給我紙巾擦眼淚，我對此表示感謝；審訊人員在訊問時帶來的橘子、巧克力和鍋巴，我都吃下了……

我支撐在那裡的很大動力，來自於我知道，那段時間是我幾個月或者往後幾年裏，能距離許志永最近的地方。我特別渴望有什麼特殊功能或者心靈感應，可以與他「對話」。審訊人員把我們的合照存在電腦裏拿給我看，我竭盡全力的想把照片印在自己的腦子裡。我一遍遍的想我們相處的日常生活，讓這些情節也能出現在夢境裏。

我學會了默想曾經看過的電影、詩歌、小說，來填補自己坐在椅子上的大片時光，那些珍貴的記憶，也讓我可以將被「洗腦」的內容慢慢過濾出去，保有自己的生命力，不讓自己變成他們所「規訓」的機器，我幾乎用盡了全部力氣。

6月19日上午，當國保向我宣讀《取保候審決定書》的時候，我略顯麻木的坐在椅子上，並沒有可以重獲自由的欣喜感。更多的是迷茫，不知道出去之後，只有一個人的這條路，要如何走下去。出來後的第二天便嘗試梳理自己在裡面的經歷，竟對有些痛苦的片段失去了記憶。我們的社運經常強調一個人要好堅強，不畏懼任何磨難，展露自己的軟弱是不被鼓勵的。更多的關注和宣傳給了更宏大壯烈的主題，但心理創傷被很多人忽略或者污名化。

我在剛出來的那些天，驚恐、夢魘、失眠、注意力不集中、警覺性高、創傷性閃回、四肢發抖……同時，也把自己活成了「準地下工作者」，與朋友見面時會小聲說話，警惕的盯著四周。同時，我的父母擔心我的安危到神經過敏的程度，經常「自我審查」，擔心我每一次出門，擔心我說話太多，擔心我身邊有「告密者」，甚至擔心國保對我印象很壞，我感到，我們整個家庭都患上了「偵查狂躁症」。

我經常夢到自己寫悔過書的情境，內疚感和屈辱感不斷折磨著我，我不斷的自責：為何恭順的站在那裡，看著他們亂翻我的東西，給我戴上手銬和黑頭套呢？為何順從的要坐在椅子的二分之一處呢？我有什麼可留戀的嗎？孤立無助、力量和意志均被束縛，這種感受控制著我。我們為體制所壓迫，我們每個人都曾以不同的方式參與建造這一體制，可我們結果甚至無力做出消極抵抗。我們的服從使那些積極為這一體制效勞的人能夠為所欲為，一個罪惡的空間得以形成，怎樣才能逃離它呢？

打破沉默，直面恐懼

如果不能勇敢的講，那就不能自由的行動。我們應該不迴避、不嫌麻煩的講，還要講出細節、創傷和軟弱，那些避而不談、隱而不宣的，正是他們害怕我們去做的事情。

6月19日出来之后，我便進入「消聲」狀態，不敢對外聯繫，害怕自己再被抓回去。6月24日，我顫抖著發了出來之後的第一條Twitter，雖然只敢發一張隱晦的圖片，但也為自己能邁出第一步而高興。不久，國保的電話打過來，說他一直在觀察著網絡上是否出現了我的聲音，告誡我要「像消失了一樣」。6月25日，我發了第一條帶有文字的Twitter，說道「他們警告我要像消失一樣，好害怕被消失」，發完之後心都提到了嗓子眼，聽到電話鈴聲就緊張。但我知道，國保決不會因為我沉默、躲避、配合，就不來打擾監控威脅我，既然怎樣都無法避免，何不奮力博一下，也許能爭取出一片不小的空間。

7月8日，志永的二姐第一次去看守所存錢，先是說查無此人，又是說必須經由專案組同意。從那天起，我開始為案件程序中不合法的行為（比如化名關押、不讓律師會見、不允許通信）在Twitter上發聲。7月13日，我開始針對這些情況向臨沂市公安局申請信息公開，1個月之後再行政覆議，之後等著行政起訴。8月27日，我開始了為自己的權利受損情況進行信息公開申請的過程。每一步的努力，都有ta的價值，哪怕就是讓大家看到：作為家屬和個體，在中國依法維權有多麼困難，這都是有意義的。

隨著我的發聲和行動，國保的約談也開始比較頻繁，國保的人數從2個、到3個、再到4個，每一次接到電話，我都緊張得心跳加速，約談時基本很難應答自如，大部分時間就是保持沉默。但每次回來，我都會硬著頭皮把過程寫下來再公開出去。最近的一次約談，國保又變回了2人，說話態度也有所調整。從最開始我刷個存在感都會被警告，到現在來看，已經有了一定的發聲和行動空間。只有我自己能體會整個過程中，自己是如何的戰戰兢兢、小心翼翼，我孤獨到必須發聲，又孤獨到隨時有可能無法再發聲，到時還有誰可以接力呢？我還不敢去設想這樣的結果。

8月19日，我公开了自己的第一篇指定居所監視居住細節經歷，8月24日公開了第二篇。之後頻繁的威脅和約談打亂了我每週一篇的計劃，但也無意中幫我擴大了宣傳、吸引了更多人的關注。我還會繼續堅持公開下去，义愤填膺很容易被时间消解，但只有事实不会改变，即便所有人都忘记了，它也有着自己的见证者，我们应该继续推动对真相的追问和對作惡者的追责。無論是暗地里的打压威脅，還是公然的颠倒黑白，都不能隐忍和沉默。

我们需要分辨出权力希望我们感受到的恐惧是什么。那是对惩罚、驱逐、入狱的深层恐惧。我们需要具备一起言说恐惧的能力，因为这展示了有人与你并肩作战的联结性。我们需要抛掉对个人英雄、个人公共知识分子和个人勇气的执念，意识到我们有支持彼此的力量，为创造一个恐惧感更低的世界作出努力。

需要對抗的，不僅是打壓，還有抑鬱症

抑鬱症並不是絕對的災難，ta也會給我超乎想像的堅強，堅持治療是因爲，我始終在乎我自己。

在抗爭的過程中，我的抑鬱症時好時壞，從未離開，輕生的念頭、自傷的行為，我都有過很多次。志永陪伴我的時候，我有時會把自己關在衣櫃裏，抱著大衣聞著衣服上的味道，感受自己好像不是個軀殼，他會盡量勸我把衣櫃開一個小縫，他坐在衣櫃外的椅子上，一隻手握著我，安靜的待著。

出事之後，我的抑鬱症更加嚴重，醫生給加大了藥量，而我因為第一次的傳喚經歷，擔心再次被抓後被藥物所牽制，自己經常不遵照醫囑的偷偷減藥，情形反而更糟糕。我時而像一灘泥躺在地上，什麼事都做不了。但終究憑著對這個世界很多的摯愛、景仰與好奇，不懂、不捨和不甘心，以及那氣若游絲的對未來生活的期待，我學會了接受自己的疾病，並帶著ta一起，在這個黑暗孤獨的路上繼續走，爭取走完它。

我不是孤島

抗爭還可以因為，我不要留下同伴，而，「同伴」不只是同一案件的家屬，還有所有案件的家屬，還有所有追求自由公義的人們……

709家屬的出現，成為了家屬抗爭的標準範本，可是我知道目前的環境情況與她們還是有區別的。那麼，怎麼辦呢？

最先與我連結的，是同一案件中丁家喜律師的太太勝春姐，一天又一天，我从她的twitter，见证了她是怎样“用尽全力”通过网络为自己的丈夫呼吁：丁律师被失踪的第10天，她开始制作自述视频，讲述关于丁律师的故事，呼吁更广泛的关注；丁律师被失踪的第20天，她尝试用中英文双语发布视频和案件进展，呼吁国际社会的关注；丁律师被失踪的第28天，她在华盛顿街头举牌；丁律师被失踪的第32天，她开始制作“一人一视频”，发动身边的朋友为丈夫发声；丁律师被失踪的第43天，她开始征集签名给公安部长寄信；丁律師被失蹤的第271，她為丈夫的發聲出現在聯合國人權理事會上……她共給丁律師寄去了15封信，她為了維護丁律師的通信權，不懈的對相關部門進行控告……那種堅持的韌性一直感動著我，在我無力時，只要看到勝春姐還在行動，我便會重新去恢復力氣。

程淵已經被任意羈押了三百四十多天，为艾滋病感染者、乙肝病毒携带者服务，推动消除计划生育、户籍制度改革是他长期的工作，从2019年7月以颠覆国家政权刑拘后再无消息。他的妻子施明磊顶住压力和威胁为他奔走发声，也为自己争取应有的权利，温柔的力量对抗着不公义。我看到明磊姐，也就知道了程渊是一个多么好的人。近期，長沙公益仨傳出被秘密審判的消息，我在那一天幾乎泄氣，但第二天早上醒來，看到Twitter上明磊姐抱著小豌豆，一副「滿血復活」的樣子開始去法院打卡，我激動到落淚。

此外，端點星案陳玫的哥哥陳堃、蔡偉的女友紅波，藝術家追魂的妻子劉立姣，余文生律師的妻子許艷，覃永沛律師的妻子鄧曉雲，詩人王藏和他的妻子王麗，疫苗寶寶的媽媽何方美，黃琦的媽媽蒲文清，還有已經絕食多日的公民記者張展……我掛念很多人，虽然可能素未谋面，但這就是一種“共同体”的感覺，我们扎根在共同的土地上，共同等待着融雪和春天。

而除了正在發生的案件之外，我的共同體也包括了所有的抗爭者。ta們曾出现在冤案家属身边、遭遇不公的劳动者身边、遭受暴力和迫害的访民身边、面临驱赶的城中村农民工身边……但因着铁塔中的肮脏和龌龊，他们的发声成了“罪”，在“谈政治色变”的环境里被边缘化、污名化。

言說即抗爭

我們要學會帶著積極的態度，按自己的能力、視野、時間和負擔，嘗試更豐富的社會反抗形式，保持一個「真誠、負責、有尊嚴」的自我。

我知道自己需要社會支持網絡，但是沒有現成的怎麼辦，那就自己開始嘗試建立。我首先與自己有過類似指定監視居住經歷的小伙伴組成了互助小組，获得了安全表达和被理解的空间，并且知道自己并非孤身一人，重拾继续生活的信心。

但如果我不想止步于此呢？如果，我們想让更多人了解我們奔走呼号的意义呢？如果我们不仅想要舆论转瞬即逝的关注，还想要长效的社會共識呢？如果，我们希望对指定居所監視居住的概念理解，不再必须以同样受害为代价呢？

我想，這也是我公開自己指定居所監視居住經歷的意義所在吧，很希望能夠鼓勵到更多的親歷者說出自己的經歷和故事。或许这其中从来没必要有“我们”和“他者”的区别。在一个强大的體制面前，我们可以做的，是维护自己的尊严和独立自主空间，降低权力对个体的碾压、伤害。

結語

前段時間去拍了穿婚紗的造型，很想今後有機會把照片寄給許志永，想讓他知道，與他在一起的時光是幸福的，與他共同抗爭的生活也是喜樂的。被傳喚的時候，被跟蹤的時候，被約談的時候，被指定監居的時候，那些經歷總會教我成長和堅強，對比在那些已知或未知的困難面前，我其實在遇到美好事物時最為思念他，遺憾他在我最好的年紀時，無法在我身邊。

一路走過來，我也許無法回到原先的生活軌跡上了，我漸漸在奔走呼籲的過程中看到了更多的家屬、行動者，也漸漸重新認識了所愛的人、自身的權利、下一代的生活環境，我終於意識到，原來「人」可以是這樣的，可以去選擇正直真实地活着的。

只要許志永尚未自由，我便不會停止發聲和行動。

English version link below: https://seriousli.home.blog/2020/10/07/101/