'I felt compelled to keep the city's story alive': Mimi Martin on the origins of her Hong Kong protest play
After moving to Hong Kong as a child, playwright and performer Mimi Martin witnessed the state crackdown on protest first-hand. She explains how it informed her one-woman Fringe play Youth in Flames
I began writing Youth in Flames as a way of preserving something personal: a record of my time growing up in Hong Kong. What began as a love letter to the city soon became something else – a reckoning with the unrest I witnessed there, and with how that experience continues to shape the way I view protest, power, and resistance today in Hong Kong, the UK and across the world.
I moved to Hong Kong when I was 10, staying until I completed my studies. When I returned to the UK, I was struck by how little people here seemed to know about Hong Kong’s political story. For many, understanding came through filtered headlines or token media coverage. But I had lived it, I was in the immediacy of it. It was a sobering experience: witnessing Hong Kong’s autonomy slowly being stripped away, seeing young people hospitalised for protesting, and watching local media silenced day after day for speaking out. Though I’m not a local Hong Konger, I felt compelled to keep the city’s story alive and to spark conversations about the risks young people take when they are brave enough to stand at the forefront of change.
For context, Hong Kong is a former British colony which was handed back to China in 1997. From that time, Hong Kong has worked under the ‘Basic Law’, the principle being ‘one country, two systems’. For the next 50 years, Hong Kong’s judicial and legal system would be separate from China, including rights for freedom of assembly, freedom of press, and freedom of speech. This has been set to expire in 2047. In April 2019, Carrie Lam – then Hong Kong’s Chief Executive — proposed an extradition bill that would allow criminal suspects to be sent to Mainland China, a move that sparked mass protests across the city.
The reaction was immediate. The Hong Kong public feared that the bill would give China greater influence over Hong Kong; silencing activists, targeting journalists, and eventually eroding the city’s autonomy. What began as peaceful marches quickly escalated into violent clashes between protesters and police. Tear gas became commonplace. Protesters were rebranded as “rioters,” a label designed to delegitimise the democratic demands at the heart of the movement. Calls for greater freedoms were reframed as threats to national security. I watched, alongside many others, as the city transformed almost overnight – and with it, the lives of those brave enough to take to the streets.
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At first it struck me how limited the UK’s knowledge was on Hong Kong’s political stance and history considering Britain's colonial ties to the city. But we live in an age of increasing media censorship and with Britain’s political response to the protests being largely passive, it's not surprising that media coverage also waned. Yes, British officials did issue statements condemning violence and urging respect, but none of this had a tangible impact. If Britain had taken a firm political stance, and sustained political pressure, Hong Kong’s story wouldn’t have faded from the headlines.
That memory feels uncomfortably close when I reflect on what’s happening in the UK now. The recent decision to proscribe Palestine Action as a “terrorist group” under the Terrorism Act 2000 has made it a criminal offence to express an opinion that many argue would offer support to the group. A move that has raised fears about freedom of expression in this country.
People don’t need to condone the tactics of groups like Palestine Action to still feel uneasy about the decision to classify them as a terrorist organisation. There’s a legitimate and long-standing debate about how to draw the line between protest, civil disobedience, and acts that cross into violence – especially when property damage is involved. But history shows that the way a state defines ‘threat’ matters enormously. When governments begin responding to dissent with security laws instead of political dialogue, the space for protest – even peaceful, unpopular, or uncomfortable protest – can disappear far faster than many people realise.
The patterns are not confined to the UK either. In the US, the recent protests in Los Angeles were met with militarised policing. Even from afar, it is sobering to see how quickly peaceful protests can be reframed as public threats – a strategy often used to justify crackdowns in a bid to silence them. Youth in Flames explores these same tensions through the lens of Hong Kong, highlighting how young people are navigating generational divides, political pressure and the risks that come with speaking out.
Distance has given me a clearer perspective on the protests, and sharpened my awareness of media bias and censorship. Writing the play also forced me to reflect on my own position as an expat – the privilege of being able to leave, to disengage, to not have my identity and life as I know it under threat. That ability to disengage is a form of safety many do not have. For many others, you’re forced to respond. When it’s your identity, your city, your future being stripped away, you don’t get to check out. While Youth in Flames isn’t a direct retelling of my life, writing the character of Millie allowed me to explore the expat perspective – including the discomfort of witnessing resistance while having the option to remain on the sidelines.
Witnessing the strength it took for so many young Hong Kong demonstrators to fight for their democratic rights, shifted my understanding of protest and resistance - no longer being a rebellious act but something rooted in responsibility, especially when others no longer have the freedom to speak or act for themselves.
Art, for me, has always been about creating conversation rather than being an answer. Youth in Flames is an invitation: to learn and remember what happened in Hong Kong, to reflect on the ongoing protests happening here, and to stay vigilant about the ways in which protest and dissent are being redefined. When art amplifies political and social movements, it helps keep those movements alive – reminding us that behind every protest, every act of resistance, are people fighting for a future they believe is better. Youth in Flames isn’t just my story, it’s Hong Kong's story. It reflects a collective experience during a pivotal moment in the city’s history.
And in a world where the right to protest is increasingly under threat in so many places, remembering one movement perhaps becomes a way of standing with others – past, present, and still to come.
Youth in Flames, ZOO Playground, 7pm, until 24 August
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