wǒ我zài在wéi wú ěr维吾尔jiā xiāng家乡xué huì学会le了“méi yǒu没有guī shǔ gǎn归属感”de的gǎn jué感觉
I grew up in Xinjiang as a child. My family had my father, my mother, and my brothers and sisters. Life seemed peaceful, and I also had many happy memories.
But my father often reminded me: we are Uyghurs, and we must remember our language, culture, and faith.
As I grew older, I slowly realized that Uyghurs and Han Chinese do not always have the same opportunities.
For many Uyghurs, getting into a good school and finding a good job is harder.
On July 5, 2009, serious clashes broke out in Urumqi.
That day, the streets were in chaos. Many people were afraid, and trust in the city slowly changed.
People who had once studied, worked, and lived as neighbors together later became more cautious and more silent.
After 2017, the changes became even greater.
Many Uyghurs suddenly lost contact, and the space for language, culture, and religious life became smaller and smaller.
The author understood one thing: having an ID card and nationality does not necessarily mean you truly have a sense of belonging.
Even if a person lives in their hometown all the time, they may slowly feel more and more distant from it.
This pain does not necessarily begin only after leaving home; it may have already been happening in the hometown itself.