Hong Kong is filled with untold stories. Award-winning author Sonia Leung is here to speak about her experiences of discrimination, emotional turmoil, and hope as an immigrant.
She only started her writing career in her 40s, yet she’s already become one of Hong Kong’s best-selling authors worldwide. This is Sonia Leung. Her road to literary fame was rocky, as her 2024 memoir shows. But, The Girl Who Dreamed: A Hong Kong Memoir of Triumph Against the Odds is more than a story of perseverance; it’s also one of self-love, self-confidence, and rediscovering one’s place in the world. Ahead of her writing workshop in the 2025 Hong Kong International Literary Festival, we sat down with Sonia to learn about her growing pains, conflicting experiences as a Fujianese immigrant in Hong Kong, and personal journey to recovery and self-discovery.
Against the odds: Sonia Leung, the girl who dreamed
What inspired you to write your personal memoir?
I think there’s a voice inside me that will not be stilled – a child in me who keeps wanting to speak out. An untold story is the worst thing you can do to yourself. I just felt my story was worth telling. And when I turned 40, I was more financially secure and also mentally ready to face my past. So, yeah, I just feel like I have to write.
Can you tell us a bit about your life before moving to Hong Kong?
My father was a residential doctor at a state-run hospital in Datian [in Fujian, China], but that’s not really our home. I never felt like I had a place I belonged in. Then, my parents went to Hong Kong with my elder sister and brother, while my younger sister and I were left behind in our family’s house in Nan’an, with relatives that might as well be strangers. Since then, I was forced to be independent, to look after myself, and to try and protect my younger sister. This was the turning point where suddenly I was no longer a child.
When you eventually arrived in Hong Kong, what was your first impression of the city?
Frankly, it was awful, and contrary to what I’d imagined. This was mostly because we lived in a squatter’s village in Diamond Hill. Even though it had been dreadful living at the family house without my parents back in Mainland China, at least it was a grand house. So from there to Hong Kong, it was my jump to hell. I even thought: why did I bother to come? In the Mainland, I had friends, I had my own world, and I felt I had more sense of control. But here, I completely lost my agency. I lost myself, and I didn’t know who I was anymore. It was heartbreaking.
Can you share with us your experience with discrimination in Hong Kong?
I think some of the most obvious instances of discrimination I faced were because I couldn’t speak English. I didn’t learn English until I was 12, when I had my first English lesson in Hong Kong. Since then, my classmates thought I was stupid, as I couldn’t even say “ABC.” From then on, I was an outsider; nobody wanted to get close to me, speak to me, or play with me. The feeling of isolation – like you don’t belong here and you’re not welcome here – was the hardest part of being discriminated against.
How did you come to the decision of wanting to leave Hong Kong?
So, let’s just address the elephant in the room. I was sexually assaulted by my ping pong coach when I was 14. When I was 15, I just couldn’t stand myself anymore. I felt as if a snail without the shell – awkward, exposed, dirty, and disgusting – and all these negative thoughts just kept screaming in my head. Also, the most important reason was I couldn’t study. I valued myself for studying, because that’s the one thing I could do to prove my worth to my family. Yet, I lost even that, so it truly felt like there’s no place for me in Hong Kong. Even someone like the coach whom I trusted like a father had betrayed me! That really pushed me over the edge. I felt I had nothing to lose, so I chose to run away.
Is there a reason why you chose Taiwan as your destination?
I encountered Outside The Window, a book by Taiwanese author Chiung Yao. The main character really spoke to me and made me remember my first encounter with Dream of the Red Chamber, which I read (and loved) when I lived in our family house in China. These characters reminded me there were other possibilities out there; they revealed to me this other place where I may belong, and nudged me to go forth and explore for myself.
Can you tell us a bit more about your time spent in Taiwan?
It was such an adventure! First of all, I didn’t know Taiwan at all, apart from that ideal world shown in songs and literature. I was super lucky to have met two policemen at the airport, and got referred to a university where I could stay with fellow students. I pretty much travelled the whole of Taiwan, living in various university dorms while meeting all these great people who never challenged me or asked me why I was there. There was no need to explain myself. I met very kind and liberal people, and I learned so much from them.
If I hadn’t met the two policemen and instead followed the ayi who’d approached at the airport, I may have become a prostitute. So, this experience told me things could’ve been totally different. But the danger [of the situation] also contrasted with the amazing people I met. It showed me that what’s happened was not a given, that it could have been a total disaster. Luckily, it was just a hiccup.
Given your negative experiences in Hong Kong, why did you choose to return?
Firstly, legally, I couldn’t get into school [in Taiwan] just by applying there. And since studying meant so much to me – officially going to university was my dream then – so that’s what I did. I had to come back to Hong Kong, and I had to face my past. Another reason was that I’ve developed as an individual and had a greater sense of who I was and what I could do. I saw all the possibilities and I wanted to realise them, so I came back.
Was Hong Kong any different from when you left?
I stayed in Chungking Mansions when I came back and happened to make friends there. I was shown another way of life in Hong Kong. And I felt I belonged to this world, because everybody in Chungking Mansions came from different places and I got along with them well. I stopped thinking there must be a problem with myself, just because I was so alienated in school. In Chungking Mansions, I felt I belonged at home, finally. Nobody stood out, because everyone’s so weird! So, that’s a better start than when I was 12. Then, I got an office job and gradually felt I was more a part of Hong Kong, that if I had the ability, I could get recognition and make it here.
What made you stay in Hong Kong?
I think I changed after my adventure in Taiwan; I became more open. And I believe people saw I was willing, different, driven, and unlike regular workers. I had my own ideas and was assertive. But later, I was sexually harassed at my workplace and that brought me down again.
Of course, it was a truly awful experience. But it also made me become aware of this part of me that hasn’t fully healed. I guess this is also the voice I mentioned at the start. It doesn’t matter how successful you are on the outside; there’s an internal “you” that you need to nurture, and I didn’t. That was a wake-up call. I realised I wanted to continue exploring myself and to live my life in a way that’s meaningful to me. Eventually, I saved up enough money, quit the job, and pursued further studies.
Has writing this book helped you rediscover yourself?
It was cathartic in a sense. You can put it down and everything is right there, and more manageable. That’s also why I wrote it in English, because it gave me the cognitive and psychic distance to process the events. Nevertheless, writing it, you retraumatise yourself. There are so many details in the book which I have to relive. I think you need to be clear that you’re ready to face your demons.
I have also finished a Chinese translation of The Girl Who Dreamed. I did it in a way that was like reading another person’s story, since writing in this language meant I had to confront the events of my past in a way that was even more brutal than in English. That said, every writer wants to change something in their work after it’s published, so the translation gave me a chance to amend certain things. Plus, I love classical Chinese poetry, and translating the book gave me a chance to polish my prose and regain my love for the Chinese language, so I enjoyed it.
Please share with us your plans on any upcoming projects!
I’ll be launching the Chinese version of The Girl Who Dreamed at the Macau Literary Festival next month. Since a memoir is different from an autobiography, I feel there are stories I can’t include. So I began writing personal essays about these stories and compiling them into a collection called Climbing the Writing Mountain, which is set to be published in 2026. I also have an upcoming short story collection which talks about girls’ and women’s lives in rural China, because their voices are rarely heard. I want to give a voice to the marginalised.
