作者：彭小梅

编辑：王梦梦   责任编辑：罗志飞   校对：程筱筱   翻译：彭小梅

我真正理解台湾的价值，不是在书里，也不是在新闻里，而是在这次香港大火、在港人一次次向制度伸手，却只抓住冰冷空气的那些瞬间。我站在洛杉矶自由雕塑公园的壁画《倒下》前，看着香港朋友讲述自己如何渐渐被时代的洪流推向无路可退的深渊。他们说香港的崩塌不是意外，是制度选择。

我听着听着忽然明白：如果台湾也被拖下水，那么华语世界就连“自由曾经存在过”的证据都将消失。

我见过太多让人窒息的真实：封控时焊死的铁门、白纸运动里年轻人被连夜带走、微信里一句正常抱怨都能变成“煽动”、家人朋友习惯性沉默，因为怕出事。人在恐惧里待久了，会忘记自由本来的样子。。

看到台湾电台公开骂政府、立法院吵到桌子都快掀翻、年轻人夜里走在街上不用回头张望……我知道那不是侥幸，那是文明的底气。台湾守住的不是选举，而是华语世界最后一块免于恐惧的土地。

有人说台湾独立是“分裂”。我只想问一句：难道被强迫统一、被消灭制度、被剥夺自由，就不算分裂人的生命尊严吗？台湾若被并吞，不是地图换颜色，而是人民换命运。支持台湾独立，不是反华。相反，它是在保护华语世界，唯一一个仍能证明“华人不是天生顺服专制”的社会形态。

中共最害怕什么？不是美国，不是日本，而是台湾这座活生生的对照组。台湾证明：华人社会依然能有新闻自由；政府可以被监督；权力可以被限制；人民不是统治者的附属品。

台湾不是挑衅中共，台湾的存在本身就足以让中共的全部借口失效。如果制度自信，为什么害怕比较？如果自称优越，为什么不能让人民选择？这就是台湾之所以必须被压下去的原因——不是因为“统一”，而是因为专制无法容忍更成功的自由样本。

我看过父辈一生活在恐惧里；看过朋友因为说真话被威胁；我自己正在庇护路上，为逃离黑暗而奔跑；站在美国的土地上，我无法对台湾说“保持中立”。

中立是特权，被威胁的人没有中立的资格。

我希望台湾：活得自由、活得民主、活得挺直、成为铁幕里的人仍能望见的一束方向光。只要台湾还活着，我们这一代中国人就不会被彻底判死刑。如果台湾倒下，华语世界会陷入同一种声音、同一种历史、同一种真理。那不是统一，那是窒息。

支持台湾，是我这个时代最简单、也最清醒的选择。华人不是天生的奴隶；自由不是西方独有的特权；我们本来可以有另一种未来，只是被强盗抢走了。

如果台湾有一天宣布独立，我会无条件支持。

如果台湾被威胁，我会站在人的一边，而不是权力的一边。

因为那一天——不是分裂的那一天，而是华语世界第一次真正拥有选择的那一天。

我支持台湾。我支持台湾独立。因为我仍然希望，在这个被黑暗吞噬的时代，华语世界至少留下一束光。

Why I Support Taiwan—and Why I Support Taiwan’s Independence

By Peng Xiaomei

Editor: Wang Mengmeng
Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei   Proofreader: Cheng Xiaoxiao   Translator: Peng Xiaomei

Abstract: Taiwan represents the continuing possibility of freedom, accountability, and choice in the Chinese-speaking world. The collapse of Hong Kong made me understand that losing Taiwan would not merely mean a change of color on the map, but a regression of civilization and the disappearance of freedom itself. Supporting Taiwan and its right to choose is not anti-Chinese; it is a defense of human dignity and institutional diversity. As long as Taiwan lives, the light of freedom will not be completely extinguished.

I truly came to understand the value of Taiwan not from books or news reports, but through the Hong Kong fire—and through those moments when Hong Kong people reached out to their system again and again, only to grasp cold, empty air.

I stood before the mural Fallen at the Liberty Sculpture Park in Los Angeles, listening to friends from Hong Kong describe how they were gradually pushed by the tide of history toward a dead end, with no path of retreat. They told me that Hong Kong’s collapse was not an accident, but the result of deliberate institutional choices.

As I listened, I suddenly understood: if Taiwan were dragged down as well, the Chinese-speaking world would lose even the proof that “freedom once existed.”

I have witnessed too many suffocating realities: iron doors welded shut during lockdowns; young people taken away overnight during the White Paper Movement; a single ordinary complaint on WeChat turning into “incitement”; families and friends learning to remain silent out of fear of consequences. When people live in fear for too long, they forget what freedom originally looked like.

Then I look at Taiwan—radio hosts openly criticizing the government, legislators shouting so fiercely the desks nearly overturn, young people walking the streets at night without constantly looking over their shoulders—and I know this is not luck. It is the confidence of a functioning civilization. What Taiwan has preserved is not merely elections, but the last piece of land in the Chinese-speaking world that is free from fear.

Some say that Taiwan’s independence is “separatism.” I want to ask one simple question: if forced unification, the destruction of institutions, and the stripping away of freedom do not count as the fragmentation of human dignity, then what does? If Taiwan were annexed, it would not be a change of borders, but a change of fate for its people. Supporting Taiwan’s independence is not anti-Chinese. On the contrary, it protects the only social model in the Chinese-speaking world that still proves one essential truth: that Chinese people are not born to submit to authoritarian rule.

What does the Chinese Communist Party fear most? Not the United States. Not Japan. But Taiwan—a living, breathing control group. Taiwan proves that Chinese societies can have press freedom; that governments can be held accountable; that power can be restrained; and that people are not mere appendages of their rulers.

Taiwan is not provoking the CCP. Taiwan’s very existence is enough to invalidate all of the regime’s excuses. If a system is truly confident, why fear comparison? If it claims superiority, why deny people the right to choose? This is why Taiwan must be suppressed—not for the sake of “unification,” but because authoritarianism cannot tolerate a more successful example of freedom.

I have watched my parents’ generation live their entire lives in fear. I have seen friends threatened for speaking the truth. I myself am on the path of seeking asylum, running to escape darkness. Standing on American soil, I cannot tell Taiwan to “remain neutral.”

Neutrality is a privilege. Those who are under threat do not have the luxury of neutrality.

I hope Taiwan will live freely, live democratically, stand upright, and become a guiding light that people trapped behind the iron curtain can still see. As long as Taiwan lives, our generation of Chinese people will not be completely sentenced to death. If Taiwan falls, the Chinese-speaking world will be reduced to a single voice, a single history, a single so-called truth. That would not be unity—it would be suffocation.

Supporting Taiwan is the simplest and clearest choice of my time. Chinese people are not born slaves. Freedom is not a privilege exclusive to the West. We could have had another future—one that was taken from us by force.

If Taiwan one day declares independence, I will support it unconditionally.If Taiwan is threatened, I will stand on the side of human beings, not power.

Because that day will not be the day of division,but the day the Chinese-speaking world truly gains the right to choose for the first time.

I support Taiwan. I support Taiwan’s independence. Because I still hope that in this era consumed by darkness, the Chinese-speaking world can preserve at least one remaining beam of light.