——抗议《民族团结进步促进法》
作者：黄吉洲
编辑 ： Geoffrey Jin 校对：冯仍 翻译：周敏
3月15日下午，第13届“奥斯卡自由人权奖”颁奖典礼在六四纪念馆隆重举行。
坐落于洛杉矶的六四纪念馆，今天再次座无虚席。人群安静而肃穆，仿佛每一个人都带着各自的记忆而来。在这样的氛围中，颁奖典礼如期举行。本届奖项授予多位仍身处中国、为基本权利奔走呼号的维权人士与政治犯。他们中的许多人，或身陷囹圄，或长期遭受压制，却依然选择不沉默、不退却。
如果将历届获奖者一一排列，那几乎是一条由一个个体的命运铺就的道路——一条通向自由与尊严的“星光大道”。
“我能来到这里，感到很荣幸。”作为本次活动的重要参与者之一，朱虞夫的声音低沉而平稳。他曾是第一届该奖项的获奖者之一，但在获奖时仍身处狱中，对外界的消息一无所知。多年后，当他得知这一切时，仍倍感温暖，那是一种“迟来的温暖”。
然而，这份温暖背后，也夹杂着遗憾。“像我们这样的人，很多时候并没有被真正看见。”他说。在他的讲述中，时间仿佛被拉长。从上世纪末至今，一代又一代人，在相似的处境中承受着代价。在浙江，一直有中国民主党人在不断地坐牢；监狱里始终有中国民主党人的身影。这些民主党人，仿佛参加了一场由中共安排的接力赛，一棒接一棒地坐牢，从未间断。
当谈及为何争取基本权利如此艰难，他没有使用激烈的语言，而是以一种近乎冷静的方式指出：“在这样的体制之下，很多权利本身就很难获得。”也正因为如此，他将更多的重心放在“责任”上。“在外面的人，不应该忘记里面的人。”他说，“关注不能只是口头上的，而应该是持续的、具体的。”谈及未来时，他提到一种更深层的支撑——信念与品格：“一个社会要真正走向良性，不只是制度的问题，也和人的内心有关。要坚持正义，也要保持谦卑。”
相比之下，史庆梅的表达更为直接。“很多人其实知道什么是自由、什么是权利，但他们没有勇气说出来。”她将这种沉默归因于长期的压力环境。“当表达意味着风险，人们自然会选择退缩。这不是因为不理解，而是因为代价太大。”
现在她已经身处一个可以公开表达的环境，但这并不意味着完全没有牵连。她提到，家人曾经遭遇过骚扰与威胁。“一开始会害怕，但时间长了，也慢慢学会如何面对。”在她看来，这是一个脱敏的过程，是一种从恐惧到适应，再到坚定的转变。“如果我不说话，那我离开的意义就不存在了。”她的语气并不激烈，却带着一种清晰的决断。
在她看来，权力之所以对公民社会保持高度警惕，本质上源于对“觉醒”的担忧。“一旦更多人敢于表达真实想法，就会带来改变的可能。”因此，她的期待也显得朴素而直接——希望改变发生，希望更多人能够真正呼吸到自由的空气。
“这对我来说，是一种巨大的荣誉。”袁崛这样形容自己受邀出席颁奖典礼的感受。
三年前，他来到美国，此后持续参与公共事务。在他看来，这一奖项的意义，远不止于象征性的肯定：“它真正关注的，是那些在最基层、最没有资源的环境中发声的人。他们最容易被忽视，一旦被带走，很可能就悄无声息。”所以，在他眼中，这个奖项不仅是荣誉，更像是一束光，照向那些被遮蔽的角落。
当谈及现实，他的判断带有一种冷静的克制。“可以说，正处在一个‘至暗时刻’。表达空间在收缩，很多人选择沉默。”但他并未失去希望，反而对故土的光明未来充满信心。“历史上常常如此，当压抑走到极端，也可能孕育变化的契机。关键在于，是否有人能够抓住它。”同时，他也强调了基层力量的重要性。在他看来，真正的社会变革，往往来自最广泛的普通人，而不是少数精英。
整场活动没有激昂的口号，也没有刻意的煽动。更多时候，是一种克制的表达，一种在现实压力下仍然试图保持理性的声音。
这些声音并不宏大，甚至常常显得微弱。但正是这些具体而真实的讲述，构成了某种更深层的力量，它穿过纪念馆，穿过街道，穿越苍穹。会场上的嘉宾们谈论的是权利、是恐惧、是选择，也是代价。
当名字被一个个念出，当故事被一段段讲述，那些原本孤立的经历开始彼此连接，彼此照亮。他们是一个个星星之火，但只要这种火多了，就可以燎原，照亮那片天空。
或许正如人们所相信的那样：当黑暗足够深时，哪怕是微弱的光，也会变得清晰而坚定。而这些光，终将指向远方，指引并照亮我们前行的路。
The 782nd Jasmine Action Held by the China Democracy Party in Los Angeles
— Protesting the “Ethnic Unity and Progress Promotion Law”
Author: Huang Jizhou
Editor: Geoffrey Jin Proofreader: Feng Reng Translator: Zhou Min
Abstract: This article reports on a protest held in front of the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles on March 22, 2026. Participants opposed the Ethnic Unity and Progress Promotion Law, criticizing it for driving linguistic and cultural assimilation, and called for the protection of ethnic minority rights and diverse regional cultures.
On the afternoon of March 15, the 13th “Oscar Free Human Rights Awards” ceremony was grandly held at the June 4th Memorial Hall.
Located in Los Angeles, the June 4th Memorial Hall was once again packed to capacity today. The crowd was quiet and solemn, as if every person had arrived carrying their own individual memories. In such an atmosphere, the award ceremony proceeded as scheduled. This year’s awards were granted to several human rights activists and political prisoners who remain in China, running and crying out for basic rights. Many of them are either imprisoned or have long been subjected to suppression, yet they still choose not to remain silent and not to retreat.
If one were to arrange the past winners one by one, it would almost form a path paved by the fates of individuals—a “Walk of Fame” leading toward freedom and dignity.
“I feel very honored to be able to come here,” said Zhu Yufu, his voice low and steady, as one of the key participants of this event. He was one of the winners of the very first edition of this award, but at the time of winning, he was still in prison and knew nothing of the outside news. Years later, when he learned of all this, he still felt a surge of warmth—a kind of “belated warmth.”
However, behind this warmth, regret was also intermingled. “People like us, many times, are not truly seen,” he said. In his narration, time seemed to be stretched. From the end of the last century to the present, generation after generation has endured the cost in similar circumstances. In Zhejiang, there have always been members of the China Democracy Party continuously going to prison; the silhouettes of China Democracy Party members have always been present in prisons. These democrats seem to have participated in a relay race arranged by the CCP, passing the baton of imprisonment from one to another without interruption.
When discussing why striving for basic rights is so difficult, he did not use intense language but instead pointed out in a nearly clinical manner: “Under such a system, many rights themselves are very difficult to obtain.” Because of this, he placed more weight on “responsibility.” “Those on the outside should not forget those on the inside,” he said. “Concern should not just be verbal; it should be continuous and concrete.” Speaking of the future, he mentioned a deeper layer of support—faith and character: “For a society to truly move toward a healthy state, it is not just a matter of the system, but is also related to the inner heart of the human being. One must persist in justice, but also maintain humility.”
In contrast, Shi Qingmei’s expression was more direct. “Many people actually know what freedom and rights are, but they do not have the courage to speak out.” She attributed this silence to the long-term high-pressure environment. “When expression means risk, people naturally choose to withdraw. This is not because they don’t understand, but because the cost is too high.”
Now she is in an environment where she can express herself publicly, but this does not mean there are no involvements at all. She mentioned that her family had previously encountered harassment and threats. “At first I would be afraid, but as time went on, I slowly learned how to face it.” In her view, this is a process of desensitization—a transformation from fear to adaptation, and then to firmness. “If I do not speak, then the significance of my leaving ceases to exist.” Her tone was not fierce, yet it carried a clear determination.
In her view, the reason power maintains a high degree of vigilance toward civil society stems essentially from a worry about “awakening.” “Once more people dare to express their true thoughts, it will bring the possibility of change.” Therefore, her expectations appeared simple and direct—hoping for change to happen, and hoping that more people can truly breathe the air of freedom.
“To me, this is a great honor,” Yuan Jue described his feelings about being invited to attend the award ceremony.
Three years ago, he came to the United States, and since then has continuously participated in public affairs. In his view, the significance of this award goes far beyond symbolic affirmation: “It truly focuses on those who speak out in the most grassroots and resource-poor environments. They are the most easily ignored; once they are taken away, it is very likely they vanish without a sound.” Thus, in his eyes, this award is not just an honor, but more like a beam of light shining into those obscured corners.
When talking about reality, his judgment carried a calm restraint. “It can be said that we are currently in a ‘darkest hour.’ The space for expression is shrinking, and many people choose silence.” But he did not lose hope; instead, he was full of confidence in the bright future of his homeland. “History is often like this; when suppression reaches an extreme, it may also nurture the opportunity for change. The key lies in whether someone can seize it.” At the same time, he emphasized the importance of grassroots power. In his view, true social transformation often comes from the broadest range of ordinary people, rather than a few elites.
The entire event featured no impassioned slogans nor intentional incitement. More often, it was a restrained expression—a voice attempting to remain rational under the pressure of reality.
These voices were not grand; they even often appeared faint. But it is precisely these concrete and real narrations that constitute a deeper kind of power, passing through the memorial hall, through the streets, and across the firmament. The guests at the venue talked about rights, fear, choices, and costs.
As the names were called out one by one, and the stories were told segment by segment, those originally isolated experiences began to connect and illuminate one another. They are individual sparks of fire, but as long as such fires increase, they can start a prairie fire and illuminate that sky.
Perhaps just as people believe: when the darkness is deep enough, even a faint light will become clear and firm. And these lights will ultimately point to the distance, guiding and illuminating the road of our journey forward.
