作者：朱晓娜

    在我的成长经历中，“六四”从来不是一个被完整讲述的历史事件。在国内，我只零星听到过几个词：“坦克”“大学生”“天安门”。这些词像被切割后的碎片，彼此孤立，无法构成完整的历史画面。关于1989年到底发生了什么，我在国内的教育体系与主流媒体中都未曾获得完整信息。

说来有些奇怪，一个影响了无数人的历史事件，却在我的成长记忆里只剩下几个模糊的名词。那时候的我并没有觉得有什么不对。因为不知道，所以也不会去追问。直到很多年后我才发现，原来有那么长一段历史，在我的认知里几乎是一片空白。   直到来到美国之后，通过不同的信息来源、历史资料，以及参与纪念活动，我才逐渐拼凑出那段历史的基本轮廓。   那是一场围绕改革与公共诉求展开的社会运动，并在1989年6月以悲剧方式结束。此后，这段历史在中国大陆长期被限制讨论与公开表达。我也逐渐意识到，像我这样的人并不少见。很多人在成长过程中，对“六四”的理解仅停留在零散词语，甚至完全空白。并非因为他们不愿了解，而是因为信息本身在结构上被长期隔离。   这让我开始思考一个更根本的问题：当一代人只能接触到符号，而无法接触到叙述时，这种“集体性遗忘”究竟是自然形成的，还是被刻意塑造的结果？   2026年6月4日，我在洛杉矶中国领事馆前参与了六四三十七周年纪念活动。夜幕降临，人群逐渐聚集。有人点燃蜡烛，有人摆放鲜花，有人静静站立，也有人低声交流那段历史。

现场没有喧嚣，但气氛是沉重而克制的。在这里，那些在国内被压缩成关键词的记忆，以完整叙述和公开表达的形式被呈现出来。

我也有幸参与了一段六四纪念诗歌朗诵，其中一部分由我朗诵：

“当鲜血流过长安街，夜色比枪声更沉重。

有人在恐惧中学会沉默，也有人在沉默中选择坚持。

不是所有人都被迫遗忘，总有人在时间深处守住记忆。”

在漫长岁月中，总有人在深夜轻声追问：那一年，到底发生了什么？

回家的路上，我一直在思考这一天的经历。我想起小时候听过的那些零散词语。想起曾经对那段历史的陌生与空白。也想起纪念现场那些默默点燃蜡烛的人们。我忽然明白，纪念并不只是为了过去。它也是为了让后来的人知道，曾经发生过什么。对于我而言，这次纪念活动不仅仅是一次参与，更像是一堂迟到了很多年的历史课。它让我从一个只听过几个词语的人，变成了一个愿意了解历史、记住历史的人。或许我无法改变什么，但至少我知道了那一年发生过什么，也知道了为什么直到今天，仍然有人愿意在每年的六月，点燃一支蜡烛，守护一段记忆。因为记忆不只是为了回望过去。也是为了告诉未来的人：有些事情，可以被尘封，却不应该被遗忘。

编辑：李晶 校对：冯仍 翻译：沈美花

An Ordinary Person’s Perception and Reflection on June Fourth

Author: Zhu Xiaona

In the experience of my upbringing, “June Fourth” was never a historical event that was fully narrated. In China, I only occasionally heard a few scattered words: “tanks,” “university students,” “Tiananmen.” These words were like severed fragments, isolated from one another, unable to form a complete historical picture. Regarding what exactly happened in 1989, I never obtained complete information from either the domestic education system or the mainstream media.

It feels somewhat strange that a historical event that affected countless people left nothing in the memories of my youth but a few blurry nouns. Back then, I did not feel there was anything wrong with this. Because I did not know, I did not seek to question it. It was not until many years later that I discovered an entire stretch of history had been almost a complete blank in my cognition.

It was only after coming to the United States—through different sources of information, historical documents, and participating in commemorative events—that I gradually pieced together the basic outline of that period of history.

It was a social movement centered around reform and public demands, which ended in tragedy in June 1989.  Since then, discussion and public expression regarding this period of history have been restricted in mainland China for a long time. I also gradually realized that people like me are not rare. During their upbringing, many people’s understanding of “June Fourth” remained limited to scattered words, or was even a complete blank. This is not because they were unwilling to understand, but because the information itself had been structurally isolated for a long period.

This led me to start reflecting on a more fundamental question: When a generation can only access symbols but cannot access the narrative, is this “collective amnesia” something that formed naturally, or is it the result of deliberate shaping?

On June 4, 2026, I participated in the commemoration of the 37th anniversary of June Fourth in front of the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles.

As night fell, the crowd gradually gathered. Some people lit candles, some placed flowers, some stood quietly, and others conversed in low voices about that period of history.

There was no noise at the scene, but the atmosphere was heavy and restrained. Here, those memories that had been compressed into keywords back home were presented in the form of complete narratives and open expressions.

I was also fortunate enough to participate in a poetry recitation commemorating June Fourth, and a portion of it was recited by me:

“When blood flowed through Chang’an Avenue, the night was heavier than the sound of gunfire.

Some learned silence in fear, while others chose to persist amidst the silence.

Not everyone has been forced to forget; there are always those who guard the memory in the depths of time.”

Throughout the long passage of years, there are always those who softly ask in the deep of night: what exactly happened in that year?

On the way home, I kept reflecting on the experiences of this day. I thought back to those scattered words I had heard during my childhood.

I thought of the unfamiliarity and the blank slate that once defined my relationship with that period of history. And I thought of the people at the commemoration site silently lighting candles.

I suddenly understood that commemoration is not just for the sake of the past. It is also to let those who come after us know what once happened.

For me, this commemorative event was not merely an act of participation; it was more like a history lesson that was delayed for many years. It allowed me to transform from a person who had only heard a few disconnected words into someone willing to understand and remember history.

Perhaps I cannot change anything, but at least I now know what happened that year, and I know why, even to this day, there are still people willing to light a candle and guard a memory every June. Because memory is not just for looking back at the past. It is also to tell the people of the future: some things can be covered in dust, but they should never be forgotten.

Editor: Li JingProofreader: Feng RengTranslator: Shen Meihua