作者：李素芳

我是一个出生于1992年的中国农村女性。 如果有人在十年前告诉我，有一天我会离开中国，带着家人来到美国生活，并重新审视自己过去几十年所相信的一切，我一定不会相信。因为在很长一段时间里，我和无数普通中国人一样，从出生开始便按照既定的人生轨迹成长：读书、工作、结婚、生子，努力生活，努力挣钱，努力让家庭过得更好。

我从来没有想过自己会离开中国，更没有想过有一天会站在另一个国家的土地上，用完全不同的角度重新审视自己的过去。曾经的我认为，世界本来就是我所看到的那个样子。直到离开之后，我才发现，原来世界还有另外一种可能。

我曾经以为世界本来就是这样我出生在中国农村，成长环境和千千万万个普通农村家庭没有什么不同。从小到大，我们被教育要听话，听父母的话，听老师的话，听领导的话，听权威的话。一个孩子如果太喜欢提问，往往会被认为不懂事；一个成年人如果总是表达不同意见，也容易被认为不成熟。从小我就学会了隐忍，学会了顺从。于是我跟很多人一样慢慢学会了沉默，因为沉默最安全，不发表意见最安全，不参与讨论最安全，不去思考那些复杂的问题最安全。长大以后，我也和大多数普通人一样，每天忙着生活，忙着工作，忙着承担家庭责任。我相信媒体告诉我的信息，相信教科书告诉我的历史，相信我从小接触到的一切。因为，不能怀疑，因为不能反驳，因为不允许发声，因为乱说话会不安全，所以我从来没有认真思考过，为什么有些问题不能讨论，为什么有些事情不能公开表达，为什么很多人明明心里有想法，却不愿意说出来。那时候的我并不觉得有什么问题，因为我以为所有地方都一样。

真正改变我的，不是出国，而是经历。 人生有时候会因为某个瞬间而彻底改变方向，有些经历会让人一夜长大，有些经历会让人重新认识世界。在经历过人生中一些重大变故之后，我第一次开始思考一个问题：一个国家与一个普通人的关系究竟是什么？一个制度究竟应该服务于谁？一个普通人究竟应该拥有哪些权利？过去我从未认真思考过这些问题，因为在成长过程中，很少有人告诉我们应该思考这些问题。更多时候，我们被教育的是如何适应环境，如何忍耐，如何接受现实，如何服从安排。然而随着年龄增长，我开始发现，一个人的尊严并不仅仅来自于吃饱穿暖，一个人的价值也不仅仅来自于是否有工作。人还需要被尊重，需要被倾听，需要拥有表达自己想法的权利。这些看似简单的东西，实际上非常珍贵。

第一次来到美国 第一次踏上美国土地的时候，我并没有立刻感受到什么巨大的震撼。美国没有想象中那么完美，机场也会拥挤，道路也会堵车，城市也会有贫富差距，甚至有些地方看起来还不如中国繁华。到处都是低矮的房子，没有高楼大厦。但是随着生活时间越来越长，我开始注意到一些过去从未留意过的细节。

我发现这里的人似乎并不害怕表达自己的观点。无论是在电视节目里，还是在网络平台上，或者朋友之间聊天，人们都可以公开表达自己的看法。支持政府的人可以说话，反对政府的人同样可以说话，媒体之间可以互相批评，普通人也可以批评政府。刚开始的时候，我甚至感到有些不适应，因为在我过去的环境里，人们往往更谨慎，很多话只敢私下说，很多问题不会公开讨论。而在这里，不同观点的人甚至可以在电视节目里激烈争论。让我感到震撼的并不是他们争论的内容，而是他们拥有争论的权利。

我开始理解什么叫言论自由 过去我一直以为，言论自由只是一个抽象概念。来到美国以后，我才发现，它其实与普通人的生活息息相关。言论自由并不意味着每个人说的话都正确，也不意味着所有观点都值得赞同。它真正重要的地方在于，人们拥有表达的权利；当一种声音出现时，另一种声音也能够出现；当有人提出质疑时，不会因为质疑本身而受到惩罚。

一个社会真正的进步，并不是所有人说同样的话，而是允许不同的人说不同的话。因为只有不同声音同时存在，人们才有比较和判断的机会。如果一个人从出生到长大，只能听见一种声音，那么他实际上失去了选择的权利。离开中国以后，我第一次开始大量阅读来自不同国家、不同媒体、不同立场的信息。这个过程并不轻松，很多曾经深信不疑的东西开始被重新审视，很多过去认为理所当然的事情开始出现新的解释。我的世界观开始发生变化，这种变化并不是简单地否定过去，而是学会从多个角度观察问题。比如，劳动者应当拥有尊严，是对于劳动者的尊重。在美国生活期间，我接触过很多普通劳动者，餐厅服务员、建筑工人、卡车司机、超市员工、维修工人。快递员，外卖员。他们未必富有，未必拥有很高的社会地位，但是他们普遍拥有一种自信，这种自信来自于对自身劳动价值的认可。很多人敢于维护自己的权益，敢于拒绝不合理要求，敢于通过法律维护自己的利益。我逐渐意识到，一个社会是否尊重劳动者，并不取决于口号喊得多响亮，而取决于劳动者是否真正拥有维护自身权益的能力和胆量。一个社会如果能够让普通劳动者活得有尊严，那么这个社会才是真正尊重劳动的社会。

美国让我印象最深刻的，还有对生命价值的尊重。这种尊重体现在许多细节之中：公共场所随处可见无障碍设施，残障人士能够获得更多帮助，社区会组织志愿服务，动物保护组织十分活跃，老人能够获得各种社会支持。我还看到了人类与动物原来也可以相互尊重，街头巷尾肆意行走的鸭子，小兔子，小松鼠。甚至有狗熊，有鹿 。它们可以在任何地方，做任何事情，在任何时间都可以自由自在的生存。我还看到了对于生命的尊重，医院里不会因为没钱而被医院拒之门外。下水道里一个落水的小狗可以出动救护车以及整个街区的警力。高速上一排悠闲自得行走的小鸭子足以形成堵车长龙，人们宁可堵车，就为了给它们一个既安全又获得尊重的生存权利。在教堂里你会看到那群有信仰且善良的人们在为苦恼者祷告…在救助站太多人被温暖 在社区义工群里太多善良的人在研究如何做的更多。在法庭上 在市议会大楼的广场前 太多…太多我从未见过的画面。到处充斥着自由，正义，勇敢 ，善良，这些事情看似普通，却让我不断思考，一个社会最真实的文明程度，究竟体现在哪里？是高楼大厦吗？是经济总量吗？还是科技实力？

后来我越来越觉得，一个社会真正的文明程度，体现在它如何对待最弱小的人，如何对待那些无法为自己发声的人，如何对待生命本身。因为一个社会对弱者的态度，往往反映出它最深层的价值观。原来公平是属于每一个人的，原来尊重是不分物种的。

来到美国以后，我养成了一个新的习惯，大量阅读，大量查阅资料，大量了解不同观点。我发现，世界远比我过去想象得更加复杂，很多问题并没有标准答案，很多事情也并非非黑即白。但是我逐渐意识到，认知的边界，往往来自信息的边界。一个人能够接触到的信息越丰富，他看待世界的角度就越多；而当一个人长期只能接触单一来源的信息时，他对世界的理解也会受到限制。所以，在中国你只能看允许你看的，只能听你允许听的。只能学你允许学的。哪怕简单的翻墙去外网都是违法的。我们被信息的边界困在了一个牢笼里。我们被认知的边界困在了无知愚昧的沉默中。

我开始明白，独立思考并不是盲目怀疑一切，而是在充分了解不同信息之后，形成属于自己的判断，所以，我知道美国也并不完美，随着生活时间越来越长，我也看到了美国的问题。这里有贫富差距，有毒品问题，有枪支犯罪，有无家可归者，有激烈的政治对立，有各种社会矛盾。美国绝不是一个完美国家，事实上，世界上根本不存在完美国家。但是我越来越认为，一个社会最重要的并不是从不犯错，而是在犯错之后是否允许讨论，是否允许批评，是否允许改进。当问题被允许公开讨论时，解决问题的可能性就会存在；而当问题无法被讨论时，问题本身往往不会消失，它只是被隐藏起来。正是因为问题的存在而得不到解决，独裁的邪恶得不到遏制。被迫害的人无奈沉默，受伤害的人无力反击。不允许发声，不允许批评，不允许讨论。这就是我们最大的根本原因。

我最大的改变

回顾我的成长经历，自从到了美国，我学会了独立思考。我开始主动寻找答案，开始阅读不同观点，开始尝试理解复杂世界，开始不再轻易接受任何单一答案。这种变化并没有让我变得更聪明，却让我变得更加谦逊，因为我发现自己知道的东西其实很少，世界远比想象中更大，真相也远比想象中更复杂。今天的我依然只是一个普通人，没有权力，没有财富，没有特殊身份，但我拥有了一种过去从未真正拥有过的能力，那就是独立思考的能力。而这份能力，也许比任何财富都更加珍贵。因为它让我明白，一个人最重要的自由，不仅是身体的自由，更是思想的自由。当一个人学会独立思考的时候，他才能真正开始认识这个世界。所以，如果上帝赐予我神力。我希望国人希望人类都能精神自由 身体自由 言论自由 拥有独立思考的能力。在被尊重的环境中乐观积极幸福的生活。

编辑：Gloria Wang 校对：毛一炜 翻译：沈美花

From Leaving the Homeland to Rediscovering Freedom: The Experience and Reflections of an Ordinary Chinese Woman

Author: Li Sufang

Abstract: Taking the personal journey of an ordinary Chinese rural woman as its main thread, this article recounts her process from growing up on a predetermined social trajectory to leaving her homeland and rediscovering both herself and the world in a foreign land. The author reflects on the compliance and silence formed within her original environment, as well as her habitual acceptance of authority and established narratives. Through major life changes and cross-cultural experiences, she gradually begins to examine the sources and limitations of these mindsets. Through nuanced personal narration, the text presents the trajectory of an individual’s awakening consciousness, exploring differences in how freedom, expression, and self-awareness are understood across different social contexts, ultimately pointing toward a transformation from external norms to internal reflection.

I am a Chinese rural woman born in 1992.

If someone had told me ten years ago that one day I would leave China, bring my family to live in the United States, and re-examine everything I had believed over the past few decades, I certainly would not have believed them. Because for a long time, like countless ordinary Chinese people, I had followed a predetermined life trajectory from birth: study, work, get married, have children, work hard to live, work hard to earn money, and strive to give my family a better life.

I never thought I would leave China, let alone that one day I would stand on the land of another country and re-examine my past from an entirely different perspective. I once believed that the world was simply the way I saw it. It was only after leaving that I discovered the world actually held another possibility.

I Once Thought the World Was Just Like That

I was born in rural China, and my upbringing was no different from that of tens of thousands of ordinary rural families. From a young age, we were taught to be obedient: listen to our parents, listen to our teachers, listen to our leaders, and listen to authority. If a child liked to ask questions too much, they were often considered sensible or well-behaved; if an adult frequently expressed differing opinions, they were easily seen as immature. From childhood, I learned endurance and compliance. Like many others, I gradually learned to keep silent—because silence was safest, expressing no opinion was safest, abstaining from discussion was safest, and not thinking about those complex questions was safest.

When I grew up, like most ordinary people, I was busy every day with life, work, and family responsibilities. I believed the information the media gave me, the history taught in textbooks, and everything I was exposed to from childhood. Because questioning was not allowed, because refuting was not allowed, because speaking out was not permitted, and because speaking out of turn was unsafe, I never seriously pondered why certain issues could not be discussed, why certain things could not be expressed publicly, or why so many people clearly had thoughts in their minds yet were unwilling to speak them aloud. Back then, I did not feel anything was wrong, because I assumed everywhere was the same.

What Truly Changed Me Was Not Going Abroad, But Experience

Sometimes, life completely changes direction because of a single moment; certain experiences make a person grow up overnight, while others make one see the world anew. After going through several major personal changes, I began for the first time to reflect on a question: What truly is the relationship between a nation and an ordinary person? Whom should a system ultimately serve? What rights should an ordinary person actually possess?

In the past, I had never given serious thought to these questions, because throughout our upbringing, few people ever told us that we ought to think about them. More often, we were educated on how to adapt to our environment, how to endure, how to accept reality, and how to obey arrangements. However, as I grew older, I began to realize that a person’s dignity does not come merely from having enough to eat and wear, nor does one’s value stem solely from having a job. Human beings also need to be respected, listened to, and granted the right to express their own thoughts. These seemingly simple things are, in reality, extraordinarily precious.

Arriving in the United States for the First Time

When I first set foot on American soil, I did not immediately feel any massive shock. America was not as perfect as imagined: the airports were crowded, the roads had traffic jams, the cities had wealth gaps, and some places even looked less prosperous than China. Low-rise houses were everywhere, without skyscrapers. Yet as I lived here longer, I began to notice details I had never paid attention to in the past.

I noticed that people here did not seem afraid to express their opinions. Whether on television shows, internet platforms, or in casual conversations among friends, people could openly voice their views. Those who supported the government could speak, and those who opposed the government could speak just as freely; media outlets could criticize one another, and ordinary citizens could criticize the government. In the beginning, I even felt somewhat unaccustomed to it, because in my past environment, people were generally more cautious—many words were only whispered in private, and many topics were never discussed in public. Yet here, people with opposing views could even debate fiercely on television programs. What shocked me was not the content of their debates, but the fact that they possessed the right to debate.

I Began to Understand What Freedom of Speech Means

In the past, I always assumed freedom of speech was merely an abstract concept. After coming to the United States, I realized it is deeply tied to the daily lives of ordinary people. Freedom of speech does not mean that everything spoken is correct, nor does it mean every viewpoint deserves agreement. What truly matters is that people possess the right to express themselves; when one voice emerges, another voice is also allowed to emerge; and when someone raises doubts, they will not be punished simply for questioning.

The true progress of a society lies not in everyone saying the exact same thing, but in permitting different people to say different things. Only when diverse voices coexist do people gain the opportunity to compare and judge. If a person, from birth to adulthood, can only hear one single voice, then they have effectively been deprived of the right to choose.

After leaving China, I began for the first time to read vast amounts of information from different countries, media, and perspectives. This process was not easy; many things I had once firmly believed began to be re-examined, and many matters I had taken for granted began to yield new explanations. My worldview began to shift—not through a simple denial of the past, but by learning to observe issues from multiple angles.

For instance, workers ought to possess dignity, which is a matter of respect toward laborers. During my time in the United States, I came into contact with many ordinary workers: restaurant servers, construction workers, truck drivers, supermarket employees, maintenance workers, couriers, and delivery drivers. They were not necessarily wealthy or of high social status, but they generally possessed a sense of self-confidence—a confidence rooted in the recognition of their own labor value. Many dared to defend their rights, dared to refuse unreasonable demands, and dared to protect their interests through the law. I gradually realized that whether a society respects workers does not depend on how loudly it shouts slogans, but on whether workers genuinely possess the capability and courage to safeguard their own rights. If a society enables ordinary workers to live with dignity, then that society is one that truly respects labor.

What impressed me most about America was also its respect for the value of life. This respect is reflected in countless details: accessible facilities are everywhere in public places, people with disabilities receive greater assistance, communities organize voluntary services, animal protection organizations are highly active, and the elderly receive various forms of social support. I also saw that human beings and animals can respect one another—ducks, rabbits, and squirrels wandering freely through streets and alleys, and even bears and deer. They can be anywhere, do anything, and live freely and comfortably at any time.

I saw a profound respect for life: in hospitals, people are not turned away at the door simply because they lack money; for a small puppy fallen into a sewer, an ambulance and the police force of an entire block can be dispatched; a line of ducks leisurely walking along a highway can cause a long traffic backup, yet people prefer to wait in traffic just to afford them a safe and respected right to survive. In churches, you see devout, kind-hearted people praying for those in distress; in community volunteer groups, so many good-natured people are studying how to do more; in courtrooms, and in front of city hall plazas, there are so many scenes I had never witnessed before.

Everywhere is filled with freedom, justice, courage, and kindness. These things seem ordinary, yet they make me constantly reflect: Where is the true level of civilization in a society actually demonstrated? Is it in skyscrapers? Is it in total economic output? Or is it in technological strength?

Later, I felt more and more strongly that the true level of civilization in a society is reflected in how it treats its weakest members, how it treats those who cannot speak for themselves, and how it treats life itself. A society’s attitude toward the vulnerable often reflects its deepest values. It turns out that fairness belongs to everyone, and respect knows no distinction of species.

Restricted by Boundaries of Information

After coming to the United States, I developed a new habit: reading extensively, researching material thoroughly, and seeking out diverse perspectives. I realized that the world is far more complex than I had previously imagined; many questions have no standard answers, and many matters are far from black and white.

Yet I gradually came to realize that the boundaries of one’s cognition often come from the boundaries of information. The richer the information a person can access, the more perspectives they have to observe the world; conversely, when a person can only access information from a single source over a long period, their understanding of the world remains constrained.

Thus, in China, you can only read what you are permitted to read, listen to what you are permitted to listen to, and learn what you are permitted to learn. Even simple circumvention of the wall [using a VPN to access foreign websites] is illegal. We are trapped in a cage by the boundaries of information. We are trapped in a silent state of ignorance and foolishness by the boundaries of cognition.

I began to understand that independent thinking does not mean blindly doubting everything, but forming one’s own judgment after thoroughly understanding different information. Therefore, I know that America is by no means perfect either. As I live here longer, I also see its problems: wealth disparity, drug issues, gun violence, homelessness, intense political polarization, and various social contradictions. America is by no means a perfect nation—in fact, no perfect nation exists in the world.

However, I increasingly believe that the most important quality of a society is not that it never makes mistakes, but whether it permits discussion, criticism, and improvement after mistakes occur. When issues are permitted to be openly discussed, the possibility of resolving them exists; whereas when issues cannot be discussed, the problems themselves do not disappear—they are merely hidden away. It is precisely because problems exist yet cannot be solved that the evils of authoritarianism go unchecked. Those who are persecuted fall silently into helplessness, and those who are harmed lack the power to fight back. No speaking out, no criticism, no discussion allowed—this is our fundamental root cause.

My Greatest Change

Looking back on my growth, ever since arriving in the United States, I have learned to think independently. I have begun to actively seek answers, read different viewpoints, strive to understand a complex world, and no longer easily accept any single answer.

This change has not made me smarter, but it has made me more humble, because I realized how little I actually know—the world is far larger than imagined, and the truth is far more complex than imagined. Today, I am still just an ordinary person—without power, without wealth, without any special status. But I possess a capacity I never truly owned in the past: the capacity for independent thinking.

This capacity is perhaps more precious than any wealth, because it made me understand that a person’s most vital freedom is not merely physical freedom, but freedom of thought. Only when a person learns to think independently can they truly begin to know this world.

Therefore, if God were to grant me divine power, I would hope that my fellow countrymen—and all of humanity—could enjoy spiritual freedom, physical freedom, freedom of speech, and the ability to think independently, living optimistically, actively, and happily in an environment of mutual respect.

Editor: Gloria Wang

Proofreader: Mao Yiwei

Translator: Shen Meihua