Louis Liu

My name is Louis Liu and I am from Beijing, China. 

When I was three years old, my mom took me to see my aunt for the last time. She had been arrested and tortured for refusing to give up her faith in Falun Gong. I don't remember much from those days, but I’ll never forget how tenderly she looked at me as she lay in the hospital bed. Her face was disfigured from shocks with electric batons, and police stood guard all day and night. A year later, she died from the torture. When I perform in dances showing what’s happening in China today, it’s my chance to give voice to those persecuted in China, to give a voice to my aunt.

My grandma had been diagnosed with late-stage cancer when she first heard of Falun Gong in 1996. Soon after, she told everyone that practicing the exercises had cured her illness! My mother and aunts called it a miracle and they all started to practice too. 

Everything changed in 1999, when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) started their brutal crackdown on Falun Gong practitioners all over China. My mom, her sisters, and even my grandma all experienced illegal abductions and detainments because they refused to give up their faith. They were subjected to repeated harassment and threats from their workplaces and neighbors as well as the notorious 610 persecution office and local police stations. By the time my aunt was arrested, I was old enough for my mom to teach me the principles of cultivation, and I’d join her when she posted leaflets and flyers exposing the truth of the persecution.

After my aunt passed away in June of 2005, my mom and I journeyed to Shenyang to be with my grandparents. Amidst their heartbreak and grief, all they wanted was for us to leave. Officers from the Masanjia Labor Camp had been coming every day to pressure them to sign papers allowing the police to cremate my aunt’s body. If they refused to sign, the police threatened to go after my mom and my older aunt. 

We didn’t dare return to Beijing right away. Instead, we went on the run. The police caught up with us after a few months when they raided our latest apartment in the suburbs of Hebei. They took us to the National Security Division in Zhuozhou and we were illegally detained for one day. My mother and I refused to cooperate with interrogation and refused to eat when they tried to feed us. The police eventually seized her ID card and, in front of us, called the local police station for our home address. The officer who picked up the phone listened until he heard the words “Falun Gong” and immediately refused to be involved. By the end of the day, they had to let us go.

We went home to Beijing and asked our grandparents to move in with us. Growing up, I remember seeing people monitoring our building at certain ‘sensitive’ dates every year. By the time I started going to school, I had learned to be afraid. In July of 2008, just before the Beijing Olympics, the National Security Bureau in Beijing and our local police station sent officers to threaten us once again. They came to our house and told us that the Olympics were about to start, many visitors would be coming from overseas, and that we were not to make a fuss about my aunt, Rongrong Gao. It was clear to us that they didn’t want any news to be spread to the media overseas. Once again, they tried to force my family to sign papers allowing them to cremate my aunt’s body. After all of that, they stationed guards at the elevator of my apartment. They stood there around the clock for weeks; I saw them every day on my way to and back from school. 

Despite my fears, I worked hard to be a good student. My classmates knew me as a sincere and kind person who would only smile if anyone tried to pick a fight with me. I’d always volunteer for the most tiresome chores and had a good relationship with my teachers.

Around the second semester of the first grade, every child was recruited for the CCP’s Young Pioneers. I refused to join because I did not want to be a part of the group that had terrorized my family for so many years. My mother had explained the truth behind the persecution to my homeroom teacher, so she was understanding of my beliefs. But I sometimes faced a lot of pressure because I refused to join. 

My elementary school was considered one of the best in Beijing at the time, and students were often chosen to participate in large-scale CCP-sponsored events. I’d have been singled out if I did not participate. To protect herself and me, my teacher would sometimes tie the Young Pioneer’s red scarf on me at those events. I was also afraid of what would happen if I didn’t wear it, so I didn’t refuse. However, whenever that happened, I would always go home with a fever. Once, I stood on the green without the scarf and actually did get in trouble. One of the school leaders angrily asked why I had no scarf and was furious when I explained that I refused to join. After that, my teacher hid me away in a classroom, and I didn’t have to go to those events anymore.

Growing up in that environment has shaped me in more ways than I can count. I know now that all of the pressure I felt was a terror tactic used by the CCP to control people. I am so thankful to be able to practice my faith here in the free society of America. I know that this is a precious opportunity for me to speak out on behalf of people in China who still suffer from oppression. Dancing on stage with Shen Yun is a chance for me to appeal for my gentle aunt who lost her life to brutal torture. I have lived through fear of my government and through threats of violence, and I believe that nobody should have to experience that. I want to share this truth with kind people all over the world.