As the anniversary of the 1989 massacre approaches, the Uyghur activist reflects on his lifelong dedication to the fight for democracyWhen I was little, mum used to take us to visit an elderly Uyghur couple every year. We would climb up the winding concrete stairs in a Soviet-era apartment block and be greeted with a warmth that felt like family. Over piping hot bowls of Uyghur chay, mum would talk to them for hours while my brother and I listened. I always assumed they were relatives of ours, until mum told me that they were the parents of her friend Örkesh Dölet, and they had not seen their son for over 20 years. As a child, I didn’t know who Örkesh was, but my heart broke for his parents, who clearly loved and missed their son so very dearly.Growing up in Beijing, dad used to take us to Tiananmen Square on weekends to fly colourful swallow-shaped kites. Due to censorship, I never knew that the pristine, neatly paved tiles beneath the soles of my sparkly light-up sneakers were onc...