2nd October 2024 – (Hong Kong) In Sham Shui Po, one of Hong Kong’s poorest districts, 14-year-old Chu retreats to the only place he can find solitude in his family’s cramped 120-square-foot subdivided flat – the bathroom. This tiny, damp space has become his sanctuary, where he often does homework perched on the toilet seat, his makeshift desk in a home barely larger than a parking space.
Chu’s story is not unique. Across Hong Kong, tens of thousands of children are growing up in these claustrophobic confines, their childhoods and futures compressed by the city’s notorious housing crisis. As the government grapples with how to address the proliferation of substandard housing, the true cost of this crisis is being borne by its youngest and most vulnerable residents.
The scale of the problem is staggering. According to the latest government figures, there are approximately 120,000 subdivided flats in Hong Kong, housing over 220,000 people. Of these, at least 34,000 are children under the age of 15. These units, often illegally carved out of larger apartments, typically measure between 100 to 200 square feet and house entire families in spaces smaller than most Western bathrooms.
The government’s recent efforts to tackle this issue have been met with skepticism from both housing advocates and residents themselves. In a move aimed at eradicating “low-quality subdivided flats,” authorities have proposed setting minimum standards for these units. However, the suggested minimum size of 75 to 108 square feet (7 to 10 square meters) has been criticised as woefully inadequate.
Chu’s mother, who preferred to use only her surname, voiced her opposition to these standards. “I think it’s not up to standard. It’s too small! Even for two people, it’s sickening,” she said. “Government officials should try living here themselves. They probably wouldn’t last a day!”
The Chu family’s experience highlights the myriad challenges faced by those living in these confined spaces. Their 120-square-foot home, while technically meeting the government’s proposed minimum standards, is a daily struggle for the family of four. With only one chair in the entire unit, family members spend most of their time lying on beds. The lack of space creates constant friction, with arguments erupting over the smallest of issues.
For children like Chu, the impacts of this environment are particularly severe. Once outgoing and cheerful, he has become withdrawn since moving into the subdivided flat eight years ago. He has been diagnosed with depression, a condition his mother attributes directly to their living situation. “Being trapped in such a narrow space for so long makes everyone’s mood bad,” she explained.
The mental health toll on children in these environments is a growing concern. Children may struggle to establish a healthy sense of personal boundaries, which can impact their ability to regulate emotions and interact with others. The constant exposure to noise, lack of privacy, and limited opportunities for play and relaxation can lead to anxiety and strained family relationships.
These concerns are echoed by social workers on the front lines. Abby Tang, a project leader at the NGO Social Work Dream, has observed firsthand the emotional struggles of children in subdivided flats. “They all crave personal space, but many still share rooms with family members. So everything they do is actually fully exposed, with everyone around,” she said. “Imagine wanting to cry but having nowhere to hide.”
The housing crisis is not just robbing these children of their present but potentially their futures as well. The lack of proper study spaces, constant distractions, and the mental toll of their living conditions put them at a significant disadvantage in Hong Kong’s highly competitive education system. This perpetuates a cycle of poverty, as children from these backgrounds struggle to achieve the academic success necessary for social mobility in the city.
Wong, another 14-year-old living in a 100-square-foot subdivided flat, exemplifies the aspirations and burdens placed on these children. “I want to buy a flat for my mum,” he said, reflecting the pressure he feels to escape their current situation. His mother encourages him to study hard, hoping education will be his ticket out of poverty. But the reality is that without significant changes, many of these children face an uphill battle in breaking free from their circumstances.
The government’s approach to addressing this crisis has been criticised as both slow and inadequate. While plans are in place to build more public housing and transitional homes, the wait times remain daunting. The average wait for public rental housing is currently 5.6 years, with some families reporting waits of up to eight years or more.
Housing minister Winnie Ho has promised a phased approach to regulating subdivided flats, with enforcement prioritised in districts where problems are most severe. However, she also cautioned against aggressive moves that might force landlords out of business, potentially worsening maintenance problems in aging buildings.
This cautious approach reflects the complex web of interests at play in Hong Kong’s housing market. With some of the world’s highest property prices, there are powerful economic incentives to maintain the status quo. Landlords argue that subdivided flats serve a necessary function in the market, providing affordable options for those who would otherwise be priced out entirely.
Yet, for families like the Chus, these economic arguments ring hollow in the face of their daily struggles. The human cost of the housing crisis is evident in the diminished childhoods, strained family relationships, and compromised mental health of those forced to live in these conditions.
As Hong Kong grapples with this issue, there is a growing recognition that addressing the housing crisis is not just about providing shelter, but about safeguarding the future of the city itself. The experiences of children like Chu and Wong highlight the urgent need for more comprehensive solutions that consider not just the quantity of housing, but its quality and its impact on human development. What is clear is that the current trajectory is unsustainable. As more children grow up in these cramped conditions, Hong Kong risks creating a generation marked by the physical and psychological scars of their housing experiences. The city’s future prosperity and social cohesion depend on finding ways to provide dignified, adequate housing for all its residents, especially its most vulnerable.
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