Leonardo Russo, journalist and geopolitical analyst.
When I began my bachelor’s degree in International Relations, I met two Asian students speaking Chinese together. One was extremely friendly and always smiling. The other was taller, quieter and slightly more serious.
I waved at them and introduced myself:
“Hi, I’m Leonardo, from Brazil.”
They introduced themselves as Erfan and Batu.
Their names immediately caught my attention. I had imagined that my Chinese classmates would have names like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee or Xi Jinping
Instead, I met Erfan and Batu.
Later, I discovered that Erfan was Uyghur, while Batu was an ethnic Mongolian.
The three of us became close friends. Through them, I tried different kinds of Chinese food, listened to Chinese music and became even more interested in learning the language. They taught me greetings, numbers and useful everyday expressions.
They also taught me a few Chinese curse words—not because I wanted to use them, of course, but because I needed to know when someone might be trying to use them against me.
A man must be prepared for everything.
What fascinated me most was that Erfan and Batu had very different names, appearances, traditions and family backgrounds. Yet both naturally described themselves as Chinese.
They did not see any contradiction between belonging to their own ethnic communities and belonging to China.
Years later, I had the honor of visiting China myself—more specifically, the extraordinary city of Lhasa, a land of mountains, Tibetan culture and Buddhist spirituality.
What I saw there challenged many of the images commonly presented outside China.
The Tibetan language was visible throughout the city. Tibetan architecture, clothing, cultural symbols and religious traditions formed an unmistakable part of everyday life. Monasteries, pilgrims and Buddhist practices were not hidden from view. They were present everywhere around me.
I did not encounter the simplistic image of an authoritarian Han empire attempting to erase every minority language, religion and culture.
Instead, I saw a place where Tibetan identity remained deeply visible, while also forming part of the wider Chinese national community.
