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From Hong Kong high-flyers to struggles in Solihull in U.K., a heartbreaking tale of broken dreams
11:55AM Mon January 6, 2025
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6th January 2025 – (Birmingham) Thousands of Hong Kong’s elite have found themselves in a most undignified position – struggling to make ends meet in the sleepy Midlands town of Solihull.
When Beijing imposed its national security law on the former British colony in 2020, the U.K. responded by offering a pathway to residency for millions of Hong Kongers holding British National Overseas (BNO) status. Around 180,000 took up the offer.
For many of the well-heeled émigrés, London’s ebullient cosmopolitanism and exorbitant property prices proved out of reach. Instead, they’ve converged on an unlikely new hub – the borough of Solihull near Birmingham, along with clusters in Reading and Manchester. An estimated 4,500 to 5,000 Hong Kongers now call Solihull home.
Seduced by its reputed low crime rates, top schools, and bucolic charms, these refugees from Hong Kong’s relentless work culture arrived with dollar signs in their eyes, expecting to replicate their privileged former existences. However, many have been cruelly disabused of such notions.
“It is an obstacle for Hong Kongers to find the jobs we were doing,” laments Joey Tam, a 42-year-old former banker, who cited Solihull’s schools as a draw for her 14-year-old daughter. Accustomed to domestic staff cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring her children in Hong Kong, Tam has been rudely awoken to the realities of being a “maid, teacher and driver” all in one in the British Midlands.
Tam is far from alone in her rude awakening. Hongkongers have been shocked at the more “relaxed” British work culture, where cashiers have the temerity to pause and “just chat” despite long queues backing up. “In Hong Kong, we are very pushy. We do everything chop chop,” sighs Amy Chen, formerly a flight attendant who opened a café in Solihull after being underwhelmed by local salaries.
Chen had lofty ambitions of replicating Hong Kong’s cosmopolitan dining scene in the U.K.’s Second City, introducing refined offerings like “crispy buns and Hong Kong-style milk tea” to the region. Yet a hefty 60% of her customer base is uncomfortably – you guessed it – local Brits, with pedestrian palates perhaps not yet refined enough to appreciate such delicacies.
Locals have at least mustered enough interest to inquire about the influx of new Hong Kong residents, which community organiser Rory Chu refers to as a cohort of “trauma” victims. “We left home, we left our friends, we left our families. We all have trauma,” he laments.
Indeed, having exchanged Hong Kong’s shimmering skyscrapers and neon-lit chaos for the damp, grey environs of a sleepy Midlands suburb, the collective psychological blow must have been striking for some of these plucky migrants.
While civic organisations have made efforts at community outreach, including hosting English lessons and a Mid-Autumn festival at the local mall, tensions have predictably arisen between the Hong Kong transplants and the native West Midlanders.
Joey Tam recalls her elderly father being subjected to “pranks” and unspecified verbal abuse when taking the bus into town. “He’s OK because he knows it’s unavoidable. We are foreigners come to your place,” she stoically rationalises, seemingly oblivious that most Hong Kongers have historically exhibited infinitely less grace toward mainland Chinese immigrants in their hometown.
Perhaps most painfully for the Hong Kong elite used to commanding top salaries and living affluent lifestyles, the economic adjustment has been brutal. According to official data from the UK’s Office for National Statistics, the average annual salary in Solihull was just £34,959 in 2023 – a mere £790 per week. In Hong Kong, annual salaries average a far loftier HK$439,000 (around £45,000).
To put that into context, a meal for two at even a mid-range Solihull restaurant costs £60 on average – over a week’s full-time wages for a typical resident. For upper-crust Hong Kongers accustomed to splurging £50 a head on lavish Chinese banquet dinners without blinking an eye, downgrading to the chips-and-curry-sauce lifestyle of Britain’s underemployed middle class must feel like outright destitution.
While some basic living costs like housing and groceries are significantly cheaper in Solihull compared to Hong Kong, other aspects make Solihull feel quite expensive relative to salaries. Restaurant meals and utilities can be pricier than the already high Hong Kong rates, yet average net salaries in Solihull lag behind. The limited dining options and perceived lack of vibrancy also make Solihull feel quite boring and monotonous compared to the energy and variety of an international city like Hong Kong. For those used to Hong Kong’s cosmopolitan lifestyle, Solihull may disappoint with its sleepy suburban feel despite the higher cost of living for certain expenditures.
Hong Kong’s plutocratic diaspora has not proven entirely impervious to experiencing actual poverty in some instances. Rory Chu, the community organiser who holds communal gatherings at local cafés, acknowledges the financial straits many Hong Kongers find themselves in, providing a “safe space” to avoid ostracisation over their fall from economic grace. “We are here together to support each other,” he professes.
For their part, some local officials have grudgingly expressed welcoming sentiments toward the influx of Hong Kong immigrants, perhaps recognising the value of injecting some entrepreneurial zeal into the British Midlands.
“We have been delighted to welcome Hong Kongers to Solihull,” offered Councillor Wazma Qais, saying their “culture, celebrations and traditions enrich all our lives.” Such platitudes aside, she and other local leaders may secretly harbour hopes that the ultra-driven Hong Kong migrants can revitalise the sleepy borough’s stagnant economy and reawaken its work ethic.
Watching Hong Kongers struggle to adapt to Britain’s more laidback pace of life, while having their noses upturned at Solihull’s modest offerings, has clearly provided no shortage of humorous anecdotes for local observers to recount.
Whether the ultra-ambitious Hong Kongers seeking to ignite a rebirth in the British Midlands ultimately become an inspiring success story or a troubling example remains to be seen. For now, the spectacle of their adjustment struggles after leaving their gilded cages in Hong Kong has provided more than a few sources of schadenfreude.
