I Am The Proud Son Of Refugees
“Where are you really from?” is something I've been asked many times in my life. Like for many people, it’s not always as clear cut, and I think the best way to tell my story is through the story of others; the story of my parents. From escaping the war, to finding refuge in a new country, and to fighting to succeed in America, my parents have proven to me the strength and resilience of our people. I am the proud son of refugees.
A little background, my parents lived through the Vietnam War firsthand. Although both of my parents met after the war, both had very similar upbringings. My parents were born and raised in Song Mao and Saigon during the 1960s. By the time they were in middle school, they had endured bombings that ravaged their town, corrupt police officers who threatened to shoot them for bribes, and prison camps where they labored for months. Finally, their families found an opportunity to escape, packed their whole lives into a bag, and ultimately settled in the United States.
As a family of refugees entering the United States with limited English, lack of capital, and few connections, we automatically entered the bottom of the pecking order. My parents had escaped the war, but were not able to escape this new, invisible war of socioeconomic disparity.
As a first-generation family in the United States, we had the expectation that starting from the bottom means you can only go up, but there are hurdles I experienced as a first-gen child:
You may have had parents who didn’t have time--or knowledge--to help with your middle school English homework, so you lag behind class.
You may have had working-class parents who worked 9-5 or graveyard shifts, so you became a ‘latchkey’ kid, coming home from school to an empty house.
You may have struggled in expressing basic thoughts and emotions in your parents’ native tongue, so you develop trouble expressing yourself to your family and to friends.
Despite being a generation removed from the tragedies of a brutal war, the residual economic and cultural disadvantages of being a refugee still persist. And yet, I’m still here, putting in the sweat equity, and reaching high. I credit my determination from the lessons I’ve acquired at the University of Washington’s American Ethnics Studies department, and by being a member of First Gen Cohorts. These touch points have profoundly impacted the way I view myself, my parents, and my background.
For instance, by engaging with AAPI and first-gen students, I’ve begun to realize the enormous sacrifices my parents have gone through to provide for me by:
My parents might not have had the time or knowledge to help with my homework, but they forced me to be self-sufficient, and to find creative ways to come to a solution.
My parents might have not been as present with me due to their work, but they sacrificed prime years of their lives in working-wage jobs to provide for us food, clothes, and supplies.
My parents might not be the best at expressing affection, but they have always shown their unwavering love by cutting a plate of fruits for me every evening before bed.
I have gained a certain humility as I have developed a “dual frame of reference” from life in Vietnam to refugee life in America. I know the struggle for us is still not over, but adopting mindfulness for how far my lineage has come--and how far it can still go, gives me so much more motivation to continue trying when times are not as easy. Being able to uncover my family’s background, my identity, and sharing my experiences with other Asian Americans and first-gen students have renewed my sense of Chinese identity and respect for my background as a first-gen student, and as a child of refugees.
I am the proud son of refugees.