Wars are fought twice

The first time on the battlefield, and the second time in memory, says Viet Nguyen in an article online. (Before you laugh, academia, though not current events, has some importance too.)

This is something I often think about, how "the past" and "history" tangle and tango. I remember having a nice sit down talk with Monica and Kim at Smart Alec's. Kim was doing an intern interview and I tagged along. I forget the details, but I remember asking Monica something along the lines of "so how come you're not a communist?". Outrageous, I know. I was a young student, high on fresh radicalization and politicization, not yet able to make the connections between the personal and political. And I'll always remember her response. No, I'm not. Because of what they did to my parents and grandparents.
Yes. Our parents, our grandparents. Did the war, refugee, and resettlement experience not mean anything to me? How could I not see it?

Here's an explanation. I grew up with a hesitant pro-USA mindset. Even though I'm not from "Orange Fucking County", there was definitely that influence. And I knew there was something very wrong with it, something didn't fit. And then I got to Berkeley and learned of all these decolonial, anti-imperial movements going on in the middle of the 20th century, and it all made sense to me. Or so I thought.

Yet both sides had been grossly over-romanticized. Going from "USA=good and Communists=bad" to "USA=the devil and Communists=heroes" was a shift in my mind that didn't really get me to think and form my own version of history. And that's something Southeast Asians have to deal with. This in between space that Danielle is talking about. How do we critique one master narrative without landing in another? I mean, 30-something years has gone by and how do you respond to KFC in Viet Nam? Ideology is truly deceiving. So how do we make sure our narratives of history are present and not complicit with ones that ignore or shun or wrong us?

According to Viet Nguyen's article, nations do it through monuments. We can do it through our monumental expressions, like this blog, and through our enduring art, like this:

"As details emerged about Wong's life -- recently laid off, troubled by poor language skills, unable to find a toehold in the United States -- many Vietnamese here saw their own struggles in his travails. It was a reminder, as if they needed one, that their transition from war-torn Vietnam to Binghamton has not always been easy." - LA Times

If I had a chance to catch Jiverly before he blocked the entrance of the immigration services building, this is what I would share with him.

Jiverly,

You are not alone. Your life here in America as a refugee from Vietnam is difficult, painful beyond imagination. You were forced here to America because your homeland was plagued with war. You had no choice. You didn't want to come here, you had to come here - for survival, for freedom, for an opportunity to live a better life. You got here and you were overwhelmed with challenges to integrate everything you know...into a not-so-accepting-nor-embracing American culture. You were not an immigrant, you were a refugee. People probably didn't understand that. You felt stuck. Stuck right in the middle. The dark and confusing middle between your Vietnamese and American identities. You didn't speak English well enough to be welcomed by your co-workers. Yet you didn't speak Vietnamse well enough to feel comfortable at Vietnamese social gatherings. You wondered, "Where do I stand in this world? Where do I belong? Where is my home?" You moved back and forth between the coasts. Moving was easy for you, fleeing was easy. You did it once before already. From the land of your birth. So what's another two or three more times? Dislocation, displacement. You found comfort in displacing yourself for months on end, trying your hardest to find your niche, and doing so without much support, resources, and empowerment.

Jiverly, your frustration and sense of loss are not your fault. You did not breed this culture, it bred you. Vietnamese roots watered with American-influenced values. It wasn't you who couldn't fit in. It was society that couldn't fit you in.

Jiverly, you're not alone.

Danielle

Andrew Lam

someone needs to ask him to become their mentor . .

Check out his article on New America Media, Re-imagining the Self, Re-imagining America.