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**** This essay received an Honorable Mention. ****
“Beyond Refugees: From Flight to Setting Roots”
by Souchitra Vongsomphou
Both my parents are refugees from Laos. My father came to the United States in 1978, my
mother in 1979. My parents met each other here in the United States in 1980 and then married in
1982. I was born on June 18, 1984 in Providence, RI. My father wanted to come to this country
for better and more opportunities but mainly to escape the Communist regime in Laos like many
others. My father’s father died when my father was twelve, and as a result my father was raised
by different families and enrolled in the Chinamo Military School in Vientiane, Laos before
escaping and arriving in the United States. My mother on the other hand did not want to come to
the United States; she came from a noble family in Luang Prabang, Laos and already had a
career as a mathematics teacher. My mother left Laos because of the Communists as well, but
primarily because her father was placed into a concentration camp for nine months. My father
escaped Laos by himself while my mother escaped with her parents and two younger brothers.
My parents have talked about escaping Laos to get to the refugee camps in Nong Khai, Thailand
and about their lives in the refugee camps. To hear their stories as well as the stories of others
who have escaped and also the horror stories of those who died while trying to escape made me
realize how hard everyone worked to escape the Communists and it only helped me begin to
image how terrible life under Communist rule could have been. I know after hearing their stories
I should be grateful for everything that my parents have done so that my brother and I would not
have to live in a Communist country, but being the “selfish American kid” that I am I was
ashamed of my parents, ashamed of their decision to come to the United States, and mostly
ashamed of them being refugees from Laos.
It was not until I went to college and gained a broader view of myself and the world I am in, that
I ended up being proud of my parents and of my Laotian heritage. Before college I struggled
with who I was and who I wanted to be. It was the summer of 2001, the summer before my
senior year of high school, and my family and I went to Laos for one month so that my younger
brother and I could meet my father’s family for the first time. I remember thinking that I do not
fit in with the people there in Laos and also came to realize that I did not quite fit in with the
“normal Americans” either. It was a difficult inner struggle for me to figure out who I was and
where I belong.
I knew that I did not belong in Laos because since I was raised in the United States I was too
Americanized. I also felt that I did not fit in here in the United States because of my appearance
and because I was brought up in a traditional Laotian home which has different qualities,
expectations, and standards than a typical American home. For a few years in my childhood I
remember wishing that I were a normal white kid with blond hair and wide blue eyes, so that
other kids would stop that ching chong chainman routine with me. The other kids’ mockery and
taunting was enough to make me want to erase the Laotian part of me. After the trip to Laos I
quietly hated my parents for coming to this country and for putting me into a world that I did not
belong. Since I am here and I was raised here and have become accustomed to the way of life in
the United States and I also know that I would not be able to be comfortable in any other
environment.
I found myself lost between two worlds: first being the Laotian world that my parents grew up in
and one that they raised me to be a part of, and second being the American world that I was
surrounded with and one that I was pretty much stuck in. I am Laotian, I cannot deny that
especially with my long first and last names, Asian physical features, and the fact that I was
raised by two Laotian parents who passed on the Laotian culture and language to me. However,
I cannot deny that I am also American; I speak English, eat American food, and act like the
“average American” young adult. I was very confused as to who I was, all because of my
parents being Laotian refugees. I blamed them for me not being able to fit in with certain groups
at school, I blamed them for the kids who made fun at me at school, and I blamed them for
making me different than all the other kids. Nevertheless, I am a Laotian and I am an American;
different, good, or bad I was not sure of that just yet.
One day my five year old cousin said that he was not Laotian, and that only the older family
members who spoke Lao fluently were Laotian. His exact words were, “Mommy I’m not
Lao…I’m English…only you and daddy are Lao, but not me!” When I heard my cousin say this
I was very shocked that he denied a major part of who he is. I understand that he is young and
has yet to develop a concept of race, but I remember when I was four I knew that I was Laotian
as well as American. During one of the first days of daycare, when I was about the age of four, I
remember my parents telling me not to speak Lao with the other white kids in the daycare. And I
guess that was the moment when I became aware of my race and of my Laotian heritage.
At that point in my life I knew I was Lao, I knew I was American as well, and I also knew I was
not like the other white kids. I just did not know the meaning of being a Laotian-American or
more importantly the meaning of being a daughter of two Laotian refugees. It was not until
recently that I have become aware of who exactly I am, was, and will be. In April 2005, I took a
trip to Nashville, Tennessee to visit family but the main reason for the trip was to celebrate the
Laotian Royal Lao Dance Group’s 25th Anniversary of being in the United States. My mother’s
cousin was the chairperson for this organization which is why my mother and I were invited to
attend the celebration. At this party there were performances of dances that were normally
performed in the royal court for the royal family as well as other dignitaries. While watching
these dances I was amazed at how beautiful they were and so pleased that even though we were
no longer in Laos, and despite all the setbacks and criticisms from others; our customs and
traditions still remain intact. At that moment I was proud to be Laotian and proud that the
refugees in the dance group did not forget who they were. At that moment I also vowed to
myself that I would not forget my Laotian heritage.
Later in May of 2005, I attended the First International Conference on Lao Studies in Chicago,
Illinois along with my family. It was at this conference where I learned who exactly I was,
learned to deal with who I am, and finally be satisfied and proud of being the daughter of Laotian
refugees. At the conference I encountered so many other young adults like me, Laotian-
Americans with parents who were refugees; as well as other adults like my parents who were
refugees themselves. At the conference many PhD candidates as well as doctors presented their
thesis on subjects ranging from architecture to archeology to language, but all subjects pertaining
to Laos or the Lao people. The presenters at the conference showed me that even though they
themselves were refugees or had parents who were refugees they were still able to overcome all
obstacles, achieve great success, and be truly proud of being a Laotian-American. From the conference on, I began to look at my parents in a different light. I began to see that my parents
have sacrificed so much and worked extremely hard for me and my younger brother so that we
could have a good education to overcome the various hardships that we face in the United States
and ones that my parents have most likely faced themselves.
I remember one point in time during high school when my father worked two jobs, seven days a
week, and was only able to get about five hours of sleep a night. The reason he worked so hard
was to give my brother and me things that he never had, but most importantly to receive an
outstanding education so that we could one day be one of those PhD candidate presenters at a
future conference.
My mother worked profusely for herself as well as her children. When my mother escaped Laos
the university in which she graduated from refused to recognize her graduation or teaching
degree, so in order for my mother to teach again here in the United States she had to go back to
school again to earn her teaching degree a second time. My mother worked her daytime job to
support to family and then at night took classes to earn her degree, and after almost six years of
taking classes part-time my mother earned her secondary level mathematics teaching degree in
May of 2003. I strongly feel that my mother is the best example for my brother and I, she placed
her family above everything else and showed us the value of a good education. My mother
accomplished so much in spite of being a Laotian refugee.
As of today both my parents work to put my brother and I through college, my mother has yet to
return to teaching but since she has obtained her degree no one will be able to take it away from
her, it will be something that she can keep with her forever. Both my parents are actively
involved with our Buddhist temple and my mother is also the current President of the Lao
Women’s Association of Rhode Island. After all the experiences I had in Nashville and Chicago
this year I have seen and learned so much about what it is to be Laotian but more importantly
what it is to be a Laotian-American. I can now passionately say that I am a proud Laotian-
American but more importantly that I am proud to be a daughter or two Laotian refugees. I am
happy to tell people everything that my parents have done for themselves as well as what they
have done for their children. My parents are half-way around the world from their original home
but they are still able to hang onto old customs and traditions and be willing to pass them on to
younger generations. My parents escaped from Laos, arrived in the United States as Laotian
refugees, and were able to rebuild a wonderful life for themselves and their families.
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