If my professors are not easy graders, I know that my written college papers were almost-perfectly scored when I would get personal and start venting.

One paper, I wrote about a past interfering my relationship causing miscommunication and assumptions.
Another, I wrote about my mother and the rest of my family, etc.

I also wrote about my culture. It was a short and simple paper that I felt like I just winged it because I wrote it how I would tell it. I never thought much of it until my professor emailed me to send in my story so he could read it to his grad students. If I could write freely like this, as if it were a blog, then my papers would be good. I hate grammar. I believe in creative writing and just... saying things from within. I wish I had the second written portion of it, but this will do.


Intercultural Encounter
Stranger: “Where are you from?”
Me: "Michigan."
Stranger: “No, what’s your ethnicity? Where are your parents from?”
Me: “They’re from Laos.”
Stranger: “Oh, so you’re Laotian?”
Me: “No, I am Hmong.”
Stranger: “Monk?”
Me: “No, HMONG.”
Stranger: “Hmong—what? So you’re from Mongolia then?”
Me: “No, those are Mongolians.”
Stranger: “I don’t get it. Isn’t that the same thing? So where are you from then?”
Me: “We don’t have a country, but my ancestors are from China.”
Stranger: “Oh, so you’re Chinese then.”
Me: “No, I’m Hmong.”
Stranger: “So you guys are like nomads. What is Hmong?”
Me: “I don’t know.”

Me: “I’m from Michigan.”

You see the pattern? This is what I have to go through almost every time I encounter somebody. It is really difficult to explain my culture in a few words because there is so much history and information for people to actually understand, but they will never understand that. They only want to know where exactly I am from. It is to the point that a lot of my family members and Hmong friends just quit telling others that they are Hmong. They simply give in and tell them, “Yes, I’m Laotian or Thai.” Even though that seems like an easier way to put it into words, we are not Laotian or Thai. We are Hmong.

We do not have a country nor do we have a flag, but we do have our own culture, traditions, festivities, language, and clothing. Others look at me funny when I try to explain this to them as if I were from another world. How can I not have a country, and where would I return to? It makes no sense at all; however, it makes perfect sense to me. America has always been my homeland, and I do not think I need a country to represent my identity. My culture comes from within.

When others quickly make assumptions of what I am and try to convince me that I am Chinese or Mongolian, or even a nomad, I do not even want to educate them about the Hmong culture. The questions accumulate, and the story makes less sense to them because I am from a world that does not exist. I am from a world that has no physical proof of my origin, but we do exist, so this kind of world does exist. People just need to understand that not everybody has the same foundation. Better yet, if people really wanted to know more about something, they should just stop talking and start listening.