This one goes out to you

This is for my cousin who's requested me to continue with my adventures, and my blog. <3 Thanks for the encouragement. Sometimes it takes a reminder or two to push somebody to do something.




23 years.
It took me roughly 23 years to fall in love with my people.
The Hmong.

As a child, I used to hate it when mothers, aunties, older female relatives force us young girls to wear our traditional clothes to the Hmong New Year.
It was heavy and uncomfortable. Most of all, they'd tighten the dress 'til you couldn't breathe.
I remember having shamans over the house and having loud ceremonies early in the morning. If I was sick, I'd go to their dark house while they chanted for my soul to get better. I still remember my grandma, who was also a shaman, would spit water on all of us for good luck.

There were always so many rules that I never understood.
For instance, once a young girl matures, she must be industrious, basically like the mother. If she marries, there is a dowry, and she's practically the second mom in the household. I swear, I'd never be a Hmong wife because it was like slavery in my eyes. If you and your boyfriend got caught together, you were forced to marry no matter how old you were.

It never made sense to me.

I never had many Hmong friends. In fact, I never had Hmong friends. My family were my best and only friends. My whole life, my mother always protected me from the Hmong stereotypes, and emphasized higher education more than sustaining the Hmong language. I even shunned myself from the Hmong community... until high school came along. I found my first Hmong friends. Of course, with different lifestyles and attitudes, there was bound to be certain disagreements or quarrels.

I always felt like the older I've gotten during my teen years, the more I realized WHY I stayed away from Hmong people. I always told myself, "More Hmong people, more problems." It wasn't until I had moved back home to Michigan from Florida (senior year) where my older brother started opening my eyes to see the beauty behind the Hmong culture. I guess he made me see things from different perspectives. That's when I started appreciating it and wanting to get closer to the culture. Throughout my college years, I've grown to have a love-hate relationship with Hmong people depending on the personal relationships I've had.

It wasn't until the last couple of years in college when I started having so much pride for what I am, and who I am. I started meeting all sorts of Hmong people from New York, Washington, DC, and California. Many of them reminded me so much of myself: cultured yet ambitious; appreciating traditions but willing to step outside of the comfort zone for a diverse network and prosperous future. Not only that, being away from my family and close friends, made me miss my identity even more.

Now that I'm spending my last semester in Thailand, it's brought me closer to my culture than ever before. I received an opportunity to get personal relationships with Hmong-Vietnamese families who have been persecuted. These are the moments I cherish the most. Getting hugs from the little girls. Seeing the parents smile when they see me. Listening to the parents tell me that my Hmong sucks because I'm a Hmong-American (they actually said it in a much nicer way). Hearing their stories. Falling asleep at church. Crying to and with the innocent wives behind bars, thinking about their children in there with them. Waving, looking back, and feeling like you never want to leave because you don't know what tomorrow may bring them. Crying on the way back home.

My last phone conversation that I had with my dad, I told him, I love Thailand because it's made me fall in love with the Hmong people. Because of the Hmongs, I love Thailand. I told him I missed him as well.
And because of everything, it's made me build a better relationship with my dad all over again. Win, win. 

Just a few of my favorite photos:

Visiting my first Yang family 

With the married Yang women at the pre-school

My first set of Hmong parents that I've met

They're just as cute as my baby nieces! I heart them so so so much.

                          

Last, but not least, I've been reading a couple of books on Hmong people for my school. This has been my favorite one. Because of this book, I've learned the life cycle and cultural beliefs of the Hmong, and even some short-stories. I've learned why it is the way my parents believe in certain things or act certain ways. This explained everything from birth, to marriage, to death. Not only that, it painted all the lost memories I've had as a child, and as an animism (or what some Hmong people consider as shamanism).

10 years ago, I may not have been excited to wear Hmong clothes, or crave for traditional Hmong food. Now I freak out about the smallest things.
The loud gongs, crazy chants, and watching males and females sacrifice animals seem so absurd, but I get so nostalgic when I read about it.
I used to question why things had to be a certain way, now they're answered in some way.
A lot of things that made no sense to me... seem to still not make the most perfect sense, but who says it has to be any way? It just makes up the person who I am today, and the person I aspire to be in the future.
And it took me 23 years, with no intentions, to fully appreciate and love being Hmong.

It takes some of us longer to realize things. Some of us even take the harder route; however, we always find our way back. Like one of my cousin loves to say, "Tsis pom dej dag, siab tsis nqig." LOL.