Mirror

"I can't miss a woman like I can't miss court dates." -Lil Wayne.

When I look in the mirror, I don't see Vietnamese. I've been My for so long that MyTien (Me-Thien) takes getting used to. I guess my gut doesn't scream it. And the people who know me, know this.

My edge is American. My friends are Black, Caribbean, Latino... My ideology is LEFT. My music is R&B.

So I took this job because it's nowhere close to my comfort zone. I don't embody Vietnamese heritage. I don't like pho.

And when I fight for social justice, it never has revolved around issues facing Vietnamese Americans. I guess because I feel disconnected to the cause and empty with that label on me; it's like a pair of jeans that don't fit right. And the position lets a community of people define me... which... makes is frightening.

Needless to say, going full circle and learning compassion and patience toward people who originate from where I originate, is a process that's no where near complete.

And the position allows me to get better at Vietnamese, to talk to Vietnamese seniors, to understand to a certain extent... how lonely they are. They feed me free veggie eggrolls and sticky rice, treat me just like any other Vietnamese grandchild, which I appreciate, yet, viscerally, my body is fighting it and mind is kicking and screaming each step of the way.

Fighting against the process of me becoming completely fluent, or becoming literate, or feel IT in my identity when I wake up. Every word I say or learn how to say in as sweet a manner as a Vietnamese woman says it, almost makes me feel limited, and enables others' lack of understanding of who I am. And sometimes I feel that the tongue... ala the language... ala the physical organ itself... does not belong to me.

I read the word, Vietnamese, hundreds of times a day..

how Vietnamese Americans are struggling...

the health problems that Vietnamese Americans face...

the gang problems of Vietnamese Americans...

the education problems of Vietnamese Americans...

the financial problems of Vietnamese Americans...

Among other things... but I've almost come to resent the word and my head is wondering, 'what is that?' Wanting to and not wanting to explain to each Vietnamese person that I don't want my skin to be lighter over time or to live and breathe the language and have cute Vietnamese babies with Vietnamese last names. Nothing against it, but individually it doesn't fit.

The Vietnamese boxes opposes my internal revolution. I didn't come to D.C. through my own volition to further suppress the African diaspora that I feel more connected with.

And I know that that's at least part of the problem...

that mom/dad/grandma/uncle didn't want me to lose the language or the culture that they ended up choosing the language, the culture, the exposure, the way of living, the identity, for me....

and the more I grow up, the more I fight it, the more uncomfortable I feel around large Asian gatherings, the more I want to get the whole picture, the more I want to be exposed to the other side of me... the more I relate to my other side.. the more I empathize with the people who represent my other side.

I guess taking the job means, that I didn't want to go so far that I'd again be polar...even if it's my ME side. I want to at least find comfort with that Vietnamese-ness.... My mother possesses it, and even when I don't feel it in my bones, I didn't need to fight it so bad that I don't allow myself the chance to empathize with it.

It's still good work, good experience, and a good fight for integrity and equity for minorities which is all I want.

Being in the city on the weekends with Americorps members helps too.... Being around strong, young individuals of color is air and provides good balance.