Journey

(Jennifer is a recent college graduate who came to the US as a refugee from Vietnam when she was 13. In the story that follows she tells of her trip to the US and her experiences growing up here. Because she wished to remain anonymous a pseudonym was used to identify her in this interview.)

I lived in Vietnam until I was nine years old. My father was put in jail because he was trying to smuggle the whole family out of Vietnam. My mom left soon after my father was put in jail. I was 1 1/2 when my mother left, so I ended up spending my childhood with my grandmom. I was an orphan when my grandmother took care of me.

I was the only one in the family who stayed with my grandmom because my mom had left home with my sister. Even though my grandmother treated me well I was not her daughter. She often let my aunt take care of me. My aunt was really young back then. So whenever she had time she would take care of me, but when she didn't it was a difficult life. We didn't find out until much later that my mother was staying not that far from our place.

When I was five my father was released from jail because he was very sick. At that time we didn't quite know what his condition was. We later found out that he had cancer. So we spent a lot of money and treated him but he didn't make it. I saw him for one year and then he passed away. He was fine in the beginning, for a few months, but then he began to get really sick. He had throat cancer. You could see blood running through his nose and he couldn't even talk. I was six when my father died.

Before he passed away he asked my grandma to locate my sister. He wanted my sister back. So they found my sister somehow and forced her to stay with us. I don't know how they found her. They never tell kids a lot of things.

After my father passed away I went to school and we began to think about why my father tried so hard to smuggle us out of Vietnam even though he knew it was illegal. He knew that if he got caught he would be put in jail for life. When I went to school I kind of understood because Chinese in Vietnam back then - I don't know about now - were not allowed to attend university. It didn't matter how good your grades were. I didn't attend a Vietnamese school because they don't see us as equals; I went to a private Chinese school.

So we began to ask questions about my future. Even if I got a good education there would be no way I could get a good position in Vietnam. You have to have money to bribe people to get a job in an office.

So my aunt and grandma decided to follow my father's wish. My aunt and I tried to escape by boat. We tried to leave Vietnam. But on the way it was very confused; it was night and we had to walk a distance in water before we could get on the small boat. As we were walking we heard the police car coming and everyone was rushing and I was just walking and walking and I grabbed onto someone's leg and they pulled me on the boat. And we just stayed there and it was just confusion.

I didn't find out until much later that my aunt hadn't followed me. She didn't make it to the boat because the boat left early. I was with her when I was going to the boat and she got left behind.

Not till the morning when everyone was calmed down did I start to get my senses back. We were kind of safe then and I looked around and kept looking for my aunt but I couldn't find her. I was crying crying crying. But there was nothing I could do; they weren't going to turn back and put everyone on the boat in jeopardy. So you just go on.

The boat broke down on the second day. We were chased by pirates and outran them, but the chase took its toll on the engine, which couldn't be fixed. We thought we were going to die, but luckily an American boat passed by and saw us. We burned all of our extra clothes and they stopped and rescued us. They took us to Malaysia. This was 1987.

So I went to the refugee camp in Malaysia for two years and then got transferred to a camp in the Philippines. I spent seven months there, then came to the US in 1989.

An American lady adopted me and I came to the US. She belonged to a church that had been adopting orphans from refugee camps. She never saw me before she sponsored me. At the airport, I didn't even know how to speak a word of English and she couldn't speak my language. I don't even know how we recognized each other. She had a sign with my name written on it. This was July 1989.

So she took me home. I had every kind of feeling at the time. I felt angry and I felt scared, but I also felt happy. My uncle was in the US and I didn't know why he couldn't have sponsored me. Why couldn't I stay with him? How come I had to go through all these difficulties and still have to stay with a stranger? But I felt happy because now I finally could start my life. In the refugee camps I didn't have to go to school if I didn't want to, so I had really fallen behind in my education. I didn't do anything during that time. It was totally wasted. So I was happy because now I knew I was secure. I was 9 years old when I left Vietnam but by the time I came here I was 13.

It was fun but also awkward when I went to the American lady's house. I didn't know how to eat the food . She tried to cook food for me. It was fun but we didn't know how to communicate. We had to open a dictionary. Whenever I wanted to say something to her I'd point to the English word, and when she wanted to say something to me she would also point to the word. She taught me word by word; she taught me how to use the fork and knife; she taught me how to dress.

The food was tasteless. She served me American food - like cheese and macaroni and spaghetti. In a way, the food wasn't actually as bad as I'm making it out to be. The food I had to eat in the camp was actually worse than the food she served me. But the orphanage prepared it in the Asian way so it tasted okay. Looking back on it now I realize that the food she served me was actually more expensive and more tasteful than the food I had to eat in the camp. I have never learned how to eat cheese and I can't drink Seven Up or pop.

I learned English fast. I went to school and had to speak English. I took English as a second language and I got laughed at a lot because I couldn't say anything. And when I spoke I said it all wrong. I didn't have a lot of clothes and kids would make fun of me. I was living in a suburb near Chicago called Elgin. Elgin is a very quiet place. Many of the residents are retired people. It's a middle class neighborhood. My foster mother was a computer programmer. She never got married, so in a way I'm her only daughter. She never legally adopted me but she was my sponsor and I call her mom.

I took ESL classes for two years in my junior high school. My foster mom also taught me at home. My ESL class was just one class. I had to take the rest of my classes with the other kids. But somehow - I don't know how - I got straight A's throughout junior high school. The textbook was so difficult. I had to translate every single word in the textbook to read it.

At the end of junior high school my family came to the US. My grandma, my two aunts, and my sister all came. My uncle - the one I was very angry with (I'm not angry with him now) - sponsored them. They came over as immigrants so they never went through the refugee camps.

I had to go back and live with them. My grandma said I owed her and my aunt something because they were the ones who raised me when I was a child. They lived in Arlington Heights, which was closer to Chicago than to Elgin. My uncle lived a one-hour drive away. I lived with my foster mother for two and a half years before going to live with my grandma again when I was 15.

When I went to high school I got out of ESL classes, but my English still wasn't perfect. I could take regular classes and even take some honors classes. By the time I go to my junior year I took advanced placement classes for college.

I have a tendency to help out the other people who do not do well in school. I don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with my own experience. I volunteered a lot. I joined the volunteer club. I joined a lot of clubs. I made a lot of international friends. I only made one or two American friends. It was kind of hard making American friends because they would meet each other during kindergarten or junior high or high school and I was just dropping in. And American people people put a lot of emphasis on sports, but I never played sports in Vietnam because they don't believe in that there. They believe girls should cook and sew. I know all of that, you know. But playing basketball, baseball - that's something else. So when we had PE, I never did that well and because of that I felt like an outsider. And I also had a very heavy accent back then, so that made it even harder. My friends were from Japan, Italy, Portugal, Mexico, Vietnam, China, -you name it. I worked too hard but it was a carefree happy time. It was difficult.

The American lady really understands me. She sees me as an equal even though I'm younger than her. She encourages me to speak my mind. When I speak I look her in theeye. When I disagree with her I tell her. She encourages me to be my own person, to let me develop, to build up my self esteem and make me feel confident. I have very low self esteem. My aunt and grandma, on the other hand, are very controlling people; they want me to be submissive. So it's totally like north and south. One person encouraged me to be my own person, the other group wanted me to be totally submissive.

Everything my grandmother and aunt told me I was supposed to follow. I should always say yes and shouldn't look in their eyes when I talk. I wasn't allowed to have my own ideas. So I felt crushed. In their eyes I was a very rebellious person; they said I was too Americanized; they said I had forgotten my roots. My root is Chinese, yet I don't act like one.

And I would think: You are ignorant; you cannot force me to be whoever and whatever you want me to be. I got exposed to both the Chinese culture and the American culture. I should be free to choose elements I like from both cultures and be myself and make my own choices. And so it was a rough time. They constantly hit me and tried to make me be submissive. But they stopped after I tried to commit suicide twice.

I was so tired. If I couldn't be my own person I would just die. My grandma had a whole drawer filled with medications. One night I volunteered in school and my grandmother and aunt waited for me to come home. They yelled at me and said, You're so stupid. They didn't like American people back then. Now they're okay. But back then they would say, You're so dumb; you help those American ghosts. What do they do for you? They don't do anything for you. They don't feed you; they don't put clothes on your body. When you don't have money they don't help you. So why are you doing free things for them?

I had joined the American club and was also the athletic trainer. I took care of the people who played sports. I would bind their ankles when they twisted them or give them first aid. I also volunteered to clean up the roadsides and go to senior homes to take care of the elderly people. I find happiness in that. But my family never understood that and they really tried to control even that aspect of my life.

And so they slapped me and they hit me. I didn't know there was such a thing as child abuse. If I did back then I probably would have sued them.

I got really mad at them and I waited till everyone was asleep. I got into the medicine cabinet and I took all of the pills. They were like aspirin and pills to prevent infections. I don't know what kind of pills exactly. If the bottle said not to take more than six in one day, I took the whole thing. I really wanted to die because my life was so depressing. It was just my family. I don't know why I didn't die. I took all the pills and went to sleep. And when I woke up in the morning I was like, God! I didn't die! I woke up!

So I woke up but I couldn't get up. I was paralyzed. When I tried to get up I kept rolling around; I blacked out and fell back to sleep again. And the next time I woke up the same thing happened. It was the most horrible feeling. And when I was blacking out I thought about my father. Gosh, I thought, I hope I'm not dying. If I die and I see my father I don't know what to tell him. I was worried.

I never experienced anything like that. It was so scary. I knew I wasn't going to die but yet I didn't seem to be alive. I didn't go to the hospital. I somehow managed after fainting so many times to get down from my bed. I held on to the wall and kind of half crawled and went into my sister's room and told her what happened. I said I took many many pills; I said I don't feel well.

And she went out to fix me some rice soup so I could try to eat some. I threw up everything that went down my throat. I don't know why but the food triggered me to throw up. I threw up and I threw up and after that I felt better and went back to sleep. Luckily my first boyfriend called me. I didn't tell him what happened. He had sent me flowers because I told him I was sick. And it touched me and made me feel someone was actually there, someone who cared. It's not like I am unlovable. And also my sister was there too. So I do have people who love me. I just have to constantly remind myself of that.

So I survived that suicide, the first one. The second one was when my foster mom tried to contact me; she tried to ask me to go back with her because she said she missed me and I missed her too. I missed the carefree lifestyle, and I missed the affection too. I know now that every single member of my family loves me, but I didn't understand their way of expressing their love back then. I was very young. I didn't know how they expressed love. I always thought they didn't love me.

And my foster mom is different. She used to give me hugs and she would tell me every night that she loved me. So back then I thought my foster mom and my sister and my boyfriend and my father were the only people on earth who cared about me.

So I really wanted to go back to my foster mom, but my grandma and aunt wouldn't let me. They said, We raised you up; you owe us something. If you raise a dog, the dog will wag its tail when it sees you. But you don't even know how to be grateful for what we give you.

And to a kid those are harsh words. And so I took a brick and whacked my head in front of them. That totally freaked them out. They just got frozen. But they saw that and they couldn't speak and just left the room to leave me by myself. I got hurt. I rested for a couple of weeks. I broke the brick. But they never took me to the hospital and they never mentioned it again. It was like it never happened. They even found out about my first suicide because the medication was gone. And they never mentioned that either. They just pretended it never happened.

But after the second time I said, Okay, somehow, someone out there doesn't want me to die; like I tried twice and I'm not dead yet. And so I said, Okay, I won't try it anymore. So I committed myself to school and worked really hard at school. I got straight A's through high school and I met my present boyfriend.

And when it was time to go to college I had developed into my own person; I was strong and there was nothing my grandma and my aunt could do to me. Because they knew I didn't even fear death. So if I didn't fear death, then what did I fear? So they totally gave up on me.

So I came to Boston to find myself again and to develop who I am even though my family kind of opposed it. But they knew it was no use to try to stop me because I was beyond being rescued; I was beyond help.

The distance between us is actually healthy. Now we have a very good relationship. We don't see each other that often but I still call and talk to them and kind of counsel them when they have problems. I help them solve their problems. When they need money I send money back. And they're not trying to control my life now. My two aunts work in a factory. They don't speak much English. My aunt's husband also works in a factory. My whole family works in the factory. My grandma is taking care of the babies. I stay in touch with her too.

College was actually fun. I had more confidence. I actually met a lot of people and made a lot of American friends. Even now we still keep in touch. One of my professors once pointed out to me that I tend to build barriers around myself. I don't let anyone close to me. I mean, I'm very friendly but it's very superficial. I can be as friendly as anyone and I can talk to a stranger for hours; I can keep the conversation going but you still wouldn't know me; you never really would know me.

My professor said, Jennifer, you know you're an overachiever; whatever you put your mind to, you succeed at. And on the surface you seem to have a lot of friends, because you're very friendly. But I notice you really protect yourself; you don't let anyone close to you.

And I noticed that about myself and I talked to a few friends. I said, Do you feel that way? And they said, We feel something is missing but we don't quite know what it is. Now that we think of it, it's true. We thought we knew you, but we don't really.

If someone got close to me I would just stop seeing that person; I wouldn't call. When they asked me to go out I would just say I had something to do. It's unconscious, but that's what I would do. And my friends knew that. So the next time I said I was busy, they would say, nope, you have to go. And even if I was really busy, they would still make me go because they wouldn't know when I was really busy and when I was relapsing into my old self. So I learned to let my guard down a little and now I have some really good friends.

When I was a child I was physically and emotionally abused by my grandma and my aunts. Hitting kids is a common thing and yelling at them. I guess emotionally they didn't have to abuse me like that, calling me a prostitute, calling me below a dog. "If you feed a dog, a dog will wag its tail but you, you do nothing," they said. So I was physically and emotionally abused and never learned to let someone close to me even when I was a child.

They are not evil people. I don't want to portray them that way, because that's the way they know how to raise children, though my aunt never treated her own kids the same way she treated me. I was only her niece. She took care of me fine and spent so much money on me. It's just that it was different because she wasn't my mom even though she tried very hard.

But I knew how to protect myself; I lied. I could open my eyes and lie straightfaced to prevent myself from being beaten. And when my father got out of jail I thought I could escape my aunt and my grandma.

I had some very happy times with my father, who was a teacher. I didn't trust him in the beginning. But it took time. When I was beginning to trust him he got sick. So in a way he betrayed me.

Now a few of my friends have gone through that wall and my boyfriend also very slowly got through. And I am trying to let more people through. but I still have to work on it. Like I have to consciously tell myself, OK, you're safe. Let this person in. I have to tell myself that. If I don't tell myself that, the wall will be there.

The US actually fits me well because I am a carefree type of person. I speak my mind. I believe that as a woman I am equal to a man. I believe I am capable and that if I put my mind to something I can succeed. I eventually want to get into the human resources field. I will go back to school to get my master's, maybe an MBA, even a Ph.D. I can make a life for myself and have a career. I love the freedom.

I could not have all that in Vietnam. In Vietnam women stay home and cook. And men - no matter what they say - expect you to be submissive. When you're at home you 're submissive to your family; when you're married you're submissive to your husband; when you get old you're submissive to your children. So women are always very very submissive, and that's not me. I was never submissive even in Vietnam, and that's why I got beaten.

Saigon, Chicago, Boston