Model Minority Mutiny T-shirt Fundraiser by MWSM

Posted by mwsmovement on March 23, 2016

Support Asians organizing in Minnesota by purchasing these 2 styles of t-shirts: Model Minority Mutiny (color: Black) or We Will Not Be Silent (color: turquoise); made by mwsmovement.com. Submit your purchases here: http://bit.ly/1o5B6yM

50% of the proceeds will be donated to the organizing efforts of APIs4BlackLives MN chapter (bit.ly/FBAPIs4BlackLivesMN). Represent Asians organizing for liberation and in resistance, wear them at family and community gatherings or rallies and protests. Wear them everywhere as a statement that as Asians we will not be silent about injustices, and that we reject the complicity demanded of us by the “model minority” role, imposed by white supremacy.

T-shirt prices are $13 for adults and $10 for kids. Pick from the 3 options (bit.ly/1o5B6yM): we have adults crew neck and limited V neck t-shirts, and limited crew neck kids t-shirts. We will coordinate t-shirt pick up within Twin Cities or shipping arrangements. Payment forms: Cash, Paypal (www.paypal.me/lindaher) or make checks payable to Linda Her. Thank you!

For Hmong Who Has Seen Too Many Black Lives Taken

Posted by mwsmovement on September 2, 2015

Photography by Patience Zalanga

I am a queer Hmong American refugee, whose shared experiences and encounters with white supremacist violence has compelled me to rise in solidarity with Blacks who are currently facing a very dire situation in this country. I am wondering, why are Hmong Americans not showing solidarities with Blacks? We see too often the anti-Black racism spewed out by members of our own communities and families, and we do nothing. We often hear our own friends say that Black people deserved to die, or that they are lazy, good for nothing, thugs. We are scared that our Black neighbors will beat us up or rob us at night. We live among Blacks in North Minneapolis, Frogtown, or East Side St. Paul, and we bash them for being bad neighbors. We are scared of living in the “ghetto” with them. Yet, not only do we fail at being good neighbors, but we have (un)consciously internalized anti-Black racism as well. I hear Hmong Americans around me justify police violence by saying Black people do not work hard enough, are loud and obnoxious, and are criminals, so they deserve to be shot.

As we know by now, Black people are being killed all across the U.S. I have lost count of the number of victims. Furthermore, queer people of color, and especially Black transwomen, are much likely to be arrested, left homeless, and killed by police.But let me now focus on Sandra Bland, a Black woman who was arrested and died in police custody in Texas. I have no doubt that police murdered her. She was murdered because she was Black, and she was knowledgeable about police brutality. The police do not want us to fight back, to educate, or to rise up. Some Hmong are openly supporting police, and even justifying police use of force. Yet, these same individuals fail to explain the systemic ways Blacks are disproportionately facing police violence.

You may ask why Hmong Americans should care about this issue. I say, we must not forget our past. We too bear the brunt of white supremacist, colonial violence. We too were forced out of our homes and our lands. We too suffered death in warfare. We too were once being killed in the jungles with no one noticing or caring about our unjust deaths. It was a Secret War after all. As we remember Fong Lee, a Hmong teenager who was killed by a Minneapolis police officer, let us remember that we too have seen, feel, and known injustice in our communities.

#API4BLACKLIVES However, Hmong Americans also perpetuate anti-Black racism. In the early 20th century, Asian Americans tried to lay claim to legal citizenship through saying they are “white.” While this did not go in favor of Asian Americans, it shows how whiteness plays into the lives of Asian Americans. Many Hmong Americans are now millionaires or have secured high-level corporate positions. In this vein, we have been able to help other members of our communities. However, we must not allow ourselves to be tricked that we have all “made it.” We have achieved a level of success that perhaps puts us in line with other Asian Americans as model minorities, but we by no means have achieved racial or class justice. It is precisely because some Hmong have become model minorities that they see Blacks as lazy, obnoxious, and criminal, thus deserving death.

Let us not forget that all these achievement that we have made success in would not have been the slightest of our imagination if it were not for the struggles and successes of our former Black brothers and sisters in fighting for the rights to education, voting, and citizenship. These are things that Hmong Americans today in the US have taken for granted; thus, we need to be conscious in ways how the treatment of Blacks will reflect in the treatment of how Asian Americans will be treated in the future.

The current movement around #BlackLivesMatter should inspire us. I have seen many Hmong fall into the trap of “#AllLivesMatter” or “#HmongLivesMatter.” By doing so, we either enhance white supremacy, or we fall back to centralizing Hmong lives, and thus fail to be allies to other communities apart from our own. At the current moment, we see that Black lives are being taken from us on a near daily basis. There was a time when Black people were only considered 3/5 human, not fully human. That should teach us that Black lives were never considered lives to begin with. Many Hmong Americans are ignorant or indifferent to the histories of slavery, segregation, and lynchings that Blacks know all too well. Some institutions such as the prison and the police are born out of slavery and racism. Blacks and people of color make up the overwhelming majority of people in prison, while the crimes they commit may actually be the most petty. We must dismantle and constantly criticize these institutions of power, although sometimes they may seem like they exist to uphold law and order in society.

To stand with #BlackLivesMatter does not mean we are against other lives. In fact, part of social movements and social justice is to validate and truly understand the suffering of others that you yourself do not experience. With that, we must believe in and stand beside, and be engaged with #BlackLivesMatter. Until Black lives matter, we truly cannot uphold the value that all lives matter.

Photography by Ho Nguyen

I am by no means saying that we must divert the attention to Hmong American communities. In fact, I am saying the opposite. We must understand our position as Hmong Americans in this country, in order to understand how we have benefited at the expense of Blacks. We also perpetuate hate against other communities, who are classed, gendered, sexed, or raced differently from us. To say that Hmong Americans exists outside of Blacks is completely wrong and ignorant. We have benefited from decades of civil rights and social justice struggles by Blacks, American Indians, Latinos, gays, lesbians, trans, and other Asian Americans. We share the experience of racism, death, war, and racial stereotyping with Blacks, and we cannot and should never forget this. We must let go of our own anti-Black racism and prejudices and we must truly understand that Black lives matter. We can do something!

[This article was published as MidWest Solidarity Movement’s stance on supporting #BlackLivesMatter]

More images from #API4BlackLives at #BlackFair:

Photography by Pashie Vang

Photography by Patience Zalanga

Video from API4BlackLives @ #BlackFair:

About the author:

Former MidWest Solidarity Movement collective member, Kong Pheng Pha is a PhD candidate, historian, and researcher at the University of Minnesota. His research interests lie at the intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, queerness, and refugee migration. His activist work centers around these topics, and he has presented his research and activist experiences all over the U.S.

AAPI LGBTQ Pride: I’m Hiding the Best of Me

Posted by mwsmovement on June 28, 2015

Phiengtavanh was born in Vientiane, Laos in 1981; her family immigrated to the U.S when she was 4 years old to escape communism. She is the eldest sibling with two younger sisters, and a brother. She grew up in North Minneapolis. At age 17, she enlisted in the military for personal and professional goals; and pursued college at Saint Cloud State University while continuing her service to the MN Army National Guard. In summer of 2005, she was placed on a “stop lost” for a deployment to Iraq with the 134th Red Bulls Brigade Support Battalion. She honorably served over 10 years in the military and took pride in her duties as the Human Resources Specialist.

My name is Phiengtavanh and I am a lesbian
Yes I said it
Not only am I gay
I’m many things and I don’t want you to just remember me as being a gay person
Or the characteristic stereo types
That were supposed to be embedded by social media
Or society that this is how we should be
For those that know me and who has not, well
I’m 32
I’m a veteran
I’m a current student
I’m a daughter, a sister, an aunt
I’m a step-parent
And I have a loving partner
And yes I am also a pet owner, I have a little puppy, he’s a Chiweenie
Being is gay is just a part of who I am
It doesn’t really define the whole me
So when I look back at my previous years
I was hiding the best of me when I’m not who I am
So being a lesbian completes the whole identity of me

Phiengtavanh is currently living in Ramsey County – employed as the data entry specialist to the Family Health Division of Ramsey County Public Health and working part-time as a Private Charter Screener for G2 Secured Staff. In her spare time, she continues to enjoy time with family and friends while participating in various events with the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum. Phiengtavanh is one of the recipients of the Minnesota 25 Veterans’ Voices Award in 2013 for her accomplishment within her community and society.

Celebrate June PRIDE Month by contributing your narrative to be part of AAPI LGBTQ PRIDE Narrative Series. If you identify as AAPI LGBTQ and want to contribute your narrative or have questions, please email Linda for more information – linda@mwsmovement.com

AAPI LGBTQ Pride: Refugee’s Baby Memories

Posted by mwsmovement on June 27, 2015

kong pic 1

Existing in ruptures, I suppose that is the consequences of living life. In 1993, my family went aboard an airplane that would bring us to the United States. It was not an easy flight, and as I know now, nothing about this life is ever easy. The dizzying pain of the shuttering noise overwhelmed me, leaving pungent ailments, vomit all over my own shirt. I was from a refugee camp, which my tender memories leave only with it, a vision of sipping chocolate aid milk.

In this queer refugee life, I am always imagining the sweet escape, thinking of its landscapes as close enough, to enjoy its everlasting moments. And I linger in these fantasies that wretched my birth and travels to America. Imagining back on my queer life, the blockades of anguish, mixed with sweetness always had a fervent flavor. At the earliest onset, my feelings of queerness, of loving and desiring, were nothing but strange, familiar, and true. And yet, I myself could not fathom its sweetness, which I mustered as anguish. I must perpetually compete with these recurring cleavages in this realm of life. These continual exigencies are what makes life meaningful, interesting at the least, I suppose.

kong pic 2

“I realize now,
Those moments of eery chaos,
Will always thwart my memories,
I realize now,
That illusionary specter of joy,
Were my only hopes of life,
I realize now,
Those discolored ambiences of life,
Were the containment of all which is never to be had,
I realize now,
Those remnants of glimmer,
Was and can never be consumed, and,
I realize now,
The unsettled visions that outline the shallow spirals,
Can liberate me from my desperation,
I realize now,
The protruding anger of my soul,
Was always the symbol of my emancipated queer life,
I realize now,
That moment of desolate altercation,
Is it not the emblem of my refugee life,
I realize now,
Never to let go of the blemishes of my imagination,
It is to be happily queer in a world of deformed chaos.”

That moment is funny to me now. It is as clear as that window that shows the first signs of storm clouds. And yet, that moment exists only as a remnant of memory, driving down that dark, suicidal road. That moment of desperation, I realized, that despair is not death, but the languishing hunger to master life’s most miserable grandeurs. I suppose now that the drive, the run, the escape, the realization, the return, all were leading to this moment in my gay, my queer, my Hmong, my refugee, my bizarre, my funny, my beautiful life.

Ruptures in the human heart, physically and emotionally, are inevitable consequences of living. This discursivity in my happiness will settle itself. Living an unsettled life, of queerness, and embracing all of its exigencies, its messiness, of loving that man, of hating myself, of loving myself, I like the view from this focal point. For now, I will allow the intermittent episodes of my life to encapsulate itself into an everlasting nothingness, to be sorted out in other spaces and times unknowable.

Kong Pheng Pha is a writer from Minneapolis-Saint Paul, Minnesota. me in sf

AAPI Heritage Month: I Write from the “We” that is Erased by Assimilation

Posted by mwsmovement on May 28, 2015

Film Screening: Hafu: the mixed race experience in Japan. Source: hafufilm.com/en

Growing up fourth generation, developing an identity as an Asian American has felt like something of a choice, or a process. Perhaps it was inevitable but it feels like a reaction. I think that for some folks in immigrant communities who are first or second generation, ethnic identity can involve a strong cultural experience. Not a monolithic or a static one, to be sure, but perhaps a more cohesive one. My identity is of being an American, but a racialized American. Which is also a cultural experience, just an American one. I’m mixed, with a Japanese American father and a European American mother. My grandfather’s family were Buddhist missionaries who migrated to Hawai’i and helped found a temple there. I grew up in suburban Illinois without much of a community that looked like me or came from similar history. Coming from a family that was more or less assimilated, sometimes I think I grew to identify as a Japanese or Asian American based on the negative aspects of being a racialized person, rather than the positive aspects of identity, culture, or community. My choice to identify as such was and is a reaction to the self doubt, in/visibility, and microaggression that people of non-European descent experience in America. Ultimately I see this as a blessing because of the community and history I am still discovering, but also because it provided me with the earliest seeds of doubt about a racial system that I could not name but was keenly aware of.

I write from the “we” that is erased by assimilation.

I am decided by the fact
That our people came here to work in the sugar cane fields
That we came here to minister to those who worked in those fields
That we came here to get rich quick
That we died trying;
That we succeeded and forgot our mother tongues,
That we burned photographs and letters,
That our children would look at us as the enemy;
That we came here to live in segregated neighborhoods,
and that we did business in further segregated neighborhoods
That we came here to move to the suburbs
That each generation was foreign to the one that preceded it;
That our children would resent us for not teaching them who they were;
That we defined ourself against whiteness, while we craved whiteness,
while being used as a wedge against blackness,
That as we lost the our mother culture, we became something else entirely,
That we we were forced, coerced, encouraged, and then rewarded for assimilation;
That we came to sit in furious silence, or to laugh in self-hate,
when our American friends mocked our parents,
That we were still not American even after four generations,
That as mixed kids, we were Asian when you wanted to laugh,
but white when we challenged your racism, no matter where it was directed
That when we grew up, we died a little bit everytime we passed,
That when we grew up, we realized:
We would not be followed in the grocery store, but
our fathers would be followed home from the train station by boys calling them chink;
That our mixedness would be celebrated–
That they would offer our own bodies back to us as currency,
That this currency would only be of value when positioned against a backdrop of white power,
That the outsiders who celebrate our mixedness do so at the expense of our browner cousins;
That whiteness wants to extract the part of us that is not itself, both to taste it and to extinguish it;

Source: eclecticshaman.com

That we are not the sum of our parts, that we are neither of our parts;
That those who want to consume us, and sometimes do-
Spit us out as not their own,
Swallowed us and owned us, unaware we are
Both/and neither
That the nature of life is dualistic, not binaristic–
That the roots of the family tree divide infinitely in half

10077_4340851356467_1874550948_n Susan Kikuchi works as a labor organizer and currently lives in Minneapolis. She is constantly having the same conversations over and over with herself, using new vocabulary each time.

Celebrate May Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month by contributing your narrative to be part of AAPI Midwest Narrative Series. If you identify as AAPI in the Midwest and want to contribute your narrative or have questions, please email Linda for more information – linda@mwsmovement.com

AAPI Heritage Month: Citizenship In An Exiled Nation

Posted by mwsmovement on May 19, 2015

What does it mean to live in exile? To be a minority within a minority? To call oneself “Tibetan-American?”As young Tibetan exiles, a sense of physical security in our adopted country is almost always accompanied by a kind of emotional distance. As a people who’ve been dislocated, all we have left is the memory of our lost country.

I remember when my refugee mother once told me that her “soul lives in Tibet.” Although born in an independent Tibet, she became stateless after fleeing the Chinese invasion and occupation when the communists seized power in 1949. Forced into exile, she had to cross the Himalayas to Nepal as a child and start a new life in India. Again resettling in the US, she finally gained citizenship in a country not her own. I was born in India but had the privilege of coming here as a child and, thus, had less difficulty adapting to a new country as an immigrant. My mother may have a greater sense of freedom here, but she still mourns for Tibet. Yet, despite the severe trauma she endured, she still finds happiness in her memories of her ancestral homeland. I realize now that I was raised with a similar longing for a lost nation. The difference between my mother and I, however, is that I only know Tibet in my imagination.

I wanted to talk about my Tibetan-American identity at a time of increasing self-immolations inside Tibet and increasing racial tensions inside the US. In places like Ferguson and Baltimore, peaceful protests have been glossed over by the media in favor of scenes depicting graphic violence, no doubt for fleeting ratings boost. When I see such images, I can’t help but be reminded of the distorting of the peaceful protests in Tibet during the summer of the 2008 Beijing Olympics. The state media portrayed Tibetans as violent “thugs” targeting the dominant ethnic group, Han Chinese, in a so-called “autonomous region” that once was an independent Tibetan state.

Now scattered throughout the world due to resettlement, the Tibetan diaspora has begun an internal dialogue on issues influenced by our host countries. Reconciling such issues with our own cultural history has been the greatest challenge for many Tibetan youth like myself. One important distinction that should be made here is that as an exiled nation, our culture has become a sort of collective body of trauma. And while the first generation of Tibetan exiles may not be the last, young Tibetans cannot move forward until the world acknowledges our history and, therefore, our existence.

On our part, we as a community need to admit this and encourage fellow Tibetans to seek help and engage in he healing process of dialogue when they need it. For example, there is a severe lack of culturally appropriate community health resources at the present moment. That said, these spaces are slowly growing and emerging as we engage in a larger public conversation among our communities. In the Tibetan community, this has caused fear and doubt among some—particularly the older, more conservation generations.

The existence of white privilege and patriarchy also factor into this fear of difference. Having inherited the trauma of our elders and our parents’ generation, we now carry the pain of our ancestors with us as we grow and shape our identity. But collective trauma requires collective healing. The sooner we come to realize this, the sooner we will truly be free.

Tenzin Pelkyi is currently a J.D. Candidate at the University of Minnesota, where she received her B.A. in Political Science and Global Studies. While in law school, she worked as a law clerk at Asian Americans Advancing Justice-AAJC and the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee for Senator Amy Klobuchar in Washington, D.C. She also worked as a research assistant at the law school’s Energy Transition Lab and as a law intern for the Executive Office for Immigration Review at the U.S. Department of Justice. In addition to serving as president of her Law School Democrats chapter and as a member of the law school’s Diversity Week committee, Pelkyi has received widespread recognition for her advocacy, including from her university, several bar associations, and the Dalai Lama Trust.

Prior to law school, she worked in the nonprofit sector for various progressive organizations, legislative affairs at the state capitol, and community organizing in the Tibetan community. Her interests include immigrant rights, reproductive health, and racial justice. You can keep updated with Tenzin on Facebook and Twitter.

AAPI Heritage Month: Staring at the Outside, Looking Through the Mirror

Posted by mwsmovement on May 14, 2015

bigstock-Silhouetted-company-talking-at-25932815

http://theintimacydojo.com/stories-to-reduce-shame-bawdy-storytelling/

Everyday the world keeps turning, and the sun rises rides through the fire endlessly trying to catch the moon. In ancient times, there were countless stories and legends that began to explain the relationship between the sun and the moon. Were they lovers separated by some dismal force, hell bent on keep them apart for its own self greed and accord? They were often attributed with the female being the moon and the sun being the male figure in these legends. Yet what made these stories so memorable was the fact that they connected to our own mortal lives and our human relationships. To see that the otherworldly were in fact struggling with these social problems that existed within ourselves and our communities.

http://www.lovethispic.com/image/31278/through-the-looking-glass

Perception is perhaps the greatest danger to any of our lasting connections and the lives that can be created from them. We see our human race and communities in two shades of colors, two halves of the same coin and two opposite but balanced force of nature. The duality between good and evil, the bond between man and woman, and distance between earth and sky. That is our perception, and the perception of subsequent generations as they have been taught and shown. If we clear out everything, there will be one thing left in the bottom of the knowledge well, which is fear. One of the greatest thing to exist in our world is the bond of love. For there is really no rational explanation but it mere is because we are. Life is forever connected with the essence of love in the universe. And in that love is a deep connection. Like anything in this world, everything is interconnected, literally, because we are all made of the same atoms and are all filled with the same kind of electrical charges keep our flesh and able bodies to live.

I want what everyone in the world wants, to feel, to be connected to those in life who we find have the best input to our output. When you are talking in layman’s terms, we can easily say that all life is equal, there is none greater nor none lesser. But as human beings, and those who are alive, we perceive ourselves as special, having walked away from the communal “we”, into the fields of the dominant “I”.

http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/anthropology-in-practice/constructing-social-norms/

We live in a society where we all seek balance, yet astrain from it like it’s a plague, because balance does not bring comfort. And we live in this day and age in the lifestyle of comfort, and yearn for its embrace. Society talks and preaches how it takes a man and a woman to start a balance life, but look at all the lies and selfishness that leads to divorce and the continuation of kids beginning life in single family homes. We are individuals that crave and want things that we do not necessarily need, we are individuals who crave satisfaction wherever we can find it. Of course not everyone stays in that state of mind, many move on. But too many simply fall victim to that state of mind and are stuck in a society that preaches such incoherent mess as social norms.

I, like many, live in a community of my own ethnicity. In that community you are spoon fed an incoherent culture you are suppose to inherit and force fed the generational dogmas of false and one sided perceptions. It is perfectly safe to say that my culture was a male dominant way of life for many generations. We come from a culture where there are good people and bad people. In the past rich people were called good and poor people were called bad, a social dividend that still exist today.

To achieve success, and be monetarily well supported seems to be a dream of our parents. They want us to find people with “good” family backgrounds and a higher social standing. All these problems that exist solely because of the way of thinking that remains imprinted in the minds of the previous generation. In this generation, we have indeed moved from thinking about everyone to be more focused on the individual self. For we have come to see ourselves as individuals on a journey of discovery and learning. To live life you must keep moving forward. Its not that we are selfish, the problem comes from the fact that we are simply unsure. For, if you began your life and lived accordingly to a set of belief that others surround you with and suddenly woke up to seeing things clearly, you begin to have questions. Instead of outright denial, this younger generation decided to take a step back and examine in unholy commodity.

http://www.hdwalls.xyz/images/hiding-behind-a-mask-by-saerahhaytch

I have seen individuals unsure of who they are, wearing masks to be normal. I have friends who went about living their childhood, trying to be a good little boy and good little girl only to find themselves becoming attracted to the opposite sex. There were so much denial in their eyes, and so much sadness in their eyes. Sure they were more feminine than other boys, and they spoke in a softer tone. They hung out and became friends quickly with all the girls. There is no other reason for this other than it was because they were able to be comfortable in those social circles. There seems to be unwritten rules to being a boy or a girl, and no one seemingly wants to cross the divide for fear of ridicule and being cast aside by a group of their peers or even worse, their friends. Today these individuals possess great confident and have gone to live healthy happy lives. Here is the simple truth, its not that they became happier and a better person because they’ve learned to accept their sexuality. I see it as, they have found their confidence. The confidence to accept and love their own selves and through that meet and find people who are able to see that. And that is a beautiful thing.

http://weheartit.com/RedCrray/collections/17628744-lgbt

Life itself is a beautiful little concoction mystery and wonder. Fear of a different idea and existence should not hinder the growth and development of life. We all fear what we don’t understand, and are uncomfortable with things that exist outside of our comfortableness, that’s perfectly fine, but that should not be used as an excuse to kill, protest and make the lives of others a living hell. I am a straight Asian man in this society, and I think the love that is growing between all individuals should not be labeled, Gay, Straight, Lesbian, Transgender, or bisexual.

We all exist as individuals living life together on a floating rock suspended in a sunbeam, lost in a galaxy that is apart in a seemingly endless universe. Because in the end, all we really have are each other.

http://imgarcade.com/1/lonely-man-sunset

Txoov Yaj: Residing along the shores of roads and rivers, basking beneath the shade of the quivering trees, soaking the warm light of the sun. I am.

AAPI Heritage Month: Equity for Hmong Women and Girls is Still Out There

Posted by mwsmovement on May 11, 2015

In 2014, I was asked to be the keynote speaker to open for a conference led by and for Hmong youth. The theme was “Beyond the Horizon.” As I thought about what I would say to them to inspire them that day and going forward, I had to bring myself back to their age, when I was a teenager twenty years ago. I was a Hmong daughter. My dad was a shaman, bounded to tradition. My mom was the good Hmong wife, nurturing and devoted. I had two older brothers and a younger, American-born brother. I lived in Frogtown among friends and enemies; friends encouraged me to explore who I wanted to be and enemies told me who I would become. I was a Hmong girl trapped in an American woman’s body.

My parents inevitably struggled with parenting a Hmong girl in America. While they expected me to learn the cooking and cleaning skills and timid behavior of what a good Hmong nyab would be, they also encouraged me to excel in school; even if it meant staying after school and attending social events I helped organize. However, there were certain things I was still not allowed to do such as going to the mall with friends or being alone with a boy. Yet, my dreams kept growing and I wanted more and more for myself. The biggest conflict that happened between us was their disapproval of my leaving home for college. They truly believed living on my own would ruin my reputation and increase my risk of getting married. I compromised and got married less than two months before graduation.

I started college on my own, but also as a wife and daughter-in-law. It was then that I really learned the delicate yet brutal distinction between being a “good Hmong woman” and an “independent young American woman.” I went back and forth between two lives, one as a dutiful daughter-in-law spending weekends cooking and cleaning at family events (even when my husband did not attend) and the other during the week as a college student and part-time secretary in corporate America. This type of cultural divide dominated my life for the next decade. I ended up setting goals that were more practical because I felt defeated and had lost the belief that I could chase dreams.

As time went on, I reached a goal and then I would set a new goal. I kept expanding my horizon, each time a little further. My ambition re-emerged as I started to reconnect to who I was and the dreams my parents allowed me to explore but not pursue. I also became more comfortable being a Hmong American and aligned my two lives into one. Only then did I truly feel I was on my own, living by my expectations and beliefs. My message to these young folks was that horizons guide us; when we think we’ve gotten there, there’s a new horizon ahead. I encouraged them to view horizons as drawing us closer to our next goal and to who we really are and to always keep striving “beyond the horizon.”

Shortly after this speech, my marriage of 18 years came to an end. He left and I wouldn’t let him back when he had no where else to go. At the family mediation meeting, where I was the only woman allowed to speak, eight men surrounded me, in addition to my soon-to-be ex-husband. For three hours, they told us how we could fix the “minor” problems in our marriage and stay together. They minimized my experiences and perspectives and defended his behavior. Finally, with my brothers by my side, figuratively and literally, I spoke up loud and clear. I reiterated my decision and did not permit them to attack it because they don’t walk in my shoes and they don’t carry my burdens. I have gotten to where I am by on my own merits and drive and I don’t owe anyone anything. So if they expect me to do as they say, they can expect to never see me again as I have no room in my life to be treated with disrespect and disregard. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. They did not respond directly and ended the mediation.

Upon reflection a few days later, I realized they were fulfilling their role in the game of Hmong cultural politics. But when I didn’t play my part of accepting my failure as an obedient and submissive wife and daughter, there was no alternative than to end the game. Since then, I continue to be delightfully surprised by the support and encouragement from family and friends; maybe because I expected blame and shame or maybe because change is actually happening.

I may never know and will always just suspect why my divorce didn’t outcast me as I thought it would. Did people know my marriage was doomed and were just waiting for something to happen? Did people treat me this way because of my academic status or professional standing? Do people not care about me because I am an orphan? Do outsiders keep quiet because my family has accepted my decision? Or has the attitude started to change and a woman’s voice and choice are valued and appreciated? Whatever the answer or answers may be, I embrace my situation. I won’t take it for granted but as motivation to continue to amplify women’s voice and choices.

I have no parents; I have no husband. I am disconnected from lineage but am connected to my heritage. I continue to look out onto the horizon. I do not know what’s beyond this next horizon but I know that equity for Hmong women and girls is still out there.

Kabo Yang is an independent consultant and doctoral candidate. She is the principal consultant of Legend Consulting Services, a firm she founded to provide management and leadership consulting to nonprofit organizations. Kabo is an active community member and currently serves on four nonprofit Boards and three committees. She received her Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration from Metropolitan State University, her Master’s Degree in Organizational Leadership from St. Catherine University and is a doctoral candidate in the PhD in Human and Organizational Systems program at Fielding Graduate University. Her community and research interests are women, migration and integration. Kabo’s dissertation topic will be on the social capital of refugee women. You can connect and follow Kabo on Twitter and Facebook.

MidWest Solidarity Movement

Hmong Queer and Trans Power

Category Archives: Minnesota

Model Minority Mutiny T-shirt Fundraiser by MWSM

For Hmong Who Has Seen Too Many Black Lives Taken

AAPI LGBTQ Pride: I’m Hiding the Best of Me

AAPI LGBTQ Pride: Refugee’s Baby Memories

AAPI Heritage Month: I Write from the “We” that is Erased by Assimilation

AAPI Heritage Month: Staring at the Outside, Looking Through the Mirror

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: