The Origin of Me
At first glance, my name is one that would be deemed "typical" for a girl that lives in America. Though, at further inspection, a person reading my full name would probably do somewhat of a double-take when they come across my middle name, Hien. The origin of my middle name comes from my birth name, Bu-Tû Hien, meaning meek or gentle, which my family would joke that I am anything but.
Despite my pride in telling people this part of my identity now, it didn't used to be that way. Growing up in a predominantly "white" school district, I faced a lot of prejudice from my peers, often being the only Vietnamese student in the class. I remember constantly being asked questions like, "so this means you're, like, really good at math, right?" In response, I would let out a nervous laugh and pretend like I didn't hear anything. Though hurtful stereotypes played a role in being singled out, the teasing didn't end there. A particular moment that I remember in elementary school is when I decided to bring my áo dài, a traditional Vietnamese dress, to school for show-and-tell. To my surprise, my classmates thought it was anything but awesome, in fact, they made fun of the garment that I loved so much. I asked my mother about this day, and she says she remembers the incident like it was yesterday. She told me that she noticed how much I changed aspects of myself after that experience. "You stopped letting us call you your nickname, Hien-y, you stopped wanting to go to Vietnamese culture camp, you even stopped wanting to celebrate your adoption day," she told me. "It was hard to watch for me because I was so proud of where you came from, and I thought you felt the same up until then," she said to me.
If you asked me what race I identify with several years ago, I would have said American, justifying this answer by saying "I grew up here, it only makes sense. I don't even speak any Vietnamese." Upon many years of reflection and acceptance, though, I would now proudly call myself nothing but 100% Vietnamese.
Despite my pride in telling people this part of my identity now, it didn't used to be that way. Growing up in a predominantly "white" school district, I faced a lot of prejudice from my peers, often being the only Vietnamese student in the class. I remember constantly being asked questions like, "so this means you're, like, really good at math, right?" In response, I would let out a nervous laugh and pretend like I didn't hear anything. Though hurtful stereotypes played a role in being singled out, the teasing didn't end there. A particular moment that I remember in elementary school is when I decided to bring my áo dài, a traditional Vietnamese dress, to school for show-and-tell. To my surprise, my classmates thought it was anything but awesome, in fact, they made fun of the garment that I loved so much. I asked my mother about this day, and she says she remembers the incident like it was yesterday. She told me that she noticed how much I changed aspects of myself after that experience. "You stopped letting us call you your nickname, Hien-y, you stopped wanting to go to Vietnamese culture camp, you even stopped wanting to celebrate your adoption day," she told me. "It was hard to watch for me because I was so proud of where you came from, and I thought you felt the same up until then," she said to me.
If you asked me what race I identify with several years ago, I would have said American, justifying this answer by saying "I grew up here, it only makes sense. I don't even speak any Vietnamese." Upon many years of reflection and acceptance, though, I would now proudly call myself nothing but 100% Vietnamese.
Emma I think it’s amazing the tangible differences your mother saw in you after that occurrence. It is quite eye opening to reflect on how outward influences cause us to subconsiously react and try to fit in to our surrounding society. It is disheartening to see people letting go of pieces of their identity just to be the same, and not be singled out. I think it’s very inspiring that you are now able to look back at this and be proud of your identity, despite the embarrasment you must have felt earlier on. I think it’s important to hold onto your core, because it is the one and only thing that allows you to be you and it is the only thing that will always be rightfully and completely yours.
ReplyDeleteThis is an incredible story Emma! I'm sorry that you have had to go through this in past years. It is so important to stay true to who you are and it sounds like you have learned that which is truly amazing! Although Emma may be a "typical" American girls name, I think it is special that your middle name has meaning to it having it be a Vietnamese name.
ReplyDeleteGREAT post, Emma! Your story of the ao dai is such an interesting and moving story. By the way, we have something in common. My wife immigrated here from Vietnam and we sometimes have our daughters wear an ao dai when celebrating Vietnamese New Year. Xin chao!
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