The Story of My Father

My dad grew up in Vietnam during the 70's, there was nothing but war.

“Tam, was brought into a world of constant warfare where the North and South were at a constant game of tug-of-war. Tam grew up only knowing this conflict. The year he was born, 1968, one of the deadliest battles was waged by the Viet Cong, the communist North Vietnamese guerillas, against the South.  ...  A bomb bunker was built in the back yard to provide shelter.”

He didn't have the best relationship with his father as they were apart for most of his growing up.

 “While the man of the house was gone, Tam’s mother started her own business to support herself and her six kids. They sold anything and everything; including cosmetics, soaps, clothing, and canned goods. Another good they sold was gasoline and there was only one way to get it; siphoning. This meant Tam and his brothers would suck on tubing placed inside scooters’ gas tanks to draw out the gasoline and drain it into a container. This method was extremely dangerous as the consumption or inhalation of gas led to serious health problems. It was risky, but they had to do what they had to do without their father.” 

My dad went through a lot as a teenager, he did things I know I wouldn't be able to do.

“The journey was not safe either. The waters lurked with many threats such as sharks, pirates, and the Vietnamese Coast guards; all three would be more than willing to kill. The Coast Guard would go after whichever boat wasn’t fast enough to escape its jaws, often killing, looting, and sinking said boats. Thai and Malaysian pirates would take it one step further by kidnapping the women and selling them to brothels. These were just some of the dangers Boat People had to face.”

But even though I didn't grow up in a war torn country, history did repeat itself. My dad and I rarely talk and if we do it's nothing but arguments. Like his father, he was gone from a lot of my life, and even though he's here now, there's still distance between us. I knew nothing about his past, I knew nothing of the country I represent every time I write my last name. I've lived in ignorance and only because of this assignment was I able to learn about my father. And it hurts. It hurts that only because of school was I allowed to sit down and talk to my dad and really get to know him.

This is why I'm so adamant about society being more open to learning. We need:

“the creation of an environment where we can learn about each other’s backgrounds and discuss our histories. For kids, this means getting to learn about where their family is from as well as their peers’ families. They become exposed to other cultures which is a necessity in today’s diverse world. The same applies to people of any age. We get to learn about other people and we get to share our heritage without any judgment. Having this environment means being able to be proud of our own cultures instead of worrying about standing out too much.” 

I've talked to one of my cousins about this issue. And like me, she's received the excuse that she's too young to learn about what really happened. And years go by and we still never learn anything. Of course we can do our own research on the web, but as a kid looking at walls of text in grown-up language doesn't teach us anything.

“This is why certain children’s literature exists. “One of the best pedagogical tools for educating youngsters about … what happened without explicitly divulging emotionally disturbing information, is children’s literature” says Sarah Jordan (200). There is material out there or material that can be written to suit these needs. The goal is to educate kids, not keep them in the dark.”

But my dad is still someone I look up to. He is a prime example of the American Dream. He came here with nothing and built his way up. He endured so many hardships and overcame many difficulties to get where he is now. In that sense I want to be like him.

In this tough life

No time to look back

Dragging a heavy heart

Going to work

Again today, I have to fight

No one recognizes me

But I know I have to endure

I wanna live like father

I wanna be strong like father

I’m still in my young days

Remaining in foolishness

Looking for a place to lean my heart on

I’m still in my young days

At least to you

I can lay down my heart

This world, that isn’t like my heart

It’s too hard to be alone in it

 -like my father by Crush, 2016

I still don't like the fact that I don't know that much about him. I truly wish that another day we can sit down and I can listen to him tell stories. Children need to learn about where they come from and it's their parents' responsibility to teach them. Learning about our own cultures and heritage helps us create our own identity. We can't truly find ourselves if we don't know how we came to be. This is America, where we are all immigrants and we should acknowledge our histories. But we can't do that if we keep censoring or silencing our stories. Stories are meant to be told, to be shared, not tucked away in an attic to collect dust.