Revising my Realities

I was fortunate enough to be a part of the Southeast Asia program for a second time this year. One of the most emotional days during the trip was the day I met some of my relatives in the village of B52 in Laos.

When I went to Laos in 2012, I was thrilled to come into contact with the little details of Hmong-Lao and Lao culture. I had removed myself from that culture, physically and psychologically, so that the thrill of Hmong-Lao culture was both personal and external. My family’s way of life is rooted in the traditions and ways of the Hmong in Southeast Asia, but living half a world away, I felt that Hmong culture in Laos was not truly relevant to my life.

It wasn’t until I visited Laos this year that I reflected on my perception of Hmong culture in Laos as a Hmong-American. Growing up hearing my parents talk about the Vietnam and Secret Wars, and learning that people still live in poverty today, I had compartmentalized those stories into a box labeled The Past. When I visited Laos the first time three years ago, it was as if I saw everything through a long telescope, with distance between myself and the reality I witnessed. This is the way my parents lived back then, versus, This is the way the people here in Laos live right now. That perception was challenged when I met my relatives during winter break.

My parents had given me a few different phone numbers to try contacting my relatives in Laos. I tried all of them without success. But on the morning of our trip to B52, social media pulled through for me. My sister, Yer, and I chatted on Facebook and she told me that my parents were trying one last time to contact my cousins. Success! I received a phone call from my cousin minutes later.

“This is your sister Txos,” my cousin said to me on the phone. We agreed to meet at the New Year celebration in B52. I felt restless the rest of that morning as I waited for the other students to get ready. Didn’t they realize I was going to be meeting my sister?

There wasn’t any room to call Txos anything else. As soon as I met her, we hugged and she treated me as a sister. I had brought some family photos for the relatives to look at. They studied each one, commenting on how my parents have aged, how my brother looked handsome, and so on. They spoke with a familiarity I suddenly felt deprived of. They knew my family, and I didn’t know them at all.

My cousins prepared a khi tes for me, a celebration in which my wrist was tied with string to bless and strengthen my soul. It’s a spiritual celebration I hadn’t expected, as it’s one that requires the work, time, and sincerity of many people. Txos kept saying to me, “Txhob tus siab, don’t be sad that I can’t give you much.” My mind stutters even now to respond to Txos’ generous nature and that of all my relatives that day. I see myself as the privileged one in this relationship, yet my privilege has stunted my capacity for compassion so that I agree even more deeply with the great activist Grace Lee Boggs when she write that in order to restore our communities and our humanity, we must strive to love. Seeing and hearing my cousins welcome me, feeling the love they gave me, eating with them in their home was all a part of an experience of humanity. It hit me harder that I was doing myself and my world a disservice by avoiding realities different from mine in order to comfortably go about my day-to-day routine.

Our group had scheduled a short day in B52. I spent less than five hours with my cousins. They deepened my understanding of family. They opened their hearts to me in a way that compelled me to keep my mind and heart open. Meeting Txos, I also confronted my biased perceptions of Hmong culture in Laos—my perception that their lives were of the past, maybe even backwards. Comparing my way of life to hers is meaningless without truly understanding her lived experiences. This experience shook my reality in a liberating way, in a way that pushes my soul to grow beyond the privilege I have now.

Summer Time Sadness

I’m not ready to let go of summer. Today was my last day to hide. I fee like building a cave and settling inside it to hide until June returns. Whenever I hear or read someone swooning over autumn leaves and pumpkin flavors, I wanna jump off a cliff. Every fall brings me isolation, anxiety, and getting out of bed in the morning is like I’m entering a maze for the rest of the day.

I’m thinking about all of the things I’ll be doing this year. New things. Graduate school. A new job. A new role. New things are scary. I chose to do these new things but they scare the shit out of me. I was working yesterday in my new office and I felt sick to my stomach. I’ve felt that way before and, yes, the feeling passes. But until it does, everything I do, everyone I talk to, will feel like a ticking bomb and the most trivial mistake I make will blow me up into a thousand pieces. Someone’s words will sound too harsh, a crowd will look un-penetrable, an assignment will seem impossible. 

This is just like last summer. As many times as I “put myself out there,” or have faith in myself, or hear others tell me I’ll do great, I’ve done well — I still feel paralyzed. 

Cat Woman

I just got back from a NAPAWF open house bbq and was petting the biggest fluffiest cat!

I’d love to adopt a cat. We chatted about different ways to get around apartment rules that prohibit pets, such as having a counselor approve of the need for a therapy pet, or fostering animals as they move from home to home.

If, or when, I gain my cat friends, I shall proudly describe myself as a “cat woman.” None of that “cat lady” bs that people always use to look down on women who appreciate their solitude and cat friends. I’m denouncing it for myself! Cat woman, I am. No superpowers or special fighting skills. Just furry cuddles, therapeutic pals, and companions who most likely share my love of tuna. Take your superiority, your scoffs at “anti-social” people, and shove it.

I’m having fun collecting names for my cat(s) already. Current favorites include:

1. Gipsy Danger. Pacific Rim’s jaeger hero. I’ll call this one GD for short, which will be even more awesome ’cause it’ll remind me of Big Bang’s G-Dragon, haha!

2. Totoro. Sweet spirit of the forest. Champion friend of kids.

3. NomNom. ‘Cause I like eating. But I won’t eat NomNom.

I’ve already picked a few cats out. From Google images. And tumblr.

Monsters University

My gosh, after I watched Monsters University for the first time, I thought to myself that there could be no other film as true to college life and college age as MU was. For me anyway. Ever since I got it on dvd, I never tire of watching Mike and Sulley go through their rough and wondrous year at school. Pixar did a marvelous job with this prequel. Really. Seeing my fears and struggles in animation helped me feel less alone than being with actual people.

Now, Mike Wazowski possesses a confidence I’ve never had. I entered college, excited and optimistic and loving my new independence, but constantly weighed with the question of my purpose and who I wanted to make myself in the end. The longer it took me to find answers, the more I felt I would be a failure. Mike enters college knowing exactly where he wants to go, works his butt off, believes in himself, and isn’t cowed by a few people, well everyone, telling him he isn’t suited for being a Scarer. Then he sinks under. I remember relating so much to Mike’s struggles at that moment in the film. And I was so grateful for the hope he allowed himself in the end, his acceptance of his self, his tolerance for giving himself chances. Everyone should have that fearless Mike in them.

During my undergrad (ended only a few months ago) I had my own internal Dean Hardscrabble, watching my every move with skepticism. I had my own internal team of Roar Omega Roar, waiting for me to fail.

On top of that, I was unsure about the people I met. I don’t open up to people easily, even the ones I like, and I was shy and always relished my solitude My feelings of self-consciousness, self-doubt, meant that I wasn’t even sure people liked me, even when I had plenty of evidence that my new friends wanted to get to know me. Didn’t help deepen any friendships and I beat myself up a lot for things I wish I would have done, and things I know I could have done but wouldn’t have been true to me. I never wanted to be seen as a burden upon other college students, no matter how kind or resourceful they were, so during the first two years of college I did everything by myself.

I still have a strong cynicism towards other people; it’s hard for me to believe people actually want to listen, when I’ve encountered so many who just wait for their turn to talk. And I have those negative Hardscrabble personalities inside too, even now that I’ve established a solid life aspiration and have been recognized for my accomplishments, have learned to let myself lean on my friends. But of course, I always have my family, my sisters who listen and share and care throughout all those depressing days and mental panic attacks.

New Favorite Monster-Apocalyptic Film

I recently watched Pacific Rim and I have dived head over heels into a new fandom and more specifically, am fangirling over my new hero Mako Mori, rookie ranger of the Gipsy Danger.

I love that the terms Kaiju and Jaeger used to respectively identify 1) the beasts threatening to exterminate humans, and 2) the weapons created to fight said monsters, are both non-English words, with no context in the film to the Japanese perhaps being the first ones to build a Jaeger. Brownie points to Director del Toro for his mastery of multiculturalism in his films.

Pacific Rim are without clichés and over sentimentality. It brings together people from all over the world for a single cause. It has people of color and a woman of color who all have significant roles! Whose stories are given attention and whose characters are not just backup for the white male hero.

Harry Potter

My favorite thing aside from food. Just so you know.

You Ready, July?

My roommate and I went across the street and got a haircut yesterday. I’ve never gotten haircuts in a salon before. Seriously. My oldest sister has been my barber/hairstylist/makeup guru since I first cut my long-ass hair (don’t mix that up with long ass-hair!) in seventh grade. Love you, Ka! Oh the stress I must have put her through after those first few cuts, asking for change but feeling insecure about it. I don’t thank her enough. Missing her free and sweet services. Now I’m not as particular about the length or style of my trims — I don’t do layers or bangs anymore. Keep It Simple Stupid. I originally told the stylist that I wanted a trim up to my armpits. After we did a rinse of my hair and I got back in front of the mirror, I thought, Why not go shorter, it’s going to grow out and I’ll just have to come back too soon anyway. So shorter I went. Yesterday morning my hair was skimming the bottom of my shoulder blades. It now barely touches my shoulders! Overall, a good first-time experience for me.

I also listened as the stylists talked about how they aren’t supposed to talk about politics with customers; however, the male customer that just left as my session started had brought up the topic of raising the minimum wage, which two of the stylists didn’t agree with doing. I dunno about anyone but myself, but if prices keep going up, I’d be happy to get a minimum wage raise, even if it means the person who starts after me gets the same wage as I do. Everyone wins!

Back to hair. I had a few years of “boy”-short/pixie hair. That was the life. Didn’t even comb it some days.

Onward.

Last week I was invited to a Mary Kay party. Got to try on really pretty creme eye shadows and lipsticks, and finally, a foundation that I’m confident matches my skin tone. I read something about Mary Kay using the “herd” method to get a group of people buying products and it totally worked because almost all of us got something hahahaha. I bought the TimeWise Matte foundation and a lipstick, I love it and I had a blast fooling around with friends. I’ve even been hounding makeup tutorials on Youtube. My favorite channel so far is From Head To Toe. Jen’s tutorials are easy to follow and cater to the “Asian eye” shapes, and she doesn’t do super long intros talking about random things. I do however cringe a little every time a new video starts with her “Hey guys!” I (and I believe many other women) personally do not like being referred to as a “guy.” But more on that next time.

Thanks to Jen, I’m no longer afraid of blush or that my eyeliner might be too outrageous. Check her out, my fellow Asians!

So July is Bao’s month to mess around with her face and run around with less hair weighing her down!

With Liberty and Justice

The Supreme Court removed the buffer zone law in Massachusetts. For those of you who are not familiar with the buffer zone law, it requires protesters to stand a certain distance away from women’s health clinics in order to give patients and staff passage into the clinics without being harassed by the protesters. Buffer zones are not exclusive to women’s health clinics, but they are especially effective and necessary in the face of the anti-choice movement.

The Court said that the protesters seek only “to engage in personal, caring, consensual conversations with women about various alternatives.” – See more at Planned Parenthood Action 

Excuse my tumblr language but, LOLOLOLOL Iamfeelingsouncomfortablerightnow

Using the terms “personal” “caring” “consensual” and “conversation” in one sentence to talk about anti-choice protesters should be illegal in the universe. Because it is not true. Sure, you can have a sudden personal conversation with someone you don’t know as they are walking in to their health appointment, having done so by choice; but you must not care very much about their time and economic resources to be interrupting them on their way in. Sure, you can be caring while having this conversation, but what do you truly care about? The woman? What her uterus is currently hosting? Her life, her story, her circumstances? The result of her not having access to specific resources such as birth control and abortion? Sure, these conversations can be consensual; but let the woman go on with her reproductive health choices rather than talking her out of it, trying to make her decisions for her, LISTEN to her as you are forcing her to listen to you.

Respect a woman who would rather just get to her healthcare provider instead of being “counseled” on the sidewalk by someone with no medical experience or someone with a biased view or someone with a biased agenda. Make it a real two-way conversation, or shut your mouth and move on.

Hypocrisy and Choice

About two weeks before the end of Spring semester, I started out from my dorm and saw a message chalked on the sidewalk. It read “Women are beautiful.” Instead of thinking What a nice message, my increasingly skeptical mental voice thought, This message could be nice, depending on who wrote it and for what purpose. Not long after, just as I reached the cafeteria, I nodded to myself, having been proven right about my reservations when I saw an entire sidewalk covered with anti-choice messages.

Here are a few I remember:

1/3 of our population is missing

Birth control is a type 1 carcinogen

Abortion kills

God loves babies

 

I initially read these with indifference, assured that the people behind this were too ignorant for me to waste my energy getting worked up over it. Then, I was irked that tons of students would be reading these words and possibly have their political framework influenced by them.

I reached the Women’s Center where I was interning for the semester and learned that out on the front sidewalk, someone had written “Women deserve better than this,” with an arrow drawn pointing at the Women’s Center. My indignation rose. Who the hell do these people think they are, writing such a blatantly disgusting implication about the Women’s Center, a campus service which has done so much good for our students by providing educational, advocacy, and programming resources on women’s rights, gender equality, reproductive rights, and just about everything that students should be learning starting in their early years in school.

My site supervisor said, “Well, what other tool do they have?” which helped put things in perspective about how little power the culprits do indeed have. Yet, this incidence reminds me of the continued disregard for women’s reproductive rights.

I just finished reading This Common Secret, which recounts Dr. Susan Wicklund’s journey and career as an abortion provider. I am appalled by all the violence and resistance she, and other abortion providers, faced and are suffering today. I felt admiration for Dr. Wicklund’s dedication. I felt outrage, disbelief, and hopeless towards the anti-choice crowd.

Today’s the day

Why hello there.

Finally, after much contemplation and many times of backing out, I’ve finally started my blog. I’ve thought that I shall share some of my recent writing pieces on this blog, for the sake of those who happen across my url, so they might have something other than my rants to read. These pieces were written in my previous Creative Writing classes. They will come soon.

I just ate some Shin Ramyun. With three eggs. I shall now mention my dietary choice: pescetarian.

I would like to one day own keep company with either a cat or a dog. My heart beats fast for doggies, but my mind understands that I am more suited for cats. We’ll see.

I am telling you all of this because this is my first post and I want you to get to know me.