![]() I was on the way to a cemetery to visit my great-uncle’s grave, walking though a beautiful vast green rice field. It wasn’t until I was in my thirties and went back to Vietnam with my mom that I finally started to let go of these ideas of who I wasn’t. I would have liked to be blond with blue eyes, the all-American girl. In fourth grade, three boys would tease me and call me chink. ![]() ![]() We four siblings took care of each other, which was fun. My sister once told me we were on food stamps for a while back then. They were both pretty much in survival mode. ![]() Our parents had servants and nannies there, but here they worked their butts off. I don’t remember much of Vietnam from my childhood. From what my parents told us, as my mom was collecting the papers for us to leave Vietnam, she had to run in between buildings while explosions were happening in the background. My mother, who is Vietnamese, worked in my father’s office. My father was an Irish-American who worked in Vietnam for an American company. My family came to America from Vietnam at the end of the Vietnam War. I changed it to a phonetic spelling after college so it would be easier for people to understand. ![]()
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