Something I wrote for the most recent issue of Non Song. Intersections between being Vietnamese-American, second generation, and gay. Enjoy!
Picture Son: How to Love Yourself and Your Gay Vietnamese Children
By Trung Nguyen
I kept watch at the mailbox every day for the first two weeks of May during my Senior year of high school, memorizing the exact window of time the mail carrier approached our home. He would come between three to four in the afternoon, right when I got out of school. I would rush home at a frenetic pace, keeping an anxious eye out for his white truck and blue uniform, a feverish prayer on the tip of my tongue that I wouldn’t miss him. On the days I managed to bolt home before he arrived, I would wait from my living room with a view of our front yard, straining to identify the envelopes and packages that he would unload from his satchel.
I was on the look out for any oversized envelope, larger than most letters with the dimensions of a manila folder but slender enough to fold to the curved half-circle of our mailbox. Each time that the envelope didn’t arrive, I could breathe for a second, being relieved for the day. But it wasn’t for long – I mentally prepped myself for the next day of waiting and anxiety. It had to come soon. And I had to get it before anybody in the family did.
I wasn’t out to my family. Inside the package would be our prom pictures: my then boyfriend and I, two boys, hands clasped and suits matching. My parents wouldn’t be ready to see this picture, especially because one of them was their only son.
My patience paid off. A day later, the photos arrived and I let myself melt after secretly peering into the envelope. When I looked at our photos, all of the anxiety and fear was worth it. I kept them hidden in my room most of the time, only bringing it out whenever I was feeling particularly lonely or needed something to cheer me up.
One day, I got a call from my mom while I was out. “I cleaned your room today. I just wanted to let you know.” Searching for a reason why she would call me for something so simple, I thanked her and let her know I’d be home for dinner.
The realization only came later. My heart stopped. I forgot to put away our prom pictures. I rushed back home.
***
I was my parents’ many firsts. I was their first born (and only) son, the first to be surrounded by an entire family who had spent the last twenty years resettling from Vietnam, the first to graduate high school with a 4.0, and the first to go to a UC school – these were some of the highlights of many other firsts.
While more these firsts than I could count were met with anticipation and celebratory welcoming than with unease and tension, my parents never expected that I would also be their first gay child.
I grew up in East Side San Jose, an immense Vietnamese-American enclave and Southeast Asian refugee haven. It was nearly impossible to be alone as a child: our entire extended family lived within three blocks of one another, my schools offered Vietnamese bilingual education, and my friends didn’t question why I brought out fish sauce instead of soy sauce to the dinner table. I had a strong sense of my history and my heritage. Yet despite being affirmed in my Vietnamese identity, I couldn’t shake off a chronic sense of immense loneliness and crippling fear I had growing up. It was a fear I couldn’t escape, one that I was reminded about day to day: the fear of being who I was and loving who I wanted to love. It was paralyzing.
This same fear propelled me home the night my mom called me. Would my key work or would the locks be changed? If I had five minutes to stuff my belongings into a bag, what would I take? How much of a physical or emotional beating could I take before I made a run back out the door?
I was terrified — mostly, of losing my family. I lingered on the sidewalk of my house, carefully observing the lights in every room, as if staring at the flickering yellow glow would magically show me what everyone was doing. I talked to my then boyfriend and made back-up plan after back-up plan in case I would get kicked out. After assuring me a warm place to sleep and food to eat, I worked up the courage to enter the house.
My keys worked. I stepped inside. It was quiet. My mom was watching TV with my dad. I snuck my way past them, still fearful. As I entered my room, I couldn’t have prepared myself for what I saw.
At the front of my desk was my prom picture, neatly framed in new black wood.
***
We don’t speak of it much but small actions have liberated me over the years. They no longer bother me about girlfriends. They invite my “friend” over for family celebrations. They leave out two plates for breakfast when my boyfriend stays for the night. In the process of letting go of fear and allowing myself to love without fear of losing my family, I have become an active member of both the Vietnamese and LGBT community, working with youth and advocating for a stronger future. I would have never done any of this had I continued to live in fear.
Like many Vietnamese families, there wasn’t much my family could offer by way of support, but what they did have was their love. But this was all I could have asked for and this is what I ask of all my readers: continue loving your sons, daughters, little brothers and sisters even if they love somebody of the same sex. You have the power to transform and empower a life and I urge you to use it for the better.
Don’t miss out on this! The due date is coming up! Please reblog and forward out so folks know about the opportunity!
Summer Organizing Scholarship 2011 with API Equality-LA and KIWA
You are invited to apply for a Summer Organizing Scholarship, a joint program with KIWA and API Equality-LA that will develop your leadership skills and train you to be a community organizer. The program requires attendance of 40 hours per week for 10 weeks between June and August 2011. Scholarships ($2000 each) will be provided to three participants. Candidates must be available July 7-11 for a special training.
The program will focus on outreach in Korean and Asian communities and among Koeran/Asian youth to raise awareness about LGBTQ equality and other community issues. Participants will gain hands-on grassroots organizing experience and communications skills, and will learn from workshops and programs addressing community concerns, including housing, immigration, LGBTQ and labor issues. Participants will work directly with and in communities of interest as well as explore areas relevant to non-profit organizing – from fundraising to public education and volunteer recruitment.
Interns will work out of API Equality-LA’s office in Downtown Los Angeles at 1145 Wilshire Blvd, LA CA 90017, in the Asian Pacific American Legal Center and KIWA’s office in Koreatown at 3465 West 8th Street, LA CA 90005.
Primary Responsibilities
1. Participate in meetings, activities and events as needed
2. Support KIWA and API Equality LA in various projects such as:
a. Assist with website maintenance
b. Support coalition building with other community-based organizations through various collaborative activities
c. Assist with outreach to youth
3. Assist Community Organizers with day-to-day general outreach and education
Qualifications
1. Passionate about API & LGBTQ, workers and immigrants rights
2. Strong organizational skills
3. Good oral and written communication skills
4. Good “people skills”
5. Desire to work with diverse communities and organizations
6. Interest in community organizing, advocacy and public policy
7. Ability to work independently as well as collaboratively with coalition partners/allies
Preferences
1. Knowledge of or contacts with the Asian and Pacific Islander and/or API LGBT communities in Los Angeles
2. Fluency Korean or another API language or Spanish
3. Driver’s License and regular access to car
To Apply
Please email a resume and a cover letter that includes responses to the questions below to eileen@kiwa.org and director@apiequalityla.org by May 20, 2011.
1. Why are you applying for this Summer Organizing Scholarship?
2. What do you hope to learn through this experience?
3. What strengths, skills or preparation do you have for this program?
4. What are your career plans in the near future?
About API Equality-LA
Founded in 2005, API Equality-LA is a coalition of organizations and individuals who are committed to working in the Asian and Pacific Islander (API) communities in Greater Los Angeles for equal marriage rights and fair treatment of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) families through community education and advocacy. Working alongside diverse communities in Los Angeles, our work is organized into five committees: Faith, Fundraising, Media & Website, Outreach & Recruitment, and Public Education.
About KIWA
KIWA was founded in 1992 and is one of the oldest and most well-established worker centers in the US. A multi-ethnic organization based in Koreatown, Los Angeles, KIWA’s mission is to empower low-wage immigrant workers and to develop a progressive constituency and leadership in the Koreatown community that can struggle in solidarity with other underrepresented communities. KIWA prioritizes base-building and organizing workers and residents across industries and issues to address immigrant workers’ rights and community conditions. Bolstered by its Cultural Education Center, KIWA is a well-known anchor for Korean American progressives and immigrant community members, as well as a hub for multi-ethnic and intersectional social justice organizing in LA.
Please reblog if you’re in the SoCal region! Tumblr is one way we can outreach to folks who otherwise not know about this potentially life changing workshop.
To RSVP (it’s anonymous; but done for Headcount so we know how many to account for!) : www.tinyurl.com/apiela-comingoutworkshop
Explore questions & approaches to coming out within the Asian Pacific Islander community! Hosted by API Equality - LA.
