Female and family

I grew up in a household whose gender was in equal number ( as shown in our B/W album on opposite page) Dad and Brother, Mom and Sister. The female in my family, wore the seat of the pants. They left early for work, came home to cook, then stayed up late to grade papers or sew, iron, clean, organize and water the plants. Even keeping an eye on me, their little one who totted around in our ghetto alley.

My Mom, Mother Hen, and later, my Sister, acted from the same page: female and family. Role model. Old timer: not a lot of make-up on them. Purely professional and presentable.

They carried themselves admirably (teacher/banker). I might have picked up on some bad speech from the alley, but I have never heard bad language out of their mouths. School teachers were supposed to teach the ABC’s while exhibit quality and values, in a society which, at the time, still honored proper conduct and harmony (even in our big city).

Then all hell broke loosed: the dollar and its lure, the gun and its sway, and the Jeep and its imposition. While in the US, we saw Station Wagon and Volkswagen, in Vietnam, we still heard echoed horse carriage footsteps on city pavement.

The French were moving out, their timing overlapped with the US moving in. Like Move-In Date on campus. Any tips where to find the women? Whiskey? and good exchange rate?

TIME and Newsweek overshadowed Le Monde. Society in transition, people in motion, people in motion. ( more at Vietnamizing Woodstock). For more than 18 years, I never saw our society sitting still. Au contraire, they were all moving about at dizzy pace: vendors, cyclo – pedaled or with engine – trucks, Jeeps, convoy, taxi, velo-solex, mobilette, Vespa, bicycle, horse carriage, buses, train and plane.

Our airport was known to be the busiest due to the war. Our ground carpet-bombed, by tonnage of both World Wars combined. Trees, children, wild life, none were spared. Deny the enemy his sanctuary.

Our playground turned battleground. My early life speeded up, quick. No time for careful calibration. All reflex without context. Jump. My friends, most of them, went to Kung Fu school after Middle School. Few joined up to be paratrooper or Air Force. Finishing High School in a continuous flow? Hardly.

World disrupted, if not ended. Flag-draped caskets were a normal sight. Urban growth included an enlarging cemetery.

Besides the invasion of boots, we saw the accompanied invasion of all things Western: cigarettes, Zippo, peanut butter and guns. To exist meant to fight. Candles burned from both ends. With very little to live on, we somehow lived large in a paradoxical and toxic way.

Quick bucks, quickies and quick transaction. Everywhere and anywhere. Perhaps not at the Agri Bank where my sister worked. Perhaps not at the school where my Mom taught. But everywhere else , I noticed a sense of urgency; fast life and fast buck. Until one day, the anxiety and apprehension reached breaking point . The unsustainable regime collapsed, like a rag doll without support. One’s defeat was another’s victory. Shame and Pride co-existed on the same ground at the same time.

Admirably, the female of my family managed to pack up pictures and Ao Dai in their carry-on. While the situation called for nothing but being frantic, they came across calm and collected.

And in the new land, they rebuilt and nurtured again, by survival instinct. Continued Education, raising family and sending kids to school. Except this time, in much colder weather and with fewer resources (did not get Cup O Noodles until years later at a nearby Chinese groceries store).

Whatever treatment they received, it wasn’t surprising . Somehow the Chinese immigrant community had provided the cultural context as backdrop . We turned Asian American, without protest and without say. The American experience continues, with us, then later others: by train, plane and on foot. The business of America is business. Conducted in green. With accrued interests. So we all learn this quick. Thrift and saving. Protect and plan. This, again, fell on the female of our family.

In full circle, they conduct themselves admirably and honorably. I am not being subjective. Just the way it is. I have never seen them in the mood for self-pity, self-victimize or self-sabotage. The female of my family exemplify human’s best: nurturing and conserving. Respect for the environment and for others. Conduct becoming. Best role-models.

Lucky me. With snacks waiting after school. Guitar and songs, books and movies. I am where I am today, largely thanks to their selflessness. The untold tale of the Vietnam War, and its post-war era: female as scavengers and nomads in strange shores, hanging on to their last ounce of self-respect. One thing no one can deny: they paid a dear price to stay in place. that enviable and desirable place where they can fully be themselves. Female in family.