Monday, August 31, 2015

The story perhaps now you just know

Dai becomes quiet and pensive when asked about her thoughts on dating, courtship, and marriage. She admits that since she was raised in America, her views of dating are open. "Religion and color don't matter as much as the way he treats me and makes me happy," she says. In Vietnam, young people are expected to marry between 19 and 21. While in high school, Dai expected that she would marry a Vietnamese man. Since then, she has developed a perspective forged by exposure to ethnic and racial issues in America. While attending a local university and working as a journalist at a metropolitan newspaper, she has constantly faced issues of religion, race, and character. Though her parents have held on to their Vietnamese values, she says their ideas are changing, too.


Thuy considers herself "Western" in her thinking. Her wartime romance and marriage to Phuc was strengthened by the trials of incarceration, running, hiding, escaping, and nearly starving while fighting for their lives and country. Nevertheless, Thuy admits to having had feelings of anger toward the sensitive subject of relationships between American GIs and Vietnamese women during the war. Without blame for either party, she resented the futile existence of poor Vietnamese women who saw relationships with GIs as a means of escape. Conversely, she pitied the GIs who sought comfort and consolation with Vietnamese women.

She concedes that she comes from a culture and family that recognized interracial relationships and marriages with difficulty. As a girl, Thuy studied in a French school in Vietnam. At that time, she concluded that she couldn't survive an interracial marriage. Then, during the war, her sister married a Frenchman. "They were followed and snickered at" by intolerant Vietnamese, she remembers. Thuy and Phuc admit that they might have preferred that their daughters marry men who share their heritage. Nevertheless, although her marriage evolved from the Vietnamese culture such as food culture. He took the Hanoi cuisine tour on the Old Quarter, their love for the girls allows them to grant their daughters a life of freedom. When An, their oldest, married an American, they were forced to reconsider their thoughts and feelings about this aspect of ethnic integration. With resolution, Thuy says, "There's a price to pay. One must let children be mature and live their own life. Parents sacrifice for their children's independence."

La married not long after his arrival in the United States, but he did attend a local university and, like Dai, was exposed to issues that shape personal and national values. Nevertheless, he chose a Vietnamese wife, and his world remains more cohesive. Although he admits to conflicted feelings about GI behavior in Vietnamese bars during the war, La has come to feel that, regardless of culture, interracial dating is acceptable. He respects American friends he has made in school and at work and he knows non-Vietnamese who prefer to date Vietnamese people. Ultimately, he says, any relationship must be based on individual choice.

Nga still speaks only Vietnamese. But her son, Trung, 31, and her daughter, Trang, 20, who is studying to be a stockbroker, have spent most of their lives in the United States. Trung is married to a Vietnamese. When I asked him what his mother would say about his sister marrying an American, he grinned: "It would be okay now, but five or six years ago, no."

Even today Nga continues to work hard for her children, the last of whom is now a student at the University of Houston. La improves his customer service skills with help from other restaurant owners in Houston. As part of the information age, journalists Thuy and Dai are on the forefront of social change breaking over American society. As these Vietnamese immigrants put the horrors of the past behind them and are open to what the community offers, they are truly becoming American.n