The story I wrote, about about how an unlikely radio station became a source of connection for my mom and I, is up on the Mother of All Stories blog!
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Though there were 27 years worth of stories to choose from, I constantly ran into the inability to fully articulate my memories and reflections because of the complicated relationship I have with my mother. For a long time, the language and cultural barrier prevented me from understanding my mother as someone who was not defined by being just a mom, but someone who had a life before she had kids. I'm only in the beginning stages of figuring out who my mom is, so I hope that one day, I can bring forth even more hidden beneath the surface.

​​Here's the piece via Mother of All Stories:

SAIGON RADIO
​There is one part my mother’s routine that she has kept over the years. Before she enters the kitchen to begin her culinary creations, she always turns on the portable stereo to station 106.3 FM, Saigon Radio. It wouldn’t matter that I was in the middle of my favorite Lizzie McGuire episode, or that my dad was about to vacuum the entire house. She would turn it on even when all these other noises drowned out the announcer’s voice.

Sometimes my mom would perk up from peeling carrots and sing along to a Khánh Ly song. On other occasions, she would laugh hysterically at the oblivious woman whose husband was obviously cheating on her. “This is like Jerry Springer!” she would comment. I was used to having cups of milk forced into my hand by my mother because the bác sĩ on the radio said I would surely die if I didn’t drink enough of it.

The Vietnamese-language radio station became the soundtrack to my childhood, and I hated it. It drove me insane that in the age of sleek iPods, my mom still had bulky, stereo cassette players littered in every corner of the house to play her beloved station. Saigon Radio was this old-school, crackling medium with more advertisements for medicinal herbs and plastic surgery than actual programming. I would never comprehend the lightning-fast language the announcers conversed in, nor did I enjoy the constant wailing of Cải Lương, Vietnamese folk opera. To westernized ears like mine, it sounded like parrots attempting to sing. What were they singing about that was so sad? Why didn’t the song have a melody? When does it end? These questions would torture me, so I always got up to change the station to what I thought were more sophisticated, American tunes.

15 years later, I am driving my mom home, and I turn on the radio in my car. Coincidentally, I left my pre-settings on Saigon Radio, so the station blares out of the speakers. At this point in my adult life, I had already gone through the period of soul-searching in college where I came to accept my identity and wanted to relearn the language I had lost. I would listen to Saigon Radio to mimic the speech patterns of the announcers. Every so often, I actually danced along to the cha cha cha music that played and found the crazy callers entertaining.

Although I didn’t understand every single word of it, I finally appreciated the journey and culture that the station represented. Fleeing Vietnam as a refugee of war was an experience that left an indelible hole in my mom that could be temporarily filled by the comforting sound of her mother tongue. The radio was also a surefire way to drown out the memories of abuse she suffered at home and humiliation she faced as an immigrant in America. She was able to laugh, meditate, and learn new things about the world when she listened. Perhaps even the white noise reassured her that she wasn’t alone in the world. She told me once that when she was younger, her parents were very strict and even prohibited music, so she secretly bought a radio and hid it under her covers. It was one of the most precious things she had ever owned because it was hers.

My mom stared at the speakers, baffled.
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“I didn’t know you listened to this station. I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I’m trying to practice my Vietnamese, Mom.”
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I turn the volume up so that we could both listen together.

 After having volunteered for VAALA for the past 3 years, I was recently announced as the new Co-Director for Viet Film Fest 2016! To further explain why I do it, here's an interview posted on the Viet Film Fest Website (http://www.vietfilmfest.com/festival-news/meet-the-new-co-director-of-viet-film-fest/):
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Can you tell us a little about yourself?
I was born and raised in Orange County, specifically Tustin, CA. I received my B.A. from UC San Diego in Communication and my Master’s in Communication Research at Boston University. I am a SoCal girl at heart, so I returned back to Tustin four years ago, looking for some good stories to tell and using my skills to advance issues I care about. Since then I’ve worked at UC Irvine Libraries and interTrend Communications, all the while volunteering with a variety of local organizations such as VAALA, Project MotiVATe, Common Ground, and the Tiyya Foundation.


What were some of important things or people that shaped your sense of being a Vietnamese person and Vietnamese American?
Growing up, my family and I visited Little Saigon once a week to do our grocery shopping and that was the extent of my exposure to the Vietnamese American community. As a kid, I hated the fact that my hair was black, that I wasn’t allowed eat hamburgers all the time, and that my parents spoke with accents. I just felt like I would never be able to feel fully accepted in America. It was an identity crisis that I think a lot of immigrants’ children go through, and it left me in denial of who I really was.
It wasn’t until I got to college where I began to think more critically about the “American” history I was taught in school and became proud of the struggles of marginalized communities, like mine, who find ways to survive and thrive in America. I also took up some Vietnamese classes in an effort to better understand my parents and connect back with a culture that I had been ashamed of for so long. I went to Vietnam for the first time after graduation and put my rudimentary Vietnamese to good use. However, I went into my Vietnam travels thinking that I would finally find a place that would accept me as a Vietnamese person, but left with the confirmation that I was very American. Finally, the conclusion dawned on me that, as a Vietnamese-American, I will always be a child of two worlds, and it was a fact that I was finally proud of.


What motivated you join VFF and eventually take on a leadership role on organization?
I was initially motivated to join Viet Film Fest because I love film. Having worked in film libraries and being a film editor myself, I discovered how film was a powerful art form that could be used to influence and empower. Secondly, Viet Film Fest’s mission of bringing diverse Vietnamese voices and stories to the forefront was something I was passionate about and wanted to see grow in a sustainable way.


What visions do you have for VFF? What new developments or things do you want to see happen?
I would love to see Viet Film Fest grow beyond the borders of Little Saigon. I think that this initiative is already in motion with our move to a new location at AMC 30 Orange (The Outlets of Orange). However, while our target audience is still primarily Vietnamese-American, I am starting to see a lot more non-Vietnamese come into our theaters. I would like this to continue since the festival can serve as an important bridge builder between different cultural and community groups in Orange County. My dream is also to have the films and social issues spotlighted at the festival to be part of a year-around conversation, but that would require a dedicated, paid staff to make this happen.


Why do you think is cinema so important for community and identity?
When I first told my dad that I wanted to invite him to go see a Vietnamese film at VFF, he was reluctant at first because he thought it would just be more old films about the Vietnam War. I was surprised that he didn’t know about the burgeoning film industry in Vietnam and that so more topics beyond the war existed in the community. After he watched a few shorts about abusive relationships, he was so surprised at the production value of Vietnamese films and wanted to talk about the changing role of women in Vietnamese society. I was floored because I finally had an event that both my parents and I could understand and enjoy. From that point on, I saw films as a tool to overcome language and cultural barriers and to build relationships and community.


What were some of your favorite movies of all time or from childhood?
My cinematic taste is all over the place! But I do have a few films that I could watch over and over again: The Lord of the Rings Series, Star Wars and Harry Potter is up there as well, but it’s hard to beat the epic-ness of Middle Earth.
–Indiana Jones Series: Because Harrison Ford continues to be a babe and will always be my first love.
–The Departed, Forrest Gump, Chicago are some of my favorite Oscar winners.
-Most Documentaries!
–Mad Max is the most recent movie that has made me a fan.

​I still can’t believe it took me this long to understand the significance of April 30, 1975 for my family. Growing up as children of refugees/immigrants, we’re all kind of familiar with the silence that exists between us and our parents due to a number of factors (language barrier, trauma, erasure of our history in history books, etc.). The silence breeds anger, contempt, and sadness that transfers onto the next generation because it is never expressed or misunderstood. It took me 25 years to finally ask my parents the questions of their own hopes and dreams growing up. Through doing a KPCC interview with my parents, I learned some new information about my family (that wasn’t included in the 8 minute cut) including: as a child, my dad used to capture crickets with his friends back in Saigon and make them battle; my mom’s favorite community college class in Colorado was square dancing; John Denver’s “Country Road Take Me Home” was the song my dad would listen to when he felt lonely in his new home.Don’t wait 25 years to start asking questions (like me) and start learning about your own history. You’ll be amazed at what you’ll find. I’m grateful for the experience that KPCC gave our family to share our story, to reconnect with each other, and to learn how ordinary people can go on to accomplish extraordinary things.

You can listen here:

http://www.scpr.org/programs/take-two/2015/04/27/42575/after-saigon-a-quick-choice-a-new-life-in-californ/