Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Big Hmong Family

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The One to Blame
Growing up in a big Hmong family, I was never the right child to begin with. It was believed and practiced that boys are the one and only person that will carry on the family clan name to the next generation. Women on the other hand, were viewed the opposite compared to men. Women were expected to marry at a young age and leave their family behind to go live with their husband side of the family. Because of this, women were often not being supported in getting an education. Getting an education is a way harder and darker road for women compared to men. From my point of view as a kid in Laos, men have only a few roles which include going to school and farming. Women, however, have many roles from farming to cooking and if they are fortunate enough, schooling.
I grew up being labeled not good enough already before I did anything. I haven’t had a chance to do or prove anything yet but my family already hated me simply because I was born a girl. After already having five girls, my parents wished and dreamed for a boy. They wanted a boy more than anything and they did everything they could to have a boy. They went to a Shaman for
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After that incidents with my brother, another terrible event took place in my house after my mother moved to America. As a Hmong family that practiced Sherism, my family had this set up in the middle of the house that contained a few cups filled with rice and water as well as a Laos five dollar bill in the center. It was a sunny day and I made a mistake by allowing myself to go out and enjoyed the fun with everyone else. When I returned home, everyone was waiting for me at the dinner table. As I entered the house, I had the exact feeling as those when my brother broke his arm. As I sat down, everyone stared at me as if I had committed a big crime. My father violently stood
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