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
One morning at about 8:00 a.m. when I woke up I went outside and looked down the street and saw some of my neighbors houses destroyed. For example the windows had been bashed in, their would be holes in the front door like someone had kicked their foot in it, and it looked like someone ran their mailbox over with a car. I went back inside to tell my family what I saw so that they would know. After I had finished telling them they ran outside to see it for themselfs. My mother and father looked as if they were about to cry in sadness and anger at the same time.
We are often told that it’s ok to be different. My younger version would definitely agree. Growing up Indian, I had the benefit of teachers repeating instructions a bit louder and slower. I never worried about getting injured on the baseball field, because I got to sit on the bench. My parents never had to worry about driving me to sleepovers, though I was seemingly friends with everyone in school.
The Moua journey began thirteen years ago, fighting to hold the tears back. People said, coming to America will change the life of Hmong families. Many different people, from many different countries, with different communication styles are all over the world that immigrated to America, one of those people are Hmong, they speak two dialects of a language. These dialects are known as Hmoob dawb (Hmong white) and Hmoob ntxhauj (Hmong green). Along twenty-three-hour fight lay ahead of them, as they realize it was time to say good-bye to their native family and home as tears rolled down their eyes.
Childhood barriers growing up and being Native American was growing up poor. Being raised by signal parent and eating foods that are far unhealthy. Food that was prepared or bought were so unhealthy which caused some family members to be overweight. Being poor made it hard for mother to provide proper nutritious foods. Food we eat where either fried, had to much salt, and high in fats.
Passionate, open-minded, worldly, hard-working, leadership skills Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story. She points her pale finger at a word and I say, “Legislature.” She pauses, and then repeats the word, “Legislature.”
Growing up as Hmong-American youth, I was raised by a father who joined the military when he was twelve years old. He was forced into the Vietnam war fighting for safety, peace, and a relationship with the United States of America. Through this military influence and discipline at such a young age, my father accepted the military lifestyle. He carried it over from the Vietnam war to my family today. Growing up, my father was always strict on me, especially when it came to my appearances and education.
For my first diversity event I decided to attend the 43rd annual Mankato wacipi (Powwow). I chose this event because I attended some like it when I was younger. I always have admired Native Americans and their deep connection with their spirituality. I remember in fifth grade my elementary school hosted a Powwow that my mother and I attended. This was the first time I have ever been exposed to the Native American culture and the memory has stuck with me till now.
How are you? I have been doing great! Just being busy around Towson’s campus as usual. I actually just came back from my class’s bake sale and pie a professor event that I told you about a couple weeks ago. We successfully raised about $130 today for the refugee children’s education in Darfur, Sudan!
I come from an authentic Hispanic family, who is traditional in plenty distinct aspects. We treasure all the memories that have occurred to all of us and we laugh about the embarrassing moments we all had. We hold traditional customs and we accept new traditions as well. All of us are over protective of each and every family member, meaning that if anyone in the family has a problem we will not stop until it is fixed. To every family member, family is always first.
Growing up in an immigrant household in America, was difficult. I didn’t live, I learned to adapt. I learned to adapt to the fact that I did not look like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that my hair texture would never be like any of my peers, so I changed. Adapted to the fact that I was not as financially well off as my peers, so I changed.
Life as a Native American sucks. I realized this when I was a little kid. I’ve come to accept that what other people label or describes us as are true. I’m not happy to admit this they are right. My people don’t do anything to prove these people’s claims, or better known as stereotypes, about Native Americans wrong.
Conflict is an unavoidable situation that most of the time is dealt wrong, even so many older folks would push the idea that conflict can indeed be avoided and dealt properly. Growing up in a Hmong family, we were strictly discipline and taught to never argue back or yell at anyone older than you because it was insanely disrespectful. All five of my siblings including myself, were to follow this “conflict script” and use it to guide us in life. As a young boy, conflict seemed to be an everyday practice for me. Since I grew up with 3 other brothers and toys and accessories were always limited for all of us, me and my brothers would always get into fights and scuffle.
The lack of sexual education also contributes to young marriage and motherhood rates (Ngo & Leet-Otley, 2011). Hmong parents do not understand sexual education and do not discuss it with their children. In Meschke and Dettmer’s (2013) study on sexual health communication, Hmong daughters inferred that parents believed the talk about sexual health might encourage their daughters to be sexually active. Talking about sex is impolite and embarrassing so Hmong families do not usually have discussions on that topic. However, when they do give out information it is often wrong and exaggerated (Meschke & Dettmer, 2012).
While women mostly “retain the name from which they were born, they are still considered a member of their husband’s clan.” (Purnell, 2014, pg. 240) There is not single leader of the Hmong, instead there are leaders for each clan whom are older males. While the father or husband is the decision maker of the family, the oldest son takes over decision making if he dies. Marriage within the Hmong culture is characterized as the daughter living with their husband and in-laws, and the boys marrying before they are considered adults.
We travelled with these strange men that are covered with strange garments with the only parts that show are their faces which are white as the washed stone. Some of them have hair and long beards that is the color of the sun. They are able to heal and bring death to our people as they decide. We dare not make them angry lest they should punish our people. As we travelled to the flat lands beyond the mountains we were met by the peoples of the plains.