In 1955, the Vietnam war began. The US didn’t have enough time to draft all of their men into Southeast Asia and they needed people who were already there, one of them being the Hmong. Hmong people were disliked and harshly discriminated against in Asia. We shared our land with the Chinese, but then they kicked us out. We weren’t wanted in Vietnam, Laos, or Thailand either and we had nowhere else to go. The U.S offered us a place to stay and food to eat, but under one condition. We had to help them fight in the war. We had no other choice, but to give in.

In Laos 1960, Hmong people were placed in different Guerilla Units, along with some sitting in refugee camps. The women were used as nurses and the men were the soldiers fighting in the war. My grandpa’s father had fought in the war. And though he never liked to speak about it, my grandma would always talk about how worried he was every night for his father to come home.

My grandma and grandpa met recently after my grandma moved into a new camp. “Me and my sister had heard there was a safer camp just across the mountain, so we moved,” she said to me. “How did you guys begin to talk?” I asked her. 

“Well, my mother had introduced me to him. He was my cousin.” 

“Woah, grandpa.. Is it your cousin?” I responded. 

Now I knew that in our culture it was okay to date your cousin if you guys had different last names but my grandparents? They were cousins? Now in modern times it hardly happens because the culture has been so Americanized. But between a lot of the OGs, it was pretty common. “Grandpa is my dad’s brother’s son,” she said to me. It took me some time to process but I understood. It stood with me for weeks to know that they were cousins.

While in the refugee camps, despite the U.S promising us food, Hmong people were very malnourished. Which explains why we are known to be very short. We had no access to dairy, we barely had access to water. We would often eat bugs for protein and if we’re lucky, rats. But since we had access to rice grains, that was the majority of what we ate. 

When the Vietnam war was going on, the U.S, Germany, and Australia all came together to help fight. They also agreed to split some of the refugees into their country to stay. But because there were so many, they sent Hmong people everywhere, including France, Canada, even some in South America.

“How did you know where you wanted to go? I mean we could’ve been in France,” I said to my grandma.

“Well me and grandpa just went where everyone else was going, the U.S,”

I thought about it for a second. I could’ve been living in France, speaking French, eating croissants every Sunday, seeing the eiffel tower. I started getting ahead of myself.

“How did you adapt to speaking a totally different language?” I asked

“Well it was hard, but because I was surrounded by so many Americans. I just learned by talking to them,” she responded.

My grandparents when they came to the U.S had nothing. They had no job, and barely spoke English. They didn’t understand economics or politics or any of that stuff. And because when they came here they were already over 18, they weren’t able to receive basic education.

“I would have to go around my apartment and sell bananas,” my grandpa said to me.

“How did you go from selling fruits to a big store?” I asked. “We had to work very hard. Every money we made from selling fruits we saved. And then we saved up enough money to start selling at the flea market. Everyday after school or selling at the flea market, I would sell at the apartments I lived at too.” my grandma responded.

“You didn’t get any breaks?”

“No breaks, we had to work. You see your uncles, they are very lazy and don’t work. Do not be like them.” 

I laughed.

After my grandmother would come home from work, she would immediately cook for the kids. She would go out and sell fruits until it got dark, then studied and did homework until she was finished. And sometimes she wouldn’t be finished until 4 in the morning, barely getting any sleep.

My grandfather didn’t have any education, but you best believe he worked his butt off. Every weekend morning he went to the flea market, and sold fruits and vegetables. He would also go and sell at the apartments too. They saved every penny to buy a small store section on the other side of the market that was bigger.Sooner or later when the kids got old enough to help, it became easier. My dad used to tell me all the time how every weekend he had to wake up early and help. Especially if they wanted money.

“We would get paid 10 dollars for working 5 hours. You’re lucky you get paid more,” my dad always said to me.

People would always laugh at my grandparents for selling things and working really hard. Coming to the U.S everyone just got a normal job and worked. They thought it was ridiculous to try to start a business. 

Once my grandparents saved up enough money, they rented out a building and built a store inside of it. My grandparents at the time did not care for the high technology payments and just typed all of the prices manually, it’s still like this till this day.

Once my grandparents became successful, everyone started to like them. Sometimes when I go visit, people ask for free things. Some people would go up to them and talk to them like they never used to make fun of them. But regardless my grandparents didn’t care. 

They came to the U.S with no resources and made something out of nothing. They built themselves and for many generations a stable life. And now after working so hard, they are able to rest. Despite them barely knowing English and the land they had moved to, they were able to make a place they were so unfamiliar with their home.