Escaping Vietnam
My family’s migration history is a combination of two separate stories. My father and mother immigrated to the United States at different times and places, but their experiences were the same. They both came from Vietnam and faced similar problems on their journey to the United States.
My mother, Anna , came from the small city of Qui nhon. My grandfather was a doctor and my mother and uncle were students. She grew up in a middle class family, but political circumstances turned her life upside down in 1975. The Communist party of Vietnam grew stronger and oppressive; they shut down my grandparent’s medicinal business and took control of banks, draining any money my family had. This was the push factor that drove my mother out of Vietnam. She escaped Vietnam with my grandparents and uncle to search for a way to get to the United States.
My father, Hung, grew up in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). His family was relatively poor with over 10 siblings living under one roof. Simliar to my mother, the Communists also tore apart my father’s life. He was drafted into the Communist army in 1975 and was stationed between Cambodia and Thailand. However, my father was a cunning man and somehow escaped from the army when no one was looking. As a penniless young man, his only option was to leave his family behind and get to the United States.
In the 1970s, the only way for a Vietnamese escapee to get to the United States was to go to a refugee camp and wait for a sponsor to bring them over. My mother went with her family to a camp in Hong Kong. She worked a small job with electrical tools to make pocket money for her stay in the US. My father went alone to a camp in Thailand and spent time working and having fun with his camp mates. After several months, they were able to find sponsors that would house them and introduce them to the new country. My parents both entered the US through Angel Island in San Francisco. My father’s sponsor family flew him to Missouri and my mother ended up in New York.
Adjusting to the US was a challenge for both of my parents. As refugees, they arrived with no money. My mother went to school in the morning and made a living by stringing jewelry at night. My father, on the other hand, did not go search for a job. His sponsor family let him stay while he attended an ESL program. Immigrating to the US was a harsh experience, but the sponsor program made adjusting to the new cultures a lot easier for my parents. They were lucky to get to the US and receive immense support. Unlike the people who could not escape Vietnam, they had a chance to create a better life.
In New York, my mother easily adapted to the new surroundings. She was receiving education and maintaining a steady income. However, my grandmother became sick and my mother was forced to quit community college. This was one of the darker times in my family’s history, where my uncle also dropped out of school. My father, after finishing his ESL courses, left his sponsors and traveled around the country looking for a job. He tried states like Louisiana and Texas, but had no luck. He ended up moving to New York to find a job, and possibly a woman to marry.
The city welcomed them with open arms and gave them opportunities that could not be found elsewhere. My parents met and married each other in 1989. Even after living in the United States for about a decade, money was still an issue. My father did odd jobs like working at a window factory and my mom continued to string pearls until she was able to open her own little jewelry booth in Manhattan. They started their own business from scratch, which is a dream for many immigrants, and was able to provide for their growing family in New York and to aid their poor families in Vietnam.
My family migration story is similar to other immigrants who came to the US in the 1900s. My parents were pushed to leave their homes due to political reasons and they arrived with hopes of starting a family and making a decent living. They succeeded in moving upward in society and finding a happy life in New York City.
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