Dear Mom,
I am hurting.
I know you’ve envisioned a certain kind of life for your kids. You fled with your family to the Thai refugee camps and resettled in America with nothing — no language, capital, or familiarity. Through hardships and struggle, you eventually cultivated something for yourself in America.
I know deep down you are the way you are because of the traumas of poverty, war, and the workings of the Hmong patriarchy between you and your own mom — all which you have had to navigate and continue to.
Because of your history, you attempt to vicariously live through us children, especially us daughters. Although I have tried to please you with good grades, a higher education, and staying out of extracurricular activities in college, I still disappoint you in one way or another.
Three months ago I made the decision to go home with my partner. You were furious. You told the people who came to fiv xov that my in-laws should just send the bride price money to you and dad. You didn’t want to do a wedding for me. You didn’t want anything to do with me anymore because I made a decision that was different from your desire.
I knew you would be upset, but not to that extent. I know why you continue to stay passive aggressive, though. You want us…
