What is an Amerasian?
During America’s part in the Vietnam War, many American soldiers met and fell in love with women they met overseas. Between 25,000-30,000 babies were born from these relationships, as I was. They called us “Children of the Vietnam War,” or Amerasians.
After the U.S. pulled out of Vietnam, they left us Amerasian kids behind.
Amerasians were unwelcome in Vietnam.
If you ask an Amerasian what it was like living in Vietnam, most or all of us would reply, “I was bullied. People were cruel to me.” And most or all of us would say, “They called me names; black Amerasian, or white Amerasian.”
They bullied us by asking us questions like: “Why is your hair so curly?” “Why is your hair so blond?” “Why is your skin so white?” Or “Why is your skin so dark?” “You don’t belong here,” they would say, “go to your country.” They trapped us that way, so most of us felt confused about who we were.
If any Amerasian says that they had a good life growing up in Vietnam, or that they felt a sense of belonging in the society there, then he or she is still living in the denial stage, or lying to himself or herself.
I’m an Amerasian woman with dark skin color, and curly hair. People in Vietnam called me “Rambutan Hair” because of the curly, coarse textured hair that I inherited from my African American soldier father during the Vietnam war. I don’t know much about my father, but he knew of my existence because he left Vietnam when my mother was pregnant with me. It seemed to me like he was an irresponsible father who didn’t care about my existence.
My grandparents rejected my mother as their daughter for having an Amerasian daughter like me. They didn’t allow me to meet them. They blamed my mother for bringing shame to the family, saying they lost face in society because of her. Part of me was torn from hearing that.
Abuse from family.
My stepfather bullied my mother and me. He called her a “bitch.” He insulted her, hitting her and saying that she slept around with American soldiers and that’s why she got stuck with me. I witnessed him yelling at my mother, saying he lost face in society because she had an Amerasian kid, even though she had me before she ever met him.
Yes, I saw the way people in Vietnam seemed to disrespect my mother. I heard the same from other Amerasians when I met them here in the U.S. It seemed like Vietnamese culture cared a lot about others’ approval. I didn’t understand why.
Fight for my education.
My stepfather didn’t want me to go to school, but I refused to stop. He showed his temper when he saw me doing my schoolwork. He banged his hands on the table, or flipped it over so I had to stop doing my schoolwork, or move to the woods to study. I usually studied late at night, or early in the morning when he was asleep, so I wouldn’t have to deal with him.
What should we do when we live in an abusive environment?
Fight, flight or shy away.
At first, I shied away from the abuse. I hid from society, and from my stepfather, because I didn’t have any other choice. I felt uncomfortable in my skin whenever I was around my stepfather. I hardly stayed inside my house. I usually wandered out into the yard.
I hardly went out in public either. I only left my hiding zone to go to school, or when I had to go to work on the farm. When people bullied me, I ignored them. I learned to numb my feelings so I wouldn’t get angry, because I worried that if I let myself get worked up over their unkind words, I might end up hitting them. And if I hit them, they’d hurt me worse, like I’d seen happen to other Amerasians who got beaten up when they expressed their feelings toward the bullies.
As I got older, I chose to fight when I had a chance.
I wanted to get away from my stepfather as soon as I could, so when I was in my teens, I moved in with my sister and her family until the day I flew away from Vietnam in 1989 with no nostalgia. Thank you to the American Homecoming Act that was passed in 1988 for allowing Amerasian kids like me to come to the U.S. This helped me to escape the abuse I’d known my whole life in Vietnam.
If you, or someone you know, are living in an abusive environment, please seek help to get out of that toxic condition by calling out for help or hiding in a safe place until you have a chance to act in defense. I know you can do it. Don’t let the abuser get their way and never stay, hoping that they will treat you better the next day. The longer you live in that surrounding, the more it harms your mental and physical wellbeing.
I was lucky to overcome the heartache and mental trauma I endured during my childhood. It took years of working with my counselor and practicing self-help to get to where I am now. Please don’t wait to get the help you need. If you are not sure who you should reach out for help when your life is in danger, call 911. They will come to rescue you right away. They are there 24/7 to help. They will connect you to the right resources for your area.
If you have already escaped an abusive environment, but you are still having post mental trauma, then you should call your physician’s office and tell them your trouble. They will connect you with a counselor to share your trouble with. The counselor is there to listen to you mourn and give you suggestions of what you should do to help you heal. They don’t judge you. That was who I called when I was in crisis.
What did you do when you were living in an abusive environment?
If you have been a victim of abuse, what have you found helpful in your healing journey?
If you feel safe doing so, please share your story/stories in the comments so others can find the support they need. Thank you!