Category Archives: Generalization

My Rants of Today

back home and nothing feels real. it’s a thing i go through. is there a word for this? it’s like after repetition everyday and then going through some crazy adventure, you miss the adventure and the everyday lifestyle is not enough.

the trip was good though. i guess i have been craving to be feeling like a part of something. i have never truly felt American and i have never truly felt Hmong, because i am both. and it was good to be part of that Hmong community again.

when i was young i was disappointed in my people and wanted nothing to do with them, but when i mentally grew up, i realized that i could never throw it away. even if i can never be wholly part of the Hmong community, i can at least fit in the way i want to.

also, i have known for a long time that there are going to be people who are negative about everything. they can’t help but put in their thoughts. in the past i would let them get away with it. if they want to continue with their thoughts, go right ahead, i can’t do anything about it.

but i have changed again. if they have a right to their thoughts, i also have a right to my thoughts. and i have a right to put them down if i have to, no matter who they are.

i hold grudges, i hold them for a long time. even if you don’t remember, i will. i will let you get away with things the first time and if it is only about me. but if you decide to attack me again and it is about someone who i support or love, then it is your fault for not being able to just stay silent and support me.

so yes, i can hold back, but don’t taunt me or i will be angered. also don’t make assumptions about people you don’t even know.

A Little Something I Wanted to Share

I wrote this to a friend and thought it would be cool to post it here. I do mention references to my story I am writing, which is what sparked this conversation.

Have a little of my past 🙂

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Personally, why I don’t agree to forced marriage and fear it, is because I don’t want to lose my freedom. I had to struggle just to be the person that I am right now. When I was growing up, I was “the pretty one with white skin” that all the old ladies doted on. I grew up with expectations to do well, to marry well, and to have a good looking boyfriend/husband, all because the fact of me having “a pretty face.”
I was basically told what to expect out of life. But having all these words thrown at me didn’t make my feel any better. My sisters, and cousins had to witness it too. They were being compared to me, but I didn’t like to be the china doll that everyone showed off. Honestly, as a young girl, I didn’t think there was much about me that was charming. I blinked too much, I was empty minded, and filled with
imaginations.
It should have made me a bitch, and maybe it did, but since I was so different, I secluded myself. I didn’t want to stand out as “the pretty one.” It got to the point that if any guy talked to me, I would turn my back to them, honestly I was an ice princess during my middle and high school years. It was something that I never noticed till just last year..
I never allowed myself to grow to my full potential, I was scared to be ‘me’. So while I still worked hard, I pulled back in the department of social skills and love life.
For awhile I did find ‘me’, and I thought I was finally going to go somewhere in life, but things aren’t always that dandy and great. I had a conflict with my sisters. I had other life ambitions and they were worried about their love lives. We weren’t seeing eye to eye in anything. They were the closes people to me in my family, and in matter of months we hated each other with a passion…
But they were still my family, and with time we slowly became family again, but never as close as we once were.
I still lost myself though, and I was lost for so long too. I closed myself off again. My best friend could see it, but she didn’t know how to deal with it. She didn’t know what I had to grow up with. For years I would put on a mask with a smile, but I was basically dying on the inside.
It was just two years ago that I started on my life journey to be happy and to be ‘me’. I feel like I took three big steps in my life. If I were to be married, I would be taking four steps back.
Plus, I tend to think that my dreams carry heavy messages that I am afraid to admit, and I had dreams about forced marriages. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was thinking consistently about my story, but it showed me what my darkest fears were about forced marriage. People kept trying to get into my bubble, trying to control everything for me. Just like Luna, everyone was making mistakes for her and she had to deal with the mess. Nobody would let me grow as a person, and nothing would be mine anymore.
That is another thing, while growing up, my sister’s would claim things as theirs and I would step back and let them. I had nothing to claim as mine. Now that I do have something that is mine, I am scared that someone is going to take it away from me.
And yeah, I lost a lot of my sisters while I was young. They were never really sister figures though, or at least I felt like they never were. They never tried to understand me as a human being, even though I tried with every last tear to understand what was going on in their minds. I tried so hard with my younger sisters too, and it only left me hurt even more. I love them to pieces, but no one really understands me.. So yea, I do have a silent promise with myself to not let my younger sisters go through what I went through when all my married sisters left. Because honestly, when my family was already under scrutiny, it hurt that my sisters were finding love and I was stuck to deal with all the drama and gossip.
Rather than focusing on others, my main goal in life is to focus on me. As greedy as that sounds, it’s something that I owe to myself, to my kid self who worried too much about what other’s thought about themselves and about me.
When I write a stories, my characters are their own people, but I tend to leave a bit of me with my them. And that may seem greedy too, but I can’t help but leave part of myself in places that my family would never think to look.
I can’t seem to make my stories short…. I had to share my whole life story… (and why would i share my whole life story? i don’t fear my flaws or horrible past.)

Nothing is Wrong with Loving Your Culture

it hurts me to write this…

i’ve always been an open minded person. i have always wanted to know MORE. i have this guilty pleasure of knowledge. and not only that, but i have this guilty pleasure of broadening my mind to different cultures.

i am Hmong, born in America. i am a Hmong American girl.

i grew up with TWO cultures. there are times when something from BOTH cultures don’t make sense to me. it is hard, to be made fun of for not understanding something from someone who was more exposed to that culture. it is hard, to be made fun of for liking something that another person does not take time to try and understand.

it is even harder when my Hmong siblings make fun of me, a Hmong girl, for liking Hmong music.

judgement on me, on who i am.

as a Hmong girl trying to make a name for myself, is it wrong to enjoy and encourage other Hmong artists that are on the same path as me, as all of us are?

because of this judgement, this sneer that would come my way, the disagreement of what is “good” and “bad”, i have been lost.

i am a lost Hmong American girl.

i love music and it makes me who i am.

yet i can’t even enjoy it when my family, my peers are judging me about it…

in this moment where i am lost, i have given in to the guilty pleasure of Hmong music and i have not regret it at all.

i can finally connect to something. relate to other Hmong communities, like finding a little lost piece of myself.

these past few days have been filled with nothing but good. i can finally write, write and write without worries. i can finally write what is deep in my heart. what bothers me and what makes me, me.

so don’t suppress yourself just for the sake of others. find out who you are, find all your little missing puzzle pieces. take a stand for what makes you, you.

a girl sits in front of her computer screen

a girl sits in front of her computer screen

unaware of who she is

unaware of how she is supposed to

tell the world how she came to be

where she came from

why she does the things she does

days turn to weeks

weeks into years

but there is only

confusion after confusion

Going Bald…

There was an idea behind this. I don’t know what, but it was there. The Christmas before I turned 21, I put into my phone of how I wanted to shave off my hair. On my 21st birthday. I had seven months to really think about it, but I knew I was dead set on this goal.

Yet, when it came to my 21st birthday, I didn’t do it. I went out and did the normal twenty-one year old scenario.

A year passed, and still the thought of shaving my head was floating around. But, as it turns out, it was not going to be the year.

But this year came about. I knew if I wanted to go bald, this was the last chance I was going to get. I had to do it while I was young, before I regretted not doing it sooner.

I got over my depression, I was on the path to figuring out who I am. I was happy.

I got the courage to finally let my sisters on the in about my goals.

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We came to an agreement of baby steps. And not soon after, I went in to get a pixie cut.

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I was happy, but still, the lingering thoughts of being bald bothered me.

After my hair grew out, we thought again about a new haircut. This time, I wanted to go shorter,

It was the day before my birthday and I wanted to go all the way this time. But I was pulled back by my sister again. We cut it short but not all the way.

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Soon after it was like the world was messing with me. My nephew and niece got to the razors and decided to give themselves a haircut. They had to go bald.

I watched the ending of Legend of Korra, and Jinora fulfilled her wishes of becoming a airmaster, getting the chance to go bald,

I was thinking of Doctor Who and remembered that Matt Smith went bald.

So I messaged my sister again.

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After three months of talking about it, I was finally going to get my wish. My sister was agreeing to help me out in my goal.

And finally, after two plus years, I got to fulfill one of my life goals.

My before:

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And, finally, my after…

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Society tell us girls should have long hair. To be a woman, you have to have a head full of hair. To be pretty and wanted, you have to have a long lock of hair. In my culture, a good girl has long hair.

For me to cut my hair, I am going against all reasons.

There is no beauty on the outside unless there is beauty on the inside.

I love myself regardless of how my hair looks. I will love myself through this experience. ‘Cause I will weed out those who still stick with me even though I look different.

(P.S. I am super happy how it turned out. I love how I look and feel. That’s all that should matter. Run and chase your goals, fight for your happiness.)

 

Life Goal: Going Bald/Buzz Cut

Tonight I feel like going crazy. I’ve been thinking about life goals all day. I want to be bald once in my life. I don’t care if I’ll be judged. I don’t care about all the negativity that will be involved after. I just want to live my life the way I want to.

I’ve been considering it since 2012 and now I can’t stop thinking about it. This choice of mine is making me go crazy.

The only thing I’m seeking now is support.

What would people say.. This short Asian girl. Being Bald…

 

The Way The World Sees Me

I’ve been generalized for my height, ethnicity, and gender. I have all the traits of what our world is constantly at differences with.

There is no lie that I am viewed differently for having black hair, almond eyes, and
different skin texture. I’ve encountered many people in my life where I am
judged first for my looks. I’ve walked the halls of high school with boys
mocking a language that is not my own. I’ve dealt with toddlers asking their
parents why I look the way I look. They don’t even have to ask their parents,
their stare that follows me is enough. I know for sure I am treated differently
at work with certain customers.

With my gender comes my ethnicity. There are always downfalls on how men treat their
women in different cultures. In my culture, if there is a traditional
gathering, women will cook the meals and set the table for the men. Women do
not get to sit with the men though; they set their own table in the kitchens
and eat there. Our chores/life goals are different. We are grown to be the
perfect daughter-in-law, practicing kitchen work since young. Our life goal is
to marry into a good family and birth many children for our husbands.

My height is more of a personal one. I cannot count how many times I get words thrown at me
about my height.

“Do you want to stand up now?”

“Can you even see over that?”

How are people able to live with themselves and say these types of words..

I love my height. I would not be the same person without it.

I noticed that I do seem to write negatively at times. So on a lighter note, I’m going to
write my positive thoughts on these generalizations.

I love being Asian and would not change it any other way. It is my way of being unique in
this plain world. I don’t have many good memories of high school. Although I
wish I did..

One memory I cherish involves a child. I was walking in to the local grocery store to buy
lunch. Walking ahead of me was a couple and their baby. The baby was facing me,
while being held by her father. She looked at me and smiled, giggling the
happiest giggle. I don’t think I ever felt happier. We did eventually go our
separate ways, but it is a memory I don’t plan on forgetting. She was such a
sweet little angel.

I did point out the many ways my culture puts men before women. It is something that should
be fixed. I am glad to hear that in some household, women shares table with men
now. Where there used to be more men dominating the title of Shaman, there is
more women taking that title too now.

Parents do want more for their daughters. It would be great to marry into a good family,
but schooling is more important. They want daughters to do just as well as
their sons.

There isn’t much I can say about my height. The comments are something I am just going to
have to live with. I do live with it. Even though I want to say I am use to
them and they don’t bother me anymore, it would be a lie. Because those
comments still hurt. I try to play it off but it sticks in my mind and I
continue to think about them for a long time afterwards..

Wow, so much for positivity.. I’ll have to try again next time. The memory of others reminding
me of my height is still fresh. (As if I needed a fucking reminder of what I
live with daily…)