you know whatâs hard? being an outsider among outsiders. i used to take pride in being asian and feeling as though i could relate to other asians (particularly the big 3--korean/japanese/chinese) because of our âasian-nessâ--and i can, to an extent--but as i grew older and learned the stories of my east asian friends i began to realize that our stories werenât the same and that i couldnât really relate to them. their parents came to the states voluntarily whereas my parents and grandparents didnât really have a choice. their families came for self-betterment whereas our families came because all that remained for them was death and persecution. and iâm not trying to downplay any of my east-asian brothers and sisters but i began to feel like an outsider among âmy people.â whenever i heard others make references to asian culture i realized that mine wasnât always included into that reference, and it really threw me for a loop. i didnât really know how to feel about it all.Â
two years ago i got the opportunity to spend a month in bangkok living in a slum community alongside the urban poor through InterVarsityâs Global Urban Trek, and as i was preparing for my journey a lot of people around me made comments like, âoh, so itâll be kind of like going home for you!â and iâd give a puzzled look and a shoulder shrug, perhaps it would. but when i got there it was just as i expected. everywhere i went people assumed i was either chinese, japanese, or korean. everyone in the city that i encountered attempted to greet me with an âannyeongâ or a âkonnichiwaâ or a âni hao.â it really frustrated me. i attempted to explain that i wasnât either of those and that i was Hmong but nobody understood me. there was one man however who knew my people but what he said shattered me into a million pieces: âoh, you donât look hmong. you need darker skin to be hmong.â so here i was, halfway around the world in an unfamiliar city, in a culture not my own, miles away from home where i already felt like an outsider,  being told that i didnât belong even with my own people. i tried to explain the feeling to my GUT team but it hurt too much to try to find words. it didnât feel like going home at all. i never cried so much in my life. learning what it means to be an outsider among outsiders these past few years has taught me much and really helped me to know how to love the outcasts of society but it still hurts to feel like i will never truly find my place until i come into the presence of God, and itâs that waiting that really kills me. today as asians around the world invade the internet with their selfies, their stories, their struggles, their art, their hearts, and their beauty, this is my contribution. this is my story. i am hmong and iâm kind of just #waitingtobelong
