#uvsa

It is 2019, 15 years from where you are standing.

I remember when you/I helped organized Black April: bên em đang có ta, that year for UVSA Northern California. We had been exposed to Dateline NBC’s documentary “Children for sale” on child sex trafficking. Our advisor, Lê Xuân Cao, shared her story being a boat person refugee escaping Vietnam. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember she had to drift down river inside a barrel at night, afraid and alone, until one of her family members intercepted her and then she left Vietnam by boat, drifting out to the sea. Black April was a chance to learn our history, and the continuing struggle “our people” faced.

I say “our people”, because I know you’re going to struggle to find your place among the community. Your identity, of who you consider your Self, barely covers you as an individual. It will be many years until you are on good terms with your brother and mother. It will be another 14 years until you forgive your father. And only after you forgive your father (and yourself), do you start to feel as though family is an extension of you. My next step is to see my organization, the Viet-American Youth Association (that’s right, you’re still doing the Vietnamese community thing even now), and company, Productfy (a startup company you will help build from scratch) as an extension of me. Community will come after that.

I’ve only learned now that Lê Xuân Cao passed away a little more than a year ago. You might wonder why I only found out after a year. I will say this and implore to you: Hang in there. Please hang in there. I know you will start to question your sense of worth. You will have done a lot for others, such as UVSA NorCal, UNAVSA, and many other community organizations, and despite being connected to a thousand people, still feel alone. You will be hiding your true self for the next 14 years, and in so doing, despite building up numerous connections, shed most of them in your narrow pursuit of finding your self worth. It is because of this shedding, you will lose touch with many people, chị Xuân included. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. You already know the tremendous struggle Vietnamese people had to overcome because of the war in Vietnam, which split the people into two sides, poisoned by distrust. That we had to rebuild much of what we lost. That this placed tremendous pressure on you to succeed in school. That we did not have the language or skills to deal with the depression you are now struggling to deal with, or really mental health in general. That one of the friends you admired became involved in a gang because he had didn’t really have any one looking after him, and that you watched on feeling powerless before you lost contact with him. It’s not your fault. I know that doesn’t make you feel better, but hang in there. Fifteen years is a long time, I know, but once you emerge on this side, you will be able to be your true self, without needing to hide, without feeling completely powerless. You’re smart, you know that? Just stay committed to your dream, even when you have setbacks.

I still have that letter that Michelle, your UVSA President, wrote to you. I know, it seems kinda silly to hang onto old letters. Well, it’s not silly! Remember when she wrote:

In our generation, we share a different struggle. The struggle is to be caught between two cultures and identities. I was born and raised here in the United States. I assimilated into the American culture, but somewhere along the way, I have found my true identity. I didn't know anything about Black April until i joined UVSA. After learning about Black April, I realized how hard it was for my parents to raise me up in San Jose and all the hardships they had to go through. My parents fled Vietnam on boats and settles in this country with little more than the clothes on their back. My parents never gave up because of their relentless dedication in seeking a better life for our family in America. All the hardships that my parents had to endure while coming to American cannot be said. My parents came to America because of the American Dream, because of the opportunities for my siblings and I. Now, what is my DREAM?

She left a very big question to all of us, “What is my DREAM?” In other words, up until college, you’ve been reacting to what the adults and society have expected of us. I know when you got to UCLA, joined the Vietnamese Student Union, you started to taste something you didn’t before. You know what that was? That was the moment you became the author to your own life. You’re not just reacting anymore; you’re deciding the course of your life. I probably shouldn’t tell you what your dream is, but I’ll just say it anyway, because you’re going to find out anyway. Someday someone is going to ask you what interests you, and you’re going to say “babies” for some reason—I laugh at the thought. And you’re going to say it’s because babies are the seed of so much potential. You have a certain gift for seeing the beauty in others, their potential, their identity of who they are that makes them shine. You inspire others. Now, of course, you’re going to need to spend the next 15 years of trial and error and learning to overcome the stupid things you say to people that make them feel less certain of themselves. Heaven knows I’m still cleaning up after you now, but it’s okay. Better late than never I suppose.

Among the people from Black April 2004: Duy, the blue-haired weirdo, will be among your lifelong friends. We’re doing a startup company together now. Katherine, well, you owe her frozen yogurt. I mean I owe her. (I’m sure English teachers are shaking their head at my writing right now.) And I’ve just reconnected only this past week with Aid to Children Without Parents, the nonprofit who we partnered up with to bring awareness of child sex trafficking; there’s a huge potential for a wonderful partnership there. Anh Thục from Chicago, he came to visit San Jose recently and we hit the bars. Yes, you’re still a lightweight after 15 years. As for anh Huy, I should pay him a visit.

I plan to meet up with Michelle soon, in part to reminisce, but also to heal the loss I’m feeling with chị Xuân’s passing. Chị Xuân came from UVSA Southern California and moved up here, became UVSA Northern California’s advisor, and was like a big sister to Michelle, and that’s what let Michelle hang onto running UVSA for as long as she did, long enough for you to find a place of belonging after dropping out of UCLA and moving back to San Jose. It sucks, I know, but there’s also a part of me that remembers what her life stood for: she really loved to help students be authentic. And in some ways I see her energy radiate to all the people she’s touched, especially yours. Now we’re just paying it forward.

Perhaps my fondest memory with her was when you went to visit her at school, because she became a high school career center counselor, and you helped her clean up the space in a kind of interior decorator way, even before Marie Kondo became a name known to Americans today. (Um, yeah, you’re not gonna know who Marie Kondo is for awhile, but she’s someone who stands for decluttering one’s space by decluttering one’s heart.) It was really fun to just be ourselves, authentic, questioning, why do we need to hang onto the way things were? Does this spark joy? If it doesn’t, change it. It probably sounds simpler than actually doing it. But you spoke so happily with her as you were helping her. One day you’ll say to her, “Nobody reads these books [in the career center]. Let’s just cover them with nice curtains.” And she totally agreed, because you both were fundamentally honest with each other.

See you in fifteen years. You’re going to be okay. Life has a way of coming around in full circle, even when you’ve stumbled through the dark for many years. Today, I feel like recreating that same feeling you’re going through: the awe, wonderment, and inspiration you’re feeling as you’re helping to build UVSA.

With love,

Bao from 2019