Exploring Vietnamese-American Identity, Family Dynamics, and Two Vietnams

This is the Humancraft Podcast, and I'm your host, Beth Huddleston. My guest today is Christina Vo. Christina is a Vietnamese-American writer and the author of two memoirs, one titled The Veil Between Two Worlds, and the other, a dual memoir written with her father called My Vietnam, Your Vietnam. In our interview, we discuss the differences in experiences and perspectives between her and her father, who fled post war Vietnam in the 1970s, the death of her mother when she was a teenager, her extended journeys to Vietnam as an adult to better understand her heritage, and her continued exploration of identity, culture, and belonging in her life and writing.   

Christina, thank you so much for being here. Thank you for having me. I'm happy to be here. Now you have two memoirs. You have one that is called The Veil Between Two Worlds, and then you have one that came out more recently with your father, co written with your father, a memoir called My Vietnam, Your Vietnam. 

We're going to talk about different pieces of both of those memoirs in this interview, but I want to first just quickly explain to the audience that the book with your father is, his part is really about his escape from Vietnam in 1975 after the communists took over South Vietnam and coming to the U.S. as a refugee and working his way up to become a surgeon in the U.S., as he was there, but you have to do a whole different process here, and so your part is discussing moving to Vietnam three times as an adult after you were born in the U.S. And so you didn't have that experience. You had a very different experience than your father did.

But what I'm going to dive into first after giving that background is the issue, which I almost feel like is a character of its own in your books, which is the silence between you and your father. And he seems like a really lovely person when you read what he wrote in your memoir. Yeah, really lovely person.

I know. And it's fascinating to me. And I'm so curious about it because even when you guys wrote your memoir together, you expressed that you really didn't even talk about it. You wrote back and forth with each other, comments or changes or whatever, but you didn't actually talk about it. so I want to start with I mean, your mother passed away when you were 14.

And so I want to talk, if you can address what your relationship was like with your father while she was alive. The silence and then how the silence played out after her death. 

Yes. My mom was very different than my dad. I think I first have to say that they met in medical school in Vietnam. But when she came to the States, she didn't want to study English.

She did eventually. She didn't want to get a driver's license. She never got her driver's license. She didn't work, but she was very outgoing and, um, because she didn't have a driver's license in my childhood. I just remember her having sort of this motley crew of friends because we were always looking for rides because my dad is a busy surgeon.

So if she wanted to go to the farmer's market in the summer, she befriended neighbors to bring her different places and she loved shopping and going to the malls and would always befriend like people at children's clothing stores, um, the workers there. So, you know, that's part of my memory of her, but she was also the conduit between my father.

And us. So now in retrospect, I don't actually really know if sort of things that she said we couldn't do were actually because he said that, or she used that as a way to say, Oh, your dad said you couldn't do this. You couldn't say the night you couldn't whatever. So I actually don't really know, um, if my picture is accurate of what was actually happening with that dynamic, but while she was alive and we just had her, she was just more of a, I think the connected unit between us.

And even until I was.  I don't know, like through elementary school, my mom, my sister and I slept in the same room. And my dad had his own room. That was his study office. And then when she passed away, I think that silence just became more palpable in a way. We, we then moved to Southern Indiana. My sister had only one year of, of high school left.

After my mom passed, I had three. Those couple of years with my dad, I think were And that silence and kind of more being on my own. I mean, he would always have food prepared that he bought or like something simple he would make himself, but sometimes he would come home from work and just go upstairs to his room and watch TV, rest, read.

And I would come home maybe a little bit later, eat the food by myself, go to sleep, and we wouldn't even interact. But then that picture sort of contrasted because he did start dating. A Vietnamese woman who lived in New Orleans and she would come to visit and stay with us. And they would have Vietnamese friends over sometimes on the weekend.

So I could see that there was an aspect of him that was alive. Right. And also people like friends, parents who worked at the hospital always said that he was such a wonderful, caring doctor, but we didn't communicate that much. And I think I actually probably made it. Worse in my adult life, because then I think the more I started to travel, I went away for college to North Carolina.

And then after college going to Vietnam, I think I created more distance and probably maybe exaggerated that silence in my mind. I mean, it was definitely there, but I think maybe in my young adult life, I thought, Oh, well, I actually don't really need it. These family members, you know, he doesn't really communicate that much with me.

I can go off on my own. I mean, he was always like, if I needed a financial supporter, he's always there. And like you said, in red, he is a lovely person. And, and some friends have even pointed out, Oh, your description of him and how he is because like he came to speak at Santa Fe at the Santa Fe library.

And he's such a great speaker. He's a great reader. He's a great storyteller. He's A historian in part, so I think he also gives the stories more historical background that he shares, but it, you know, that silence was definitely there. And I think some people, when they read the book, my Vietnam, your Vietnam, I think they maybe hope that there's more interaction or a commentary on each other's parts, but that wasn't how our relationship was.

So I feel that the book is very true to the nature of our relationship. And some people have said, well, you didn't really co write it together because he wrote his part and he wrote, but it's a book that, I mean, it's sharing two perspectives of Vietnam. However, people want to define how we create dual perspective memoir is.

I don't know. I mean, I don't think that there's that many of them that exist. So maybe we haven't discussed that enough. But to me, the book is very true to our relationship. So if it's uncomfortable for people to me, it illuminated that silence that exists and then the nature of that discomfort that I felt with him.

I totally agree with you. I totally agree with you. I guess that would be some sort of, uh, you would have to create an entirely new relationship to have it be a different way because there is such that prevalent idea that you're both. Kind of a little bit stuck in this relationship the way it is. And, and, and this book isn't going to change that.

I mean, maybe it, maybe it has, maybe it has some, but I think that that's a portrayal of the reality and it's, it exemplifies  it in a way that the reader can really feel that. Yeah. Yeah. And I think, like I mentioned, I read one review where somebody said it was really jarring and uncomfortable and some who really wanted, like I said, there to be more communication.

And then I thought, that's okay that they feel that way because to me, they just didn't get what I was trying to do. And I didn't want to change it so that the,  And the relationship didn't fundamentally change. I mean, we have more to communicate about because people contact me, people want to interview him.

People have comments that I want to share with him. You know, there's dialogue around the book that I think is very special that I share with him. So we have that extra layer of communication, but the relationship hasn't fundamentally changed. And I think that that's beautiful in a way. I mean, there's acceptance of it.

And there was healing through that, but I don't, at this point, I mean, I'm almost 45, he's 77. I don't think that the relationship needs to change. I mean, I think that acceptance and healing and sort of peace for me needed to be there, but I'm okay with what has become of our relationship. Maybe when I was a teenager, that would have been different.

And this topic has come up a lot too, is like, I talk with friends who have kids who are teenagers, and I kind of look at them and think, wow, you know, Look at I was 14. So when I see 14 year old, I'm like, wow, that would have been really hard  for a 14 year old to lose. And on the surface from the outside, I was doing fine.

I graduated, you know, first in my class. I was class president. It looked great. But the trauma of that loss, I didn't really start to reconcile until later in my life or really even understand the impact of what that was. Yeah. meant to lose a mom and then to have a distant father because it was kind of like a double loss in a way.

Yeah, I had that thought so much reading it and thinking about it after reading it, is that it was like there's the wound, you know, you talk about in your your memoir, The Veil Between Two Worlds, you talk about the mother loss, but then I kept thinking there's that second one. the second loss or wound, which was just being left there and your father was there and he was working and providing for you and he was trying to get food in the house.

But the silence that you described in your house with you, your sister and your dad, it did feel painful. It felt like a wound to me. And it's I'm not sitting here like attacking your dad in any way. Like I understand probably where he's coming from and all the stuff he had grabbed with and all the trauma he'd already suffered.

So it's not that, but I'm just saying that I think there's like The wound of losing your mother. And then there's the wound of the silence afterwards. I felt that meeting your books. Yeah. Yes. And I, and I think you're right. And I like how you describe it like that. It is almost like its own character in the books.

And somebody said about the, the veil that my mother's ghost was also very much like a character. And I thought that that was a really interesting take as well. And. Yeah. So in a way, it's like, I think my relationship with my parents, this could be like, I think another short story, not a full book, but it's almost like it's her ghost and his silence are really my parents.

And I mean, I just thought of that now. I think that's a very beautiful story. I don't want to write another whole book about it. That but I yeah, I think that's a great way to look at it. Yeah, and I noticed in the portions where you were living in Vietnam in the dual memoir, you talked about there was a little bit more of an openness actually to talk about emotions.

Now, this might not be in exactly the same way, but where people would say, when you were in Vietnam, they'd say, Oh, are you sad today? Can I bring you something? Or she's sad today. Let's, let's help her. So then I'm like, it's not necessarily, I don't know if that's necessarily the same as having a sitting down and talking with your father about a substantive topic or an emotional topic.

Do you feel like there was any Vietnamese cultural reason for your dad's silence? Or like, did you notice that that's a typical thing when you were in Vietnam? I think, um, what I experienced, like when I was going to events and speaking about my Vietnam, your Vietnam, a lot of people there, I think that there is a cultural divide.

I think for the first generation and people around my father's age, I think silence does say something. their trauma, not all of them, obviously. I think some people might talk, some people's parents might talk a lot about Vietnam, but however,  the different ways that trauma or experience of leaving Vietnam affected them.

Some, it might be, I don't want to relive this. I don't want to talk about this again or any sort of pain, right? So I do think that there's a portion of the population of that generation that. Does not speak about things because it is a trauma response, but it's not true of all of them. My uncle, my dad's brother is very talkative, but then when I talked to my cousin, he said, well, he, he's gregarious.

He's more open than your dad, but he doesn't really talk still. But in my opinion, he's just opposite of my dad. But my cousin's like, no, actually he's very similar to your dad. So it's really interesting. And I think a lot of second generation Vietnamese Americans, we might be comparing to our, um, American friends when we were younger and those are all just ideas, right?

Like when I was a kid, I thought, Oh, like. American, they're all talking, right? Their homes are more decorated than ours. Our place seems very barren. We don't communicate much. We don't go out to dinner. That it was different. But I don't know. All families, I think, are different in their own way. But I do think there is something about silence between the generations that does exist.

And I think that there is a part of the population that, like me and many of the friends I met at that time, do want to understand our history, our culture, our background. Going from places that didn't have large Vietnamese populations to then going to Vietnam, it's like night and day. And I actually wrote my first fiction story for this anthology, and I kind of used my story as a spoiler.

Springboard to that, but for some reason it made me reflect on it more. Just this difference between being a minority and then going to a country where it's like a, I'm short here, but there I feel like average. I don't feel short  , I don't feel tall, that I don't feel short. And that's an even just a small difference there.

And I don't know, I look back at that time like  it was hard because I think I was going through the normal 20 something questions, but I was going through that in Vietnam, and then I had this added tension of. I don't really belong here. I don't speak the language. I don't know if this is going to contribute to my professional trajectory.

I don't know if I want to stay here, but I keep coming back. I don't feel like there's any other place that's home. In between grad school and going back to Vietnam, the second time, I lived in San Francisco for a year, and I didn't feel that I was in the right place there either. And I was volunteering in San Jose, which has a large Vietnamese population.

So everywhere I was kind of searching, like, where do I fit in this Vietnamese American landscape and as a young professional. But yet at the same time, I didn't also want to dedicate my life to being an expat. I knew that too. I knew that that life. Looks great on the outside and it's wonderful for some people.

They want to move every few years to a different country. I didn't want that life. I knew that as well. So I was kind of straddling worlds and that's why I think my part, I didn't also want to rework a lot of my Vietnam part because I wrote it like 10, 12 years ago and I could have added a lot. And maybe changed it, but it was the time that I wrote my parts.

It was closer to the time when I was there. So to me, it felt more true to that younger person's voice, which is like 20 years, you know, 20 years ago, basically, but it's fun to revisit. Yeah, and you mentioned the idea that you went to Vietnam and you felt like, wow, I don't feel maybe quite so different, but when you're born in the U.

S. and you're just growing up here, you're not thinking about that necessarily. I don't know. That's what I'm kind of gathering. Maybe when you got there, you're like, oh, look, I can feel like I fit in a little bit more. Was it sort of like, uh, made you, Look back and be like, Oh, now I'm thinking about how that was growing up.

Or were you always aware of it that I feel a little bit outside of things or different? I think I wasn't aware of it because I think obviously, I mean, I knew my family was. Vietnamese and I did feel some differences, especially when going over to friends houses. I think I did more to try to fit in, but I never, there, there was like in high school, for example, there were moments, I mean, I always had a group of friends, but there were always moments when I felt like this isn't completely me for whatever reason.

I don't feel that I completely fit into this. But I did what I needed to do just to feel like I fit in. And it's actually interesting because it's not until I think now that there's a real reconciliation within me because I also now, again, live in a place that doesn't have a large Vietnamese population.

And so it's interesting that I kind of feel like I did a return to how I lived in Vietnam. You know what my life was like in childhood in a way, but now I can consciously make those connections, right? I feel through this book, I have connections with the Vietnamese American community and in a lot of different cities on the West coast.

And that feels so wonderful to me. And some of them, one new friend, I met in Seattle. She also lived in Vietnam around the same time as me, but I just met her. Two weeks ago in Seattle at my book event, and she's texting me this morning saying, we have to meet again. Your book is making me so nostalgic. I didn't know.

I mean, it was, it's just so crazy. These connect and beautiful, these connections that are bringing me. So it's like, well, I live in Santa Fe, which doesn't have a large Asian American population. I do know how to access community now, which is something I didn't know as a 20 something year old. And then it makes community even more powerful and it makes it feel okay to you.

just be in this place that sometimes is a place that I feel like I don't necessarily fit in, if that makes sense. Yeah. Yeah. It just, it made me wonder when you talked about that, going to Vietnam and just kind of noticing that the other thing is I agree with you that I felt so much like the way that your parents had to have been so influenced by trauma  had to have been because there was so much trauma inflicted on both of them.

And really so many people, everyone you could maybe say in Vietnam during those years. And then I don't think we can overstate how difficult it must be to come to the U. S. as a refugee when you don't speak the language. You're escaping, basically, a highly stressful, violent, traumatic situation, and you're coming here and having to basically restart life in an entirely different culture.

And you've got, we're talking about like doctors, and you gave one example in your book, I think The woman Alice's father had been a senator in Vietnam. Yes. And when he escaped, he sold chicken in a supermarket. When he came back, I feel like this is such a not maybe talked about situation, but I feel like refugees are so tough and they have to go through so much to make it.

in the U. S. when faced with such daunting challenges. And so, I'm thinking about that when I think of your parents. You have the trauma, but then you also have having to somehow reinvent yourself in an entirely different place where you don't have family, you don't have the people that you grew up with, any of that.

Then they made the choice to not speak to you guys about Vietnamese culture or teach you the language or anything, and that's whatever their reasons were for that. Maybe you would never know. So I feel like, do you think that part of them not sharing any of that with you? I feel like that has to have somewhat driven you to want to learn more.

Yes, yes. I think a lot of actually the travel and the search and kind of the movement of my 20s, like, had to do with this. It was more what I, Well, then I viewed it more as a search to understand my mom, like all of those early, even to Vietnam, I don't know why it just felt so much more dominated by the, this ghost of my mom, let's say, but then it wasn't until really like my late thirties, early forties that it started to shift and I realized how much I kind of neglected my father.

And, and understanding his role in this whole story. It was always my mom, my mom and mom, like every year at the, you know, her death anniversary, April 26, it was a moment of reflection about who I've become as a, I mean, most of my adult life, I would say has been that, like this idea of like understanding myself as a woman in response to the loss of the mom at an early, as a teenager, right?

Like, how did that shape me? How did that define me? How did that, Affect my decisions and some in positive ways, because I didn't have somebody that was like over my head, like, Oh, you, you know, like a mother figure that was telling me what to do. I didn't have that pressure of living up to a mother's expectation, but then I also didn't have this.

Relationship that could have been very special with a mother, for example. But at the same time, I was able to, I think, construct, um, picture an identity of a woman that, that makes me that's, that's very individual, I guess, like constructed by Woman who I met throughout my young adult life and taking their, the qualities of them that I admired to put together a picture of what I want to be not influenced solely by one woman, but like, yeah, I think that those holes from not having this full picture of family or understanding of parents because one died because one didn't really speak, did force me to think Figure out what, why and what this meant.

And at the second book, my Vietnam, your Vietnam did.  I don't know. I mean, I, I do believe that what we put out in the world comes back to us, you know, and that shouldn't be the reason why we give, but I do think that there is sort of this energetic flow in life. And this book brought back so much to me just in terms of this.

Flooding of connection and community that filled any hole that I could have ever, I mean, I, I say to people like, I, I, this feels like a great contribution to the Vietnamese diasporic community. It will be translated to Vietnamese next year, which I think will be another hopefully big moment for the book, because then older Vietnamese people can read it and then we'll also be reflecting on the 50th anniversary of the end of the war, which my dad, as he.

Wrote in an email recently feels that that to him for the Vietnamese community is a real turning point at transition from the first generation to the second generation of moving our community forward. So, yeah, I don't know. I mean, I think these books have both been very healing for me, and it's interesting, like, when some people first learn about.

My second book, but then I feel like, Oh, the first book's actually appropriate,  but you're probably one of the few people who I've talked to is like read or partly read both. So, yeah, yeah. And it's good. It's good to read both to get, I think, the full picture. So, so basically what you're talking about right there.

I had that thought when I was reading your books that at times you express you're sad or frustrated that you. are trying to find a significant other, a partner, thinking about working through spiritually or just otherwise committed relationship issues and that sort of thing. But then I see you're talking about such a full life of grappling and navigating with long term friendships and with all these other relationships that a lot of people who might just be in one committed relationship don't have to navigate or grapple with.

So I saw that as like an interesting Like, developing so many things and learning so many things and growing through those relationships in such a way that I, I was like, wanted to note that and see your thoughts about that. I really appreciate that you're bringing that up because, and it goes back to this idea of like, I think sometimes readers want more reconciliation than there actually is.

Like, I think people want to hear that my relationship with my father completely changed. Transformed and now we call each other all the time, which isn't the reality. I think with the first book, I was very intentional that, well, I mean, it didn't end in a, in a relationship for me. Um, I'm in a relationship now, but not at that time when I was writing that book and when it completed.

And, and I was very happy about that because I didn't want it to be this eat, pray, love story that ends in me and Santa Fe or Ohio, wherever in a relationship, and then that's the end of the story, because that to me is not the end of the story, like not. That's not the goal. I think the personal work, the self development, the healing, it could potentially end up in a great relationship because you've done great work for yourself, right?

That is the benefit of that work, that you become a better person. And I do think our society does not reflect, you can learn so much with your friends. If, if, but, but, but, but, Alan de Botton is, like, one of my favorite philosophers. I think he had a TED Talk, or maybe it was in one of his articles, where he says, we actually don't want to do the work.

We're kind of lazy, and those, we want friends just to be friends, who we go out and we have coffee with, have a meal with, where it should be easy. I'm not saying our friendships should be inherently traumatic or dramatic, but  You know, the, the friend that I wrote about in the first book, him and I have a friendship that goes all the way back from Vietnam.

And we go in and out of intimacy for, for various reasons. And it truly is one of the most meaningful relationships of my life. I mean, he was more like a sibling to me than a friend, but we did butt heads a lot. We did have a lot of times where we were angry with each other when we weren't talking. We're not talking a lot right now because he, I don't know.

You know, he,  I think the first book, I think the, I mean, I kind of did a similar thing with him, which, which I thought he would be fine. I did it. I don't want to let people read and comment. I don't know if it's, that's because I'm lazy because I don't want to revise things, but it's like, I don't really want to write things in a way that isn't true to what I saw.

So he did make a comment about that first book and say, well, that wasn't my perspective at all. And it's not his book. Of course it wasn't right. He would write and define those experiences very differently, but that was what I was seeing. experiencing. But what I hope with my writing is that I don't think that I ever make anyone else the, I don't think I ever make myself the victim of some other person.

I really try not to do that, that my decisions are my decisions. I might have interpreted experiences in a certain way, but I don't believe anyone did anything, including my parents, to intentionally Create problems or trauma in my life, but some things happened that are painful. My dad being quiet, that's his personality.

Sure. It would have been great for him to be more involved, but I also don't want him to be someone that he's not. That would have been even more uncomfortable. And sometimes I do think. Because he's read the first book. And after I visited him after that first book, I think he has tried harder to like sit with me when we eat, but it actually makes it a little more uncomfortable  not who he is.

And then I'm like, wow, this is actually worse. I'd rather him just have the food there and feel comfortable going away. But now he, he does always actually sit with me or wants to sit with me. And now I don't want to sit there and he'll call me to have dinner. And I might be in the middle of working or doing something and I don't want.

To do that, because now I'm so accustomed to the other way. Yeah, that is really interesting. But also, you know, when you're talking about that friend, that's kind of what I mean is that I think that even if he may have had a different experience, even if he may have made a comment about your book, that is like, I didn't see it that way.

You reflect in your book that you guys have difficult conversations, that you talk through these things, that you both can see a bigger picture in a spiritual, you know, you have spiritual beliefs and that you can look at it and. Not get caught up necessarily for a long time in little things. So I feel like you reflected that in the book and I think anyone would understand that he would have had a different experience, but it's not in a way.

That's like you both seem like you're really working on yourselves through your life and working to grow and talk through difficult conversations and navigating this relationship and that's what I was talking about. You've done so much work on intimacy and relationships. Just. in your adult life. I love that you brought that up because I do think that as a society, we're kind of, yes, like focused on, we believe that just because someone might be in a long term partnership that they might know more about intimacy and maybe not.

Maybe those two people get so accustomed to each other that they're not working through things as actively as you might be if you actively try to work through them with them.  We have conflict with everyone. And I think most people, and I actually see, you know, Santa Fe's  an older town. And I, and I, and I, when I listen to people, I can see, I don't know what the age is.

I'm trying to like figure out there. I feel like there's a tipping point where. People get so stuck in their storyline and I, and I think for sure it gets more difficult every year to sort of change our thinking, change our beliefs. And I don't know if it's like 55 or 60, but there, there's certainly a certain point where people do, I think, become calcified.

If they don't actively try to listen to other people and say that actually might not. Be what's happening like I know some people who are, you know, in their sixties and when they tell stories like, oh, this person did this because they're that this person did. But it's just like, actually, maybe you're analyzing that because you're afraid of intimacy because let's say someone is in their sixties and never been married, never had kids, but hasn't even been intimate with anyone in a couple decades.

I know people like that. And the, I think the point is forcing intimacy. It can be with, um, friends, right? Like by that, I mean, these tough conversations, if you're not in a romantic partnership, there are other places where you can do that. Even at work, I have a really supportive group of colleagues that I feel.

If I wanted to go there in a way they would, and that's really beautiful, and I think the more and more humans get that in other places, not that the romantic partnership becomes less important, because I do think romantic partnerships are beautiful, but they're not the only container for growth. Exactly.

I see it as like everybody has their own journey, and if their journey is to find a romantic partner, awesome, that's your journey. Path and you're going to keep going for that and hopefully you find it, but somebody might have all of these other things that they could develop on their path. So I think the fact that you just followed your path, even though you didn't always know, like you're talking about in Vietnam, is this going to work for me career wise?

Do I even want to stay here? All that, but you're just listening to yourself at each step. And along the way did so much work on intimacy and so much growth. So it, you know, it's like, you don't necessarily have to have a end point, do you? Like you just follow your path best that you can, you know? Yeah. And I think it's interesting because another, I don't know, like character in my life that's come up recently is my relationship with creativity, which is another beautiful relationship that I'm fostering because when you're doing all these book events has come out, it's a very different place.

Obviously, then if you're enmeshed in a body of work and my best years of my life were like the years that I was actively working on kind of COVID years when I was working on these books and the world was quiet. That was actually my, the best time of my life. Like I, I loved it. And I haven't been in a big project, you know, in the last two years, cause the first book came out last year, this one, this spring.

But what I did during that time was I would write. Early in the morning for a couple hours, not super early. Sometimes if I could get up at five. I mean, I do think if you can get up at five, it's great. There is definitely magic at that time from like five to seven. And then I would walk in that. And then after that I could work.

I still had my days. I'm not in that place at all, but I miss it. But what I started to do was just walk again. I said, now I'm just walking a lot. And that was such a part of that was also part of my creative routine. And now I can feel my creativity is coming back again. So that that's something new that I just learned like in the last month, because for a while, a few weeks, I was like, I'm just bored.

I'm bored and bored. And I think made many writers in this way. Like, I'll never write anything again. It's just like, I'm just going to be now. Everything's boring. And I also don't really necessarily want to, or feel I have anything else to write about in terms of memoir. So like, I have to make some changes in terms of what might come next and it's definitely not memoir.

It could be nonfiction, but it would be more, I was just so curious about mindset and, and what I mentioned earlier, like at what point is it too difficult to change? At what point is someone not going to change? Like can people always change or if they really want to, can they? If they want to do the work, can somebody change?

Cause I hear all these stories that feel like some people that are incapable of really wanting to do the work to change. I guess maybe I think everybody can change, but what I realized about myself is like, you have to have an extra, there has to be like an external motivation. And for me, part of that would be, I think just peaceful relationships in general, intimacy in general, like understanding that when people contact me before I used to, if somebody called me, I would get annoyed.

I would be like, why is this person?  And actually when I was in Vietnam, um, I had a blog like the, the second time, and I wrote about how annoying the Vietnamese family was because they were always like, like the nephew was always checking on me and I think he read it, he posted, he made a comment anonymously and he said, maybe it's because that family, maybe that family contacts you because they care about you. 

But for me, it was always like, why are these people annoying me? Like, I was so afraid of intimacy and connection that my immediate response was annoyance. But also, I mean, that is a bigger issue. I'm not saying for like, obviously, as we're mentioning, everybody has different experiences, but I think that's such a U.

S. kind of mentality. What you're talking about too, not just in your childhood, but also the isolation, you know, like when you described when you're in Vietnam, there is more of a sense of community. Neighbors are noticing if you're out practicing on your new scooter or whatever, you know, they're like cheering you on.

There's a lot of like community in a lot of other countries that we don't have here in the same way. And there's pockets of it, like I said, but in general, there's a sense of I just do my thing. I'm independent and my family does their thing. We're independent and we kind of see people here and there, but there's not that like checking in, checking in kind of thing.

So I can feel like, Whoa, I think probably it's like a cultural thing in a way. To the U. S. And I think it's a sad thing. And I think this loneliness and isolation, I don't know. I mean, I think it's part of the reason, I don't know, people overwork. It was interesting because my grandfather, my dad's dad actually went back to Vietnam in his late seventies, eighties to live.

And I remember seeing him there once. And he said, he said, Oh, when in California, like he lives in an apartment building and nobody visits him. But yeah, when he goes to Vietnam, he just sits on the street and waves at people and everybody says, and I'm like, that's so true. And there is something really special about just that, that daily interaction that, yeah, I think we miss, you know, like I mentioned, I've been walking a lot.

And the other day I bumped into a Vietnamese American friend of mine and her two daughters, cause she was dropping them They had a school thing, and it was so nice just to see them for five minutes and just to talk to them on my walk. It was totally unexpected. And in San Francisco, until I moved to Santa Fe, I always lived with people.

And that, that kind of felt like a shame point because it's like, oh, at a certain point, you should just be living on your own and living with your partner. But I also think that that kept me sane and connected. Like, obviously it's great to live alone and to not have to worry about certain things, but, but also kept me reflective about people and people's needs in a way that if you don't have a nuclear family, that I think is important.

I mean, I learned so much about myself because actually I learned that I was reliving a lot of. I wanted to recreate my childhood home in a way where it's like we lived together, but we didn't really interact and it wasn't until a friend moved in with me who is very community oriented, very much somebody who wants to resolve and work through and have lines of communication open.

It wasn't until living with her that that really helped me start on that path of trying to work through things with people. And then that was probably until I was like in my mid thirties, I was living a different way, just avoiding not wanting to communicate, wanting to live my independent life, but having people around because that's how my house was right.

Like, I was kind of independent that I had somebody around, but we didn't have to interact. Yeah, that's the thing. So you don't, when there's pain or sadness or whatever in your childhood home, you don't have to talk through it. You don't have to hash it out with anybody. You guys didn't talk about it after your mom died.

There wasn't really conversation about it. Or, you know, is your dad sad? Are you sad? Or is your sister sad? I mean, obviously poor, but I'm saying there's not, it wasn't like you guys were sitting down and having, to work through that with each other.  And I think now, like, I mean, I think about like, what if that would, would happen to a family now?

And like, I say, I do think we have more tools, I imagine, you know, I, I'm sure that there are groups for parents who are widowed, right. And have kids like, I think that there's probably more support around that, but I don't think my dad necessarily was someone who would be actively seeking that support.

But I do think that there's more language around healing and trauma and, and.  Reconciliate. I think so. Um, so yeah. And I, and I,  I think about this a lot. Like again, like I said, when I, when I see friends with teenagers and hear about what they're going through and just, it's just interesting to, And I see my dad more completely that that's what I think has been interesting about my life is that I've been in these other roles where like I had a step mom and I didn't really like her, like how she did things, but now the person I'm dating has kids.

So I kind of see things more clearly where it's like, Oh, the best that I could be to them would be like some older, like auntie friend, right. That is around and is pleasant and gives them another perspective, but I don't need to be this person that, and I don't want to be. In any way or form in a, like a step mom role, for example.

So it's like, it's just interesting as life progresses, we become, and so that's why when I see older people in Santa Fe and sometimes I listen to their stories, I'm like, they just need someone to listen to them. And I hope when I'm that age, that maybe there will be a young person who wants to listen to me because I just need to share.

So I'm just thinking of kind of like the cycle of life. Oh yeah. Yeah, for sure. I'm going to jump to something here because I was thinking about it earlier when you were talking is that your father never, and I believe to this day, still has not returned to Vietnam since his escape. Is that correct? Yes, that's correct.

So like he, he doesn't talk about that in his part of the memoir, My Vietnam, Your Vietnam. He doesn't talk about that. Why? And you, I don't think you've, Express why and I'm not sure he said why because at one point you were there and he and his I think they were married at the time that your stepmom at that time came to visit, but they were like an hour's flight away, but didn't come all the way to Vietnam.

So I'm guessing it's because of the, you know, I think you had mentioned that some. Vietnamese who escaped, didn't wanna ever go back until it, it sort of looked the way they would like it to politically. What is your sense of why he never has returned? Yeah, it's interesting 'cause I probably could have probed him and included that somewhere in the book and asked him to write that, but it's like, it's again, another creative choice that I'm kind of happy with that I didn't, that what he wrote is what he wrote.

You know, not because he was pulled to say anything because I think that there's a lot that is implied in that, which is again about trauma. And actually, you know, even the, the front who texts me, who was just. In Vietnam around the same time, she said something that's making her nostalgic. There is a thing that I have noticed about Vietnamese people, which is, it doesn't really have a name, but it's kind of like this nostalgia, Vietnamese nostalgia.

And what I've realized is that it's like for every Vietnamese person, it's of a different time. Like for my father, that must be his childhood or, you know, growing up, even if though he did grow up with war around him, he still has very beautiful memories of Saigon. And maybe I think my father is like a true romantic and loves Vietnam so much that maybe it's like he could never return because it would never reach this place of where he wanted it to be.

And it could never return to what it was. And the same with me. It's like the Vietnam that I learned to love in the early 2000s doesn't exist anymore. Like that's gone.  That country developed so quickly. I can't even tell you what. The modern issues in Vietnam now are, I can not, I like what I wrote about was true to the times when I was there, but Vietnam now is so different to the point where, like the times that I went back the last time was like, I think 10 years maybe, but every time it's different and every time it kind of makes you a little sad because, well, for example, your friends aren't there, obviously, like most of my Vietnamese American friends or, you know, Or the queue from Europe, they're back in their respective countries.

So it's like, also you're going back there and the people that made it so meaningful to you are not there with the exception of some Vietnamese people that I know, or people who did decide to stay there and create their lives there. But their lives have. Moved on in a lot of ways. Like regardless of if you stay or go over the span of two decades, your life is going to change.

So even for me, it's like people always want to say, Oh, let's go back or, you know, take us to Vietnam. And I'm kind of like, I don't, I don't know if I'm going to go back. I mean, I like the idea, but it's not, it's not really necessary for me in a way. And I think that's probably how my father felt too. And in a deeper way.

Does that make sense? Yeah, it does. It does. Going back to any place, like a childhood vacation spot that someone might have so many memories of, it's not going to be the same place. It's not like, what's the point really? But it's just, well, kind of, you're going to experience a completely new country in a way.

I mean, you're still familiar with food and, and different, Aspects and streets, but even street names have probably changed significantly from when my father was there. And certainly from the time when I was there, just so many new buildings going up, even back then, when it was only a few years from when I left, people would write to me and say, Oh, can you recommend restaurants?

It's like two years have passed. There's no way I could recommend restaurants. Like, that's kind of how fast, you know what I mean? Well, yeah. And you think about the fact that he left only in 75. I mean, that's it's not that long ago that that. was in such upheaval there. And then later on, when you were there, the development that just continues skyrocketing, it's just has changed so, so quickly.

There's one great example. I was on the kind of this, one of this night, nice shopping streets in Saigon. And there was a cafe called Brodar that was like a lot of the journalists during the war would go there. And it was always there when I was also in Vietnam and then an Australian coffee chain. Bought it or moved in there and they kept the Brodard sign.

But then this Vietnamese man walked in and was like, so confused because I think it was Brodard, like just probably just a few weeks before, then he walks and he's like, what is the, you know, what? And then he asked if they like served beer, because I think maybe the other place served beer. So it just shows like how, you know, how quickly.

How quickly, yeah, you know, I really didn't know much about Vietnam, other than, you know, what you hear about the Vietnam War as you're growing up, but I didn't know much about it until I read this. And it is, it's really interesting. I'm going to read more because the way that it's changed, like the turmoil and that division there that you write about, like, you probably has affected your parents and so much down the line.

So yeah, it's all very interesting and complicated and there's a lot of layers to it. Yes. Yes. Well, I know I've kept you now. Yeah, we're almost an hour. So let me ask you, is there anything else that you are thinking that you want to make sure we talk about? I think we covered a lot. I mean, I really appreciate your, yeah, your insight and your observations.

I feel like you really kind of took in both of the books. I think you picked up on a lot of. A lot of the themes. Well, thank you so much for being here today. I want to reiterate that you have the two books, there's The Veil Between Two Worlds and My Vietnam, Your Vietnam. My Vietnam, Your Vietnam is the co memoir with your father.

So yeah, thank you so much for being here. Thank you for giving me this time today. I appreciate it. Thank you so much, Beth.