Since I married to a black man, I haven’t found a Vietnamese community in where I feel comfortable. Part of it is my personal worry that the community doesn’t approve of my marriage. The other part is the Vietnamese community’s view of “outsiders” even if they are married to a Vietnamese person.
Over the weekend, we headed over to Eden Center for the Autumn Moon Festival. It’s a hike for us to drag the kids all the way to Virginia, but I thought it would be fun for the kids. Eden Center is a big hub for the DC area’s Vietnamese community. There’s grocery stores, restaurants, book stores, movie rental places and lots more. In addition to the store fronts, there are festivals and community celebrations throughout the year.
We arrived at the festival around dinner time. Sophia was dressed up in her ao dai (Vietnamese dress) and I bought the kids their lanterns. I left the kids and my husband to watch the dancing and performances and left to find food for them.
During this time, my husband sends me a text, “I think I was the butt of a joke but don’t know what.” Which means that the emcee or whoever was on stage at the time made a joke in Vietnamese and lots of heads turned to look at my husbad. He’s probably the only black man in this huge crowd of people. There’s lots of white people there (Mitt Romney’s sons made an appearance.)
That text ruined the rest of the evening for me. I apologized on behalf of my people. The last time we were at the moon festival there, about 2 years ago, some Vietnamese kids asked Sophia, ” THAT’s your dad?” Thank goodness she was too young to understand what they really meant.
When it was just me walking in the mom and pop deli to order sandwiches and bubble tea, I felt part of the community. Speaking in Vietnamese helps of course. But when it’s the four of us walking around, we get stares or people don’t think my husband is with the kids and me.
I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Here’s this amazing community that I can only observe. I’m allowed to cross to the other side on my own. If I bring the rest of my family, it confuses everyone.
On the flip side, there are the owners of our local pho restaurant. We’ve been eating there for many years. They’ve seen our kids grow up. They love the kids. They’re impressed that our kids have good manners and speak a bit of Vietnamese. The lady of the shop waits on us personally when we eat there. She treats my husband the same way she treats me. We feel like a family when we’re there. We don’t have to explain ourselves.
Experiences like the the one from this weekend makes me shy about trying to find another Vietnamese community. I’m not sure I can take the heartbreak. It’s hard enough that part of my family refuses to acknowledge my existence (and in turn my husband and kids) because I married outside my race. I know it’s naive, but I don’t want to my children to be ostracized by people from a culture that is also theirs. From a culture which I’ve taught her to appreciate and love because it’s part of her, as much as it is part of me.
I guess that’s the reality of being mixed race. My kids have their feet in two different worlds. I really need to suck it up and deal with it. I need to put myself out there. How else am I going to find an Asian American community for us if I don’t try? They need it as much as I do.
This post is inspired by The Black Count by Tom Reiss. The Black Count was the son of a French nobleman and a Haitian slave. Once his father brought him to France, he must have felt he was straddling two worlds.
Alexandre Dumas’ works were heavily influenced by his father, also named Alexandre Dumas. In the biography The Black Count, author Tom Reiss tells how Dumas went from slavery to become the equivalent of a five star general in the French military. Join From Left to Write on October 11 as we discuss the The Black Count. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes. This post contains affiliate links.
Photo by Elena Kalis via Creative Commons