"How Being a First Generation Child of Immigrants Shaped My Identity: Linguistic Journey of Daniel Ly"
- Daniel Ly
- Apr 2, 2024
- 5 min read
About Me
My fondest memories are filled with the beauty of the Vietnamese language spoken at home, often in the kitchen where my mother’s aromatic pho envelopes the hallways with delicious beefy goodness. Vietnamese was not only a means of communication but a vessel holding the very essence of my rich cultural heritage. However, as I began my journey with the American education system, pop culture, media, and much more, English would emerge as my dominant tongue, which would shape my interactions, experiences, and struggles with my identity.
My Journey
Traversing between two languages and cultures on the daily was a difficult terrain to trek on. Everyday, whether it be at school, what I saw on television, what books I read, English reigned supreme. Through these social and academic interactions, I quickly adapted and learned how to code switch, depending on the context. At school, I tried to blend in as much as possible. I wanted to be seen as like everyone else, a plain American, not Vietnamese, just American. But there were certain things I just could not hide, such as my looks, or what my mom packed for me for lunch that day at school, a concoction of fish sauce and meats. The duality of my identity put me in a tough spot. It wasn’t a matter of which identity to choose, Vietnamese or American. The true problem was finding out how I could juggle the two. On one hand, I am at school exposed to students, teachers, and the media telling me that embracing my American heritage will lead to newfound opportunities. Yet, I felt a longing to be tethered to my roots, and my family.
In the formative years of my childhood leading all the way to my teenage years, the majority of my so-called embarrassment surrounding my relationship with the Vietnamese language actually stemmed from my parents. Although I would encounter difficulties with fitting in at my elementary school due to subtle microaggressions from other kids I would try to befriend, my parents would not so subtly berate me for not speaking enough Vietnamese or not eating the home cooked meals, which actually had the opposite effect of what they intended. I wanted to run away from all of it. My oh so lovely parents, who were undoubtedly verbally abusive to me, forced me in every which way to be tied to my Vietnamese roots. In contrast, I would be ecstatic to go school, to be American. Being fully immersed in an environment of like minded individuals who were similarly focused on learning and having fun without the pressure of being a certain way made me feel comfortable in my own skin as an American. Yes, it was heavily encouraged to speak standard English with peers and teachers, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t share my struggles and unique experiences with other Asian American students. It was a different story in my household. I felt trapped at home without any other alternative.
As a child I had to quickly learn how to do “adult” things such as scheduling doctor appointments over the phone for my mother or translating what a random stranger was saying to my father. “When I was a teenager, she used to have me call people on the phone and pretend I was she”(Tan, 2006, p.21). I relate to this quote greatly because I found myself gaining a lot of responsibility as a child for my parents just because I had mastered the English language more than they did after a few years in grade school. To be honest, I resented that early on. I grappled with the idea of why I was forced to have certain responsibilities for my parents when I should just be a child. I just wanted to play and be free with my friends at school. As I grew, the wiser I became. I gradually came to realize that this was a privilege to live the life I did with my parents. I was dealt certain cards when I was born to immigrants from a war torn country. I understand that they grew up with certain traumas and emotional ties to Vietnam which lead them to be a bit tough on me on retaining the mother tongue and Vietnamese identity. As much as I revel in being an American due to it coming so easily to me, doesn’t mean I should dismiss the Viet aspect of my identity just because it is difficult. Ultimately, bilingualism has given me the strength to overcome obstacles I encounter in adulthood whilst still experiencing the childhood that I will always look fondly back on. “Her language , as I hear it, is vivid, direct, full of observation and imagery. That was the language that helped shape the way I saw things, expressed things, and made sense of the world”(Tan, 2006, p.21). Communicating, being able to express oneself, and thinking in both Vietnamese and English has shaped my worldview on cultures and race through the lens of an Asian American, minority, and free citizen. I will forever be indebted to my lovely parents for building me up to be a fun yet strong willed individual. Tank you mama and daddy, I lup you bery mut!
Fast forward to the beautiful life I live today, I still at times struggle with crises pertaining to my identity. Remember when as a youngling, I wanted nothing more than to suppress my Viet identity by trying to be more American? Well as a grown man today, I would say that situation is now almost reversed. And I find that so much more relevant in the way I speak with my white friends and even with family members. I am so conscious of the way I code-switch into a more white washed voice. There is a quote from a novel(On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous) authored by Vietnamese poet Ocean Vuong, “ In Vietnamese, the word for missing someone and remembering them is the same: nho. Sometimes when you ask me over the phone, Con nho me, khong, I flinch , thinking you meant, Do you remember me?” This quote truly resonates with me because it represents my fear of losing my roots. Will I one day not even be able to tell the difference between missing versus remembering someone? I can already feel myself losing it as I age due to my independence from the only pillar that is truly a hundred percent Viet in my life, my parents. Again, I must strike a healthy balance between my Vietnamese and American identities. I must stop looking at it as two sides when it is one. I am Vietnamese American. I am what I speak. I will own my voice.
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