A reflection on trauma, processing, and healing

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Dear advocate,

Recently, I had the privilege to see the play ‘Vietgone ([link removed]) ’ for the fourth time in downtown San Jose. Written by second-generation Vietnamese American Qui Nguyen, ‘Vietgone’ is a comedic love story where the leads are two Vietnamese refugees, struggling with the ideas of home, sacrifice, purpose, past, present, and future.

Despite having seen the piece three times in 2019 and crying every single time, ‘Vietgone’ moved me to tears once more. Perhaps it was the onstage representation, similar to how Crazy Rich Asians moved me and the rest of Asian America with its silver screen representation. Perhaps it was the majority White audience who willingly paid to see the show – they were both taken aback by the reverse stereotyping of “Americans” (those characters spoke in “Yee haw! Cheeseburgers, waffle fries, cholesterol!” while Vietnamese characters spoke “properly”) and moved by the realities of sacrifice depicted in the play. Perhaps it was the Saigon Rock and Roll vinyl soundtrack, a rare record that embodies a golden era of South Vietnam.

‘Vietgone’ is not just powerful because of its many instances of anachronism, snazzy choreography, or comedic timing. It is powerful because it makes Vietnamese refugee and Vietnamese American experiences tangible. That is the priceless beauty and power of art. For only two hours and $25, strangers in a blackbox theater feel the same pangs of guilt, waves of grief, and grasps for joy as they are transported from Vietnam to Camp Pendleton and back.

I realized that, whether a play, film, painting, song, poem, or dance, art is able to bridge different generations and communities, even if momentarily.

For the anniversary of the Fall of Saigon (aka Black April), I am often asked to reflect on what this day means to me, to the Vietnamese and Southeast Asian diaspora, and how my family, community, and I have processed this memorial. I always find that there are no good direct verbal answers, but the best answers are found in art. Creatives have long been grappling with these questions, and their process of remembering or (re)membering produces art. The voices of generations past and the hopes of the future can all be found in stanzas, pixels, body movements, and paint strokes.

This Black April, I want to leverage my platform as the first Vietnamese American executive director of OCA to share some pieces that could help you understand me and my community better, but could also help us all understand just a little of what others are living right now, as history continues to repeat itself.

ephemeral. ([link removed]) [một thoáng qua] short film by alex phúc khang nguyen. 2019.

Miss Saigon ([link removed]) poem by Katherina Nguyen. 2020.

Quê Hương ([link removed]*Hvc4C8-fJtn-26rPm-zLhQ.jpeg) woven maps of Little Saigons, USA and Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) by Cindy Nguyen. 2018. (Former 2018 OCA National Intern)

More works on Diasporic Vietnamese Artists’ Network (DVAN ([link removed]) )’s traveling exhibit, ‘Textures of Remembrance’, currently showing at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center until June 10 ([link removed]) .

Thank you for taking this moment to remember with me. Thank you to the artists for their healing and challenging works.

Sincerely,

Thu Nguyen
Executive Director, OCA-Asian Pacific American Advocates

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