Staring Down the Tiger

by Staring Down the Tiger- Stories of Hmong American Women (retail) (epub)

A lot of you may not know this, but growing up in elementary school and middle school, I was your stereotypical shy, quiet Hmong girl. But on the inside, I always knew I had so much that I wanted to do and so much I wanted to say. However, no matter how much I wanted to be heard, I always silenced myself, for fear of rejection and judgment. I was never a studious child. The only reason I wanted to go to school was to see my friends. And the only thing I looked forward to was playing outside at recess, because my friends and I would play “Cinderella,” and guess who was always Cinderella? Yup. Me. I always loved playing different characters and living in this dream world I built with my imagination. Overall, I disliked school because I didn’t think it was going to be useful for my career … as the next Britney Spears. Funny thing was, I had all these aspirations to be a famous pop star, but would never let anyone hear me sing. It went on like this for years. I was convinced I’d be the next Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, but I refused to perform for people.

  In middle school, that all changed for me, though. I joined choir to get out of study hall, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I came in late. The only seat left was in the first row, directly in front of the choir teacher. I sat down. She finished taking attendance, and we began warm-ups. I sang with the class, as she instructed, but before I could even blink, she told the room to be quiet. “Shh! Who was singing?” And I knew she was talking about me. A million thoughts began to haunt my mind. Oh, no! I sang too loud. I am in such big trouble! Why did I think I could sing so loud? I slowly raised my hand, on the verge of tears. She looked at me and asked for my name. “Hrm … Gaosong … what a beautiful name. You have a beautiful voice. Never stop singing, okay, Gaosong?” She continued teaching the class, and I played it cool, as if nothing happened. But on the inside, I couldn’t understand why anyone would think my voice was beautiful. I couldn’t understand why anyone would think my Hmong name was beautiful. I couldn’t understand why anyone would associate beauty with me, a quiet, ugly, chubby Hmong girl. But I do know one thing: since that moment, I have never stopped singing. Because for the first time in my life, I found my voice. I wasn’t ever going to let anyone or myself silence it again.

  As I got into high school, my mother was worried that I was no longer speaking Hmong and I was losing my culture, so she made me take Hmong singing lessons. Little did my mother know, I purposefully chose not to speak Hmong and avoided Hmong people and Hmong culture because I secretly hated being Hmong. After six months of lessons, for our graduation the class entered the annual singing competition at the Hmong New Year Celebration in St. Paul. Before I knew it, the day of the competition had come. There I was, all dressed up in my Hmong clothes at the Hmong New Year. Thousands of people filled the Roy Wilkins Auditorium. I was next in the lineup, and petrified. The girl who thought she knew everything about singing, who said she was going to be the next Beyoncé, the girl who hated herself because she was Hmong was about to perform for thousands of Hmong people.

  “I can’t do it, Mom. I can’t do it. I don’t remember the words!” My mother was right by my side. She grabbed me, with tears in her eyes, and said, “No matter what happens today, I am so proud of you and I will always love you.”

  The audience clapped as the emcee announced my name. I wiped away my tears and slowly stepped up onto the stage. The lights were bright, and the stage was large. The auditorium was packed; there wasn’t an empty seat or any standing room on the ground level. I stood there, center stage, and smiled, like I had practiced a million times before. Silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity. When the music began, the audience screamed with joy before I even sang a single note. For the first time, I sang my heart out. At the end of the song, I bowed, and the audience got up on their feet and cheered for me. As I walked off the stage, I begin bawling. My mother was there to catch me as I floated in the air. I couldn’t believe it: these Hmong people, the people I had hated so much, showed me so much love, kindness, and support. I vowed, in that moment, that I would never ever doubt my people again.

  Fast-forward almost a decade since that performance. I was studying music performance in voice at the University of Minnesota. During that time in my life, I had completely forgotten what it meant to be a Hmong woman and a Hmong artist because I was so focused on trying to fit into the mold of a successful opera-singer-in-training. But as destiny would have it, studying opera no longer resonated with who I was in that moment in my life. So I transferred to the theater arts program, not knowing if it was the right decision or if it would help me become the artist I always wanted to be. That first semester in the program, I took a theater history course and found my calling. We learned that the origins of theater is not from Greece or Rome. It is from ritual, such as Hmong marriage rituals or funeral rites. In that moment, so many questions filled my mind about my people and my culture and about myself. I knew I made the right choice to study theater. Because I knew I would dedicate the rest of my life to studying and researching Hmong arts and Hmong performance practices.

  Since graduating, I am proud to say that I have had my Hmong music and performances aired on Classical Minnesota Public Radio. I am proud to say that I have acted professionally all over the Twin Cities and Greater Minnesota, and I am honored to have written short creative nonfiction pieces and folktales for the Children’s Theatre Company that are currently being taught in schools all over the metro area. But this path has not been easy. Oftentimes, many people, including Hmong people, think that art, theater, and performance are a waste of time. They think that when I make theater, I am playing around and not taking my life seriously. But I can promise you, when I go teach theater to a class of Southeast Asian refugee students, and I am the only adult person of color and the only Hmong artist in the room, these little kids do not think it is a waste of time. They feel so special, because for the first time they have a teacher who looks like them, who sounds like them, who knows the stories and struggles of their people, and they feel heard. They feel important. They feel loved for who they are as individuals. And for the first time, they feel like they can dare to dream their own impossible dreams.

  Being a Hmong female artist is not an easy path, but most things worth having in life are not easy. It takes dedication, hard work, passion for your craft and for the people you are serving, but most of all, it takes the love and support of the people in your life. That’s why I want to give thanks to my family. All of my accomplishments would not be possible without the love and support of my family and friends, but I especially want to say thank you to my fearless brothers and sisters. They have supported me, given me strength, and shown me that I am capable of anything. I have learned from their journeys, and now I am not afraid to forge my own path. I make art because it is a part of who I am and how I express myself. Artist is not my occupation. It is who I am. We are all artists; it’s just whether or not that inner artist is nourished and given the opportunity to speak for itself.

  Success, life, happiness—all seem like impossible dreams, but the most impossible dream is being able to find your true calling, staring it dead in the eye and accepting it for all of its wondrous fear and glory. And it’s never-ending: as we continue to grow, so does this dream.

  So, what do you do with a theater arts degree? This degree has given me the courage, different perspectives, and tools with which to navigate my impossible dream and to give light to the beautiful art, culture, and history of my people. A degree does not define your self-worth; it’s the blood, sweat, and tears that go into any journey that truly define your character and potential for success and happiness in the future. May you always continue to strive to turn your impossible dreams into reality.

  Gaosong V. Heu is a performance artist, musician, teaching artist, published writer, and scholar of Hmong performance practices.

  Malia Yang-Xiong’s Leadership with Hmong Students

  Npaus Baim Her

  Edited by Mailia Yang-Xiong

  In the early 2000s, I was hired as a cultural liaison f
or the White Bear Lake Area Schools (WBLAS) district. I was the first Hmong staff person hired and one of very few hired staff of color. The Hmong population in the area was growing, and Hmong students made up the largest minority group in the schools. My position as a liaison allowed me to work with school staff and Hmong families. Many teachers at that time were unfamiliar with Hmong culture and its community. A majority of Hmong parents were first generation and either had limited English proficiency or needed support to navigate the school system.

  I had the opportunity to reach out to Hmong students, too, and to do this, I reflected on my own experiences. As I grew up in a suburban area and attended predominantly white schools, there were no books made available to me that reflected on who I was as an Asian student. Books catering to white students, such as Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mockingbird, were given as reading assignments. As I worked in the WBLAS, I didn’t see many changes made in curriculums that reflected the needs and identities of students of color. I felt that for teachers to be able to connect with their students of color, they needed to dig deeper and provide materials that were relatable for students of different ethnicities. As a liaison, I could only provide materials or make suggestions; the teachers were the ones who controlled the decisions that impacted changes to the learning materials they provided students.

  When I discovered the book Hey, Hmong Girl, Whassup?: The Journal of Choua Vang by Leah Rempel (2004), I wanted to provide a way to share it with Hmong students immediately. I was excited that the main character in this book was a Hmong girl. How often do you find that in a book? I started a Hmong Girls Reading Circle in one of the middle schools. We met once a week during the students’ homeroom hour that was normally when they were required to read silently on their own.

  I asked, “Why have the students read in silence when we could read together?” The reading circle was an opportunity to connect with Hmong students while creating a safe space where students could gather to read, discuss, and develop their own voices. During that time, none of the schools had extracurricular programs that focused on Hmong students. Most Hmong girls were expected to return home after school to watch their younger siblings. Participation in school activities was not recommended by their parents. Sharing reading material that was different from the usual school materials was a way to expose Hmong girls to possibilities.

  Not all Hmong girls in that middle school participated in the reading circle. My choice to focus on Hmong girls was based on my own years as a teenager. There were different expectations for Hmong girls than Hmong boys. I wanted the Hmong girls to dream beyond the path of early marriage. With my generation, a lot of the girls were brought up to think that it was more important to be an obedient Hmong wife than to have a higher education. By age sixteen or seventeen, girls were considered old maids. I once met a girl who told me, “I want to get married because if I wait too long, I will be too old and no one will want me.” I thought, Wait a second. We’re both only sixteen! Since I wasn’t getting these same messages at home, I said, “I’m not old! What are you talking about?!” I didn’t want to get married. I was very fortunate that my mother told me to focus on school because she didn’t want me to have a job that doesn’t pay well. Because of my mom’s lack of education and limited English, she worked as a housekeeper. She often talked about how exhausting the work was since it was all manual labor. I was a petite girl, so she told me that manual work would be hard on my back. I’m glad she encouraged me to pursue higher education so that I could have a different lifestyle. I channeled my mother’s energy into the Hmong girls and encouraged them to take on leadership roles so that they could determine their own future. When our Hmong girls are empowered, they can strive to be anything. They are resilient and strong.

  During my years with the WBLAS, I advised many after-school programs, such as Hmong Women’s Circle, Journey, Hmong Heritage Club, and Culture Club, also known for some years as Koom Siab. I also oversaw the program Hmong Men’s Circle. Although these programs differ by name, their objectives were similar in that the programs supported students to develop team-building and leadership skills and explored postsecondary education and college visits. I hadn’t discovered the endless possibility of opportunities until I was in college, so when I worked in the schools, I wanted our next Hmong generation to dream early about who they could become. Since I had the means to access opportunities for the next generation to discover their possibilities, I felt it was my responsibility to share this knowledge with them. Wherever I was able to minimize the challenges and obstacles that stood in the way of Hmong students getting to where they wanted to go, I did so. When doors of opportunities were open to students, I saw the light in them, the young leaders, ignite.

  Culture Club was the program that ran the longest. It was different from my other programs because it had a student board. Students were elected to the board so they could have firsthand experiences with leadership. As board members, they jointly led the student club members. They had to learn to work together even though each of them had different leadership styles. There were times when the student board spoke about the difficulties in leading student members and the challenges they encountered in getting student members to participate. The challenge for them as young leaders was to find a middle ground between them and the members so that club gatherings were positive experiences for all. Some student leaders reported that they were able to apply the leadership skills they learned in the club toward their college and personal experiences.

  I believe that when you work with youth, it is important to help them understand their leadership styles. When they understand their strength as leaders, then they can lead and support others. Since we are all different people, different leadership styles are needed to meet different personalities. Student leaders learned quickly that club members have different personalities. Some members are quiet, some are outgoing, some dependent, some independent, some calm, some loud, and the list goes on. Student leaders had to set their differences aside and learn to work together. Leadership comes in many ways and forms. They lead, make mistakes, and learn to grow from their mistakes. They lead without bias, without fear, with courage, with determination, and they inspire others.

  I reached out to Hmong students in different ways. I tried not to force anyone into an uncomfortable situation. I avoided creating spaces that would push anyone away. In the Hmong Girls Reading Circle, I knew that some students were shy, so I showed respect and celebrated their attendance. When the reading circle was not the place to connect with the shy students, I approached them with a one-to-one meeting. I connected with students by reaching out to them at their comfort level. When the students reached back, that indicated I could then challenge them with more. By knowing the students’ interests, I was able to introduce them to opportunities that allowed them to explore new experiences. When we discover our passion, it is that passion that will drive and push us to do the things that we do. We come together, work together, and learn together.

  Npaus Baim Her is furthering her education through University of Minnesota Duluth’s English master’s program and has been given the opportunity to teach college writing as a graduate instructor. She serves as secretary on the board of directors for a nonprofit organization, Minors, and also volunteers as a writing assistant, collecting Secret War stories for the organization’s book project to educate Hmong youth about their elders’ history. She has exhibited her art and literary work with HECUA (Higher Education Consortium for Urban Affairs) Alumni, Prior Affairs, and the Coalition of Asian American Leaders.

  History of Hnub Tshiab

  Hnub Tshiab works to develop Hmong women leaders to be “a catalyst for lasting cultural, institutional and social change to improve the lives of Hmong women.”

  Mission

  Hnub Tshiab: Hmong Women Achieving Together began in 1998 at the Wilder Foundation as a grassroots volunteer group to address violence against women in the Hmong community and became its own nonprofit in 2010. Its
original name was the Hmong Women’s Action Team. The community initiative that formed Hnub Tshiab was called Hmoob Thaj Yeeb (Hmong Peace), or the Hmong Violence Prevention Initiative. It began as a community organizing and mobilization effort to engage members of the Hmong community, nonprofits, and public agencies to prevent violence and design services to support the Hmong community. Hmoob Thaj Yeeb affiliated with the Initiative for Violence-Free Families and Communities in Ramsey County for systems change. In the planning process, more than a thousand community members were engaged, and they identified that sexism was a root cause of violence against Hmong women and girls. This formed the original mission of Hnub Tshiab, which was to “end violence against Hmong women by ending sexism.” In 2008, Hnub Tshiab incorporated as a nonprofit organization with the mission to be a catalyst for lasting cultural, institutional and social change to improve the lives of Hmong women, demonstrating organizational growth by reconceptualizing the solution to the social issue of women’s inequality. Instead of fighting sexism, Hnub Tshiab focused on empowering women (a different means to the same goal).

  Hnub Tshiab: Hmong Women Achieving Together is an organization for Hmong women, led by Hmong women. We empower Hmong women by developing their leadership and by engaging families and communities in building insight and understanding about the changing dynamics of Hmong culture. We ask people to question social constructs around gender and gain insight around how social constructs impact our daily lives. Social constructs were built by humans; humans therefore have the power to deconstruct them. We assert that it is okay for Hmong women to focus on Hmong women and it is okay to talk about sexism and gender inequality in our endeavor to promote Hmong women’s autonomy and leadership.

  Vision

  We envision a world where Hmong women and girls are valued and supported to achieve their highest potential in all of their roles. We see a society that honors the choices that Hmong women make and celebrates their ability to direct their own destinies.