Those Hmong US
Chenda pours over the article with barely concealed enthusiasm. The article itself focuses on the conflict between the ethnic Hmong and Lao in Laos. It’s old news really. Newspapers that yellowed years ago, and tear along the folds too easily. It remains a world away from cell phones and carefully groomed medians along the roadways. It is a world far enough away that it is difficult for most American students to understand the complexities.
The conflict divides along ethnic, cultural, political, ideological and historical lines. A good amount of the conflict lingers from the opposing sides during the Vietnam War, when the Hmong mostly supported the Americans. The human rights violations continue, much as in the old newspapers. The traditional culture continues too. Marriages are most often still arranged, often with girls as young as 12. Some of that culture has been transplanted to the US, as Chenda explains how her family is already pressuring her to accept a good husband from among ethnic Khmer here in Denver. The family will probably make that match. Chenda wants out of the house a soon as possible and is looking for that exit strategy—college, military, work.
The Hmong cultural center site, explains that
Chenda, an ethnic Khmer, blurts that the Hmong are “really weird.” And so, ancient ethnic rivalries and prejudices spring up right in front of us all in the classroom.
Bao was named after a butterfly. She is Hmong and also feels pressure to marry from the family. She is also exceedingly tired of the special attention that males receive in the household. Both Chenda and Bao speak their respective language at home. Neither can read or write in that language. Bao was born in the US, but Chenda was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and soon after came here with the immediate family. Her grandparents remain in Thailand, and she has only traveled to visit them once. The article is interesting because it hits home for Chenda. The refugee camp mentioned is one that her father spent some time in. But for Anglo-American students, it had might as well be science fiction.
At last check, and like many schools across the country, there are approximately 48 ethnic groups and 28 languages spoken as a first language here. With no assigned seating, classrooms still tend to divide along ethnic and racial lines. Asian girls in one section; Asian boys in another. Black students congregated on one side of the room, and Hispanic/Latin students on the other far side of the room. Yet, just seven or so miles down the road, the school is 97% Caucasian. Some suburban schools are still in a position of graduating their first [first!] black student. It’s the divisions, and not the differences in the classroom that I fear most.
The conflict divides along ethnic, cultural, political, ideological and historical lines. A good amount of the conflict lingers from the opposing sides during the Vietnam War, when the Hmong mostly supported the Americans. The human rights violations continue, much as in the old newspapers. The traditional culture continues too. Marriages are most often still arranged, often with girls as young as 12. Some of that culture has been transplanted to the US, as Chenda explains how her family is already pressuring her to accept a good husband from among ethnic Khmer here in Denver. The family will probably make that match. Chenda wants out of the house a soon as possible and is looking for that exit strategy—college, military, work.
The Hmong cultural center site, explains that
in traditional Hmong society, three mornings after a child is born, the family brings in an elder to conduct a ceremony called "hu plig peb tag kis" for the child. This ceremony is to welcome the child's soul to life and him/her to the family as member. In this ceremony, two male and one female chickens are sacrificed for the ritual; two chickens are offered to welcome the child's soul to life and one is offered to thank "niam txiv kab yeeb" for granting the family a child.
Chenda, an ethnic Khmer, blurts that the Hmong are “really weird.” And so, ancient ethnic rivalries and prejudices spring up right in front of us all in the classroom.
Bao was named after a butterfly. She is Hmong and also feels pressure to marry from the family. She is also exceedingly tired of the special attention that males receive in the household. Both Chenda and Bao speak their respective language at home. Neither can read or write in that language. Bao was born in the US, but Chenda was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and soon after came here with the immediate family. Her grandparents remain in Thailand, and she has only traveled to visit them once. The article is interesting because it hits home for Chenda. The refugee camp mentioned is one that her father spent some time in. But for Anglo-American students, it had might as well be science fiction.
At last check, and like many schools across the country, there are approximately 48 ethnic groups and 28 languages spoken as a first language here. With no assigned seating, classrooms still tend to divide along ethnic and racial lines. Asian girls in one section; Asian boys in another. Black students congregated on one side of the room, and Hispanic/Latin students on the other far side of the room. Yet, just seven or so miles down the road, the school is 97% Caucasian. Some suburban schools are still in a position of graduating their first [first!] black student. It’s the divisions, and not the differences in the classroom that I fear most.
posted by curtis @ 3:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home