BOOZE AND SHOES

Ths is a wildly unrelated picture to this post.

I’ve been friends with a good amount of Vietnamese people over the years, and I’ve always been curious about their history and where they’ve came from. I’ve always enjoyed their culinary offerings, and the handful of girls that have approached me first over the years have mostly been Vietnamese. I always thought that maybe I was pretty handsome by Vietnamese girl standards, so I’ve been pretty thankful to them in that regard. If you’re reading this Hien, I’d try to work it out now because maaaaan you were fine, but I’m taken now. Sorry I was such an awkward boy.

I’ve also been intrigued by the gang lifestyle. There was a time where The Chronic & Doggystyle readily drained the AA batteries that were locked into the Aiwa tape deck that I would carry religiously. My boy Jordan (What up kid!) and I had bandanas in EVERY single color thanks to the Wishing Well in Downtown. Solid blue & red shirts with funny sounding monikers written in Old English on the backs of youngins was considered pretty fashionable at the time, and some of my peers were probably down for a real live set at one point in their lives. For me however, this whole culture just seemed like this completely different life that I wanted no part of, but I felt completely drawn to it at the same time. It all seemed so foreign but…cool.

I remember sitting on my couch one day, mouth agape while watching the Bangin’ in Little Rock documentary on HBO in the early 90’s. For one to hear the carefully marketed glamorization of this lifestyle was amazing, but actually seeing it lived out was sobering for me. Practicing how to throw up sets in my bedroom was a pretty stupid way to pass the time looking back at it, but to see how people would actually lose their lives over these trivial actions was pretty mind blowing. This documentary proved the point that I was absolutely too soft to ever join a gang, but it still fostered my interest when it came to gangs.

The reason why I started off this post talking about my draw to Vietnamese culture is because I just finished this book by Patrick Du Phuoc Long titled The Dream Shattered. The book is about Uncle Dee, a counselor that works at a juvenile facility in Santa Clara County, and he recalls the discussions with the wards that he would come into contact with on a daily basis. The book starts off by highlighting some of the conflicts that the first and second wave of Vietnamese refugees had to deal with when fleeing from Vietnam to America: the language barriers, the relocation to a country whose cultural idiosyncrasies weren’t exactly parallel with theirs, and how their children were expected to uphold Vietnamese familial tenants while trying to juggle the individualistic aspects of American culture. The book mostly deals with that third conflict, and how Vietnamese youths would find themselves in correctional facilities as a result of that confliction, or just because they truly had no other venue to follow other than organized crime.

It’s heartbreaking to read about these kids that come to America and have to go through the educational system failing them as a result of not being given the proper attention. It’s easy to understand how kids would become pretty frustrated in this situation, and ultimately they’d drop out and become involved in gangs because of the allure of it all. It’s also saddening to read about how some of the younger Vietnamese refugees that come here feel compelled to attain material goods in order to gain status, and some of the lengths that they’ll go to during this period of attainment. I felt that the book was a bit dated, but at the same time it answered a lot of questions that I had when I was 12 or 13. Like…

Why is it that this kid always has a new pair of Filas on?

What’s that bizarre looking green circle hanging from dude’s neck?

This girl always has a new Bebe shirt on, and here I am stuck wearing this Timberland shirt that I got on clearance…what the?

I think a lot of the kids at that time were all chasing the latest and greatest from the mall, but I don’t think a lot of them dealt with the issues that Vietnamese kids went through. I mean, I never went to Big Brother and told him where my parents kept their jewelry at, and I’ve never extorted anybody. But it was fantastic to read about those who persevered through their troubled past and made something of themselves. It made me a bit introspective as to where I was at, seeing as the people I read about have become successes after carrying all of this turmoil whereas I’ve had it pretty damn easy throughout. It also made me feel sorry for the suffering that some Vietnamese parents went through for & with their kids. But what can you do…kids will be kids.

The Dream Shattered is a book I’d recommend reading, especially if you grew up as an Asian kid during the mid 90’s.