This is the story of Jason

​

I was born in Hawaii in 1990 and grew up there until i was 12 - not the beautiful paradise you might see on media. But the not so pretty side that people don't show. Section 8 housing, welfare, and food stamps social workers and whatever my family could get to make ends meet. Some might call it the ghetto, the hood, low income, - but for me it was just normal. I knew no differently. Even when our home and cars got broken into, I was a just a kid and thought it happened to everyone. I guess my parents did a good job at making me feel… secure, regardless of the environment. 

Parents

I came from immigrant parents who escaped Vietnam in 1979 amidst the war. In comparison, they came from nothing. Real poverty, real problems. Dad was out fishing alone when he was about 15, and saw the planes fly by and drop bombs in his village. Everyone panicked and scattered and had to run far from the village. Families were seperated and couldn't find each other for weeks not knowing who was alive or not. Mom's family- same thing. She was actually 12 years old sent off to live with another family and help care take their infant, my grandparents thought it was best because they thought she would be better off in a home that could actually feed her. When the bombs dropped, she couldnt locate them for months. No phones or methods of communication besides word of mouth. They have another full story i'd eventually get to, but thats for later. They escaped in the middle of the night on a small raft with several other families without telling their parents- they couldnt. If anyone found out, very cruel things would happen to them and their whole families. Dad had a compass and used the stars to navigate the sea for about a month until they landed in the refugee camp in Hong Kong where they stayed for about 2 years and eventually got sponsored to America by one of their uncles.

Family

I was the baby in a family with 7 children. 4 older brothers and 2 older sisters. Parents took us to church every Sunday and all kids went to Hoc giao ly or “Sunday School” to learn the Catholic teachings in vietnamese. That set the roots for me to later become a “Sunday School” teacher in my adult life. Older siblings were taught household responsibilities at a young age such as cooking and cleaning and caring for the younger ones, like me, the baby brother. But when parents weren’t watching, they definitely made sure I put in my work! When I was a toddler dad went out to sea as a fisherman for a few weeks a time- he even missed my birth because he was out at sea.  until some seasons were too slow and had too many boat issues he had to give it up. Parents both shifted their income to buying fish at the fish auction and reselling it. At about 4 years old i remember going in the old beat up truck with them to go knocking door to door asking people if they want to buy fish. Knock knock “My mom and dad wanna know if you want to buy fish?” my parents version, “You like buy fiit?” I heard it and said it so many times its engrained in me til this day. Remember, this was hawaii- so fish was a part of life. All my siblings experienced it and we all had fears of running into our classmates.. And funny thing, my sister knocked on her classmates door, he opened it up and said “Linda what are you doing here?” she responded, “Is your mom home? Can you ask her if she wants to buy fish?” Many years later, they got married and started their own family. True story! Fish wasn’t the only thing we sold. My parents would take us around the island to knock on doors asking if we could pick the mangos and fruits off their trees. Sometimes they’d let us have it all for free, sometimes we’d pay for it and eventually we’d sell it at the swap meet or on the corner streets of the Chinatown markets, and getting kicked out when authorities came. As a kid, i hated it. It was embarrassing, especially when no one else we knew had to do that and I always compared myself to everyone else at school. They had nicer cars, parents had “regular jobs” and I just wanted to live like that. But now? I’m grateful for all of that. Being poor and learning how to hustle as a kid.

Most of my other memories were hanging out with a bunch of cousins playing tag barefoot in the neighborhood while the adults played cards. We had bbq’s at the beach, family parties, church events, alot of prayer and honoring ancestors, and celebrating the big holidays including Tet. Lunar new years. We always had a lot of relatives over. Some I loved, some i thought were annoying and some both. That’s what family is right? 

​

Community

We lived in a crammed home, with other families often staying with us. Small home with a lanai aka a front patio where relatives would often come over to hang out. 

All my relatives were pretty poor at the time- but they always stuck together and helped each other. They all had the same struggle- they left their families and escaped poverty in a war torn country- entering a whole new world with very little english, low education, and finding any means to feed their family. 

​

To be continued.... (gonna rest up right now lol)

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​