My last post as a refugee
I’ve thought about this post a lot and now that deadline is here, I’m not sure anything I could have said would have meant much.
This is how life goes sometimes: an anchor at a news station who is Asian American herself, leads a series of profiles for Asian American etc month and one of her colleagues (who has previously interviewed me) sends along my contact.
I wanted to tell you guys about the 40+ years that pushed me here, the obligation I have to those I love to remain alive, the tension of coming out and revealing more of myself while wanting to remain hidden, the razor's edge of knowing myself at all …I am aware that this is what this newsletter is all about, a way for me to know myself, find my place in it, and to invite you all in.
Of all the words I have wanted to write about this, all I can conjure is “thank you.”
Tomorrow, Friday, May 16 at 10 am, I will be take the oath for American citizenship. Yes, this will take place at the same cookie cutter office complex where Mohsen Mahdawi was “arrested” last month when he arrived to take his citizenship test. Yes, this is the country that dropped bombs on a peaceful country—my country—many of which are still live, buried in the land which my country people plough up every day.
My father was the first Laotian naturalized in Vermont, and I know he’d be proud for me to be taking the oath tomorrow. Whatever this prideful moment would have meant to him.
I want to leave you with these two things:
A snippet of what war-traumatized refugees live with. This is the after-effects of US militarism on peaceful people. Just imagine it a million fold on those actively involved in the conflict. This is one where you *do* want to read the comments.
And secondly, a poem I wrote the light before I went to take my citizenship test last month. I want gonna share it. But if I’m going to now be eligible for jury duty, to vote, and to run for federal office (none of which can happen unless I’m a citizen), now’s the time to share it.
I cleaned the office late this day. Put right things
Where things rightly go
Wiped the desk for the sun’s pink glow
Even sprayed down the keyboard
And dusted for crumbs,
Not a solitary sign or print of thumb
To indicate that I was here
Anywhere everywhere somewhere in this sphere
I ordered the papers just so
This is how things must be before I go
***
Do not believe them when they say
That I was kind, fearsome, or wry
I do not want memorials when I die
I do not want to die
***
Sometimes in darkness or darkened sight
Before the morning birds whet the spring
A shadow comes and with it brings
A breeze so light it breaks
Like April ice, aged and thin
I hope to crack like that—an inevitable caving in
And when that final, final, final day
Arrives, however much I want to stay
And return the books I borrowed,
I'll give in with all my marrow
***
Do not trust desks that are neat and tidy
Do not trust anyone who never cries
I do not want to die
I do not want to die
Wow. This was so powerful, Phayvanh. ❤️