Love Letters to Poetry | “Where Am I From?”

My title comes from growing up being asked "Where are you from?" If I answered Lancaster, Pennsylvania, most people would continue with, "Where are you really from?"

That question made me think about where I’m from. “Where are you from?” is a question many refugees and immigrants are often asked over and over again, even people who are born here. As a Vietnamese American, I’ve been asked that question throughout my life when I met someone new. Many of my family and friends have been asked the same question. People usually aren't satisfied until we share our country of origin. Some of them are curious and want to learn more about us; others just assume we’re not from here.

Sometimes, I also feel upset or saddened by the frequent "Where are you from?" and the assumption that I don't belong. I was born in Vietnam, but most of my life has been spent in the United States; therefore, I feel that I belong in both places. I decided to turn that question on its head and embrace where I'm from proudly and unapologetically. I wrote this poem to remind myself and my children of our origin and special memories of my childhood in Vietnam before everything changed.

Where Am I From?

I am from Vietnam, my homeland,
fragmented by decades of civil war,
foreign rulers and restlessness.
My childhood, a kaleidoscope of moments in time.

Outdoor markets with sweet ripened marigold mangoes stacked high.
Steaming bowls of phõ garnished with crunchy bean sprouts, cilantro and fresh basil.
The aroma of ginger, star anise and cinnamon wafting through the air.

Yards of silk fabrics in shades of pastels,
hand embroidered to become beautiful áo dàis
worn by pretty school girls.

Lining up with my brothers on Tết,
wearing a new áo dài covered with butterflies.
Their wings rise up, from the hem of my dress ready to take flight.
Arms folded reciting good wishes to our elders who are as tall as mountains.

Red—the color of luck is all around us.
Practicing in whispers,
building up the courage to say wishes aloud.
Chúc Mừng Năm Mới! Happy New Year!
I wish you good health, happiness and may you live until you’re 100 years old!
Elders laugh with delight at children’s heartwarming words.
They reward us with lucky red envelopes.
I hold on tightly to lí xís from family and friends,
near and far with wishes for a blessed year.

Playing games in alleyways with my brothers and friends
until day becomes night,
signaling it’s time to go home.
Dogs bark, stray kittens meow,
soft fur tickling bare legs.
Cuddly kittens with warm sticky, milky tongues
licking open hands.
Chickens with red crowns roam freely.
Pecking at bits of leftover rice,
unaware of their fate.
Giggles and chattering
lighten the heaviness of the humid air in Vietnam.

I am from ruins transformed into petals.
Delicate, soft,
beautiful, but also imperfect.
Fallen from a rose with many thorns.
Bruised, torn, but not forgotten.
Vulnerable and brave.
Sometimes lost,
but always hopeful.