Gene Testing for Cancer

The first bit of news I wake up to today is about Angelina Jolie's preventive double mastectomy.... wow....

Well, good for her. I'm glad she's taking a proactive approach and I'm sure her coming forward with this news will prompt other people to get their genes tested for cancer too.

So far my family has only ever suffered from smaller health issues, such as migraines and urinary infections, but my husband's side has had quite a few people pass away from cancer: his father from stomach cancer, his aunt from thyroid cancer, and a cousin from leukemia. Those are just the people in his family that we know of who were officially diagnosed with cancer, as of course there is no knowing what illnesses our Hmong ancestors suffered from while living in remote, agricultural Laos. They didn't have doctors, clinics, tests, etc. Our family's medical history beyond our time in the United States, beyond our parents' generation, is pretty much non-existent.

One of my biggest fears in life is that my husband or my kids will be hit with cancer. I worry about it probably more than I need to, but it's hard not to think about it.

Does gene testing cover other types of cancer also? Something to look into...

Mother's Day

"All that I am, 

or hope to be, 

I owe to my angel mother."

~ Abraham Lincoln ~

I'm blessed to have a mom who taught me the strength of what it is to be a mother, and I'm blessed to have the opportunity to be a mom to my three wonderful girls.

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers and mothers to be!

Daughter of Refugees: My Childhood School Years

Awhile back, my youngest daughter's school had Grandparent's Day, a special day for grandparents to visit the classroom. My daughter invited her grandma on my side of the family.

On the day of the event, my mom arrived and I explained to her what the event was and in general what they would probably be doing at school. Then I dropped my mom and my daughter off.

After school was over later that day, my mom and I were talking about how the event went when she asked me in Hmong, "Did you ever have events like this at school when you were a kid? Days for parents and grandparents to come...?"

I told her that I did. There were Parent's Day, Grandparent's Day, concerts, and many other school events.

Then my mom asked, "How come your dad and I never went to any of these things when you and your brothers and sisters were kids?"

I could tell that she was working through something in her head.

"Mom," I said. "It's okay. You and dad didn't know about these things when we were young. There were letters and invitations sent home by our teachers, but you didn't know. I mean, how could you know?"

There was a short pause. Then my mom said, "There were some kids today at school whose grandparents didn't come. Nobody was there to celebrate the special day with them. They were sad..."

Then she looked away, and I knew that it had clicked with her:
What school must've been like for my siblings and me... for us, the children of refugees and of parents who had never been educated and knew nothing of the educational system or of the experience of going to school... the homework, projects, and studying for tests that we did entirely on our own at home, whether right or wrong, because our parents didn't understand the subjects and couldn't help... the things we must've felt and gone through at school that she had never been aware of before.

The letters and invitations sent home by our teachers either ended up in the trash unread, or if they were read, they were not understood. My parents didn't know English, and back in those days, especially in our little town, there were hardly any Hmong translators or Hmong ESL aides to assist in bridging the Hmong home life with the American school system.

And to be frank, we were very poor and sometimes my parents were just too busy trying to support our family and needing to put food on the table, keeping us clothed, and paying for rent. Those were often first priorities over what seemed like trivial school events.

My mom was quiet for a long time, sitting on my beige couch, looking out the window.

Finally, I said to her, "You supported us in your own way, mom."

And I meant it. I really did. For refugees who knew nothing about America upon arrival, my parents have gotten us to progress farther in life than we could've ever done on our own. That I'm certain of.

But yet as I sat there watching my mom's reaction to Grandparent's Day, tears formed in my eyes. They were both sad and happy tears.

Tears for my mom, who could not have known about all those school events... for the lonely school child still in me.. and for my own kids' lives free of these kinds of issues.

The Meaning Behind My Tattoos

To me, tattoos are personal and meaningful artwork bestowed upon the body. I have two tattoos, and both have significant meaning to me.

The first one represents my family. My name in Hmong is Nou (or "Hnub" as spelled in my native language--pronounced "new"), and it means sun. Hence the image of the rising or setting sun. The bonsai is my husband's favorite tree, and the three little birds are for my three children. Hence the silhouetted bonsai and birds.

The idea for this tattoo came about as a result of a blue birthmark on my right shoulder, which I wanted to hide... not that it bothered me a great deal but people who saw my birthmark were always assuming my husband was beating me up. Poor guy was constantly getting dirty looks from strangers as it looks exactly like a bruise. lol  So I decided to get a tattoo that would cover up the birthmark. If you look closely at the sun, you'll see that there are some bluish or darker hues to it (in the middle, closer to the orange/red parts). That is the birthmark underneath. I also love this tattoo because I love landscape photos, especially those with the sun in it. This tattoo reminds me of beautiful landscapes, the kind that makes my stress and tensions melt.

My second tattoo stands for my ethnicity and culture. It is representative of the traditional Hmong necklace, which is called a "xauv" (pronounced "sah-ow")

There is a sun on the pendant part, again for my name, and the necklace part consists of two tulips, which are my favorite flowers. When I see my tulips pop out of the ground every spring, it's always an ecstatic moment for me. Simple things like that can make me so happy. I suppose it's just symbolic of all that is spring--new beginnings, warmth, and the most positive of outlooks... which brings me back full circle to my culture.

I'm a fairly Americanized person. I grew up in a very white town and hung out with white people rather than Hmongs. There was a time when I really had no care for my culture at all; I was what some would call "white-washed" or a "twinkie." However, as I've grown older, I feel myself being pulled back to the Hmong culture and wanting to embrace it more. So in a way, this represents new beginnings for me, a return to the culture, land, language, and traditions held so dear by my parents and elders.

Originally, this tattoo was going to be placed around my ankle, but it turned out the image would've had to be made much smaller, so I decided to put it on my side instead.

Both tattoos were designed specifically for me. I don't think I could ever walk into a tattoo parlor or look for images online and just pick out an already made design. It just doesn't feel as meaningful. If it's going to be on my body permanently, then I want it customized, and frankly, I want to be the only one with that tattoo walking around. A distinctive artwork. That's how I see it.

Do you have any tattoos or want any? And if so, what do you have, or what would you want?

Hope Revisited

When I was a child, I thought I could be anything I wanted. Anything at all.

It's what we're taught in school, right? It's what many parents tell their children. It's what I find myself repeating to my kids sometimes when we sit down and talk about their future. I want them to know that with hard work and determination, yes, it's true... they can become anything they want.

Right???

Now we can discuss the merits of whether that kind of mentality is truly accurate or whether it's just a facade. And we can dip into political and social issues and go into what keeps certain bodies of the human race down while others rise so unseemly...we can name injustices as to why this happens. We could, reader.

But that's not really what this post is about.

You see, lately I've been feeling like something is lost. As we age, something gets destroyed, and the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that it is hope that's lost.

Now I've written about hope before, way back when I first started this blog a few years ago. And I'm revisiting it again, because out of all of the human emotions, I believe that hope is the most powerful and potentially the most life-changing... if we let it be.

When you have hope, it literally lights up your world. But when hope falters, there is nothing worse than the darkness that seeps in and settles.

Think back to your childhood. In the eyes of a child, all is possible; nothing is uncertain.

As we age, the possibilities chip away little by little; the uncertainty rises.

Now I like to think I'm a hard worker, a go-getter. If there's something I want, I go for it and I don't like excuses. I take my time in whatever I do; after all, I want to do it well, not just rush through for the sake of having done it.

But I'm not going to lie. There is always a little voice inside my head that questions my actions and the possibilities I'm reaching out for. Why are you doing this? It says. What makes you think you can accomplish that? Sometimes it simply says, you're tired. Just rest. Who cares.

And sometimes I listen to it. Sometimes I don't. Regardless, I've noticed that I've increasingly let go of hope and the possibilities of what I could do with my life.

This is not to say that I no longer have hope, but it's that childhood sense of hope that I miss. You know the one I'm talking about. The one in which a mere stick is transformed into a sword to slay monsters with and rid the world of evil. The one in which the future stands bold like an exclamation mark instead of the question mark that we too often see as adults.

Somewhere through the years of life, we've learned the word "can't" and we've internalized it so well that it's just a natural part of who we are.

Of course I'm not silly enough to believe that a mere stick can really solve the problems that exist, like it once did when I was a child. But perhaps it's time to pretend a little and just believe that all things are possible. Just have a little more hope. That is all.

For life seemed better then, when we were kids and when all things were possible. Didn't it?

Hmm, perhaps I'm just feeling a little gloomy today. Tomorrow when I wake up, maybe the world will be as promising as it ever was...

Does racism still exist in our day and age?

One of the most intriguing topics my students and I sometimes broach is that of racism and in particular whether it exists today or not. It's a touchy subject, because there are so many varying perspectives and of course no simple answers. 

I recently watched a video of Tim Wise, anti-racism activist. It's a long video (the lecture itself is 1 hour and 17 minutes). But I think it's worth the time just for the fact that it makes you think and try to perceive the topic in a different manner. I always try to keep an open mind when it comes to touchy subjects, and whether I agree with the points brought forth, I value the chance to see things from another's perspective.

Two things I found interesting about his lecture and that I could relate to...

First, Wise talks about stereotypes, and how what one person of a certain ethnicity does or says seems to reflect upon all others in that same ethnicity. In other words, it's a sweeping label applied to all minorities based on the actions of one person in that group. But Wise says the same does not usually apply to whites.

I remember when a Hmong hunter named Chai Vang killed some white hunters in 2004 in Wisconsin.. oh, the fear of repercussion in the Hmong community after that situation. I know many Hmong hunters who questioned whether they should hunt anymore; some stopped altogether. And then shortly after, a Hmong hunter was killed by a white hunter, some say in retaliation for the Chai Vang case.

I have often wondered that if Chai Vang represents all Hmong, then can Jeffrey Dahmer (a killer, cannibal, and necrophiliac) represent all white people? No, of course not. That's just ridiculous. But that is exactly Wise's point.

Secondly, along the same vein, there is also the archetype, which Wise says is when a person is pigeon-holed and expected to fit the mold for his or her ethnicity based on what society deems acceptable. And when a person strays from that, it can be confusing for others to place them categorically.

When I heard what Wise says around the 50 minute mark of his lecture, I had to chuckle a little because he's basically describing me. I'm an Asian-American whose specialty is English, and yes, I have been questioned many times on what I'm doing in the English field (I guess I'm supposed to be a math or chemistry nerd instead of a literature nerd). When I still taught high school, I remember a father of one of my students came in for parent-teacher conferences and the first thing he said to me was, "My daughter's in a regular English class, right? I mean, this isn't like an ESL class or anything, is it?" I knew he was asking, because he didn't think an Asian-American person, such as myself, could possibly understand English enough to teach it.

And yet another one has said to me, "Wow, you can actually speak English fluently! Not even an accent. Good for you!" *pat on the back* I've also been told, even by other teachers, that I should really go into teaching ESL or English as a Second Language classes instead, because... well, I would do more good there, which could be true, but I love teaching English at the higher levels. That is, after all, where my passion lies, being able to delve deeper into literature, reading, and writing.

Now to be fair, I'm also questioned by people of my own ethnicity. You see, stereotypes and archetypes exist within ethnicities among ourselves too. Hmong females, if they go into teaching, almost always choose the Elementary Ed level. I can't count how many times I've been questioned by Hmong people as to why in the world I decided to teach high school, and now that I'm teaching college, still the same questions. I don't fit the typical Hmong female archetype according to some in the Hmong community, and I don't fit the typical Asian archetype according to some in the white society. I guess I just am who I am, and I follow what my heart tells me to do. I don't take it personally though, as most people who question me don't do it in a rude or offensive way. They are simply curious or surprised. I'm always willing to explain, and it is of course an opportunity to discuss and expand the ways of thinking.

Wise doesn't really touch upon this as his area of expertise is in race relations, but there are so many different kinds of stereotypes and archetypes, and many of them apply to white people too. A person's body or size, for example. Usually, after people are done asking me about my choice as a Hmong person teaching English, their next question pertains to my size. I'm a small person at 5 ft and 105 pounds. Most people are curious as to how I can possibly handle a 6 ft, 200 pound student who misbehaves in my classroom. The answer is simple: there is no correlation between a teacher's physical size and his or her ability to effectively manage a classroom. Even though I'm a petite person, I have hardly ever had classroom management issues. It comes down to what your rules and expectations are in your classroom and whether you consistently adhere to them or not. My size has nothing to do with it.

So yes, of course racism, stereotypes, and archetypes exist today and in so many forms, big and small. We've made progress though. But Wise asserts in his lecture that in about 50 years, half of the U.S. population will consist of minorities. What does that mean for our nation, and how will that affect race relations? It'll be interesting to see the shift in demographics in this nation and how that's all going to play out.

There's a lot more about racism in Wise's lecture, but this has been a very long blog post already so I will stop here. When you find the time, I encourage you to watch the video and let me know what you think.

Goal-Making

Goals for me are the foundation of life. They are the structure on which I build my family, friends, education, and profession. Everything I do, I try to ensure it revolves around my goals. That's how I know if I'm on the right path.

If you're struggling in life, remember this: as long as you have goals, you can endure the most difficult of situations, even the most torturous.

Goals need to be written down, not just thought of. They need to be revised from time to time. They need to be exact and specific. They need to have a time line. Goals need to be visible to you as a reminder, so put them in a location you will always see. Revisit them from time to time.

Without goals, you lose your purpose, and breathing becomes hard.

That's how important goals are. They are your breath. Don't underestimate them.

Dear Friend...

Dear friend who I've known for nearly half of my life,

Remember those books? I still read them from time to time. I still think about you from time to time. Just wondering how you're doing. What you're up to. Why we don't talk anymore. Whether you have done that thing that you said you might do someday.

I learned a lot from you. About philosophy. Politics. Religion. People. Life.

It was you who sparked that drive in me to question things, to see the world differently, to always be searching for answers to questions that even others may shun me for thinking about.

It was that one book you sent me that changed my life. M. Scott Peck. Did you know that? Back then, I was at a turning point in my life. A choice I had to make. I picked up that book and read it over and over. I marked it up, put sticky notes on copious pages. You should see it... lol. I still have all those sticky notes in there.

Then I thought real hard about life...about my life. And I finally realized how good I had it. I didn't just realize it, I knew it. I felt it deep in my gut. How good I had it and how good I still have it to this day. I have been blessed. See, even today, even though we haven't had any connections in so long, you still impact me.

I was young back then. You knew more of life and of the world and of how it works. I didn't fully realize it then, but I know now that it was because of the hardships and struggles you've dealt with that enabled you to have that deeper understanding of the world and of people.

The knowledge that you gained from your life you passed on to me.

And because of that, I'm a happier person. I'm more free. I'm content. I know what's real and what's not.

Thank you.

I hope you read this, and I hope you see that you've made a difference.

I hope you're happy too. I hope you've found the courage. I really do.