The search for my Vietnamese American identity

And how I finally stopped playing cultural tug of war

Photo by Kim Hanh Do

All it took was a four letter swap for an Uber to arrive.

Our Airbnb was in District 4—classified as a neighborhood, but more an island that requires crossing a bridge to get to the center of Ho Chi Minh City. The multi-storied house was on a narrow street, meaning it was easier to hail a cab from the strip mall a block away. Most of the time, there was a taxi driver waiting for a passenger, so it wasn’t as if we didn’t have transport options. Yet I couldn’t figure out why drivers would accept my request—and promptly decline.

So while my husband munched his bánh mì ốp la, I examined my user profile. In a flash of inspiration, I quickly swapped my married (Scottish) name for my maiden (Vietnamese) surname.

Three minutes later, a car appeared.

A half dozen rides later, I finally worked up the courage to ask a driver whether a name influenced their willingness to pick up a passenger. He replied back in Vietnamese:

“Absolutely. We don’t speak English very well, so seeing a Vietnamese name makes us feel more comfortable knowing we can communicate with them.”

Four weeks later, my husband and I depart for Cambodia—first to Siem Reap, then to Phnom Penh to fly back to the States. Neither of us know Khmer, so the driver greeted us in English. He seamlessly swapped languages when I told him I was Vietnamese; explaining his Chinese ancestry, escaping to Vietnam as a child, and marrying a Khmer woman. As we’re waiting to board to the plane, I peek at the business card he thrust in my hand earlier, in awe of the six languages he’s fluent in.

Before arriving in Southeast Asia, I had always wondered—what does it actually mean to be Vietnamese American? As a kid, classmates touched my hair like I was an exotic zoo animal. At home, I was an ungrateful brat; born long after my parents settled in the States to fully understand the poverty and racism they encountered. As a result, I thought of my hybrid identity like a game of tug of war; two cultures yanking me in opposite directions. But what I failed to understand was how much of a superpower this is, giving me the ability to transform and tailor my persona based on the audience I’m addressing.

So yes, according to my 23andme profile, I am 93% Vietnamese. But I was born in the suburbs of Seattle, making me an American. I married a white man, speak English as a first language, and am conversationally fluent in Vietnamese for about an hour before my brain aches. Right now I’m a writer, but I’ve also been a marketer, emergency manager, and researcher. The day I got pregnant, I became a mother, resulting in a flurry of baby formula samples and Volvo ads in my mailbox. When I stepped back from full-time employment to raise my daughter, I suddenly became a “stay-at-home mom”, implying I spend my free time driving to Costco in a mid-sized SUV. Just because brand marketers chop up the population into little micro-segments to peddle more products doesn’t mean we need to believe them. We’re individuals bearing witness to life that ebbs and flows, meaning your sense of self can (and should!) as well.

Maybe you don’t have a dual identity like me. But at least once in your life, you’ve probably wondered, “Who am I?” or “What is my true and authentic self?” Instead of spiraling into an existential crisis, reframe the question to:

“What are the different roles I balance, and
how do they shape the way I see the world?

Leave me a comment and let me know.

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WRITE 👩🏽‍💻

As of this writing, I’ve officially completed three weeks of book coaching. So far, it feels as if I’ve been exercising regularly for the past two years and recently hired a personal trainer. The result? Sore muscles and a bruised ego. Especially when I fumble in answering what should be a simple question:

“What is the major flaw holding [your protagonist] back, and how
does this prevent them from [achieving their goal]?”

All this to say, some days I feel really confident in my story, and others where I wonder if this book is going to kill me. But the rigor is exactly what I need—if I take an hour to explain the various beats and scenes to my coach, then an agent definitely won’t give me the time of day.

LIFE 🏡

My daughter just finished summer camp, meaning it is a free-for-all until September. 😱 So on the second-to-last day while she was there and the house cleaners were hard at work and my husband was in the office, I talked myself into a solo brunch.

Tofu scramble with Beyond sausage & mushroom gravy, hash browns, and avocado toast.

Thanks to the restaurant’s spotty Wi-fi, it was a fleeting moment of peace where I got to eat uninterrupted, instead of nudging my daughter to go to the bathroom or worrying about the laundry or getting my writing time in. It also reminded me that in a year plus, my daughter will be in full-time kindergarten, giving me more time to build my brand. As hard as it’s been to step back from my career, I have zero regrets.

BALANCE 🧘🏻‍♀️📚

But choices have cascading effects, which means I’m back to writing in the morning. Six days a week from 6:30 am to 8 am, I’m usually huddled in my office working on this newsletter or a scene. Fridays and Sundays are when I get longer stretches of time in, taking calls or doing administrative tasks. When I’m not working, I (attempt to) declutter the crafting supplies on my dining room table, cook dinner, and play with my daughter. Screen time is limited to car rides, when I’m doing my daily yoga routine, and after she gets ready for bed.

Parenting this way means I say no a lot: to dinner invitations, parties, weekend playdates. Sometimes that’s frustrating. Then I remember that the highest priority is the health and safety of myself, my daughter, and my husband. After that, my book and my business. So whenever people tell me they want to start a creative hobby or turn a side project into a business, my first question is always:

“What are you willing to give up?”

READING 📚⏯

Central Places by Delia Cai. There is so much I relate to in this story—main protagonist Audrey’s contentious relationship with her mother, an unrequited crush on the high school football running back, and spending the first eighteen years of life having her last name pronounced incorrectly by peers and teachers. If it feels a little slow in the beginning, don’t be alarmed. I was about to head to bed until I got to the Break Into 2, and then ended up finishing the book…at 11:47 pm.

STREAMING ⏯

“Body Talk” from Yung Bae and Mayer Hawthorne. Search no more: This is the breezy summer dance anthem you’ve been looking for. Mayer Hawthorne is the only artist I’ve seen twice in concert, and there would have been a third time if I was willing to hang out on a college campus lawn to see his DJ set earlier this month. Then I calculated the average hourly rate of a babysitter in the Seattle area, and that was the end of the inner debate. Also worth checking out: His funky side project with hip hop producer Jake One.

COOKING 👩🏽‍🍳

Feasting At Home’s veggie burgers. If you have a plant-based friend coming over for a weekend BBQ, they will appreciate this mushroom-and-chickpea-laced burger. I didn’t have enough quinoa, forgot to roast the chickpeas, used a blender instead of a food processor, skipped the baking step, and somehow, they still turned out delicious. As someone who usually rolls their eyes at “best-ever” descriptions, this was a pleasant surprise.

Happy Solstice,

Sophia :)

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P.S. In case you missed it, here’s last month’s essay on why I will never be a morning person and the eventual realization that personal development is personal.