Sisterhood: Reflections & Transitions

Excerpt from “Sisterhood: Reflections & Transitions,” page thirty-three.

Mom dressed us up in traditional Hmong outfits one day to snap some photos. From left to right, me, Jouapag. and Mayzong.

Sisterhood: Reflections & Transitions

WORDS BY KIA LEE

PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE LEE FAMILY ARCHIVE

PHOTOSHOOT BY MAILEE YANG

Three Hmong American womxn look back on their journeys togetherfrom childhood to adulthood.

Growing up as the youngest out of three sisters was a real pain but also a blessing. My two sisters have always been outspoken, unapologetic, and stubborn. When we were younger, I loathed these traits during petty arguments. However, I’ve learned that these are the exact traits I need to stand my ground and fight for what I want as a womxn of color.

Although we have a relationship where I can confide in them and seek advice, it’s rarely the other way around. Maybe it’s because I’m their little sister, or because of the distance that physically separated us for a couple of crucial years. Maybe it’s because they have experienced similar stages of their lives together and I relate to them less than they can relate to each other.

For the first time, I sat down with Jouapag and Mayzong to talk about their experiences growing up as first-generation Southeast Asian American womxn. To hear them speak about their journey of identity acceptance, spirituality, and mental health reminded me just how strong and resilient they’ve grown up to be. They may say that they’re the ones who’ve watched me grow up, but I too have observed their self-growth. In a world where womxn are constantly dismissed and silenced, they continuously redefine what it means to be Hmong-American womxn on their own terms.

Taking photos in our backyard was a thing… From left to right, Jouapag, Mayzong, my dad holding my youngest brother Jing, Xang, and me.

Give a brief introduction about yourselves.

Jouapag: My name is Jouapag. I’m 27 years old and I identify with she/hers pronouns. I’m a wife, soon to be mother and eldest daughter of my family. I’ve lived in Minnesota my whole life.

Mayzong: I hate this question (laughs). I am a young professional and a lifelong learner, and I really believe that through and through. I’m also still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up, even though I’m 25 years old.

How do you view your role as the oldest and second-oldest siblings?

Jouapag: When I finally understood that I was the guinea pig child, I didn’t have a lot of negativity about it. As the oldest sister, I see my role as the person who brings the family together. I get to be the bridge between our parents and you siblings. I think being an older sister has been a good exercise for me to realize that I can’t control anyone. I see you siblings going through journeys similar to mine, but all I can really do is offer advice and talk with you all about it. I love being an oldest sister. It’s what makes me bossy and I don’t care (laughs).

Mayzong: Honestly, I feel blessed. I feel like Jouapag did a lot more of the emotional labor, arguing and fighting, while I was more like a cheerleader and follower. I think it was difficult as the second-oldest too, because growing up, Jouapag was like the model minority kid (laughs). I remember when we were really young, Mom and Dad would be like, “Why don’t you have good grades like Jouapag?” I’ve always felt like I’m never capable enough in academic work and fields.

As sisters, all of us have different dynamics, but I feel like I’m a medium between you and Jouapag. Not that I’m a mediator but I fluctuate between who I am. I can be really silly with you but I can’t be like that with Jouapag. At the same time, I can have really deep and personal conversations with Jouapag.

How do you view me as the youngest sister?

Jouapag: I see you as your own person, not just as the youngest girl in the family. It’s been amazing to watch you grow and develop a mind and voice of your own. I feel like we agree more when it comes to handling conflicts, but Mayzong is the opposite. She takes a tough love approach, whereas you and I are like, “Let’s sit down and talk.”

Mayzong: Super bratty (laughs). I actually feel a little bit sad because I didn’t grow up with you for as long. We only went to school for two years together. You’re someone that I feel the need to protect and fight for since you’re younger than me. Because Jouapag and I have always had to test the waters for you siblings, I feel like we have to protect you all.

Celebrating my second birthday! From left to right, Jouapag, my mom holding me, and Mayzong.

Cooling off to a hot summer day in June 1998. From left to right, Jouapag, Mayzong, and me.

I think many Southeast Asians born in the United States experience communication barriers with their parents, and it can be difficult to have honest conversations with them. Growing up, what was your relationship like with Mom and Dad? What has changed since then or has it stayed the same?

Jouapag: Being the oldest makes a really big difference. When I moved to college, our parents began to see me as an adult rather than a kid. My relationship with them changed when I got married as well, and they saw me as an adult member of the community. I think being married is a social passport in Southeast Asian culture. You become recognized as your own family unit.

When it comes to communicating with our parents, thankfully, they taught me how to speak Hmong when I was a kid. I’m still relatively fluent. Because I’m able to meet them halfway, we can have these deeper conversations.

As much as our parents help shape us, we have equal responsibility to shape them too. We’re off trying to save the world and instead of asking them to be with us, we often brush them aside. I know everyone comes from a different family situation, but I hope that before we demand for our parents to understand us, we take some time to understand them too.

Mayzong: Sometimes it’s hard to express my emotions because the language is difficult at times. Our parents lack in English and I lack in Hmong. To me that’s really sad, because we literally cannot speak in one language where we understand each other thoroughly.

I agree that Mom and Dad do have a more comfortable relationship with us two. Jouapag and I had to help them understand what it meant to be a Hmong American kid, so we had to communicate so much more with them when we were younger.

What was your experience growing up as a Southeast Asian American womxn, more specifically as Hmong American womxn?

Jouapag: We lived out in the suburbs, so I went to school with a lot of white kids. Because of that, I always just tried to fit in more with the white kids. Growing up, if we had to go to a string tying ceremony and people at school asked me what I did that weekend, I would just lie because it wasn’t “normal”.

Finally, I went to college and realized that I don’t fit in. Being with other Southeast Asian, Hmong and international students in college, I finally started becoming more okay and prideful about my differences.

That’s where I discovered my passion for inclusion, diversity, and social justice. Coming to understand that all the reasons why I’m different allows me to better understand people who are different from me. A quote that I aspire to live by is, “I want to build a world where many worlds can exist.”

Mayzong: Being Hmong to me means I belong to a unique culture with a unique history. I belong to a very long line of ancestors who have been displaced multiple times but have persevered for centuries. Perseverance runs in my blood. I have no reason to give up because my people have given me every reason to always have hope.

As a Hmong womxn, I also have to work a lot harder for what I want. It’s not necessarily that I cannot fail, but failure is not an option. It’s partly because of how I was raised by our parents and how they conditioned me to believe that failure is not an option.

Another part is that because our parents have already given me basic survival needs as a foundation, I have to do better.

What does mental health mean to you as a Southeast Asian womxn, and how have you coped with your own mental health problems?

Jouapag: In Hmong culture, we’re taught to practice overdrive versus just sitting with the dark parts in our life. We are really resilient because of our history of trauma, war, and violence, but sometimes we mistake ignoring our pain for resilience.

Blogging made me realize that I’m actually not okay, and that’s how I started my blog Indigo Pinecones. I realized that maybe if I’m feeling this way, other people might be too.

It’s one thing to know that you’re unhappy and it’s another thing to do something about it. Healing does not happen alone.

Mayzong: Specifically within the Hmong culture, there aren’t a lot of mental health-related terms that exist. Also, I’m still dealing with childhood trauma that has never been spoken about.

Besides that, people have mainly perceived me as Asian, not Southeast Asian. There’s a different identity being Southeast Asian, and I guess I kind of have the imposter syndrome. I have a very serious sense of being inadequate. I also have a lot of negative self talk, which is something I’m learning how to unbuild.

My lightbulb moments with addressing my mental health came in different phases. When I got to college, I realized that I must be doing something right and that I should stop second-guessing myself. When I began my first professional job, I felt stuck and like I wasn’t doing anything more in my life.

I’ve moved into a different job position, and since then, I now realize how dark that period in my life was. When I finally got a new job, I saw how much more light was coming through me. Sometimes you can literally feel how much light is coming onto you because you just feel a lot less stressed.

My willingness to believe my own lies about my happiness was surprising to me. I kept telling myself, “this is okay, you’re not dead so you’re fine.” Now that I know that feeling, I know to never allow myself to feel like that ever again.

How did you come to focus on your spiritual journey?

Jouapag: First, I had to acknowledge my own unhappiness. For a long time, I lived with an overwhelming amount of anxiety and sense of powerlessness. I started seeing a life coach—a Hmong gentleman named Bruce Thao—who has a very holistic approach that involved exploring what my spirituality meant to me.

I started doing more research on meditation and how to deal with my anxiety. I realized that I needed to practice mindfulness, meditate, and ground myself in the day-to-day rather than worry about the future. When I started understanding my anxiety and the stress I was putting my body through, I was able to set boundaries with people and cut out drama. That’s how I started to explore my own spirituality. We never grew up in a religious household, Mom and Dad were never really super strict. It’s kind of funny that now as an adult, I’m trying to figure out what religion and spirituality mean to me. I feel calmer and happier.

Photo by Mailee Yang

Mayzong: I would definitely say that I’m on my own spiritual journey. I’m more spiritual than I am religious. I’ve eventually come to understand that if me and my soul can never feel full, then I will never feel satisfied in my life.

Even when it comes to letting go of past trauma and pain, I have to let go spiritually and emotionally too. I feel like I’m at a point where I feel content but I’m still seeking for more because there’s no endpoint in life. I think it’s a continuous search of adding things and collecting—emotionally, intellectually, everything.

The purpose of this magazine is to envision a reality for Southeast Asian representation. Any advice or words of wisdom for young Southeast Asians who may read the magazine?

Jouapag: I personally hate giving young people advice. I sometimes think advice from adults is more about their own life regrets rather than truly authentically good advice.

Don’t listen to adults about advice because it’s usually just a list of their own regrets. You have your own life to live. Make the mistakes you want to make and learn the lessons you want to learn.

Mayzong: You’re not alone. You have a community. Many Southeast Asians come from similar stories of being refugees, so just know that you’re not alone in your feelings. Ask for help when needed. Don’t expect yourself to just go through it alone.

Kia's website: kiaclee.com

Mayzong's Instagram: __mzl

Jouapag's blog: indigopinecones.com

Mailee's website: hergoldenhour.com