The color of freedom
by Stephanie Crets

One of the few Hmong students at the UI, Seashia Vang works to bring about awareness for the ongoing genocide against the Hmong people.

Her name means “likable” in Miao-Yao, the language of the Hmong people. Seashia Vang plucked chickens as a girl and dyed her hair pink as a teenager; now, as a young woman, she is an activist for the Hmong people, an ethnic group indigenous to Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

The 20-year-old UI student is hard to miss. Though she’s small, her brightly colored mismatched clothing and wild, dark hair pulled messily into a ponytail catch the eye. Vang trots through Iowa City with an overstuffed forest-green backpack, distributing fliers to inspire awareness about and activism for the ongoing genocide afflicting the Hmong people in Laos, with her parents’ former struggles to get to America as the backbone of her fight.

Vang grew up on the East Side of Des Moines with her parents, an older brother, and two younger siblings. While growing up, she said, her mother, Pa Vang, continually told her, “Friends are only here for a little bit, but family is here forever.”

Coming to America

Pa Vang was orphaned while growing up in northern Laos and forced to live with an abusive step-aunt, who made her eat rice off the floor. Her childhood, she said, is one reason building a family of her own is important.

Seashia Vang’s father, Song Vang, lost his father during the “Secret War,” a campaign started by the CIA to recruit Laotian Hmong to attack North Vietnamese supply lines during the Vietnam War. Not long after he joined the battle, Song Vang’s father died when his plane was shot down. He was one of more than 40,000 of the recruited Hmong men killed, with countless others disabled or never found, as reported by the Hmong Cultural and Resource Center.
The fall of the pro-American government in Laos in1975 and the consequent takeover of the communist Pathet Lao regime created a dangerous environment for the Hmong — they were seen as pro-imperialists, and they are still persecuted today for their involvement in the war. Thousands of Hmong refugees fled to Thailand to save their lives, and many died en route. Others were turned away at the Thai border.

“An estimated two-thirds of the Hmong population in Laos — grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters to the Hmong of America today — died,” said Kao Kalia Yang, a Hmong writer and author of The Latehomecomer: A Hmong Family Memoir. “[The will] to live forced the lucky families successfully across the Mekong River and into the refugee camps of Thailand, waiting there for America.”

Pa Vang, her sister, and her step-aunt made the perilous trek to Thailand, but the relief of safety was short-lived — soon after their arrival, Pa Vang’s sister intentionally overdosed, telling Pa Vang to be strong as she died by her side. Pa Vang spent the four following years at the camp.

Song Vang was one of the few to receive a worry-free ride to a refugee camp, thanks to the CIA and his father’s involvement in the war. He stayed there for two years.

Both of Seashia Vang’s parents eventually made it to America in the late 1970s after converting to Catholicism and earning sponsorship. Others, such as Kalia Yang, had to find their own way to America.

“[We came] to America on one-way flights, paying for those flights on welfare,” Kalia Yang said.

For many Hmong immigrants, coming to America failed to meet high expectations of freedom. Rather, the Hmong people faced a new set of challenges — namely the collision of cultures and the ethnocentrism faced with living in a new country.

“People too often didn’t understand where we were coming from or why,” Kalia Yang said. “[They] were not ready to hear our stories because our accents were too thick. There were stories we’ve never had the opportunity to tell.”

While Pa Vang remained obedient to her native culture and continued working hard to appease her step-aunt, Song Vang quickly assimilated into American culture. Seisha Vang likened her father’s style then to Don Johnson from “Miami Vice.”

“He even changed his name to ‘Pacific’ to sound more American,” Seisha Vang said and laughed.

Her parents eventually met in Chicago when Song Vang moved there to do social work with teenagers. Some time into their relationship, the couple stayed out all night — a taboo in Hmong culture, which demands, in that case, that the two people get married. Pa Vang’s step-aunt firmly disapproved of the union and demanded that Song Vang pay a bride price to wed Pa Vang, a Hmong tradition that some Hmong immigrants still practice. With little money, the newlyweds moved to Des Moines to join the burgeoning Hmong population and start a family.

Growing up Hmong in Iowa

Seashia Vang always knew she was different. At her predominantly white elementary school, the other children asked her questions that she described as “racism out of curiosity.”

“Why are your eyes so small?” they asked. “Why do you look like that?”

She became withdrawn and barely spoke as a child. When called on in class, she refused to answer or cried until the teacher moved on to another student.

While the 2000 census reported only 303 Hmong living in Iowa, the population is continually growing as more flee continued persecution in Laos. Approximately half of Hmong in the United States today reside in the Midwest, mostly in Minnesota and Wisconsin, as a result of a recent population shift that’s been attributed to a higher quality of life and lower cost of living. While the latest census reported more than 183,000 Hmong residing in the United States, current estimates reach more than 300,000.

As did many Hmong families, the Vangs struggled to earn money and received welfare to supplement Song Vang’s income. According to the 2000 census, 30 percent of U.S. Hmong received public assistance versus 3 percent of the entire U.S. population.

At many Christmases, Seashia Vang received gifts from Toys for Tots, something the neighbor children used to tease her about. Although her family practiced elements of Christianity and went to a Christian church — in which services were spoken in Miao-Yao and run by the Hmong community in Des Moines — the Hmong traditions were still strong in her family.

For instance, they sacrificed chickens for good luck; Seashia Vang held down the chicken’s head while her mother cut the neck. “It didn’t freak me out because I knew it was my duty to help my mom out,” she said, though she jokingly worried PETA might come after her family.

Although Seashia Vang and her mother don’t see eye-to-eye on many things, their relationship is still strong. “When I had the chance to meet Seashia’s mother, I was struck by how unfiltered their interactions were,” said Adrienne Hurley, a former assistant professor of Japanese at the UI and Seashia Vang’s favorite professor. “Seashia talked with her mom just like she’d talk to a friend. It really seemed as though they were best friends.”

As she grew older, Seashia Vang joined HOPE, a drama group that spoke to kids about sexual assault, rape, and other problems. She then earned the lead in a local theater production of Fiddler on the Roof and felt destined to be America’s first Hmong actress. “I just realized that people can judge you, but you should focus on how you see yourself,” she said.

In high school, Seisha Vang became a cheerleader, known as “the Asian one,” and got her first taste of going to school with other minorities. “I was like, ‘Whoa, there are other Asians like me’; I couldn’t believe it,” she said. With the help of new friends, she fell in love with the punk-music scene. She dyed her hair pink, obsessed over Japanese fashion, and spent her days playing Dance Dance Revolution at the mall while maintaining a 4.0 GPA.

During her senior year of high school, she was caught off guard when she was chosen as Homecoming queen, pink hair and all. Teachers hugged and praised her for “not being the stereotypical winner,” and she was featured in a Minnesota-based Hmong newspaper.

‘It’s everything to her’

Now in her junior year, Seashia Vang is majoring in journalism and “Menards art,” as she calls it. Her art — although she’s only completed one printmaking piece — depicts the suffering of Hmong women living in Laos.

Kalia Yang said, “In Laos, there are still Hmong families — remnants from a long ago fight — being pursued, being killed, being called on for helping in Laos’s civil war or America’s ‘Secret War’ in Laos. Whichever way we choose to look at it, [the] history is very much alive and dangerous.”

Seisha Vang spent the past summer in Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam through the One World Foundation. She worked at an orphanage and taught children about indigenous Southeast Asian cultures and their own rights in the country.

Because she is American, she felt disconnected, but she cried when she saw the mountains in Laos her parents grew up around. “My mom told me she didn’t want me to know about the genocide, because she thought it would affect my learning while growing up,” she said. “She was scared that if I knew about the killings of the Hmong, it would scare my soul.”

“By the way she talks about this struggle, you know it is something very close to her heart; it’s everything to her,” said Marissa Gutierrez-Vicario, who spent the summer with her in Cambodia.

Vang can’t wait to go back to Laos. “I feel that the opportunities which I’ve been granted should be used to liberate the struggles of the Hmong in Laos, Thailand, and the U.S.” She wants to start an organization in Laos to help those suffering through teaching art and Hmong history.

“I think Hmong people in the Midwest, as with Hmong people all over the world, cannot afford to forget,” said Kalia Yang, “We should try to learn as much as we can, because the information will shadow our actions and shape our lives.”

Until she goes back to Laos, Vang spends her free time researching Southeast Asian cultures, contacting other Hmong people, including Kalia Yang, who is “an inspiration” to her, and handing out fliers around campus about the ongoing Hmong genocide.

“The younger generations of Hmong people need to know why they’re here and the struggles of their people,” Vang said. “I’d like to get them together and fight for the liberation of the Hmong people.”

She also helped start the Wild Rose Rebellion Book Club in Iowa City, in which members read about modern and historical activists. Next spring, she will spend the semester studying in Thailand through the International Partnership for Service and Learning. The program requires at least 20 hours of community volunteering a week that Vang plans to spend speaking with Hmong refugees, abused women, orphaned children, and those afflicted with AIDS.

Someday, she wants to write a book about her parents’ arduous journey to America.

“I often think of my students as holding my hopes for the future,” Hurley said. “When I think of Seashia, those hopes are filled with bright colors, and laughter, and with strength, and courage.”

The word Hmong means “free.” And Vang wants to help secure that freedom for the Hmong people.

About the writer Stephanie Crets spends her time writing, sewing, and playing video games. She is obsessed with designer fashion — namely everything by Joss Whedon. She writes a biweekly fashion column called “Fabulous Fashion Trends” for the Chicago-based nonprofit Fabulosity avec Amour.