In this memoir, debut author Lihalakha reflects upon the struggles and self-doubts she experienced as a Vietnamese immigrant to the United States.
The author was only 2 years old in 1975, when she, her parents, and her siblings boarded their fishing boat and fled the tiny fishing village of Bến Đá, Vũng Tàu, during the closing days of the Vietnam War. Later, she had no memories of her homeland, or of the complicated journey that eventually brought her family to Panama City in the Florida Panhandle. She was raised in the city’s small Vietnamese community and attended the Catholic church. As a child, she often served as a translator for her parents, who had difficulty communicating in English; they spoke only Vietnamese at home. Her father continued to earn his living as a fisherman in Florida, but died young, when the author was 8. Although she shares fond memories of him treating her with kindness, she also calls him a “drunk” and writes that he physically abused her mother. When he died, the author says, her mother began physically and verbally abusing her and her other siblings. Lihalakha writes poignantly and often angrily of her “shame and embarrassment” about the family’s poverty and her envy over food that her classmates had that her family couldn’t afford, which she describes in vivid detail. She also tells of feeling diminished by microaggressions from her White schoolmates regarding her culture; she says that she kept her parents’ abuse a secret, because, she wondered, “Was this style of parenting just another thing about being Vietnamese or Asian to be ashamed of?” Overall, readers will find her story consistently engaging, but it doesn’t become truly riveting until the final chapter, when she tells of learning, in 2018, the comprehensive and harrowing tale of her parents’ escape from Vietnam, including a month they spent at sea, in search of a port that would allow a boatload of immigrants to disembark.
A touching exploration of personal identity and an informative immigration chronicle.