Som Phin shares about her experiences maintaining her cultural history.
Growing up Cambodian-American in Bakersfield, California, I spent years trying to make myself less Cambodian. I wanted to fit in.
My English wasn’t strong, and I spent years in ESL classes. I was bullied for our food, for being Buddhist, even for the way I looked.
My family of seven was on welfare and food stamps, and my parents collected cans for extra money. Once, I ran into a classmate while digging through a gas-station trash can for recyclables. I was humiliated. It made me want to hide anything that made us different.
Then I became a parent.
Suddenly, I was thinking about what my children would inherit from me. Would they know why their grandparents came to America? Would they know Cambodian stories beyond the Khmer Rouge? Would they know the mythology, food, dance, Buddhist traditions and ordinary family memories that existed alongside survival?
I realized that if I didn’t preserve those things, I couldn’t assume someone else would. That realization changed my relationship with my identity—and eventually what I wrote about.
I began returning to Cambodian history and culture through fiction, partly because I hadn’t always understood my heritage.
Maybe that’s one of the strange things about assimilation. Sometimes we spend our youth trying to distance ourselves from where we come from, only to spend adulthood trying to find our way back.
Now, I want my children to inherit belonging. I want them to know they never have to become less Cambodian to become more American.
With a Perspective, I’m Som Phin.
Som Phin is a Cambodian-American author whose fiction explores Cambodian history, culture, family and the immigrant experience. She grew up in California and now resides in the Bay Area.