Being trapped in a cage like a bird.
I am a Hmong American. My parents came to the USA as refugees after the Secret War in Laos, instigated by the CIA of America.
A little backstory of my parents before I reveal details about my own life.
My father lost his dad during the war when they were fleeing the Vietnamese. He also lost a little brother when they were fleeing to a creek. My grandmother had recently given birth a newborn 6 months prior. While they fled and hid by a little creek my grandmother and several other Hmong villagers had to drown their own children so the Vietnamese wouldn't hear them, so they could escape. My father and his mom, my grandmother, escaped the Vietnamese by swimming across the Mekong River into Thailand. As did many others who were fortunate enough to make it to the other side without drowning or being shot at by the Vietnamese. My grandfather was captured and forced into an internment camp where he was later drugged and poisoned by the Vietnamese.
My mother lost both of her parents at a very young age and was orphaned and was raised by her dad's second wife(In Hmong culture guys are allowed to have as many wives as they wish). My mother told me that she was asked by her dad to go fetch some water from the creek for lunch. But when she went to fetch water the Vietnamese bombed their farm house and killed both her parents. (Being born and educated in the USA I now know that it wasn't the Vietnamese who were dropping the bombs. It was actually the USA who dropped all the bombs and poisoned the vegetation with pesticides. A big misunderstanding and misconception among Hmong elderly today, who still believe it was the Vietnamese who dropped the bombs and poisoned the vegetation, when in fact it was the Americans.) My mother was scared when she came back to the destroyed farm house and ran back to the village. Unfortunately at this time, the Vietnamese had raided the village and started shooting Hmong villagers on sight. My mother's uncle came back to the village to look for survivors and found her hiding in a water pot. And they ran away to hide by a creek before attempting to flee and swim across the Mekong River into Thailand.
I, being 31 years old now, understand that my parent's never truly had a childhood and had a very rough life growing up. A life filled with poverty and suffering. So its very hard for me to hate my parent's despite how awfully they treated me growing up. I still love my parent's but I will never forgive them for robbing me of my childhood and destroying my mentality.
Growing up, I don't believe I ever had any true happiness or fond memories of being a kid growing up. I was never allowed to go outside and play with other kids. I wasn't allowed to have any friends. I was just a bird trapped in a cage all my life. Even to this day. I still cant do anything without asking for approval from my parents, even though I'm a grown adult now.
I remember a time when my father bought me a bike, but never allowed me to ride it. I would see kids playing outside and riding their bikes. But I was never allowed to play outside. I was told that he bought me a bike so I could look at it, but not ride it. One day I being a kid snuck outside and rode it anyway. And when my parents came home from work and saw me outside they took me back inside and hit my legs and ears with a window blind turner.
We never celebrated American holidays. The one time my cousin(Their family adopted American culture) invited me to go trick or treating with them. I really wanted to go and try it out. But I was too loud when I tried to sneak out to join my cousin. My dad woke up saw me and yelled at me to come back inside. And he told me that if I choose to go when I come back he is going to break my legs. I was so afraid I came back inside and just looked outside and watched other kids trick or treating like I always do every single year.
I remember a time when I was at school and our teacher asked us to share scary stories and I "accidentally" shared my scary stories of my dad and mom hitting me and beating me. I had no idea what I did at that time, because I was just a kid in 2nd grade. My teacher had called CPS and called my father to come to the school. They had cops ready to arrest my father. But when my father came to the school and I saw him I ran to him and hugged him. My teacher saw that and started crying. I'm not sure what happened but they let my father go on cultural differences. (During this time Hmong people had only been in the USA for about 10-20 years and have yet to adapt to American culture. The Hmong people are a tribal culture, they came from a world of darkness, with no knowledge of the outside world or even of the existence of science and technology.) When I got home my mother blamed me for getting my father in trouble and beat my ears and my mouth with a shoe. And told me I was heartless for telling my teacher that my father and mother had hit me. Later on as I grew up my teacher asked me why I hugged my father knowing that my father abused me and beat me. I simply told her because he's my dad. Don't all kids run up to and hug their dads? I never understood my teacher's question until super later in life when I was around my mid 20s. My ignorance as a kid didn't even register or realize that what I had experienced growing up was child abuse until years later. Because I was always told by my parents and our elders that it was our culture and our way of life.
When I was 16 my mother and I got into an argument and she kicked me out. Told me to go find a new family if I didn't want to live with them no more. So I told her okay then I'll leave and try to find a better mom and dad in the next life and I ran away. I didn't get far because my father had called the cops on me. I told the cops that I was running away because my mother told me to leave. So I'm leaving to find a place to jump off a bridge. They arrested me and threw me into a mental asylum for about 6 months. I was let out on good behavior. But my life was never the same again. Again after the hospital learned about the abuse I endured as a kid. They called CPS and they tried to arrest my father and mother. A Hmong interpreter/translator stepped in and pretty much saved my parents from going to jail basing the abuse on cultural differences between Hmong culture and American culture.
After this incident I had finally learned that although child abuse was taboo in American culture. It was not taboo in Hmong culture. As Hmong parents used physical abuse as a way of disciplining children. That still doesn't make it right or okay to hit kids so hard you end up bruising them.
Fast forward, I'm now in my 30s. I'm socially awkward, have no friends at all. And I have no idea what the fuk I'm doing with my life. I have no idea how to live only how to listen and obey. I'm starting to realize I need to leave and find my peace. I need to move out and escape this never ending nightmare. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents but I can never forgive them for all the physical and emotional abuse they put me through. Its like I finally opened my eyes and I finally see the nightmare for what it is. I only wish I saw and realized it sooner.