“My Grandmother Empowers Me”

Eve Vang

Hmong | Saint Paul, MN | she/her/hers

My grandmother died in 2010. The truth is that she had been waiting to die for years; attempting suicide more than once in her life. Though I only remember great things about my grandmother, she didn’t believe she had lived a good life.

To me, she was brave, strong, and curious. When I was young, my grandmother never feared taking the city bus everywhere even though she didn’t speak English. She simply remembered when to get off the bus. We would go on adventures to a fruit store downtown Saint Paul. It was those adventures with my grandmother that made me a curious person. 

My grandmother was known as the most beautiful girl in her village in Laos, but she married an abusive husband who made her feel unworthy and unloved. Together, they only had one son (my father). She considered herself lucky that that husband died in an accident while hunting wild boars in the jungle, but becoming a widow meant that she was looked down upon and cast aside. Unless she quickly remarried, often becoming someone’s second or third wife, she would be discarded.  

So instead of finding love, she married my step-grandfather because he had enough money to take care of her and my father. She wanted to make sure my father had a solid roof over him. After the Vietnam War, the family moved to a refugee camp, and then finally came to America in the mid-1970s.

I was born and raised in Saint Paul, Minnesota. I am Hmong American, and have always felt caught between two cultures. I’d eat cereal for breakfast then eat qaib hau (boiled chicken) for dinner. I would fall in love with a Hmong boy; then, I’d fall for Dan.

Dan is a White, tall, and lanky man with a crooked nose – not my type at all. Even though he was competitive, he would let me win when we played card games of Speed. He’d look at me sideways with a curious twinkle in his eyes, and that got my attention. When he asked me out, I said yes.

I never thought I’d date a White man. I thought they smelled and were hairy. But, after taking Dan to a Laotian restaurant, he surprised me. I felt a connection and he was genuinely interested in culture and history. So, I started learning things about him. I learned he is Jewish; that his father worked for the Metro Authority in New York City, and his mom was retired and travels. 

I was scared to tell my parents that I was dating a White man. One time, I snuck Dan into my parents’ house to watch a movie. My grandmother was home. She watched him closely as she sewed. I noticed her smiling. 

My parents came home, and I hid Dan in the garage for a good 10 minutes. When my dad found out, he was so angry. He said, “They’ll only use you and leave you.” My parents and I argued about my relationship that night.

After the argument, I drove my grandmother to Golden Harvest, a large Hmong grocery store on the East Side of Saint Paul. In the parking lot my grandmother told me to listen to my dad, saying that even though he can be harsh, he was right. I shared how I felt, and asked her, “Have you ever been in love?” 

She was taken aback and didn’t know what to say. Dan and I parted ways. We eventually chose different paths. Years later, I thought about my conversation with grandmother. By this time, she had attempted another suicide. I stayed with her in the hospital. It dawned on me as I sat by her side that maybe she might have never experienced love until she had us, her grandchildren. She might not have fought for love, but she loved us. Her story and life inspire me to never be afraid to be independent and strong; to never be afraid of my power as a woman.

#MinneAsianStories Series