Kazoua Lee, 36
In the United States, 1980: “Our relatives sponsored us to come America. They dropped us off at our new home without much training on the functionality of appliances. The only place we saw that had water in the house was the toilet, so we used that for nearly everything until someone told us that water comes from the faucet We used shampoo for toothpaste and dish soap to wash our clothes. We couldn’t read or remember much of what they told us about what the products were used for. My little cousin bathed on the bathroom floor with a bucket of water.
At school, I didn’t know what to do when I needed to use the bathroom. I tried to explain by using my hands and making noises. Finally, when I couldn’t hold it anymore, I just ran to the bathroom. The school thought I was mentally disabled because I couldn’t speak and instead used my hands to communicate. I got a ‘time out’ for using the bathroom without permission. I was in a no-win situation. I tried imitating others when they talked just so I could practice. For the first year of school, my daily task was putting together a huge puzzle of the fifty states of America. I didn’t know English or what a state was, let alone where it was on the map. How was I supposed to accomplish this huge task?
After high school was when the real drama began. Everything that happened prior to this part of my life, I could figure out. But this new situation, I couldn’t. I started dating an older man, who became the first love of my life. We dated for two months when the unthinkable happened. I found out I was pregnant. I was shocked, scared to death of how my family, friends and relatives would react, and scared my boyfriend was going to leave me. With a baby growing inside me, if I went home, my parents would force me to marry him or tell him to pay for what he had done to heal my family and me. Having the ceremony and addressing this issue publicly meant the whole world would know what happened. Consequently, the whole Hmong clan and community would look down upon my family. I didn’t want to be the sole person responsible for doing this to them. I loved them too much.
When I told my boyfriend I was pregnant, he suggested an abortion. An abortion was not right to me. I told him we should get married. He told me that he was already married with six children. I didn’t know what to say, think or feel at that moment. It was as though I wished I would have never heard that and this whole situation was only a hallucination I was living. I felt sad, angry, lonely and betrayed.
My parents told me not to come home anymore and to get married if I wanted to continue seeing him. I didn’t want to see him anymore, but I had a baby growing inside me. The choice I was about to make was not for myself but for my child and my family. I had disgraced them beyond belief and had no choice but to become a second wife. I left with him that day.
I was not comfortable with the idea of being a second wife and felt extremely guilty. I knew I was breaking up a family and they would resent me for intruding into their lives forever. I didn’t know if I could handle being with his wife or how his children would feel toward me. The life ahead was going to be hard, but I was willing to take this demeaning role for the mistake of getting pregnant. As a second wife, I had to be patient and not expect too much from him, if anything at all, for he had his first wife and children. I had to have a big heart and love and care for his children as though they were my own.
The first wife and I didn’t speak much. We lived separate lives in one home. I knew she was hurt and would always feel bitterness toward me. It was as if I was the evil witch who was just a nuisance. My husband changed from the charismatic Prince Charming to a completely different person. He was controlling and irresponsible, and we never talked much. He never once said he loved me and kept everything to himself. I felt left in the dark. I had the name of being married, but was alone in this relationship otherwise.”
Excerpt from Kazoua's story, written and photographed by Kou Vang