Pa Moua, 28

Pa married at 19 after her parents’ disapproval of her going on vacation with her boyfriend.
“My life changed dramatically after I married. Paradise came crashing down as my husband and I began quarreling about the tiniest of things. We were not used to seeing each other every day or breathing the same air in the same house. I thought growing up in America exempted me from the expectations that came with my role as a ‘Hmong wife.’ Unpretentiously, I believed everything in my life would remain the same except that now I would live with my in-laws. I had no clue what was in store for me.

Soon, I was forced to become a submissive, (typical) traditional Hmong wife, one who cooked, cleaned and put her in-laws first on her priority list. My identity was kicked to the curb and my feelings no longer mattered. Over and over, my in-laws affirmed I was their oldest daughter-in-law (nyab hlob) and had inherited certain responsibilities with this role. My mother-in-law explained the rules of a ‘married Hmong woman.’

I was to become a mute and express no feelings in our household. I no longer could roam the shopping malls by myself for hours at a time unless my sisters-in-law were present. Each time I asked to use the car, I was expected to have a valid reason. My responsibilities grew daily, from washing the dishes to cleaning and cooking for the family and reserving enough time in the day to work at the family business as the sisters pretended that they had ‘1000’ pages of reading to do for their classes.

Such responsibilities were foreign to me, but I had to accept my obligations – making the best of it and convincing myself it was fun. My duties (chosen without my consent) were to help with the family business, so I was expected to set my college education aside (later, whenever). His parents laid out a ‘perfect plan’ for us to inherit the family business. I began to question their decisions as I evaluated my own goals.”

After a family argument, Pa was said to be disrespectful and her husband told her to leave. She eventually divorced.

“After a few months of my divorce, I began to hear rumors spreading about me. My Hmong community saw me as a threat and strongly expressed how they felt about divorcees. People were beginning to question why and how I was divorced. Since I was born into a culture dominated by men where women were blamed for ‘failed marriages,’ I became the center of attention in which ‘I’ was the cause of my broken marriage. Of course, being Hmong and a woman, I was born with these faults before they even happened. Everywhere I went people looked at me out of the corners of their eyes and whispered behind my back. They would tell their daughters to stay away from me and then criticize my broken marriage. I was considered nothing more than a slut, a whore, a bitch, a witch, and every degrading word that existed in the Hmong language. Parents looked down on me, not knowing my side of the story and instead judging me as a divorcee. Their words bit and stung me deep in my heart, and I had to push unwanted tears out of my eyes. I was branded as if I had a scarlet letter upon my chest. I was regarded as someone who would corrupt their daughters’ minds and teach them to rebel against their future husbands.

I grew strong. I was no longer naïve but aggressive in my newfound walk of life as a young Hmong woman. I let nothing stand in my way as I reached out to grab hold of my goals. Whatever I wanted, I sought and accomplished. I was no longer the scared little puppy but the tough – yet humble – pit bull. I grew stronger from the resentment of the community, and this strong foundation inspired my desire for success.”

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Excerpt from Pa's story, written by Pa Moua, photographed by Kou Vang