Seng Lo , 55

“My husband and I have been married for over eighteen years, from our early journey in the war torn country of Laos, to refugee camps in Thailand, then eventually to the United States.

As we were approaching the airport in America, peering out the plane window, I saw tall white buildings that kissed the blue sky. I thought that we were going to live in those beautiful buildings and wondered how magnificent they must be inside.

My family and I spent the night at the airport because our sponsors did not come to pick us up. The next morning when they did come, we were taken to a small town called Greenish, Arkansas, four hours away. We passed the beautiful tall buildings, the street lamps and electricity poles, the houses, until there was just grass and fields. It felt like we were going back in time to Laos.

The tiny town had 58 new refugee families—a mixture of Lao, Hmong, Vietnamese, Cambodian and Thai. We were given jobs right away. Our jobs were plucking chickens at a plantation. We would pluck chickens even when our hands were sore and blistering. There were even workers whose nails were peeling back and falling off from all the harsh work. Our hands developed infections; the fingers and nails would be swollen with pus. This was even worse than being in the refugee camps. We were at the plantation for six months, until we were rescued by our kind English teachers, who sponsored us to live with them in Little Rock, Arkansas.

We did not have belongings or even dishes until we arrived in Little Rock. At the plantation, we were given one big pot to cook out of and plastic plates and utensils. We had no pillows to sleep on, even when we asked for them. They told us there were too many of us and so we couldn’t have pillows. We brought along two small blankets from Laos, and we used those as pillows. Now we were living in the big white buildings we first saw from the plane. Life was much better in Little Rock. Without skills and knowledge of English, we found jobs working at a factory, making watches. This was a progressive step in our journey from Laos to America. We lived in Little Rock for four years.

We heard that Wisconsin had good jobs and schools, so we decided to move there. My husband had developed asthma, and in 1994, he had an operation to remove a portion of his lung. Since then he has been unable to work. I became the single income provider for our family and have been since. I am most proud of my position as a Hmong wife and mother.

I believe that I chose a good spouse and have raised good children. I have done all of this always with a smile.

As our children grew up, adapting to the new set of American rules, it caused great tension between my husband and me in trying to raise them right while retaining values of the Hmong culture. We encountered intense disagreements and even physically fighting at times. But we understood that all of the problems were an extension of our disagreements about how to raise our children.

My husband is short tempered, but he will acknowledge when he is wrong. In the end, I am the one who usually has to smooth things over and make everything right again. I was taught by my elders not to gossip to others about my sufferings or feelings, or air my dirty laundry. So, even if I was upset or wanted to express my point of view, I did not tell anyone. I kept it to myself and told myself to forget about it.

I did not like that my father took a second wife. I watched my mother’s life being taken away by another woman who came into our family. Hmong men are selfish when it comes to the choice of having more than one wife. It’s not about loving the family. It’s about loving themselves. I believe they have the power to have more than one wife because Hmong women accept it. The Hmong society will change when we as Hmong women stop allowing polygamy.”

---

Excerpt from Seng's story, written by Christa Xiong and photographed by Kou Vang.