By Nongpeu Enochs
Growing up as a Cambodian immigrant had not always been easy. When my family first came to America when I was a child it was such a long time ago, I only remember bits and pieces of the airport. Living in America was a very significant culture shock, and my family had difficulties resettling. No one was there to properly help us acclimate to the life my family knew in Cambodia and what America was. My parents didn’t have the time to learn English and just went to work. My family didn’t have a car when we first came to America, we walked, or my father rode a bike to work.
One of the first places we lived in wasn’t in a good
neighborhood, I remember a lot of broken glass from that home until it burned
down. My first winter, my first snow was a big shock to me, I remember being in
a pink snowsuit reminiscent of the one from A Christmas Story, I looked like a
big starfish. I’d never seen snow before, so I didn’t know what it was, I got
sick from playing too long in the snow with my brother. Another big culture
shock for me that winter was Santa. Santa had been explained vaguely to us, the
idea of waiting anxiously all night for a bearded man in a red suit to arrive
with a gift or grant a wish, as a child I wondered was this mysterious man God,
was he Buddha. I was disappointed when my wish wasn’t granted, as a child I
wondered if it was because I was a naughty child. I hadn’t been asking for
much, I’d only wished to bring my family together, why could he grant all the
other wishes but not mine.
Our family wasn’t rich, during the better times growing up
in America, we had fun together and we took advantage of what nature had to
offer. When we did get a car we went on long drives to the coast, we went on
fishing trips to see the ocean and took walks in the mountains.
My family lived in Massachusetts, but it was long before
Lowell became the Khmer community it is now. There was a feeling of isolation,
of detachment from not only the Khmer community but the American community as
well. I spoke Khmer well enough, but we did not live near other Khmer people
for much of my childhood. American culture and Khmer culture often
contradicted, some of my teachers were often mad at me for not speaking up
enough or having eye contact; at home I would be yelled at for speaking when I wasn’t
asked and for looking at my parents. At school I didn’t feel like I fit in with
my classmates, I didn’t look like them and didn’t act like them no matter how I
tried to fit in. Some accepted me, some didn’t, but I never felt like I
belonged anywhere. As a child, I wondered if it was better where the rest of my
family had gone, to Canada or to France.
Other than family interaction with the Khmer community was
limited to none, as the community had not yet become what it is today. One of
the few interactions with other Khmer people was when my family had sponsored a
family, and my parents helped them get around and helped them to resettle in
America. My parents gave the family advice they had not received when we first
came to America, to go to school, to learn English first before getting a job.
Not everyone understands what it truly takes to get acclimated to a new
country, it’s hard, it’s difficult, it’s a lot of culture shock for someone
coming from a foreign country, especially one that had been devastated by war
and famine. My parents helped the Khmer family we sponsored by giving them the
advice that would have helped them, that they did not receive when we first
came to America.
Growing up in America, I had always felt like an outsider my
friends and some of my classmates welcomed me, but I never felt like I truly
fit in. It has taken me a long time to get to this point in my life. Today I do
truly feel comfortable and confident with myself and with my culture. It wasn’t
that I resented being Khmer, I just didn’t feel accepted, it felt like I didn’t
belong. Since then, I’ve grown and matured and learned to love myself, to
accept every part of me, especially my culture.
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