What is Reality?
Ava is a 21-year-old Hmong American who grew up in poverty, moving from place to place trying to make ends meet. Her story tells of her challenges to combat anti-Black and anti-Asian racism in her community.
Ava's Story
I tried to normalize it and not see it for what it was.
I didn’t try to make sense of it. Maybe I would feel better and less isolated if I just went along. Maybe things would be easier since it was all coming anyway.
But I was forced to deal with it. Sometime in late March, my mom, sister, and I went to Walmart. I dropped them off at the door and went to park the car. When I found them in the store, they told me that someone had just shoved them and said a bunch of racist things to them. My mom didn’t understand what they were saying but she was scared. The person was hostile. My mom and sister just walked away, but it was clear that they were both incredibly upset. I became angry. I was so mad, then fear quickly rushed over me. This is what reality looked like. This is what it was going to be. Who knows if it would ever end, but this would become our new norm.
We grabbed whatever we needed and left the store. My mom was upset for days, more upset than I had ever seen her over an encounter like this. She didn’t understand. As her Hmong American daughter, I couldn’t help her understand. How was I supposed to make sense of this to her?
I threw myself into the news and media. It was upsetting and troubling, but I couldn’t ignore it. I had to bring awareness to it. This was our reality—one where you were hated and beat and killed because of how others perceive you.
And then George Floyd was murdered. Everything about it fueled my rage. It killed me inside. Hmong elders and community members jumped in to defend the Hmong police officer who stood by while he died. I argued back. They knew about all the stuff that was happening to Asian Americans. Now that something happens to a Black person, and they can’t even show the same compassion towards them? Why are they not loud about other people’s issues and only their own??
My Facebook and Instagram blew up with comments and I fought through the ignorance of people on the internet. I advocated for a lot of things happening to Black people and Asian people in America. People accused me of only being an advocate because my friends were Black. They criticized the looting and protests. Some people in the Hmong community got upset because they felt like no one was making noise about the Asian hate crimes. At a certain point, I was a little defeated. Why was there a divide in this? Why does it only matter when stuff happens to people that look like you?
At home, my mom became more scared of Black people. Her Hmong news and social media channels only broadcasted Black on Asian hate crimes, and it fed into the racism she had in her already. She struggled to navigate her feelings and there was very little I could do to help her understand. The news fueled her fears, and I was just one person trying to help.
I was tired, but I did what I could. After all that, it was time for rest, reflection, and refueling. Reality never stopped for us, so we’ll just need to keep trying to understand it.
Original photo by author
About Ava
Ava, a third-year nursing student, was born in North Carolina and is the youngest of seven siblings. Her parents came to the U.S. as Hmong refugees and worked second and third shifts in factories to make ends meet.
When Ava was two, a storm was brewing in her family. Her oldest brother and mom plotted to leave their dad while he was working the graveyard shift. They donated all their dishes and small furniture and left in the middle of the night. They drove to Minnesota where they lived with their uncle for a short time before moving into a shelter home on the outskirts of Minneapolis.
The shelter required tenants to be actively looking for jobs, but Ava’s mom had carpal tunnel among other issues. She couldn’t work, so they were kicked out of the shelter. In the scramble of things, the eight of them slept on the floor of a two-bedroom duplex. When their house went into foreclosure, Ava and her family returned to the shelter home. It was the first time she realized how alone she felt. She was miserable, crying all the time. Her only comfort was a hug from her sister or a reassuring nod from her brother.
The one-bedroom apartment that Ava, her brother, and her mom moved into on West Broadway when she was in high school was nothing special. It sat on a busy block that always had something going on. Drive-bys and shootouts were common, but this was where they could afford to live. The neighborhood was extremely diverse and was home to mainly Black, Asian, and Hispanic families. Ava lived there for about 11 years, including during high school and the pandemic.
Ava’s mom dealt with her own demons that emerged daily. These demons were born of the refugee camps in Laos, from loss and abuse and war. These demons had been with her for a long time and only grew with each passing day. Her mom’s demons fed on any negativity that they could find and said ugly things about each of the kids. Ava’s mom was always upset about something. Ava grew up quickly and found a job at age 14 to help her mom pay for rent. In high school, her mom kicked her out twice.
“Oh, you’re such a delinquent. What did you do this time?” she’d hear people say. It wasn’t her fault that her mom was dealing with so much, but it hurt, nonetheless. The second time she got kicked out, Ava stayed with her sister across town until Ava finally went to college.
The college classroom looked nothing like her high school classroom. Her nursing school classmates and instructors were mostly white, a stark contrast to the majority Black and Asian students at her high school. The community was competitive. The faculty didn’t seem to care about her. It bothered Ava how they talked to students and treated them like just someone who helped pay their salary.
Her BIPOC classmates, Hmong student organization, her advisor, and one faculty member at the school were her respites from the whiteness of campus. They supported her, listened to her, believed in her, and celebrated with her. In this community, Ava could make more noise. In this community, history would not be repeated. In this community, reality could be shaped into something new, something that she could look forward to.
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