“Paj ntaub” often I had difficulty making out words in my own language. I felt like the odd one out even though I would always try to understand, I struggled to comprehend and speak the words.
Everyday I would always feel inbetween my identity as American and Hmong. During school lunch, I was once asked “Where does your name come from?” I replied, “I don’t really know, but I can tell you another time.” I came back the next day to tell them “My name means speak nicely.
Ever since that day, I would politely ask my family how to say or the meaning of “this” word or “that” word. Every time I learnt a new word – I’d focus on the lip movement – parted my lips and tried to copy but at the same time, I jutted my hand in rhythm slowly processing the word. Determined through the entire process, and always working harder for myself and my dad.
One day, my dad made me realize how difficult it was for him – He cared for me, helped me with education and kept optimistic. I asked “Dad, how’d you get to America?” and he responds “Well, Me? I get here in America after Vietnam war- we Hmong immigrate, we have no where go….” I heard every word coming out and it was clear to me. 
I started to love my culture only when I realized it’s always been apart of me. I stopped trying to be “Hmong” and took pleasure in sharing it. I am Hmong. After countless years of problems, I grew resilient. “Paj ntaub” or “Flower Cloth” tells the stories of Hmong immigration, their hardships and resilience.

– Hylu V

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant