The Vietnam I Must One Day Know

The great thing about post-grad life is that schedules are no longer dictated by research papers and hundreds of pages of readings. When I leave work, I’m free to read books I find interesting (not that I didn’t enjoy the assigned readings of Herring or Todorov…), go out every night, or binge-watch TV shows. As someone who graduated two years ago (cue the existential angst), this also means that in order to be a semi-informed citizen of the world, I have to take the initiative to read about current events. Unlike at Tufts, workplace discussions of socially and politically-driven topics are often discouraged, and rarely come up. And even if they did, you would see me quickly avert all eye contact, and make a beeline towards my desk.

Even though I try to keep up with the news and often read about and see images of the devastating effects of war — ruined cities and villages and the death of thousands of civilians — it feels so foreign and too-far removed from my personal life that it rarely leaves an impact. In the age of the 24-hour news cycle, the plethora of information leaves me feeling paralyzed and helpless. Have I become so jaded and conditioned to hearing terrible news that I don’t even think twice about it later?

To avoid feelings of helplessness, I try to distract myself with lighter subject matters (i.e. Netflix).

Unfortunately, I love watching sad films. Not just the occasional Nicholas Sparks-esque drama flick (although, I do sometimes enjoy those). No, I’m talking about mentally-crippling, emotionally-scarring movies and documentaries that leave me hysterically sobbing, with snot dripping down my face, to the point of getting headaches. Needless to say, I watch them alone. Last weekend, I decided to watch Peter Davis’ Hearts and Minds (1974) — a documentary about one of the most controversial events in American history — the Vietnam War.

Given the sensitive nature of the topic and how close it hits to home (If it’s not obvious by my name, I’m Vietnamese.), this documentary left me so emotionally-drained that I had to pause the video several times to grab a new box of tissues and gather myself to prevent swollen eyes in the morning.

Throughout the film, one can see an abuse of power, loss of innocence, and death — nothing new in the world. Why then did watching this documentary, about an event that happened nearly 40 years ago, affect me more than reading about present-day conflicts? Maybe it was the graphic war footage. Maybe because a 2-hour documentary allows for deeper exploration and understanding of a topic. Or maybe because it was war that left my family’s country in economic and social ruin, and was the catalyst for them emigrating.

By the end of the film, I realized how little I knew about my family’s history. Growing up, there were bits and pieces of stories here and there, but out of fear for stirring up potentially tear-jerking memories, I never willfully brought the topic up. A close friend told me it’s normal to want to ask parents about their experiences, especially if it’s such an important part of not only American history, but also their own identities, and essentially mine as well. It’s not exactly a light subject, but I’ve made it a goal to ask more questions and learn more about it. Maybe they’ve just been waiting to be asked. Today, while some still live there, most family members are scattered throughout the US, Canada, and Belgium. I’d regret it forever if I never learned the details of how that came to be.

(I’d recommend Hearts and Minds (1974) to everyone. It can be seen here.)

 

Myrna Padilla: The other side of outsourcing

Bring up the word “outsourcing” and you’ll usually hear gripes and grumbles about the increasing number of jobs outsourced to countries including China, Vietnam, Bangladesh, and Indonesia. In the current narrative of the economy, rarely is this seen as a “good” thing. But like everything else, there are two sides to be heard.

Myrna Padilla has experienced life on both ends of the spectrum. Born and raised in the small fishing village on the island of Bohol in the Philippines, she is no stranger to a hard life. As a child, she spent her days under the scorching heat, diving for fish and seaweed to sell and feed her family. Even then, she often went to bed hungry. During one venture into Manila, she was lured by a predator, and was subsequently abducted. She spent the next year working twelve-hour days, seven days a week for no pay and no days off.

Why Gender Equality Is More than Just a Women’s Issue

On April 8, in Portland, Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton delivered the keynote speech to launch the World Affairs Council of Oregon’s 2014 International Speaker Series. Appropriately, the theme this year is “Women Changing the World.”  To say I was excited would be a complete understatement. Not even Bill elicited this level of internal hysteria and fangirling when he came to Tufts in 2012. Not only is this topic important to me, but Clinton is arguably the most vocal and high-profile advocate for gender equality, so to see and hear from someone of her caliber was thrilling. In many of her speeches throughout her decades of service, whether to corporate interest groups or state leaders, she often addresses the challenges faced by women around the world, including limited educational and job opportunities, literacy, and access to technology.

Said Clinton,

“These ceilings don’t just hold back women and girls. They hold back entire economies and societies. And that is because no country can truly thrive by denying the contributions of half its people.”

That night, Clinton offered up anecdotes from her foreign policy experience with various heads of states (Putin, Wen Jiabao, and Abe), but the crux of the speech focused on the importance of gender equality and the inclusion of women in the global workforce to international growth and stability.

Image Credit: Michael Lloyd/The Oregonian

1. Productivity and growth increase for economies.

Even for someone as powerful as Clinton, she admitted that when she brings this topic up to her counterparts (mostly men) in religiously and socially conservative nations, eyes glaze over and polite smiles are feigned, as though to say, “Oh, here she goes again…” For some reason, the issue of women’s rights is often seen as separate from society at large — that it’s just a women’s issue. As a result, it’s often relegated to the sidelines, and placed on the back burner. Only when the economic advantages tied to empowering women are clearly laid out do heads turn and leaders pay attention.

To Ban or Not to Ban

Women’s History Month was last month, and I wanted to write about a related topic. Every few weeks, a new campaign or article generates discourse about equality in the workplace, the inclusion (or lack thereof) of women as industry leaders, and the age-old debate about whether or not women can really “have it all.” (Shoutout to Anne-Marie Slaughter!) Last year, Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In documented the progress of women in the corporate world, and focused on personal agency and individual changes that empower women to reach their highest potential in the workplace.

This year, Sandberg is back with another campaign — to “ban bossy.” Remove it from our collective lexicon or at the very least, eliminate the negative connotations associated with the word when applied to young girls or women. Unlike the Lean In campaign, she acknowledges the wider issue at hand — macro gender structures and inconsistent social norms.

Reflections on My Auschwitz Visit

I spent the last two days going through the enormous Auschwitz-Birkenau premises. Coming here was always something I’d hoped to do, and I’m glad I went while still in my formative years.

I remember two evenings ago, when my train pulled into Oswiecim, the Polish name of the town nearby the death complex. I ate at a colorless kebab joint, the two cashier youth both helpful, one smiling and kind.

Swapping Ego for Empathy

Imagine the scene of Atlanta’s gridlocked highways a few weeks back during the snowstorm. This is the usual Shanghai — congested and charmingly manic. Then picture the opening credits of The Walking Dead. The sight of an empty Hongqiao Railway Station was comparably eerie. I usually find myself strategically meandering past throngs of tourists and businesspeople, and jostling for a position at the ticket booth. This time, however, it was the week of Chinese New Years — a catalyst for the largest annual human migration in the world. Shanghai and its people were taking a well-deserved breather.