My immigration story Tan Le

how can I speak in 10 minutes about the

bonds of women over three generations

about how the astonishing strength of

those bonds took hold in the life of a

four-year-old girl huddled with her

young sister her mother and her

grandmother for five days and nights in

a small boat in the China Sea more than

30 years ago bonds that took hold in the

life of that small girl and never let go

that small girl now living in San

Francisco and speaking to you today this

is not a finished story it is a jigsaw

puzzle still being put together let me

tell you about some of the pieces

imagine the first piece a man burning

his life’s work he is a poet a

playwright a man whose whole life had

been balanced on the single hope of his

country’s unity and freedom imagine him

as the Communists enter Saigon

confronting the fact that his life had

been a complete waste words for so long

his friends now mocked him he retreated

into silence he died broken by history

he is my grandfather I never knew him in

real life but our lives are much more

than our memories my grandmother never

let me forget his life my duty was not

to allow it to have been in vain and my

lesson was to learn that yes history

tried to crush us but we endured the

next piece of the jigsaw is of a boat in

the early dawn slipping silently out to

see my mother my was 18 when her father

died already in an arranged marriage

already with two small girls for her

life had distilled itself into one task

the escape of her family and a new life

in Australia it was inconceivable to her

that she would not succeed so after a

four-year saga that defies

fiction a boat slipped out to sea

disguised as a fishing vessel all the

adults knew the risks the greatest fear

was of pirates rape and death like most

adults on the boat my mother carried a

small bottle of poison if we were

captured first my sister and I then she

and my grandmother would drink my first

memories are from the boat the steady

beat of the engine the bow dipping into

each wave the vast and empty horizon I

don’t remember the Pirates who came many

times but were bluffed by the bravado of

the men on our boat or the engine dying

and failing to start for six hours but I

do remember the lights on the oil rig

off the Malaysian coast and the young

man who collapsed and died the journey’s

end too much for him and the first Apple

I tasted given to me by the men on the

league no Apple has ever tasted the same

after three months in a refugee camp we

landed in Melbourne and the next piece

of the jigsaw is about four women across

three generations shaping a new life

together we settled in Footscray a

working-class suburb his demographic is

layers of immigrants unlike the settled

middle-class suburb his existence I was

oblivious of there was no sense of

entitlement in Footscray the smells from

shop doors were from the rest of the

world and the snippets of halting

English were exchanged between people

who had one thing in common they were

starting again my mother worked on farms

then on a car assembly lane working six

days double shifts somehow she found

time to study English and gain IT

qualifications we were poor all the

dollars were allocated an extra tuition

in English and mathematics was budgeted

for regardless of what miss tell which

was usually new clothes they were always

secondhand

two pairs of stockings for school each

to hide the holes in the other a school

uniform down to the ankles because it

had to last for six years and there were

rare but searing chance of slid I and

the occasional graffiti Asian go home go

home to wear something stiffened inside

me there was a gathering of resolve and

a quiet voice saying I will bypass you

my mother my sister and I slept in the

same bed my mother was exhausted each

night but we told one another about our

day and listen to the movements of my

grandmother around the house my mother

suffered from nightmares all about the

boat and my job was to stay awake until

her nightmares came so I could wake her

she opened a computer store then studied

to be a beautician and opened another

business and the women came with their

stories about men who could not make the

transition angry and inflexible and

troubled children caught between two

worlds brands and sponsors were sought

centers were established i lived in

parallel worlds in one i was the classic

asian student relentless in the demands

i made on myself in the other i was

enmeshed in lives that were precarious

tragically scarred by violence drug

abuse and isolation but so many over the

years were helped and forth at work when

i was a final year law student i was

chosen as the young australian of the

year and was catapulted from one piece

of the jigsaw to another and their edges

didn’t fit timely anonymous footscray

resident was now tom lee refugee and

social activist invited to speak in

venues she had never heard of and into

homes whose existence she could never

have imagined I didn’t know the

protocols I didn’t know how to use the

cutlery I didn’t know how to talk about

wine I didn’t know how to talk about

anything I wanted to retreat to the

routines and comfort of life

unsung Sabu a grandmother a mother and

two daughters ending each day as they

had for almost 20 years telling one

another the story of their day and

falling asleep the three of us still in

the same bed I told my mother I couldn’t

do it she reminded me that I was now the

same age she had been when we boarded

the boat no had never been an option

just do what she said and don’t be what

you’re not so I spoke out on youth

unemployment and education and the

neglect of the marginalized and

disenfranchised and the more candidly

iceberg the more I was asked to speak I

met people from all walks of life so

many of them doing the thing they loved

living on the frontiers of possibility

and even though I finished my degree I

realized I could not settle into a

career in law there had to be another

piece of the jigsaw and I realized at

the same time that it is okay to be an

outsider a recent arrival new on the

scene and not just okay but something to

be thankful for perhaps a gift from the

boat because being and the insider can

so easily mean collapsing the horizons

can so easily mean accepting the

presumptions of your province I had

stepped outside my comfort zone enough

now to know that yes the world does fall

apart but not in the way that you fear

possibilities that would not have been

allowed were outrageously encouraged

there was an energy there an implacable

optimism a strange mixture of humility

and daring so I followed my hunches I

gathered around me a small team of

people for whom the label it can’t be

done was an irresistible challenge for a

year we were penniless at the end of

each day I made a huge pot of soup which

we all shared we worked well into each

night most of our ideas were crazy but a

few were brilliant and we broke through

em

the decision to move to the US after

early one trip my hunch is again three

months later I had relocated and the

adventure has continued before I close

though let me tell you about my

grandmother she grew up at a time when

Confucianism was the social norm and the

local Mandarin was the person who

mattered life hadn’t changed for

centuries her father died soon after she

was born her mother raised her alone at

17 she became the second wife of a

mandarin his mother beat her with no

support from her husband she caused a

sensation by taking him to court and

prosecuting her own case and a far

greater sensation when she won it can’t

be done was shown to be wrong I was

taking a shower in a hotel room in

Sydney the moment she died 600 miles

away in Melbourne I looked through the

shower screen and saw her standing on

the other side I knew she had come to

say goodbye my mother phoned minutes

later a few days later we went to a

Buddhist temple in Footscray and SAT

around her casket we told her stories

and assured her that we were still with

her at midnight the monk came and told

us he had to close the casket my mother

asked us to feel her hand she asked the

monk why is it that her hand is so warm

and the rest of her is so cold because

you have been holding it since this

morning he said you have not let it go

if there is a senior in our family it

runs through the women given who we were

and how life had shaped us we can now

see that the men that might have come

into our lives would have ordered us

defeat would have come too easily now I

would like to have my own children and

wonder about the boat who could ever

wish it on their own yet I am afraid of

privilege of ease of entitlement can I

give them a bow in their lives tipping

bravely into each wave the unperturbed

and steady beat of the engine the vast

horizon that guarantees nothing I don’t

know but if I could give it and still

see them safely through I would and also

pawns comes mother is here today

I