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