Author: Mantingster

"Just Doing Ma Ting"

Grateful

Author’s Note: This is a portfolio that I had to submit for my last assignment for my ENGL 420W – Advanced Poetry Writing class at CSU, Chico during my Spring 2021 semester. Below, you will find two poems and one letter to my younger self. For this submission, we had to use a photo or painting that we took/made to represent our title and the works we’ve produced this semester. But WordPress won’t let me publish it without a title so I decided to title it Grateful. Right below this author’s note is a photo of me because that is the photo I chose for my title. If you are reading this on your phone, please turn it sideways to landscape for the correct format! I hope you enjoy these!

8 Minutes Read

Photo Credits
Find them on Instagram
@pachiavangphotography

Let Me As You

Let me as you talk,
     sit next to you like kids at a playground whispering secrets we don’t want adults to hear
     as you make me forget all the Zoom calls from earlier today
     for your voice is the anthem of love I’ve been searching for.
Let me as you walk,
     thunderclap with joyous pride to see you achieve your goals
     as your amber light illuminate the darkest caves you venture into
     for the emerald tunnel you’ve built, is one I will die following.
Let me as you weep,
     let my sturdy shoulders be the soft pillow your head can rest on
     as the black tears from your light makeup drip down my tan arms
     carrying the emotions only those who have died inside can express.
Let me as you gasp in shock,
     kneel down on my violet bruised knee like I’ve practiced this all my life
     as I reveal the diamond ring kept hidden next to our bed this whole time
     for I’m about to ask one of the scariest questions in my life.
Let me as you sleep,
     put the little angels to bed as it has already been an hour since “30 more minutes please?”
     as I sing twinkle twinkle little star to them and get lost in their stares
     for they have eyes that sing the saddest songs with the happiest melodies.
Let me as you smile,
     tell you what you remind me the most about
     as I explain “You’re like choir to me”
     for when I sing I can’t be mad, it’s all love and positivity that I can’t resist it.
Let me as you fade away,
     bury you with the daisies you enjoyed the most
     as I will sit down next to your tombstone and tell you about how much the kids have grown
     for there are two types of pain in this world. One that shows our weaknesses and one that shows our strengths.
     I sincerely hope that tomorrow I can experience this wonderful dream again.

A Cry So Bad

Have you ever had a cry so bad, you didn’t know when the tears would stop?
 A cry where everything inside of you ached feverishly?
                one where your heart felt as if it would burst out of your chest
                as if the organs inside your body twisted and turn like wet clothes being wringed
                as you vomit from your eyes with enough tears to water the Mojave desert
                and cry loud enough to wake up the dead from 100 years ago.
 A cry where at the end you’re so exhausted that you drift off to a peaceful sleep
 on the wet pillow soaked in your grief and pain
 as you realize no matter how many bottles you empty,
 the tears will continue to flow deep like the pockets of millionaires
                and far like the Mekong River, sinking deeper and deeper. 
        A cry where you thought you had “move on”
 one where you’re reminded of the gaping wound still freshly exposed
 as your heart knows the lies you told it reassures “you’re in a new” phase now but the
                the wind reminds you that they have Spring allergies and the smell of coffee reminds you
                they like a white chocolate mocha with caramel syrup during Winter from Starbucks.
 A cry where you shed tears for yourself and the journey you undertook.
 one where you graduated and passed an influential phase of your life
                as you reflect on the experience you endured, shedding tears
                for the ones that are six feet under and the ones who never had the opportunity
                And you shed tears for the ones that gave you so much to remember.
Have you ever had a cry so bad, that it healed everything inside of you like a magic potion?
 I wish you will have that cry one day.
 one filled with validation of your neglected feelings and sincerity
 one filled with rallying cheers and bearhugs
 and especially, one filled with “thank yous and you’re welcome”
 with the people you’ve impacted and the ones that have impacted you.

Letter to a Poet – Manting Xiong

Dear Manting Xiong,

I read your poems “Let Me As You” and “A Cry So Bad” for my class for our final portfolio project. I want to start off by saying thank you for writing and sharing these pieces of poetry with the world. I’ve actually read all of your previous works and I really enjoyed the pieces you’ve written this semester for Jeanne’s Advanced Poetry course at Chico State. I know your WordPress audience will look forward to you sharing this with your writing collection.

I first want to talk to you about your cover photo. You chose a photo of yourself which I thought was pretty conceited of you but the more I thought about it, it does make sense why you chose that to represent your work for this semester. You kinda just closed your eyes and went with whatever worked for you. That goes for everything this semester, including the work you produced for this course. You pushed yourself to do even more this semester, 5 courses plus 20 hours as a student employee working two jobs and also participating in many side school activities as well. You pushed and pushed until you received a lecture reminding yourself to slow down and take it bit by bit. I think your eyes being closed is a perfect representation of how you’re feeling about this semester, not to mention the whole academic year.

With the less intentional and purposeful direction you set for yourself this semester in this course, I personally felt like your writing didn’t improve that much in this course. I think most importantly, what you took most out of all the materials you read this semester, was to have fun and just be present at the moment when you write. It sounds simple but you know this course was key in you being able to just have fun and relax in a lot of stressful situations. If you didn’t stay focused on just having fun and enjoying the course, I think this semester would have been even more stressful for you. So, I think Jeanne deserves to know how grateful you are to have had her as your professor now for the third time and just have read great works and pieces by new authors you’ve never heard or read before.

As I’ve begun to notice from last semester as well is that you will need to improve on your imagery work. I think it’ll be good to continue to read more poetry from authors with great imagery so you too can channel some good imagery into your pieces as well. Maybe check out that list you made from last year back in the Summer? In general, I think if you just keep up the practice of writing and producing but having a clearer vision of where you want to go and how to get there will greatly improve your writing.

You’re going to turn 23 soon on June 20th, so as a reminder even though you already know this, be diligent. Life and college (both undergrad and grad school) will be difficult so when times are tough, remember to be resilient. I hope you’ll not dwell on the mistakes too much. And if there are punishments that come with it, face it squarely and head-on. It’s like medicine, it’s not supposed to be enjoyable.

Thank you again, and rest up this summer!


Best,
One Month Away from 23 Manting Xiong

Sadly, WordPress has format restrictions on what it can do so the end product on here will look somewhat different from how I intentionally wanted it to be. So if there are some parts that don’t quite look in the right place, I apologize for that.

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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2020 You

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! This is a poem I had to write for my ENGL 320W class at CSU, Chico during my Fall 2020 semester. For this poem, we had to create an abecedarian poem. This meant that the beginning of every line has to start with the next letter of the alphabet; a, b, c, d, e, and so forth. This was pretty challenging as I had to revise my poem many times to make the sentences work and just the overall challenge of making sure the next letter of the alphabet was used. Still, I had a good time writing this poem. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy reading this too.

2 Minutes Read

A year of self-improvement. Those were my last thoughts heading into 2020.
But the reality is far often removed from our aspirations.
Cause I felt my heart is torn… piece by piece… little by little,
do you not see him cry out in desperation? “Mama!” When will it be
enough? So many have died and yet, ignorance roams maskless. We are
falling and some people are loving this situation.
Good people die and
hundreds of thousands will follow.
I am always reminded of how weakness can be so frustrating.
“Just do it”, do it for those who are not here anymore;
Kobe, my
family; Ger and
Michael. You all left too early. 
“No one will blame you if you give up.”
On and on, I will remember those words… I will not
pray for you, for the one above has never answered my
questions and prayers, however, I will remember you.
Rest peacefully, you have done well, I am proud of you.
Shield those of us who are left behind.
This will pass and memories will remain. The
universe works in different ways, hopefully, our
votes can positively change the world.
We will not mess up this time. “Mr.
Xiong, what do you say about 2020?”
“You already know my answer,
zillion of others will agree with me, 1/10, I would not recommend it.”

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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14/19

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! This is a poem I had to write for my ENGL 320W class at CSU, Chico during my Fall 2020 semester. For this poem, we had to create a poem explaining what our work was/our opinion of the work. I didn’t outright write about what I did for work but more so about what I think work is and the perception of work I’ve had over the years. The title isn’t a date, it is actually ages. I think the first time I first tried an alcoholic beverage was at the age of 14. The 19 has a different reason for being in there. I didn’t have a difficult time writing this piece, although, it didn’t turn out the way I expected it as I originally had something else in mind. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this piece.

2 Minutes Read

The death-touched hands’ footsteps are loud,
and the crunch of seeds explodes letting out a gasp
for relief. “Run, run, run,” it says.
Cop sirens cannot slow it down
for coals demand for this to diamonds.

Ice in my veins whisper warm courage to my lamed body
the shrieking invisible friends nearby telling me secrets
I have yet to discover. The invisible friends fabricate excessive
fake gold in my pockets to hinder my progress. Knowing
full well, I am a snake-raised imposter.

Chase after the green that makes the world spin
like those silent Ferris Wheels. Step on the necks of
those who laid down the foundation of the ladder
leading up. At least, that’s the mentality injected
and brewed for me to drink and choke on.

“Can I have some of what you’re drinking?”
“Sorry, this is for 21s only.”
“I don’t want a lot, just enough to calm my nerves?”
“If you get in trouble, it’s not my fault”
Sips a bottle of liquor,
“eww, why drink something so bitter?”
Chuckles,
“you will find out soon enough.”

Screenshot of my classmate giving me feedback.

Manting,

I could not help but realize the repeating sound of the letter “f” as I read your poem aloud. It stuck out to me for some reason and made the whole thing feel more like a whisper. I am also really interested in the image of “a snake-raised imposter” and feel drawn back to that line, even now, after I have read your poem twice through. I like that you did not come right out and explain what you do for work, but rather, it is implied through showing and not telling. This was a good move.

Best,

________ _ ______

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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ReflecTing

Author’s Note: This is a portfolio that I had to submit for our last assignment for my ENGL 320W – Poetry Writing class at CSU, Chico during my Fall 2020 semester. Below, you will find two poems and one letter to my younger self. I titled my portfolio submission ReflecTing. A bit of wordplay here as I put in my name and touch on the topic of reflecting. If you are reading this on your phone, please turn it sideways to landscape for the correct format! I hope you enjoy these!

8 Minutes Read

Kuv Xav Mus Tsev

My soul soars freely
       spreading love and positivity around me
and I think of ‘home’,
       where silence is an afterthought
and all the seats are occupied,
where laughter waters the flowers.

Kuv xav mus tsev,
nothing beats a home-cooked meal
        made with love and care
and I think of ‘home’,
        where birthdays and holidays are celebrated
throughout the joyful night, lasting till the morning
where I am comforted by angels.

Kuv xav mus tsev,
my homesick body yearns
          and searches for excuses to visit
and I think of ‘home’,
          where words and feelings are heard
and emotions are nurtured and cultivated,
where “I am sorry” is accepted.

Kuv tsis xav mus tsev,
         Don’t give me that look.
         Don’t act so surprised, for this is a simple truth.
         I’ve tested it, my blood is not thicker than water.
         Because none of those things
         exist for me. The only place
where this home exists for me is in my dreams.

It Comes and Goes Like the Seasons

1st-5th:
Meeting new kids and being cautious.
        Maybe this was the time we found our passion?
                       Some began to understand what relationships were really like.
                       “Best Friends for life?”
             Our naïve selves thought these people will be with us forever in our life.
                          How things would have changed if we had listened?
                “You will change, I will too, and each time we do… 
all we can do is live while losing things.”


6th-8th:
“What if we... what if we never changed?”
               Suddenly, popularity was a thing.
               A time when many people both loved and hated.
                      Some stayed close because it was the only option.
                      In some, that root was cut off and burned,
   others were left to journey alone hoping to make friends.
        How great would it be if some of these times would just stay forever?
“I shall grieve, and I shall weep. But I shall not regret it.”


9th-12th:
Let’s stay away from each other for a while. Maybe if I miss it, I will come back.”
         “Maybe, I should text Nelson... it’s been years since we last talked to each other…”
                        “I wanted to be liked too…”
          How much better it would have been if we knew how to love ourselves then?
           We learned something new and our relationships changed too.
                          Things that used to make sense will be questioned.
                          Things that were muddled and foggy became clear and comprehensive.
“Here is a tip, we are all trying to figure it out.”


13th-18th:
A time when we began to understand who we are.
       Some couldn’t wait to leave home and move far away.
          Others began to explore, digging deeper with
             no way out, as their only option was to dig deeper.
                              Immaturity is still rooted in our kid self,
                    and things that used to be worrisome became afterthoughts.
    “I think you and I need a break from each other.”
“Our relationship is like a pie crust, thin, and easy to break.” 


20+:
Legal and ready to go, just kidding, no one really has it all figured out.
              “We became adults so quickly, now all we wish for is to revert to kids.”
            How naïve we were… thinking that we “knew” everything, funny isn’t it?
                       Some were fortunate with this gift,
      as a new root replaced it.
That new root decided life or death for some of us.
      “I think this is when I first felt depressed.”
Maybe, this was the time when ending it all came along…?

Letter to a Poet – Manting Xiong

Dear Younger Manting Xiong,

I read your poems “Kuv Xav Mus Tsev” and “It Comes and Goes Like the Seasons” for my class for our final portfolio project. I want to start off by saying thank you for writing and sharing this piece of poetry with the world. I’ve actually read all of your previous works and I really enjoyed the pieces you’ve written this semester for the Poetry Writing class at Chico State. I know your WordPress audience will look forward to you sharing this with your writing collection. I think anyone reading these two pieces will realize the dark tones that accompany them. I noticed that you still write about dark themes and topics, I think it is your way and style to decompartmentalize your experiences and give yourself some type of relief, although I would love to see you attempt to write something more bright and happy, even if that process may be more difficult compose than usual. Maybe try the revision strategy you learned during weeks 15 and 16 using Alberto Rios’ methods? Especially that revision method of writing the poem’s other half, I think you’ll be able to compose something really special with it.

I love the way how you structured these pieces, I can definitely see you getting better at incorporating and thinking about structure in your works. “Kuv Xav Mus Tsev” doesn’t do anything too crazy structure-wise and out of this world but once we got to “It Comes and Goes Like the Seasons” it changed a lot. It can be a bit disorientating reading the piece the first time as the lines jump around a bit but I think that keeps the reader interested, engaged, and focused. Since “It Comes and Goes Like the Seasons” the subject and topic of the poem are about relationships, I think you tried to physically represent how relationships are by moving the lines around. Showing that relationships are never easy and straightforward stacked up neatly going downwards. It has many twists, turns, and complications that come with the territory. You have numbers written above each stanza and to me, it is labels of ages as we progress and grow up. Each stage presents its own relationship difficulties. I know that this version looks very similar to the version you initially submitted but it is different because you used the revision by Alberto Rios but wrote out the poem on a sheet of paper and cut it out. Then slowly and one by one, you pulled out a line every couple of minutes for each stanza and that is how you have the new combinations of lines. I think it worked wonderfully using that revision method for this piece as there are different combinations that flowed better than your first version.

I think you should definitely take some time during the upcoming winter break to reread some of the works by other writers and authors we were given to read this semester as you will discover some new findings in each that you did not see previously. I can see that you’ve grown as a writer and I hope you yourself will be happy with that growth as well. However, this growth will only blossom as long as you continue to be diligent and allocate effort to this craft. There will be times when improvement will come slowly and in bursts, remember to be patient and resilient in your development and approach to writing.

You’re doing enough. You’re doing just fine. I know you and you’re trying your best right now. That’s all you need. Just keep your pace. Don’t be nervous, trust yourself. You did a great job today, you worked so hard. You are my prize.

Thank you again, I look forward to reading more of your work. 


Best,
Older and Slightly Smarter Manting Xiong

Below I’ve included a screenshot of the feedback I received from my professor. I realized the screenshot is very small so I wrote it below for clarity.

Hello, Manting–


Thank you for your commitment to your writing practice this semester.  It shows in your poems, especially the ones here.  I am captivated so often by the lyricism in your poems–the beautiful music of language & line–& the freshness of your images; for instance, “[laughter] waters flowers.”  I deeply admire the ways that your braid the Hmong language into your poems & without translating the words.  You let the words stand, the lines hold their own.  This is especially important given the subject of the first poem, a longing for home.  I hope to see you in another creative writing class & that you have a restful break, Manting.


Take care, ______

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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The 2020 Emerging Poet Prize Submission – I Believe In You

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I hope you all are doing well and staying safe during this quarantine time. At the beginning of January this year (2020), I had a conversation/thought with myself about my writing. I’ve enjoyed writing ever since attending college, of course, I don’t enjoy all writing as academic papers are still not enjoyable for me. However, writing in general has been a way for me to express myself and helped me explore my identity. So, I came to the conclusion to see how far I can take my writing. I started taking my writing seriously and enter some competitions to see how I’d do in them.

‘I Believe In You‘ is a poem about me (Manting Xiong) and my journey from my elementary days to where I am now presently, in college. The poem is approximately 750 words in length. The target audience for this poem is males but specifically Hmong males. Even though the poem is more catered toward males, I believe the feelings and emotions I convey in the poem are relatable to everyone.

I undertook the writing of this poem for this competition after seeing an Instagram post by NFL quarterback Teddy Bridgewater where he wrote a letter of encouragement to kids who may have or are growing up like him. I want to emulate his post but replace it with my background and upbringing while including more deep topics. The reason why my format and stanzas are all over the place is to physically illustrate how difficult it was for me growing up. The path that we are on is difficult to navigate and do try to do our best to keep it straight but there are always things keeping us grounded.

I revised my piece after receiving feedback from Palette Poetry on June 22nd. Unfortunately, my piece was not selected to continue in the competition. However, I am not discouraged by that decision. As this means I can become a better writer/poet and improve my craft even more.

I hope this piece can provide some sort of encouragement to individuals who may have gone through some of the things I have experienced. It may be easier to give up and let go of everything but perseverance through those adversities will make them stronger. The past may not be what we wanted, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t change what our future is going to be. If you are reading this piece on your phone. Please turn it sideways for the correct format.

7 Minutes Read

To the little boy,
                  Preparing yourself for the harsh
                                  realities of this world alone.
               Your fevered ears have become deaf from all
               the screaming and yelling in your home.
Waking up early to mentally prepare in the cold brutal morning.
               Biting your bloodied tongue to keep the fake
                             peace for you are tired of mourning.
                                            Your parents are divorced,
               a drunken father, and a faraway mother.
"Grandma is in the hospital and inside, you are dying."
To the little Hmong boy,
                        Who stutters when speaking to
                             your intimidating Hmong elders.
               Understanding respect is earned, not given.
               Who speaks Hmong to yourself because
                              you are afraid of losing your language.
Choosing to stay home and take care of your lineage,
              instead of learning traditions and beliefs.
                             You can always learn tradition later,
              while the time left with your grandma is brief.
"Keeping her company, wishing to make her life greater."
To the teen boy,
              Who matured quickly, leaving behind
Disney and friends thinking he was no longer naive and blind.
        Growing taller in height and humility.
Disregarded family-like friends in order to build stability.
                               Losing the ability to answer
                                              your teacher’s daunting questions.
                 Holding back the poisoned tears and having to lie
                                 not by choice, but to survive.
                 "How do you explain to your teacher
                 about the battles, you are fighting?"
To the teen Hmong boy,
Fighting meaningless battles at home, in the classroom,
on the blazing court, on the breathless stage, and in your head.
                              Who found little comfort and joy from
                                            the cafeteria food at school.
                                            Who hated the end of practice,
              for that meant you went back to the struggle grind.
And back to the negative thoughts on your troubled mind.
The hidden voices getting louder like an evil symphony.
               "Silent cries that only the dead can hear
                                and tears that carries strength."
To the young boy,
         Who continues to envy a house filled with warmth and laughter
           Who survived your greedy first attempt at suicide.
       Fortify your broken foundation with the gold that is knowledge.
                              Restoring your faith and determination
             Be prudent, believe in the shadow you see and the light you don’t see.
                     Be charitable but don’t extend an olive branch to everyone.
    Family is important, but when it starts to kill you internally, cut it off.
               Express temperance, take it slow and recollect.
          Resist the gluttony, lust, sloth, and wrath that will tempt you.
"Both the sins and virtues will accompany you on your journey."
To the young Hmong boy,
               Shouldering the weight of being
                      the only Asian-American student in your class.
        Who is grateful for the opportunity of an education.
                Taking the opportunities and not wasting
        the sacrifices of the soldiers from the Secret war.
Who cries for the community because they are too immature,
        too violent to ever love and care for one another.
Disappointed that these OGs care only about money and politics,
       not caring more about the youths, their opinions, and logic.
"Ours words fall on deaf ears because we are ‘young’."
To the young man,
                 Please know your worth and
           understanding it is not your loss, it is theirs.
       You are more vaulable to the right person than you ever
                     will for the wrong person.
           You have so much to share and so much to give.
    Keep your bar high, only the worthy will reach it.
      But let's learn to love ourself first,
               before we try to love someone else.
"If you can love the last person that much.
Imagine how much you will love the right one."
To the young Hmong man,
              Your shattered heart is made of red glass.
              Break down those glass panes, and rise. For
   You will war! You will rage! You will shine!
          You shall cry! You shall sing! You shall smile!
  You must fight! You must learn! And most importantly, you must survive!
              Keep moving forward day by day,
                    do not be trapped by your tragic past.
              Give it your all, don’t worry about last time.
"There are still many things for you to accomplish,
it is not a crime to be happy, for you have yet to reach your prime.
To you,
Who is still smiling even through all the bullshit that life threw at you.
       That is going to graduate from high school.
        That is attending college as a first-generation student.
                       That is going to study abroad in a different country.
        That is going to live out their dream and change the world.
                 Life will weave and move like this poem
                             because life is never a straight path like we hope for.
                                      Don’t shy away from making mistakes.
       "Continue to work hard and do not let bad opinions make you flop.
Adversity will make you strong and it will lead you to the top."
I was and still am that young Hmong man.
I have journeyed and is still on that path.
              I want to give you a hug and
         tell you everything is going to be okay.
      Go ahead and cry, please, let it all out,
   the tears we shed will water the path for the future dreamers.
              I understand how you feel and
    don’t apologize for the way you feel.
               Your feelings are valid.
You can trust in this light at the end of this tunnel.
"Please know, I believe in you."

Below I’ve included some screenshots of the feedback I received from Palette Poetry.

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

0

Pretty Cute

Author’s Note: In the Hmong culture, the action of dating another person with the same last name as your own is considered taboo. It is considered taboo because it is viewed as you dating your brother or sister, even if you have no blood relations. For example, take my last name, Xiong. I can not date another Xiong. Even if we she lives in Minnesota and we have no blood relations, we cannot date each other. Growing up you would be told this by the Hmong elders, your parents, older siblings, and cousins. Basically, anyone who was old enough to date. You might wonder, okay, that does not seem like too big of a deal right? Well, imagine liking someone and always having the thought “Please, please, do not have the same last name as me.”

For those of you who do not know, the Hmong New Year is an annual celebration that takes place in the fall to honor the ancestors and give thanks for the completion of the year’s harvest. Over three days certain rituals are performed to honor the spirits of ancestors and to provide for the health and safety of the current family in the New Year. Many people use this as an opportunity to court and find love with other people at Hmong New Year. So, where am I going with all this? Remember when I said Hmong people cannot date others with the same last name? I got separated from my parents at Hmong New Year and I met a Hmong girl and this is where my piece begins. This piece tells a story and is also a message to her. And I apologize beforehand for the cheesiness in my piece and I hope you are able to relate to this one way or another.

9 Minutes Read

Sometimes when I take an exam, time works so unexpectedly. It would often feel slow at first but then quickly and suddenly comes to an end. I interacted with her like how I approached my exams. Having all these different feelings inside of me when I took a test; terrified, nervous, and timid but still optimistic and confident at the same time. Whenever I got anxious looking at her, I wanted to look around to see what others are doing to get a clue of what to do. However, I stopped myself because I did not want to take my eyes off this beautiful woman. If I’m going to fail this test, at least I will fail by my own terms and actions, instead of relying on what others are doing. Just like some exams, I answered slowly to some questions and I quickly blurted out answers to some questions before you even finished asking me. I would feel like a complete fool and a pure genius all at the same time. And like some exams, I would forget to put down my name. This time, it was your name, I had forgotten it that time.

Specifically, your last name.

“Shoot your shot, what’s the worse that can happen?” So with my weak game form, I shot mine.
Me: “Hey, you are pretty.”
Her: “Why are you lying?”
Me: “I am serious. And I’m cute. Together, we would be pretty cute.”
Her: “Oh really?”
Me: “Yes, really. Did that not work?”
Her: “It was okay.”
Me: “Can I try again?”
Her: “Sure.”
Me: “You are pretty.”
Her: “Uh-huh.”
Me: “And I am ugly. Together, we would be pretty ugly.”

Throughout the rest of the day, those were our names. Pretty and… well, you didn’t want to call me ugly the whole day so we settled on cutie. And together, we were pretty cute, both in name and physically together. On that cold winter day with your contagious smile, you reached out your hand toward mine, inviting me to grab it. Our hands intertwined and my cheeks became red like on a hot summer’s day. Like riding a roller coaster, we hung onto each other on this short blissful ride. But unlike a roller coaster, we both did not know if we would end up back to where we started. Have you ever been so happy, it made you cry? I was laughing and crying, both at the same time when I was with you. The nervous rapid heartbeats I felt in my chest with that shortness of breath feeling. Simply put, I was on a runner’s high. And as we began our adventure together. I thought to myself

“The more fun we had. The more it will hurt when we part ways.”

We spent the day together with a $20 dollar bill between us. Back then, $20 was enough for delicious foods, refreshing drinks, fun games, cheap movies, senseless toys, and coins for arcades, and then… well, that was when we ran out of money. Feeding each other food, learning about our differences and things we had in common, and endlessly teasing each other. Sweet memories we had together that made me wish it would never end. But I was young and naïve about that thought. Little did I know that this was going to be the first moment of feeling impermanence.

I reunited with my parents somewhere and told them I will be safe. I never introduced her to my parents nor did they know what I was doing. Toward the end of the day, before we both parted ways. I finally remembered to ask for your last name. And as that sharp word of “Xiong” impaled my ears towards my heart. My feeling of being on cloud nine crashed straight down and landed past bedrock. I ran away and did not give you an explanation, all I could say was… “I’m sorry.” I could not explain what and how I was feeling back then.

Now, I can express it in a way that is comprehensible “The happiness and jubilation resulting from the proud and joyful recognition of one’s superiority, however, is frequently surpassed by the unintended sorrow, torture, and dejection that emerges from the humiliating awareness of one’s inferiority.” It wasn’t that I was inferior to you, but I wish I wasn’t Hmong or was a Xiong when that happened. Goodbyes are bitter and ‘I love you carried a distant scent. These incomparable feelings are terrifying but are also terribly precious. It was bitter and I used to be able to taste you in my liquor.

After a while, I couldn’t tell if the bitterness was from the alcohol or you.

I learned a chilling fear that day, however, I hid it well not wanting to show it to you. The greatest fear I learned that day is when I can’t see you. I do not question the time we spent together. Nor do I question the love you showed me. I only question my fate and whether my actions were correct or not. I think this is something I will continue to think about from time to time throughout my life. And then maybe one day, I won’t think about it anymore. I hope that day does come soon. You probably don’t even remember me.

The same emptiness came back to me when I found out you got married. I thought I had moved past these feelings. I did what I have always done. Suppress these feelings and lock them away so that they never see the light of day. But then, why do I have this feeling of emptiness again? I have come to the conclusion that some people are able to move on. And for others like me, even though time has passed and we have aged. A tiny part of us never moves on. It sits outside with the hidden feelings accompanied by the what-ifs and the hypotheticals. But I also know that one day that will leave too. I have already told myself this so many times already…

I have to let you go. This time, I must let you go…

People come into our lives for a reason. They teach us something and then if they are meant to stay, they will. Or perhaps they are meant to move on and teach something to someone else. Maybe, one day we will meet again and explain to each other what really happened. Maybe one day we will finally understand. And whenever I reminisce back to the past about us, I will learn to do better from the negatives and smile at the pretty cute positive moments we had. You taught me a lot and I thank you for that time even if the result was not what I wanted. This exam was so difficult that I never knew if I passed or failed. But regardless of the result, I’m just happy and grateful that I was given the opportunity to take it.

I’m happy you were able to find love. I hope that they will treat you well. It takes resilience to hold on forever waiting for that person. However, I believe the stronger and braver people are the ones that are able to let go and move on. It doesn’t mean they don’t care or love that previous person anymore. It is knowing your worth and respecting the other person’s choice. Respecting their wishes and wanting that person to be happy. Even, if you are not the one giving them that happiness. I wish I could hold on forever but that is not fair to myself, that is not fair to the beautiful woman I will one day marry.

Some people come into our lives as part of our history but some people won’t be around when the final chapter is written.

Until then, thank you for showing me what love is. How much it can hurt and heal us at the same time. How fragile and delicate it can be. I hope that you will live a peaceful life filled with that infectious smile of yours. And if I am lucky, maybe I will be able to see it again one day, may it be this lifetime or another. I will still love you, even when I may not know what that means anymore… but also remember that you had me.

The End

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Virulent Mourning Foundation

Author’s Note: My first new piece of 2020. Half of this is about me. And the other half is about… well, I’ll let you decide that. Some people may think I’m so well put together. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve come a long way considering where I started. I’m strong due to those experiences. I guess the show of strength has masked my flaws for too long. Don’t get it twisted, I have confidence in myself. Things I used to think about and things I am still thinking about. I want to solve and bring to a conclusion on a couple of these things in 2020.

6 Minutes Read

Where Should I Go?

To the left where nothing is right? Or to the right where nothing is left?

Within the Hmong community, mental health was always viewed as “pointless thoughts.” When brought up by the Hmong elders and they would often be confronted by “What is there to be sad about?” Reminding us how grateful we should be to live in America. Compared to our Hmong counterparts living in Laos or Thailand, we are considerably better off. So, “Be grateful for what you have here and discard those nonsense thoughts.” But still, those negative thoughts persisted and lingered like weeds. Rooting itself into my mind knowing full well, it will never go away.

Where Should I Go?

To the left where nothing is right? Or to the right where nothing is left?

You look happy but you don’t feel happy. That’s what depression does to you. It is, sad how some people aren’t waiting for their happy ending anymore, instead, they’re just waiting for the end. Smiling is the best way to face any problems. To crush every fear and to hide every pain as if they never affected you in the first place. You look but do you see? You hear but are you listening? You exist but are you living? When did I begin to have these negative thoughts? It’s not like I want to be depressed and have these negative thoughts. I want to be happy. And yet, why is my mind consumed with negative thoughts?

Where Should I Go?

To the left where nothing is right? Or to the right where nothing is left?

Depression is like living in a body that fights to survive with a mind wanting to die. Either win the war or die trying. The war you’re fighting alone because you understand no one can help you. Remembering something that no one else can is a painful thing. You can’t talk to anyone about it. No one will understand you. Other people are dealing with their struggles too, why should I tell them about mine? There is no point in increasing their worries too. My trauma is mine to bear alone. I will not allow someone else to bear it for me.

What do you know about a small bowl of plain white rice seasoned with salty tears? What do you know about cold sleepless nights from the voice of the devil evenings? They tell me to visit him before it’s too late. Yet they don’t know about how I feel and my inferno hate. I have words that will make the devil cry. My rage is immense and I hope I will never have to use it. Asking me to forgive because it’s the right thing to do. Well, you best be able to move both heaven and earth with the sun and moon. I will gladly forgive and ask for forgiveness then. Pretty impossible right? I will never forgive him. “You’ve gone through so much.” Endured, persevered, survived, witnessed… yet, they don’t ask you how your mental health is. I’m strong, so people rarely ask if I’m ever “okay.” Trust me, I’m trying to fix my foundation but it isn’t easy when the pieces that used to fit don’t connect anymore.

I’m trying to complete a puzzle without knowing what the end product is supposed to look like. These puzzle pieces are mine but I don’t recognize them anymore. I can tell there are pieces missing from this puzzle too. They’ve been destroyed and fabricated countless times I don’t even remember what they originally look like. Tell me why you’re always acting okay and fine all the time? I know the tears that come out every night reignites the agonizing pain and fears still rooted in your mind. Like oil added onto a dying flame. You kept putting it off, saying you’re fine because you’ve come far. But we both know your hand is getting weaker and weaker. Are you resting? Your body getting slimmer and slimmer. Are you eating? Your light and fire, getting dimmer and dimmer…

“I won’t be the shield that will protect you from danger. I will instead be the ol so sharp hidden dagger you’ll reveal during your time of need and danger. I will be the silent shadow to your blinding light. The light is always accompanied by shadows. And the shadow will emerge and sacrifice itself so the light continues to shine. You will call upon me in your time of need.”

“You choose to be hurt rather than to hurt others, right? You fall and love easily. However, the more you’re hurting yourself, you’re actually hurting other people too. I’m not after your empathy, instead, I empathize with you. I know that feeling so well like it is the back of my hand. It is most terrible you are like this. Imprisoned by your past, powerless to live in the present… incapable to trust in the future. It’s better to be hurt than to hurt others. Nice people can be happy with just that.” “Is that still the case after all these years?”

Where Should I Go?

To the left where nothing is right? Or to the right where nothing is left?

I’ll choose to go straight. I’ll carve out a new path for myself. Every traumatic event and encounter I’ve experienced will test and chip away at the foundation I’ve built. I don’t think this depressive feeling will ever go away. I think it will become more manageable as I continue with life. I’ll find other reasons to keep living and rebuild my foundation. I’ll keep living with the belief that the happiness I will experience in the future will make this worth it. Good things don’t always happen to good people. Life doesn’t work like that but I can continue to hope for myself. I can hope that I’ll find love. I’ll find happiness. I’ll find the thing that will sustain me.

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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My Confession

Author’s Note: Hello. This is an extremely personal piece. This is my confession to the world about my sins and the many regrets and mistakes I have within me. I hope that in some way people can resonate with this piece.

6 Minutes Read

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying those words as if I truly understand what they mean. I’m sorry are just words to comfort the regrets and mistakes that are going to occur or those that have already occurred. I don’t know what more to say. And I truly mean these words, I’m sorry. I have disappointed you. I have done things I’m not proud of. Things that have gone against my morals and the things I view as good and the right thing to do in the world.

I’m not a perfect person. It won’t change anything. I can repeat those words as much as I want but it won’t change anything. I’m not the perfect man. I don’t have a perfect heart, nor a perfect mind. But I’m working tirelessly and diligently to get to that unattainable “perfection.” Even with effort, hope, faith, and support. I will fall, crash, stumble, cry, and make mistakes because I am clumsy and I still have many things to learn.

I’m not a perfect person. But after each mistake and regret, no matter how broken and battered I am. I do better to understand and acknowledge my regrets and mistakes. So in the future, I won’t repeat those same tragedies. I don’t deserve a second chance, nor do I deserve forgiveness. All I can ask for is for you to believe in me and believe in my work ethic for me to do better. For me to hear better. For me to see better. For me to say better. For me to be better.

I’m not a perfect person. I used to believe that I can go through life without regrets and mistakes. Live life and whatever happens, happens. But that is impossible for me. I regretted many things and I also made many mistakes I wish I can take back. So instead, I lived life navigating as carefully as I could to reduce the regrets and mistakes I will eventually face. And growing up, I noticed adults, like toddlers make mistakes too. Adults at your age still made mistakes too. No one is safe from it.

I’m not a perfect person. I have regrets and mistakes too. I’ve lied to myself, friends, families, supporters, etc. Not trying to justify anything. Just simply explaining why. I’ve lied to save people’s faces, to save their feelings, to save themselves, to save myself, and more importantly, to hurt myself. Growing up, I’ve noticed I tend to push people away from me. Whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional. Some are good because I learned I understood the people I want to be with and the people I need in my life.

I’m not a perfect person. I pushed good people away from me because for a very long time and still now, I am depressed. I believed I am a person who will and is destined to end up alone. So even when good people and good things come my way. I subconsciously mark it down as something for me to push away. Because I don’t see myself worthy of receiving that goodness in my life.

I’m not a perfect person. No doctor has checked me and told me I have a condition of depression. Because I’ve never had that examined. But it’s not something I believe you need to be diagnosed with. It’s something you feel within yourself and an innate feeling. I would say ever since the beginning of my freshmen year of high school until now. I’ve been depressed.

I’m not a perfect person. “Why be depressed?” This is what I often ask myself. “Be grateful for the small things you have in life.” Still, that depression lingered around me. Because constantly, throughout my life, I’m reminded of why I’m depressed. Whenever one good thing happens to me. At least two bad things accompany it. The negatives have outweighed the positives in my life.

I’m not a perfect person. Growing up in a divorced household where the word ‘individuals’ fit better than ‘family.’ I matured quicker than my peers. I saw the world from the lens of someone who was in flight or fight mode for 12+ hours of the day. The only times it turned off were during school and activities that distracted my mind. “Is this my last meal? When will I get to eat again? Will we lose this house? When can I be happy again? When can I stop having these terrible thoughts?” These and countless other questions attack relentlessly on my mind.

I’m not a perfect person. I lied to hurt myself. By making people see something bad in me in order for them to have a valid reason to distance themselves from me. I’ve noticed this behavior of mine. And I’ve worked hard to change it. It’s happened less and less as I grew older. But still, it appears that I continue to lose people who I want to keep in my life. And I hate it so much…

Nobody in this world is perfect. No one can go through life without making regrets and mistakes. I am the same. I will not use that excuse for you to forgive me. I will continue to make mistakes and I might repeat the same mistakes I have done. Instead, I ask for you to see my work ethic and see how much effort I’ve devoted to correcting my regrets and mistakes. I’m working hard to be better. To be a better man. A better friend. A better brother. A better role model. A better mentor. A better person.

And with my time away from Chico and with the time I’m in South Korea. I will use that time to better myself. Time away from everything and the things that haunt me in this town. I know the time away from here will heal most of me. But there will still be things here that can only be healed by certain people. I will return and do better.

For those that have hurt me, I forgive you. I don’t blame you for hurting me. I would rather die. If I die by you. I will face you with a smile on my face. “It’s okay because it’s not your fault for this. You just didn’t know any better.” I’ll leave with the hope that my death might help you to someday understand and learn something to help you progress in your life.

For those that I’ve hurt, forgive me. No amount of I’m sorry will ever atone for what I did. Even without you knowing. I’m picking up each piece little by little. To amend my regrets and the mistakes I’ve done and future mistakes. I promise to learn and grow. I promise to do better.

And for those that have supported me and haven’t given up on me, I thank you. I thank you for the kind words you’ve spoken to me. I thank you for the love you’ve shown me. I thank you for the belief you’ve bestowed upon me. I will never be a perfect person but I will become a better person.

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

2

Represent Represent

Author’s Note: This piece is half of a poem, and half of it is a spoken word. It talks about the things I represent and the many identities I have. At this point, I’ve probably performed this piece about six or seven times now throughout my duration in college. I received the idea of creating this piece by seeing Terisa Siagatonu perform her spoken word piece “Raise Up” at the 2018 Asian and Pacific Islanders in the Higher Education Conference in Oakland, California. Her piece resonated so much with me, and understanding my identity as an Asian-American and how powerful our voices and stories are to our communities. So, I borrowed some components from her piece and also added some twists of my own to make it personal for me. I hope you enjoy it.

5 Minutes Read

My question to you is. What do you represent? You may be confused by that question. Do you represent yourself? Parents? Friends? Brothers? Sisters? Family? Ethnicity? Culture? School? I’m going to move on to something else, but keep thinking about it.

In June, I turned 20. After finishing my job for the day. I went home and ate. While I was eating, I was talking to my 85-year-old grandma. My grandma asked me. “How old are you turning today?” I said, “20.” Suddenly, she asked me, “When am I going to get married?” “When am I going to have kids?” And I choked on my food for a solid 10 seconds. Later on in our conversation, the question that was most difficult for me to answer was “When am I going to get my bachelor’s degree? At this point, her voice was weak and soft. I told her, “Soon.” Which is a lie. But she understands that the lies I tell her are not lies. Because she was the one who taught me that. People keep secrets for a reason. And the truth can be worse than any lie to cover it up.

I represent her hopes and dreams.

The Hmong were involved in the Secret War in Laos. The war lasted from 1961 to 1975. In those 14 years, 30,000 Hmong soldiers died. Those soldiers always lived with a shroud on. When they die in a nameless place for the sake of that war, the place of their death becomes their grave, and their uniform becomes their shroud. These soldiers’ ages ranged from 12 to 60-year-olds. The war may have ended in 1975, but the killing didn’t. That was when the genocide began. Between 1975 and 1985, 100,000 Hmong people died trying to flee to other countries. Another 50,000 died just from trying to cross the Mekong River from Laos to Thailand. 

Due to our cooperation in fighting for the US in Laos. The Vietnamese government ordered all Hmong people to be killed. But you wouldn’t know this. Because it’s not in our K-12 History books. My grandma told me stories of her experience during those hellish years in Laos. One of her friends from her village volunteered to be a nurse in the war when it first began. When my grandma was able to see her friend again ten years later, her friend told my grandma that  “A doctor with a scalpel sees more death than a soldier with a gun.”

I represent those Hmong soldiers’ sacrifices.

With that knowledge about how difficult it was for my ancestors to come to the US. I used that as motivation to obtain a quality education. Because I know that this is a privilege! I’m here not trying to disappoint my ancestors and my fellow Hmong brothers and sisters. Who may have left those refugee camps… But their souls and spirits are still in the refugee camps in Thailand.


In my freshman year in high school. There were 17 Hmong students in my projected graduating class of 2017. Four years later, on graduation night. Only 16 Hmong students graduated. From Chico High. But only 4 of us were committed to a four-year university. Two years later, I met those twelve students who didn’t go to a four-year university again. Six of them don’t want to pursue education anymore.

I represent the Hmong youths that hasn’t been brought down by a system and society built against us.

When I attended a conference 8 months ago in April for Asian Pacific Americans in Higher Education. Also known as APAHE. In one of the workshops I attended there, the presenters asked us to participate in an activity. We were given a prompt to create lyrics and perform them for the people who were in that workshop session. The prompt was “What do you represent?” So naturally, I volunteered. And I began with…

Represent Represent!

And this is what I rep!
I represent the silent ones. I represent the ones that never won.
They expected me to fail. But nah. I ain’t like that.
I’m tough as nails, smooth like ale, and cold like hail.
They try to color my future like the Mekong.
While trying to make us forget about the napalms.
But don’t worry, it won’t take long.
Till I’m at the top. Because I’m never going to stop until I drop.
That’s because I represent myself, my legacy, and the Hmong.

So ask yourself, what do you represent?

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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Tub Xeeb Ntxwv, Manting

Author’s Note: Nyob Zoo! Thank you for clicking on this piece.  The idea of writing this piece came from a community called Hmong Legacy. Hmong Legacy supports Hmong students by creating a sense of community and empowerment. This allows students a great opportunity to create a connection with Hmong students and personal growth. Hmong Legacy has been around CSU, Chico since the Spring Semester of 2018. And ever since then, it’s grown and expanded.

The first time I wrote about this topic was about my mom(s). I’ve already written a piece about ‘Family’ from one of the Hmong Legacy workshops. I didn’t want to revisit this topic because of repetition. But I came back to the topic of family because my grandma passed away this past March. And ever since then, I haven’t really thought about my grandma and her existence. More because I was running away from my feelings and not wanting to think about it. I spilled all the tears I wanted to before and after her death. 

While writing this piece, it was difficult to remember all the things my grandma had once told me when I was younger. It made me wish that I had been more patient as a child and as a teenager to sit more with her and listen to her. Ideally, I wanted to use more Hmong words within this piece, but my end rhymes in English were better, so I went with that option instead. For the most part, the Hmong parts should be translated into English already. Around eight or nine people told me that I made them cry after the event was done. It really made me thankful and happy that many others can relate and feel connected to my relationship with my grandma. To My Grandma, Zoua Lor

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5 Minutes Read

You will experience the tragic loss of a loved one in your lifetime. There’s no other way to get around it; everyone dies for various reasons, some are reckless, and they die young, or they grow old and slowly fade away. A loved one could be someone who inspired you, it could be a role model, your best friend, a family member, basically, anyone who is important to you. We all know that sooner or later, the time will come for all of us to leave. My grandma, unfortunately, passed away this past March. 

My grandma took care of me when no one else did. She would often get asked, “Those aren’t your kids, so why are you taking care of them?” The phrase I always hear my grandma say is “I raise them because I love their eyes.” (Lawv tsis yog koj yug, vim li cas koj hlub. Kuv hlub lawv ob lub qhov muag, kuv thiaj li hlub law.) I had a different relationship with my grandma than anyone else. I was her favorite. The favorite among both her children and grandchildren. No, I didn’t ask or do anything special for my grandma to become her favorite.  It just naturally happened, and I’m the person I am today because of her.

Me nyuam ntsuag. The literal translation of this from Hmong to English means a child without parents. It is a derogatory term used to degrade people in the Hmong community who don’t have parents. My parents divorced when I was six months old. My father won my brother’s and my custody in court. I don’t necessarily fit all the criteria to be placed into that category, of being a me nyuam ntsuag. But growing up, I felt like one. And the only person who held me down was my grandma.

Grandma, I remember the words you would tell me when I used to feel down. “It took me 3 years to make your body and heart strong. Don’t let someone else destroy it when I’m gone.” Even when you would lecture me, I knew you were doing it for my benefit. You said to me. “Luag tias kom paub tab, txhob ua neeg poob qab los lawv yeej tos ntsoov thaum yus yuav poob.” The translation is: “They say to grow up and not be a failure. But they’re already wishing for your downfall.” And now, when I think about you, all I remember is the various things you would lecture me about. You would always start off with.

My grandson Manting
Always be kind and humble, and don’t let others stumble.
Don’t eat too many chips, and make sure to wipe your lips.
Find a wife who will brighten up your life.
It’s okay to cry, instead of faking a smile and lying.
Smile more, because you’re naturally a happy person deep down to your core.
Even if you’re far away, just know you’ve done enough in your day.
Love yourself, feel lost, but never doubt yourself.
You deserve to be happy, and one day your kids will call you daddy.
Don’t be sad if you can’t call me on your phone; just know you’re never alone.
Because you’re still in my heart, even when we’re far apart.

There are many more things you’ve taught me. But it’ll be too long to name them all. I know I said all the things I wanted to tell you before you left already. But in case you’re wondering how I am, here it is.

Nyob zoo kuv grandma.
Now you aren’t suffering anymore, are you smiling more?
Rain or shine, your foolish grandson is doing fine.
I’m thinking too much nowadays because I’ll be going far away.
I’ve gotten really busy, but compared to you, my life is easy.
I’m trying to eat all three meals, but don’t worry, your cooking is always the real deal.
As hard as it may be, please be patient with me.
I know I said goodbye then, but I know I will see you again.

I’ll continue to slowly work for my future. In the end, I’ll win. Because I’m your grandson, Manting.
(Kuv mam li maj mam khwv rau kuv lub neej, Thaum kawg, kuv mam li yog tu yeej. Vim kuv yog koj tub xeeb ntxwv, Manting.)

20190430_HmongLegacy_JH_015

Hello, I would appreciate it if you would give me feedback on what you enjoyed and what you didn’t. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to comment or email me too! Thank you.

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