Honoring Vietnamese Boat People: A Journey of Legacy and Remembrance

Share your story

If you or your family escaped Vietnam in the aftermath of the war, we want to hear your story. Whether you fled by boat, on foot, or through sheer determination and luck, your journey is part of a powerful, shared history. What obstacles did you face as you left everything behind? What moments tested your strength? And once you arrived in America, how did you rebuild your life from scratch? Your voice matters—share your story of survival, sacrifice, and resilience so others can learn, remember, and be inspired.

Need help? Read our How to Ask—and Truly Listen: Interviewing Vietnamese Boat People

Please share your story in the Comment section below.


One response to “Share your story”

  1. Chris Le Avatar
    Chris Le

    When I was 13, I was shot at, captured by the police, had my head shaved, and was imprisoned for a month. All of this happened because my family wanted to flee persecution under the Communist regime.

    My father had been an officer in the South Vietnamese government. When Saigon fell, he was sent to a so-called “re-education camp”—a brutal labor prison where he spent five years being “educated” by guards with only a third-grade education, despite my father’s advanced degrees in law and business administration. After his release, my older brother, older sister, and I tried to escape but were captured.

    Undeterred, my father and I kept trying—again and again—until, at last, we escaped on an overcrowded 30-foot boat crammed with 50 other people, packed so tightly we could only sit back to back. For a harrowing week, we drifted across the open sea, battered by two violent storms, parched from thirst, and drained of fuel. As hope began to slip away and the terrifying thought crept in that we might become just another tragic statistic—refugees lost to the sea—a miracle appeared on the horizon: an oil rig. The workers offered food, water, and the fuel we needed to reach Malaysia. A year later, after a stop in the Philippines, we finally reached the United States—starting over with nothing but the clothes on our backs.

    The Vietnamese people are no strangers to struggle. For centuries, we’ve endured a thousand years of  invasions by our neighbor, a hundred years of colonization, and 30 years of civil war. We’ve learned to adapt, survive, and overcome. Resilience is not just a trait—it is our inheritance.

    My grandfather fought against French occupation. My father fought against communism, survived prison, and escaped with nothing. Together with my mother in the new country, they rebuilt their lives, sent their children to college, bought a home, and found peace in a foreign land. The hardship they endured is just another obstacle for them to overcome.

    About 30 years ago, I attended a party mostly filled with doctors whose families had lived in America for generations. When the topic of boat people came up, I shared my story. One of them, after listening, said, “So all of you are walking around carrying this trauma with you all this time.” 

    His words, while clinically correct, missed the point entirely because it did not capture who I am.

    I was lucky enough to start over at a young age, and I embraced the opportunities my parents never had. I don’t carry trauma—I carry their resilience. It runs through my blood. It’s not a burden. It’s my legacy.

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