We fled the Vietnam War and settled in the USA – for a while I didn’t want to be Asian

I am a surgeon, a wife, and a proud mother of three. I am a first-generation American. I am a member of Generation X. There are many labels that could be put on me, but in the true spirit of my generation, I do not like to be labeled.

I think there is too much of that these days. What I am and who I am reflects a country I was not even born in, and yet it is at the core of my personal and professional success.

My parents instilled a fire in me that was made up of a culture of achievement, a culture of striving to be the best you can be. It’s a mindset I appreciate, especially in today’s culture where it can be difficult to look beyond labels and separations.

Having experienced inequality and racism first hand, I believe it is important for us to not become victims, to grow from these challenges and know that we can overcome them by focusing on personal growth and gratitude.

Look, if you want to talk about labels, I go against that current cultural narrative. I am a woman. I am an immigrant. I am Asian. And I am a successful, proud American. I am a nationally recognized physician. I don’t like labels, but they have been forced on me since I was a young child.

I was born in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. My parents were Vietnamese/Chinese and were literally forced to leave their country by the communists. They had no tolerance and certainly no compassion for anyone who did not believe the same as them. They were merciless and we had little choice but to flee or die. I was five years old at the time and grew up in an almost constant state of fear.

My father went from being a successful small business owner to a refugee as my family fled for their lives. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few small gold bars that we could trade for safe passage on a boat. I remember my grandmother getting caught and thrown in jail. But luckily – really luckily – my mother, father and four sisters were able to board a boat and head to Indonesia. Imagine being lucky because you ended up in an Indonesian refugee camp for a year.

In the mid-1970s, there were sponsors through a Christian organization that could take Vietnamese refugees and house them in France, Canada, the United States, or Australia. A U.S. agency agreed to support us as long as we were able to get paid work and a relative could sponsor us.

We had some distant relatives in the US, very far away, and somehow we ended up in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1980. I remember my mother started working at Dunkin’ Donuts and my father got a job as a dishwasher at some random restaurant.
This sponsoring group gave us clothes and helped my parents with applications. None of us spoke a word of English, we all had this weird Chinese-Vietnamese dialect. I remember watching TV and learning English by watching Reading Rainbow and those horrible afternoon specials.

My parents, on the other hand, decided to move the family to New York City and settle in Chinatown so they didn’t really have to learn English. It was just easier to adjust, but I was determined to learn English.

There weren’t many Asian kids at school. I was teased, bullied, harassed and called names mercilessly. That’s also a misnomer. If only those kids could understand what I’ve been through and am going through. But moving to New York was easier because it’s more of a melting pot. I didn’t feel like the only Asian kid anymore. I worked hard on my English and even worked on getting rid of that “Asian” accent. Funny, I’m still working on that.

I remember there were times when I didn’t want to be Asian. But the pendulum has swung and as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to accept it and enjoy my heritage as it is truly one of courage, survival and strength.

My parents and my culture pushed me to be more than just a victim, even though I could have easily fallen into that trap. We observe certain Asian holidays and traditions. My daughter has tried really hard to learn Mandarin, which I find ironic and wonderful at the same time, since I have worked so hard to learn English.

I come from a culture where you work hard to achieve your goals and dreams. There’s always this Chinese response in the back of my mind that says you can always do better. And I certainly haven’t accomplished everything, but it’s important to stick with it and keep going, and I work hard at everything I do. You have to put in the effort. I still struggle with shyness and have to actively work on talking to people.

But lately, I’m encouraged by what I’m seeing, as more and more people seem to be moving beyond the labeling madness that has taken over much of our pop culture. Putting people into groups is the opposite of what we should be promoting. I’m proud of my heritage, but it doesn’t define me. I believe we are defined by our actions and our inner strengths. We need to encourage everyone to strive to be their best selves, find balance, and perhaps most importantly, find meaning in everything they do.

Dr. Diana Chuong Ponsky is a double-certified and trained plastic surgeon specializing in facial plastic surgery. She attended New York University College of Arts and Science where she received her Bachelor of Arts degree in 1995. She completed a Master of Science program in Physiology at Georgetown University in Washington, DC in 1996 and received her Doctor of Medicine degree from Georgetown University in 2000.

After completing her fellowship in 2008, Dr. Ponsky joined the Department of Plastic Surgery and the Department of Otolaryngology at CWRU-University Hospitals in Cleveland, Ohio. She currently operates her own private practice and lives in Cleveland with her husband, Dr. Todd Ponsky, and their three children, Sasha, Josie, and Ella.

All views expressed are those of the author.

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