Healing: A Journey to Laos and Self-Acceptance

From the desk of Anna Douangphachanh

I was not surprised to be jet-lagged after traveling back to Wisconsin from Laos. Unable to sleep, I headed to a neighborhood bar to begin writing about my experience in Laos with Legacies of War. To my surprise - it made me feel more American than ever before but also closer to my Lao heritage. I felt at peace with my lifelong identity crisis, as if the war inside me had ended. With its end, I now am picking up the pieces, and I’ve embarked further into a healing journey – a journey that involves seeking more understanding of my family history, my identity, and a complicated Laotian and American history. Behind the bar, a red neon sign glowed, “Don’t Stop Now”.  Perhaps it was a sign from the universe. 

Anna at Patuxay Monument

My identity is rooted in my family. They lived in refugee camps for eight years until 1991, when my mom – five months pregnant with me, my dad – a war veteran, and my young siblings – two brothers and sister, relocated to Moses Lake, Washington, a small rural town in eastern Washington state. Despite widespread belief, relocation was not free. First, they paid emotional tolls. They also paid back a relocation loan over seven years. They arrived with no money and few physical possessions, but they luckily had each other. I consider my childhood to be marked in part by American poverty, intergenerational trauma, racism, new traumas, and violence, but also being able to happily run around and play in the dirt and having opportunities and hope for a better life. However, perhaps because of our human propensity for negative bias, fear, and survival, I strongly remember the negatives. 

In their new world and community, and in my first, we dealt with a new war. Physical and emotional violence was perpetrated on us by people of various ages, races, and classes. On the other hand, kindness was extended to us by people of various ages, races, and classes. We had kind sponsors who helped my family integrate into a new world. I was fortunate to have had kind teachers and people in my life, and I have had a plethora of opportunities, especially through school, that I enthusiastically delved into. However, eventually the continued negativity and trauma hardened me, pushing me away from myself, my family, and the little community I felt I had. I had lost my drive and my voice and I became depressed and riddled with anxiety. I’ve often felt like I was broken, but I know now that was never the case.

Anna comparing her height with a bomb.

 I half joke that I majored in psychology at university to heal myself. The knowledge gained as a psychology student helped start my healing journey, and after graduating I continued to read psychology, neuroscience, and self help books in addition to therapies like talk therapy and EMDR. I learned that who I became was the result of many factors, and the tools and traits I developed were beneficial for survival at some point. I also learned that I could change habits and add “emotional tools” to my “tool box” that better served me in the direction I wanted to go.

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For most people, I’m never “Lao” enough or “American” enough. This mindset had even stopped me from getting more involved with Legacies of War after I first stumbled upon it. I didn’t think it was “my lane” to be in. In the absence of healthy pride and knowledge of where you come from, knowledge of your history, traditions, heritage, and community, you start to believe the negative views others have of you. But I have learned to accept, understand, forgive, and love others whose understanding of me is imperfect and negative, including those who are struggling to acknowledge and address their own frailties. I too am human — imperfect and destined to make mistakes.

In the past I ignored the Lao part of my identity –  it made most people around me uncomfortable and so it made me uncomfortable too. Once I stopped trying to run away from who I was, I noticed my depression and anxiety lift. Perhaps it's an immature mindset – the want to fit into identities that society and other people place you in. Or perhaps is it a survival tactic? Or maybe it’s simply easier for everyone to fall into molds and systems already set in place. But I’ve come to fully accept who I am and understand that I don’t fit easily into one identity. I’m complex – because I am living – changing, adapting, and evolving, just maybe at a quicker pace than most.  I have also come to realize that I don’t have to be at war with myself. I have had access to peace my whole life – through self-acceptance, self-compassion, self-love, and through embracing my full humanity. 

Anna weaving with a traditional loom.

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While in Laos, I wanted to buy everything, feeling that if I acquired objects of Lao origin, they might fill holes in my identity and fill wounds that had been open for far too long. I also noticed that mannerisms connected to Lao culture were roused. On autopilot I politely lowered my body toward the ground in a bow as I walked past people sitting near the floor. It’s rude to hover. This is a mannerism that lives inside me; ready for whenever it’s needed. I was also inclined to ask others, in a thoughtful concern,  if they had eaten yet, “kin khao lǣv bǭ?”, “ກິນເຂົ້າ​ແລ້ວ​ບໍ”? While I’ve always had access to Laotian food in the States – my mom shows her love through a meal and cooks “the real stuff” –  it was special to enjoy the cuisine in the country of origin. My body and gut seemed to relax and sigh happily as I consumed the highly nutritious, unprocessed, and flavorful meals, rich in plant diversity. 

I was reminded of the many beautiful ethnic groups — including the Hmong people — and different languages and dialects within the country. My parents are from rural villages in southern Laos, where they have a reputation for speaking louder than those in the north. I was reminded that “ka tip khao”, “กะຕິບເຂົ້າ” a name for the Lao sticky rice basket, is named differently in the north - “ēp khao”, “ເເອບເຂົ້າ”. I was also reminded of racism within Asian cultures that comes through as a beauty standard – lighter skin tone. I question, is this racism tied to imperialism, subjugation, oppression, economic class? Regardless, I’ve learned to love my darker skin, my freckles, and the beautiful melanin that has kept my skin safer from UV exposure during countless hours of being in nature – evidence of living – doing activities in the sun that I love like running, hiking, biking, paddling: activities that make me me. 

We attended the Wat/Vat Phu Festival on its last day, held at the ancient Hindu Temple that predates Angkor Wat. The last day coincides with the full moon. “Moon” is the meaning of my last name. And like the moon, I have phases and I am dynamic. I change but at my core I’m the same. My trip to Laos prompted my parents to share stories, like how my Dad, as a kid, used to run up the Wat Phu steps and count them, just like his parents and ancestors did before him. As I climbed up the stairs to the Buddha statue, I imagined him as a child while I counted the steps myself. My parents say I’m the reincarnation of my great grandma, so maybe in a past life, I climbed them too. Blooming plumeria trees lined the steps, and I was reminded of my tattoo: three plumeria flowers, “dǭk champā”, ດອກຈໍາປາ, a cultural symbol and Laos’ national flower. It’s a tattoo I got in my early 20s as an homage to my family and their struggles and also to remind myself to stay grounded and humble. 

In the continuation of this healing journey, I was privileged this summer to take an intensive Lao language class at the University of Wisconsin – Madison, where I advanced my skills in reading, writing, and speaking. I even sent a postcard to my parents written in Lao. I’ve also given talks about my family history, struggles with identity, and current victim and UXO issues in Laos and Southeast Asia. People have approached me afterwards, thanking me, saying that hearing my story has helped them with their identity struggles. Each action I take, feels as if I am removing war shrapnel from myself and others. 

War breaks homes and communities. Visiting Laos, especially with Legacies of War, allowed me to reverse some of the effects of war, especially my inner war, by getting me in touch with my heritage and connecting me with a community of like-minded individuals. I’m grateful to have a space where I can take the pain of the past and transform it for the better. War is complicated – an understatement, I know – but I might as well do something with the life given to me in an attempt to make other lives better – like others have done for me. And I hope you’ll join us in action in our mission to assist victims, clear Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam of UXO, and end the use of cluster munitions. 

Anna with the Spring 2024 Laos Trip cohort.