The Doyle Engaging Difference Program - Georgetown University

There’s a popular saying in Vietnamese, “đi thật xa để trở về,” which roughly translates as “go far to return.” This phrase captures the essence of stepping out of one’s "village"—one’s comfort zone—to explore, to grow, and to appreciate one’s roots, ultimately making a poignant return.

My journey to America has embodied this saying. Leaving the small Central Vietnamese town of Quảng Ngãi, where I grew up with my extended family, to study in the United States felt like uprooting my entire life. The initial excitement quickly gave way to culture shock. I missed the protective care of my family and the familiar sense of belonging. Suddenly, I was navigating a world where everything was unfamiliar—the language, the food, the American lifestyle, and the daunting responsibility that comes with independence.

As I navigated through this period of adjustment, I encountered numerous challenges that tested my resilience. The initial struggle to communicate fluently in English often left me feeling isolated, and the fast-paced, individualistic lifestyle of America was a stark contrast to the communal rhythm of life back in Quảng Ngãi. I grappled with balancing the newfound independence with a longing for the close-knit community I had left behind.

However, it was through these struggles that I began to find common ground in unexpected places. I noticed parallels between American holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, which, though rooted in Christianity, have become inclusive cultural phenomena, and Vietnam's Lunar New Year, or Tết. This realization struck me during my first Thanksgiving in America, a holiday known for its spirit of gratitude and togetherness. Gathered around the dinner table with friends in our own Friendsgiving, sharing stories and laughter, I experienced the universal language of hospitality and kindness. The warmth and generosity extended to me were strikingly similar to the communal gatherings during Tất Niên back home. This moment was a testament to the shared human values transcending our diverse backgrounds—values of fellowship, community, and compassion.

In the midst of adapting to a new culture, I also came to experience the joy of meeting fellow Vietnamese in America. The sound of my native language being spoken was a melody that brought an immediate sense of belonging—they are quite literally the rediscovery of home in a foreign land.

I still vividly remember my first visit to a Phở restaurant months after my arrival in America. Back in Quảng Ngãi, living near a Phở kiosk, I had it almost every day for breakfast, to the point of nearly losing my appetite for the dish. Yet, weeks without it in America made me desperately long for it. The first sip of the broth was a revelation—the rich flavors blossoming like a long-forgotten melody, awakening memories of early mornings of my childhood. The steam rising from the bowl carried with it the aroma of spices and herbs, a sensory bridge to home. Stepping into this restaurant, run by a Việt kiều—Vietnamese immigrants who came to the United States after the Vietnam War—my homesickness dissolved in the familiar warmth of the broth. The taste of home in that bowl of Phở was a comforting embrace, a reminder of my roots in a land so far from everything I knew.

I delved deeper into understanding the Vietnamese-American diaspora. Coming from Quảng Ngãi, a land deeply scarred by the Vietnam War, I empathized with our shared history of pain. My conversations with Vietnamese-American friends gave me a newfound understanding of and admiration for their struggles and resilience. Despite the prejudice that has hindered reconciliation between Vietnam and the diaspora, these dialogues revealed our common ground: a profound love for our homeland. In many ways, I also see an echo in their stories and my own as I navigate life in America–venturing into unfamiliar territories, grappling with identity, and striving to find a place of belonging in a world far from home. These conversations became a bridge, however small, towards healing the divide between two parts of a Vietnam still recovering from its past.

One of the most poignant moments for me personally was singing the song "Hello Vietnam" at Georgetown’s International Student Night. Joined by both Vietnamese and Vietnamese-American students, it was a powerful expression of our shared heritage and love for the place we call home. As our voices rose in unison, it felt like a healing balm that soothes the lingering ache of displacement and division. In that moment, surrounded by voices that echoed my own journey, I felt a profound sense of belonging, bound by an unbreakable bond that connected us to Vietnam, no matter where we were in the world. In that moment, I returned home.