hyphenated

Nestled behind my grandparents’ house lies a river. It had been raining for days, relentlessly downpouring across the land. The river overflowed, sending water into the streets and neighborhoods. And as the water spilled out of the riverbed, so too do the fish, swept along with the forces of the current. With the flood reaching up to our ankles, my cousins and I stood with our buckets, staring in awe at the fish weaving through our legs. This is the only memory I have from visiting my motherland at the age of six.

I have not been back to Vietnam since that visit. Born in the United States, I realized that much of my cultural heritage was foreign to me. The recent passing of my grandmother, and the many events and rituals it entailed, granted me a deeper understanding of the pieces of myself that felt disconnected. I am Vietnamese and I am American, but sometimes I feel as though I am one more than the other. Using photography, I investigate this process of reconnection and embrace of my culture through still lives and portraiture. Ultimately, this confrontation of the confluence and interplay of my cultural duality allows me to see myself clearly and proudly, as a young Vietnamese-American woman.