Cambodians are very underrepresented in our society. Not only in media, but also in our general "multicultural" population. We are so in the minority that we barely even have a stereotype. Ask an uncultured person to locate the country on the map, and likely they would have no clue. Unless you came across it in some history lesson, booked yourself a cheap South-East Asian getaway (tacked onto a trip to Thailand or Vietnam), or watched Angelina Jolie's "Tomb Raider", chances are, you wouldn't know too much about our history or culture.
So I asked the question to my sister and family friend about what they think a stereotype would be for us Cambodians. The response: uneducated. Poor. Tourists who visit the country may also say that we're a friendly and happy people. But ultimately, we are simple people. We work hard but are not entrepreneurial. We are not good at promoting our culture. You won't find too many businesses owned by Cambodians, which is why you would be hard pressed to find any Cambodian restaurants to be able to name a single Cambodian dish.
If you know a little about Cambodian modern history you would understand that there is a reason for this.
Let me paint you a picture...
Background
My parents migrated to Australia as refugees to escape the war in Cambodia. Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge regime, The Killing Fields - my parents were in the thick of it. Our family roots are humble, coming from a small village in the agricultural province of Prey Veng.
From about 1975 when the Khmer Rouge gained power, millions of people were executed all across the country and buried in mass graves, commonly nicknamed as "The Killing Fields". Academics and intellectuals were amongst those first targeted to be killed as a tactic to oppress political opposition. It was genocide at a national scale, with 1.5 to 3 million massacred, resulting in the death of approximately 25% of the entire Cambodian population.
One of the very few photos my family have left of their time in Khao I Dang.
Over 40 years on, the country is still in the stranglehold of corrupt governance under the guise of an "elected" prime minister. But because the threats and damage are only to its own people (unlike the sabre rattling of North Korea) and the country lacks resources of value (like the oil in the Middle-East) the Western world barely takes notice.
My parents were never able to finish school. War had broken out. They were forced to pack up their livelihoods and run for their lives, eventually finding refuge across the border in, Khao I Dang, a Thai refugee camp. Several years were spent in that camp - my parents were married there, my brothers born there. It wasn't until 1985 that we were able to get sponsored to migrate to Australia. My dad had a choice of either going to America or Australia and had decided to come to Australia simply for the fact that it was closer to the motherland.
As many refugees at the time, my family first settled in the suburb of Cabramatta, sometimes referred to as the "Little Vietnam" of Sydney. It was during this time that I was born, becoming one of the first of the Australian-born Cambodian generation.
Childhood
When I was about 2 years old, we moved to Campbelltown. Having migrated here with barely anything but the clothes on their backs, the houses there were more affordable with the region still under development.
Not knowing the language, the only opportunity for employment was either to sweat it out with labour work in manufacturing factories or on the farms. My dad, young, fit and hardworking, was able to secure a job in one of the factories. This became the crucial source of income that would support an ever-growing family. A true baby boomer, this was the one and only employment my dad ever had, all the way up until his retirement last year.
My mother, on the other hand, utilised the skills she had, earning a small income as a dressmaker sewing garments in our garage - sweatshop style. If we were lucky, we got about $2 per garment that was sewed, $4 if it was a more complex dress. It was a pittance, but it was something. A family command line would be formed where we all had to contribute. My dad would continue to work after coming back from his day job and as children, my brothers had to learn to sew. I even helped flip garments inside out or with other basic tasks. Eventually, my mum was able to gain employment with my dad at the factory and this eased financial pressure by being able to earn two honest wages.
English is technically my second language which I learnt from my brothers and TV and later at school. I never went to daycare or preschool. To be honest, I don't even know if my parents knew of such a thing at the time. We certainly couldn't afford it.
By the time I hit primary school my parents were assigned afternoon shift - gone before we got back from school, back after we had already gone to bed.
My parents couldn't help me with my homework since they could barely understand it themselves. But despite not being able to help us with basic reading and writing, my parents supported our education the best they could. Maths is an international language and became the focus of our schooling, with dad teaching us the fundamentals of basic arithmetics and problem-solving.
Whilst for most you see the scene of parents reading their kids bedtime stories and tucking them into bed. I, on the other hand, was woken up in the middle of the night with a warm cup of Milo and told to recite my timetables.
I learnt to read on my own through school. I didn't grow up with many toys, often resorting to playing with paper cutouts from catalogues since I wasn't bought any dolls. Reading became a favourite past time.
As with many Asian parents, encouragement and support were not offered by kind words but rather the love language of actions: regular trips to the library, financially providing for a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. My parents pushed us to work hard at school and never rejected any requests so long as it was related to our schooling. They strove to provide us with an education and a life of opportunities they never had.
High school
My fondness for reading meant that by high school, my comprehension of the English language was the best in the family. I ended up even reviewing my brother's Year 12 essays when I was in Year 7. This, as a result, led to the reliance on me looking after all official family matters: paying bills, translating official documents and even reviewing loans and contracts. In conjunction with raising my sister most nights since my parents were rarely home, taking on these adult responsibilities forced me to grow up very fast.
It was also in high school that I began to be more conscious of the fact that we were different. Living in Campbelltown was pretty much spot the Asian, so when we found each other, we generally stuck together. Culturally, with the White Australia policy ending in the 70s, allowing families like ours to escape war-torn counties and build better lives for ourselves, Australia was still trying to come to terms with the idea of multiculturalism. Many of the Asian youth growing up in Australia were dealing with issues of displacement: the clashing cultures of being raised by the ideals of Eastern tiger parents vs adapting to the notions of freedom and way of life of the West. Politically, the rise of the One Nation party further stigmatised our people, calling us "The Asian Invasion" and rallying to "send us back to where we came from".
My sister and I yearly tradition on Khmer New Year. As we have grown older we have now found pride in our heritage.
Our parents feared that with us going to school where we predominantly spoke English and had Aussie friends, we would lose our heritage. So in an attempt to retain our heritage, my dad did teach my brothers and I the Khmer alphabet, basic reading of the Khmer language and sent us to Cambodian school on weekends. I was able to read at a second-grade level and that was as far as I got. The local Cambodian school didn't last long though and was eventually shut down.
As a Cambodian growing up in Australia, it was hard to identify or find pride in our heritage because:
There weren't many of us, especially in Campbelltown, to have a sense of community
We didn't see much value in the language since no one speaks it and it would not help in many professional settings (we don't have the business acumen remember?)
We were not exposed to the ways of Cambodian people properly since most of our learnings of the world were from school or TV and our parents were too busy working most of the time
Growing up in Australia, we assimilated well, but there was definitely a cultural chasm with our parent's generation as they tried to adapt to the Australian way of life.
When we acted out, we got disciplined the Asian way. Rulers, electric cables... I was a bit younger and a conformist so managed to keep my head down low, but I witnessed the struggles through my brothers who were most affected.
We didn't quite fit in or were fully accepted by the West, but we didn't agree with the strict and stifling values preached by our parents.
In an attempt to find some sense of identity and pride, it was no wonder that many of the youth found community in the AZN Pride movement. The introduction of internet chatrooms made connecting with like-minded kids in Sydney a lot easier for my brother. We only had one computer at the time so naturally, my brothers got priority and I was left with my books.
“Got Rice?” - An Azn Pride Anthem
Source: Youtube
A very insightful documentary about this time period and the migrant experience to Sydney is "Once Upon A Time in Cabramatta", available to watch on SBSOnDemand. The stories were so familiar and hit very close to home as it explains why many of the Vietnamese (and Cambodian) youth ended up the way they did.
A story so close to home, my brother even makes a guest appearance in the documentary “Once upon a time in Cabramatta”
Source: sbs.com.au
My high school was a public high school full of locals in the area, including the housing commission kind. The kids didn't care about grades and doing well. Sports achievements were more recognised than academic. When I was in Year 12 we had the worst attendance in the state. So yeah, you might say that I didn't go to a great school. However, education is what you make of it.
Despite its reputation and our situation, I managed to achieve very high grades, get into a well-respected uni and build a pretty successful career for myself.
Lessons
This is not a story of rags to riches - there ain't no Crazy Rich Asians here - and this is certainly not a "woe is me look at how impoverished we were" sob story. This is a story of resilience and the acknowledgement and appreciation of the hardship and sacrifices my family had to endure to teach me these lessons.
If you are not happy with where you are in life, don't go blaming the school, or your parents, or your upbringing, or use circumstance as a convenient excuse.
Unlike the so-called millennial entitlement mentality:
“The world doesn’t owe you anything”
My dad taught me that anything worth doing is never easy. It requires commitment, discipline and hard work. You can't just expect for opportunities to be handed to you. Things don't 'just happen', they take action.
Sometimes you can't choose the hand that you are dealt, not all of us are gifted with that privilege, but you can choose how you respond to it. Work with what you are given and play to your advantages. And if the odds aren't in your favour, don't wallow in self pity or give up because it’s too hard basket, think of what you can do about it.
“Find the strength in the struggle,
fire in the fight to continue to move forward ”
My parents and I, we are survivors, and in the face of adversity we will march on.
Stories such as my own would echo across many migrant families during that time. What our parents have lived through significantly impacts the way we are raised and how it affects us as a person. How have your parents’ stories affected you? I would love to hear them.
If you want to learn more about the Khmer Rouge experience without too much reading there are two movies that I could recommend watching: “The Killing Fields (1984)” and “At First They Killed My Father (2017)” available on Netflix.
