May 24, 2003
Bill Spurs Bitter Debate Over Hmong Identity
L.A. Times Headlines 

By Lee Romney, Times Staff Writer (Article courtesy of LA Times)

It stemmed from tragedy. After eight teenage suicides scarred the Central
Valley's Hmong community, Assemblywoman Sarah Reyes (D-Fresno) convened a
group of the Hmong to seek solutions to the youth crisis of poor self-esteem
and cultural confusion.

The legislation born that day has been praised by leaders of the people with
Southeast Asian roots. But Reyes' seemingly innocuous bill — which would
encourage California schools to teach the history of Hmong involvement and
sacrifice in the secret war in Laos — has triggered a bitter debate on the
very nature of Hmong identity.

Members of a small culturally and linguistically distinct group — Mong Leng,
or Blue Mong — have come forward to demand that they be recognized
separately in the bill, as a way to reverse what they say is long-standing
subordination to the more dominant Hmong Der, or White Hmong.

The dispute taps into centuries-old divisions among a tribal people. Like
other battles among recent immigrants lumped together under one ethnic
umbrella, it is about class, culture and language as an anchor to identity.

Mong Leng — who prefer the spelling with no "H" — say they have seized on
the legislation by the Fresno Democrat as a way to make their voices heard
after decades of silence. If the bill passes as is, they fear, resources
will flow disproportionately to the Hmong Der.

"Of the two Hmong groups, our group was the least educated and the least
sophisticated when we got to this country," said Paoze Thao, a professor of
linguistics at Cal State Monterey Bay and president of the nonprofit Mong
Federation. "But our group has always disputed the fact that the group Hmong
includes Mong. The public has been misinformed."

But many Hmong — from community leaders to student activists — are startled
by the controversy and insist that Hmong of both dialects have coexisted
here peacefully.

Although they say some concerns raised by Thao's group are well-founded —
namely that curricular materials should be translated into Mong Leng as well
as Hmong Der — they worry that the sudden fissure could derail a bill that
benefits all their people.

"We have White and Blue and Green. Traditionally and culturally the dialects
are different and the cultures are different, but the ethnicity is Hmong,"
said Christopher Vang, assistant professor of teacher education at Cal State
Stanislaus-Stockton and a supporter of the bill.

"Somebody has taken this opportunity to publicize a personal quest for
linguistic equality," he said. "We need to say: Enough is enough."

One measure of the battle is the fight over the spelling "Hmong," devised
more than three decades ago by a Western academic to describe the diverse
hill tribes of Southeast Asia.

Among them were White Hmong, Blue and Green Mong, Striped Hmong, Black Hmong
and Red Hmong — classifications based on costume and custom. There are
differences in language between Hmong Der — or White Hmong — and Mong Leng —
known by some interchangeably as Blue Mong or Green Mong.

As many as 40,000 Hmong were killed fighting on the U.S. side in the CIA's
secret war against Laotian communists in the 1960s and 1970s. Survivors
settled in the United States as refugees, congregating largely in Minnesota,
Wisconsin and California's Central Valley.

The more impoverished Mong Leng say their people died or were injured in
greater numbers. The Hmong Der were generally more educated, more affluent
and consequently more influential, Hmong scholars say.

As a result, dictionaries, written translations and other literature are
skewed to Hmong Der. State officials in Minnesota, for example, only
recently began translating children's books into both Mong Leng and Hmong
Der, said Mark Pfeifer, resource center director at the Hmong Cultural
Center in St. Paul.

But whether the dominance of Hmong Der has scarred the community is a matter
of debate. Many Hmong Der leaders say tensions have been minimal. They point
to intermarriages with Mong Leng.

Vang, who is Hmong Der, says he knows many Mong Leng who use their dialects
at home but have adapted to Hmong Der in the workplace.

But Thao and other Mong Leng activists say they have suffered inequality and
a stereotype of inferiority for years.

A refugee worker turned academic, Thao moved to California from Illinois in
1995 and began working with the Central Valley's Hmong, noting the dearth of
translated material for Mong Leng children. Under his leadership a younger
generation took the reins of the Mong Federation, among them Chimeng Yang,
36, a former teacher and current administrator in the Sacramento City
Unified School District.

Yang said he has seen the disparities affect self-esteem in the classroom.

"The Mong kids will not comprehend the story," he said. "They are shy. They
don't want to raise their hands, because of the teasing."

But it was an issue affecting all Hmong that brought the group's campaign
into the public eye.

Concerned with low educational attainment, state Education Secretary Kerry
Mazzoni formed an advisory group of Hmong Der and Mong Leng.

In a detailed presentation, Thao outlined the differences between the groups
last year for officials, who describe the initiative on the secretary's Web
site as "Success for Hmong/Mong Students."

Tensions surfaced only with the Reyes' legislation. Eight Fresno Hmong
teenagers had taken their lives in a three-year period — four within six
months. The deaths accounted for nearly half the county's teenage suicides,
although Hmong made up only 3% of the population.

Struggling to assimilate in American youth culture while living in
profoundly traditional households, the teenagers felt adrift. Meanwhile,
their history was absent from schoolbooks.

Responding to a Fresno Bee report on the deaths, Reyes assembled a group of
Hmong to brainstorm, and AB78 was born.

"If you are a Hmong kid, who are you?" asked Peter Vang, a supporter of the
bill whose 18-year-old son committed suicide.

"Your mom or your dad helped to fight the communists, but you are not
included in the Vietnam history," said Vang, chairman of the Central
Valley's nascent Hmong Education Task Force. "It's discouraging for kids."

The bill does not make a change in curriculum mandatory or direct money to
schools. But it encourages educators to teach the "the role of the Hmong and
other Southeast Asians in the Vietnam War" in grades 7 through 12, using
oral and video testimony to stress Hmong reasons for immigrating.

Thao and Yang of the Mong Federation wanted the "Mong" spelling included.
"We supported them 100%," Thao said. But Thao said the group turned against
the bill when "we were ignored."

Reyes said she explained to the group that all Hmong in the United States
are classified under that term and directed the Mong to seek a separate
ethnic designation through federal channels. The bill neither favors one
dialect over another nor mandates the creation of curricular materials, she
said.

"If I put Mong in there, are the Black Hmong going to come to me? Are the
Red Hmong going to come to me?" the assemblywoman asked. "We as a
Legislature decided not to get into this fight."

Still, Reyes — who has seen Latinos bicker similarly over self-identifying
terms — is sympathetic. "It's the struggle of a new community," she said.

Some, like Christopher Vang, worry that the debate will "create hostility
and cause incivility." Others offer faint hope that the process could be
healthy.

Doua Vu, a resource specialist for the Fresno Unified School District,
helped craft AB78.

"I think," Vu said, "they have raised an awareness level among some who
weren't aware before."