Lessons for America from my own refugee experience
In 1970, Cambodia began its civil war with the Khmer Rouge, whose goal was to overthrow the Khmer government and create a communist country, the Democratic Kampuchea.
What was once a beautiful and peaceful Cambodia would soon become a war-torn nation, with rockets launching constantly into the city and leveling buildings into rubble.
I was 15 and in high school at the time. One evening, while on volunteer guard duty protecting the school from the Khmer Rouge guerrillas, the campus was attacked. A grenade blast tore into my legs and back, nearly killing me. My entire body was paralyzed and I bled for about eight hours until I was rescued. Many of my friends died that night.
After my release from the hospital two months later, I immediately volunteered to serve in the Cambodian Navy. I would fight in this war until I was 20 years old.
I fled to the Philippines just one day before the Khmer Rouge won the war, thus beginning a five-year genocide and massacring of 2.5 million Cambodian citizens — a full one-third of the country’s population.
In the U.S., because we had fought alongside American troops in the Vietnam War, President Gerald Ford signed into law the Indochina Migration and Refugee Assistance Act of 1975, allowing 130,000 Indochinese refugees from South Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia to enter the United States. I was one of them.
Some Americans opposed taking in the refugees, doubting that they could assimilate into American culture and uphold its value system.
In June 1975, I was among one of the first refugees who arrived at a camp in Fort Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania. I had no family or belongings and no knowledge of the American way of life. I spoke only three words of English: “yes,” “no” and “OK.”
A Rhode Island-based immigration and naturalization services institute soon sponsored my move to Providence, providing me with resettlement support, English classes and job placement.
At a local restaurant, my sponsor ordered me a hamburger. When the waitress asked if I wanted french fries or mashed potatoes, I replied, “yes,” not knowing what she was asking. They brought out both.
From then on, I knew that learning English would be the key to my freedom in this country.
My first job was washing dishes at a restaurant in North Kingston. I cried after my first night, having been on my feet for over 12 hours without a break. I realized how hard I would have to work to be an American.
I was later placed in another job at a coffee factory, which I juggled with my ongoing English-as-a-second-language classes. My teacher informed us that a local Urban League program was enrolling students in machine shop classes. They would pay minimum wage for 30 hours a week while I attended trade school. After three months, I landed a job as a machinist.
At an onsite training session, I met a professor from the Community College of Rhode Island, who recommended I enroll in engineering classes there. I took his advice, and it was here where I gained my confidence and was inspired to move to Austin, where I eventually enrolled and graduated with a degree in petroleum engineering from the University of Texas.
By then, I had learned an important lesson in my American life: Hard work and taking chances when opportunities arise are the ingredients to success.
Today, I own a successful small engineering firm with offices in seven cities, which creates jobs and helps improve the local economy. I’ve been involved in the community for the last 30 years — a passion that led me to establish various civic organizations that advocate commerce, bridging social service gaps and bringing economic development opportunities to Austin.
I am telling my story because I cannot help but reflect on my own experiences as an immigrant and refugee while recognizing the anti-immigrant sentiments in America today.
When I came here, I felt welcomed. This country nurtured me and offered a support system. Many of my fellow countrymen who came with me to the U.S. received similar opportunities; many of them have achieved great success and contributed so much more than I have.
Today, there are plans to massively deport undocumented immigrants and ban the entry of refugees and visitors from certain countries, including some who have fought alongside American troops — policies that are praised by many Americans. This is a stark contrast to what I encountered. I feel perplexed and discouraged.
Immigrants are the foundation of this country. We are all products of immigrants or refugees — and each of us has contributed to make America the great country it is. My personal story proves that an inclusive and well-executed immigration policy works.
If we weaken our foundation with reckless immigration policy, we are deconstructing what our ancestors and founding fathers worked so hard to build. I owe it to this country to tell my story — and I hope those who read this will tell their own.