Voices of a New Generation: Cambodian Americans in the Creative Arts

By Christine M Su

Voices of a New Generation: Cambodian Americans in the Creative Arts presents the experiences of fifteen Cambodian American artists, from martial arts experts to filmmakers, from fashion designers to rappers. The artists who share their stories in this book are members of the 1.5 and 2.0 generations: the sons and daughters of refugees f

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southeast Asia Research & Cultural Heritage C
• Release date: Dec 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578335025

Book preview

Introduction

My father was born in the province of Kampot, to the southwest of Phnom Penh, in a place called Tani Tuk Meas. While I know very little about his childhood, I like to imagine that daily life was much like what we see in idyllic paintings: coconut palm trees swaying in the warm summer winds, green rice fields, people making offerings at the local Buddhist temple. I like to imagine my father running along the road on his way to elementary school, wearing the typical uniform of a white shirt and blue shorts or trousers. Sadly, much of my connection with my father comes through my imagination.

On April 17, 1975, communist guerillas known as the Khmer Rouge marched into Phnom Penh and other provincial cities, declaring victory. At first, people cheered, thinking that the bombing and war they had endured for more than a decade had finally come to an end. Instead, that day marked the beginning of nearly four years of terror. The Khmer Rouge implemented a radical Maoist and Marxist-Leninist policy with the goal of transforming Cambodia into a classless society, abolishing money and private property, traditional education, religion, and cultural practices. People were forced into the countryside to undertake arduous agricultural work from morning to evening, with little food to sustain them. Schools, pagodas, mosques, stores, and government buildings were turned into stables, granaries, torture centers, and prisons.

During the Khmer Rouge regime, more than 2 million people died of starvation, disease, overwork, torture, and execution in what became known as the killing fields. Among those were my father’s parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, friends. Cambodia was not spoken of in our house, and as far as I knew, it was a bad place--or at least, a place I believed had stolen my father’s happiness.

It wasn’t until I traveled to Cambodia for the first time that I actually began to see the beauty and brilliance in Khmer culture. I remember one day very distinctly. I had taken a taxi with some friends from the capital city of Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, where the Angkor temples are located. I of course wanted to visit the famous Angkor Wat first, but it was early afternoon when we arrived, and our taxi driver insisted it would be best to wait either until evening to see the sunset or until the next morning to see the sunrise over Angkor Wat, so instead we went to visit the Bayon, part of Angkor Thom.

Built in the 12th century by King Jayavarman VII, the Bayon encompasses hundreds of huge faces carved into stone, facing north, south, east, and west. I had gone expecting to see magnificent monuments, but not faces in the stone, faces that seemed serene, at peace. The tranquility reflected in the gentle smiles and partially closed eyes of each face stood in stark contrast to nearly all of my beliefs and perceptions about Cambodia as a grim place of war, destruction, and trauma. I looked up at them and literally fell to my knees, overwhelmed with emotion.

For the rest of the afternoon I walked among the many faces, and felt that they were watching me, comforting me. While silent, they spoke to me.

This was a pivotal moment, because I realized just how much I had been focusing on Cambodia and my Cambodian identity in a negative way. Without discounting the trauma and suffering endured during the Khmer Rouge regime (and we will never, ever forget), I realized that period is but a very short fragment within the timeline of Cambodian history. The Khmer Empire once encompassed most of what is now Thailand and Vietnam. The Khmer built complex cities and spectacular temples without modern tools or equipment, reflecting Buddhist and Hindu cosmology on earth. They expressed their love of music, dance, martial arts, cooking, adornment, and other creative endeavors on the temple walls themselves, through intricate carvings that tell tales of both everyday life and ancient mythos.

The Power of Art to Connect, to Heal

Under the Khmer Rouge regime, approximately 90 percent of Cambodia’s artisans were killed. The regime wanted to erase all vestiges of outside influence or elite, oppressor culture, and targeted artists--painters, singers, martial artists, and dancers--for execution.

Yet just as the Khmer Rouge sought to eliminate traditional arts, post-war Cambodians seek to rebuild them. In so doing, they strive to repair and heal their shattered spirits.

Figure 1. Faces in the Stone, Bayon Temple, Angkor Thom. Photo: Christine Su

Figure 2. Gentle Smiles, Bayon Temple, Angkor Thom. Photo: Allison Choate

Cambodians in the United States

Following the fall of the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia in 1979, thousands of refugees fled the country. Approximately 145,000 refugees relocated to the U.S. between 1979 and 2002, with the majority arriving between 1980 and 1985. Traumatized and thousands of miles from their homeland, Cambodian refugees faced significant challenges in resettlement and adjustment.

First, in an attempt to distribute the thousands of refugees so as not to burden any one city or state, U.S. relief organizations and government agencies relocated Cambodians to different regions, resulting in cultural and linguistic isolation. Second, refugees came with memories of trauma inconceivable to many Americans, yet agencies directed them to areas with few resources or professionals with the knowledge and experience to assist them. Third, most came with no money or possessions, and lacking skills necessary to obtain employment. Unable to secure jobs, many refugees lived in poverty or relied upon government assistance. Others worked long hours in factories or other jobs that did not require advanced education or fluency in English.

The adult refugees brought with them their children and other relatives who were born or very young during the Khmer Rouge regime or were born in the refugee camps. This group became known as the 1.5 generation.¹ They found themselves caught in-between their Khmer heritage and their contemporary lives in the U.S. Their parents relied upon them to help navigate life in the U.S. on one hand, yet implored them to maintain Khmer cultural values and traditions on the other.

Some scholars distinguish the 1.5 generation even further, using the terms 1.25 generation to refer to those who were born in Cambodia (or transitional refugee camps) and came to the U.S. as adolescents (13–17 years old), and 1.75 generation, those who were born in Cambodia or the camps but came to the U.S. at a very early age (0-5 years old), noting that there is a spectrum of adaptation and acculturation.

Those of Cambodian heritage born in the U.S., known as the 2.0 generation, also found themselves in-between: neither wholly Cambodian nor wholly American. Furthermore, the direct trauma experienced by the refugees, if not addressed, can pass down within families and communities, creating a lasting effect that worsens with each generation[. . .]and a culture of silence that creates internal and external trauma for children and youth.²

Indeed, a 2011 survey of 500 1.5- and 2.0-generation Cambodians in and around Long Beach, California (with the largest Cambodian population outside of Cambodia) revealed that nearly half of the respondents reported symptoms of depression, including loneliness, fear, insomnia, cutting and other self-harming acts.³

And yet, as Cambodian American writer Sokunthary Svay notes, the members of these new generations occupy a unique liminal space that offers opportunities to provide distinct perspectives, especially as expressed through the arts.

In their creative work, she continues, they find a way to heal old wounds and to reinvent oneself: from damaged to healed, survivor to successor, old world to current world, 1 to 1.5, to which I would add to 2.0.⁴

Art has the power to connect, to convey emotions, thoughts, and memories, and to facilitate healing.

Voices of a New Generation: The Book

When I returned to the U.S. after my first trip to Cambodia, I promised myself that I would help rewrite the limited narrative that has defined Khmer American culture. I want to honor and acknowledge our complex history, but convey that Cambodian heritage is a source of dignity, not shame. To this end, I decided to write a book about Khmer American artists. I want to highlight the creative talents and imaginations of the Cambodian American community, to provide space for artists to share their experiences and journeys.

The artists who narrate their stories in this book are members of either the 1.5 or 2.0 generations. They are friends and colleagues who opened their hearts and allowed me to observe the world through their eyes and hear them speak to the world through their art. They are the voices of a new generation.

I am humbled and grateful to present this book.

Author’s note: In this book, I use the terms Cambodian and Khmer interchangeably. There is much debate about the difference between the terms and whether and when one is more appropriate than the other, but as the artists use both in describing themselves and their work, I choose to follow suit.

Chapter 1

Ancient Khmer Martial Arts

Walking along the cool sandstone corridors of Angkor Wat, one of many extraordinary temples in northern Cambodia, one can almost feel the vibrancy and energy of life as it existed during the ancient Khmer Empire (9 th to 15 th centuries).

Built in the 12th century and dedicated to Vishnu, Angkor Wat’s five main towers symbolize the five peaks of Mount Meru that form the center of the universe and the home of the gods in Hindu mythology.⁵ Seven concentric seas, represented at Angkor by the enormous moat surrounding the massive monument, encircle and protect Mount Meru. The temple’s interior construction is a complex intersection of galleries, passageways, and terraces. Elaborate bas-reliefs carved into its walls depicting creation narratives, scenes from the Reamker, and epic battles with kings and nak jambaang (warriors) engaged in different types of kun (combat) complement the magnificence of its architecture.⁶ Angkor is a sacred place.

The term kbach kun boran Khmer refers to the array of martial arts developed and practiced throughout the Khmer Empire for centuries. Kbach kun boran played an integral role in Khmer armies’ victories over their enemies, and its practice required physical, mental, and spiritual preparation.

Those who mastered the different styles of kun were much respected and admired, and these kru (teachers) were sought after to pass on their knowledge. Novices spent years if not decades studying and training.

Figure 3. Nak jambaang (warriors) marching into battle, Bayon Temple. Photo: Christine Su

Figure 4. Khmer warrior fighting against the Cham, Bayon Temple. Photo: Allison Choate

Defining Kbach Kun Boran Khmer

In this work, I use kbach kun boran Khmer (which literally translates to ancient Khmer martial arts) as the umbrella term to describe a variety of martial arts styles. The different types of kbach kun boran Khmer fall under three broad categories, sometimes called door systems: hand-to-hand combat without weapons; combat using weapons; and grappling.⁷ Within these larger categories are more specific kbach kun, including:

• pradal serey : free fighting/freestyle kickboxing

• bokator (sometimes called l’bokator ): a combat and defense system with techniques and moves inspired by animals

• dambong veng: combat involving the use of a long staff

• bok chambab : wrestling

Perhaps the best-known, especially among martial arts enthusiasts, is pradal serey (freestyle kickboxing), which has ancient origins, perhaps as early as the Funan period prior to Angkor, and continues to be very popular today.⁸ Cambodians love to attend live competitions or watch them on television. Traditional instrument ensembles accompany pradal serey matches with music called vung phleng pradal or vung phleng klang khek, performed by sralai (oboe), skor or sampho (drums), and chhing (cymbals), in two parts.

The first part, a slow, melodic composition performed prior to the match, is an invocation that pays respect to the spirits of the ancestors and former teachers and asks them to instill confidence in the fighters.

The second part is a faster-paced piece with a pulsating drumbeat, played throughout the actual boxing to rouse the crowds, stopping only when a fighter is knocked out or the allotted time runs out.⁹ A match consists of five rounds, each lasting for three minutes, with a two-minute break in between.

Recently, with the production and popularity of films such as Jailbreak (2017), more attention has focused on bokator.¹⁰ Bokator was designed for use in battle, and soldiers trained to use their elbows, knees, hands, feet, and even heads to strike opponents, as well as various weapons. Bokator techniques mimic the styles of certain wild animals and as such, include different moves named horse, alligator, naga (sea serpent), eagle, crane, and so forth.¹¹ The documentary film Surviving Bokator (2018) chronicles the contemporary movement to revive bokator in Cambodia and tells a powerful story about reclaiming cultural identity and building bridges between generations. Cambodian officials have applied to have bokator included in the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage list.¹²

Foundations of Kbach Kun Boran Khmer

While each of the kun styles is unique, certain principles, postures, and patterns serve as their foundation. The core of kbach kun boran consists of 12 mae kun (techniques) that guide the use of body parts (hands, elbows, feet, knees, head) and additional implements (sticks, staffs, swords, and spears), and 12 tvear kun, which prescribe specific body postures and complex footwork patterns.¹³ The term tvear means door, which is fitting as doors can either allow or block access to a space, and the tvear kun serve this function for warriors confronting their opponents.

As with other Cambodian arts, the Khmer Rouge sought to extinguish kbach kun boran during their regime (1975-1979). The Khmer Rouge perceived martial arts masters as threats to their totalitarian control, and systematically rooted out both kru and their students for execution. Still, a handful of knowledge-bearers survived. In this first chapter, one such individual, Vannak Pen (aka Lok Kru Kirihingsa) shares his story of how influential--indeed, central--kbach kun boran Khmer has been in his life, and how crucial it is for him to pass on knowledge of this traditional art to his sons, Tanaka and Viro. In the next chapter, Tanaka in turn shares how his father and kbach kun boran Khmer have guided him.

Artist encounters

I first met Vannak Pen while I was working as the Director of the Center for Southeast Asian Studies at Ohio University. I facilitated an annual Khmer Studies conference, and I wanted to make the conference experience something more than reading of academic papers. I wanted those who attended to learn about Cambodian history and culture from Cambodians themselves as well as engage in scholarly dialogue. To this end, I went searching for the Cambodian community in southeastern Ohio.

While we had several international students from Cambodia studying at the university, I found that the population of resident Cambodian/Cambodian Americans in

Athens, Ohio was one: me. About 90 minutes north, however, in the Columbus area, I found a thriving Cambodian community.

I began to make inquiries about cultural events hosted in Columbus and started to meet with community members. At one event I met Vannak Pen, and even during that first meeting, I noticed his calm and peaceful demeanor. He and I spoke at length about a group of young Cambodians to whom he was teaching kbach kun boran Khmer. Many, he noted, were at risk of getting involved with gangs or other negative elements because there was little to detract them.¹⁴ Vannak decided to form a class in which he would teach kbach kun boran Khmer to provide the family, community, and purpose that the youth needed. He invited me to observe his class, both in practice sessions and later in performances at the Khmer Buddhist temple. His students captivated me not only with their physical skill, but their focus and concentration as well.

Lok Kru Kirihingsa and his students graciously made the drive down to Athens for the Khmer Studies conference not only the first year I was at Ohio, but for several years thereafter. Their participation provided insight into the ancient art and added a new dimension to the conference. More recently, Vannak and Tanaka relocated to California from Ohio, as I had several years prior, and I was delighted to reconnect with them and find out how kbach kun boran Khmer has continued to play a positive role in their lives. -C.S.

My Story: Vannak Pen

I was born in Srok Thma Koul, Khum Chrouy Sdau, Phum Nikom Krao in Battambang province in Cambodia in 1967.

Between my birth and my eventual arrival in the Khao-I-Dang refugee camp on the Thai