Repression and Freedom Theme Analysis

A historian might say that Thi Bui’s parents and grandparents live through at least five different governments and four different wars. But for Má, Bố, and their ancestors, it would be more accurate to say that conflict and authoritarian (usually foreign) rule are a consistent fact of life in Việt Nam. It does not much matter to them whether their oppressors are French, Japanese, Chinese, American, or North or South Vietnamese, nor whether they are communists or capitalists, nationalists or imperialists. Of course, the Buis do understand the complexities of these conflicts—but (with one exception) they never pick a side or put a party before themselves. Rather, they focus their energies on seeking freedom and self-determination: they want to build their own lives on their own terms, and despite the great risks they are forced to run, they ultimately achieve this to some extent when they escape Việt Nam. Freedom is never absolute, but Bui’s book shows how people still inevitably seek their own freedom, especially when it is repressed.

Bui’s family bears witness to a layered, complex history of oppression, war, and foreign rule in Việt Nam. Bui points this out from the beginning by including a timeline of Vietnamese history in the front of her book. She notes that Việt Nam was occupied by the Chinese (many times), French, Japanese, and Americans—but she focuses on the period of 1940-1975, which was essentially one of constant war. (Her parents were both born in the 1940s and left Việt Nam with her and her three living siblings in 1978.) Má and Bố dealt with the consequences of these occupations and wars firsthand: for instance, in his village, Bố watches massacres by the French and Việt Minh (which his father then joins), and Má’s father works for the French colonial government, but she realizes it is oppressive and becomes a staunch nationalist. They also both migrate from the North to the South because of political turmoil.

Bui struggles to understand her family’s inconsistent political feelings throughout the book. Ultimately, since they are threatened and misunderstood from every side (the French and the Việt Minh, the North and the South), Má, Bố, and their families do not remain loyal to anyone. Rather, they see—and show the reader—the moral complexity behind Việt Nam’s difficult history. Má and Bố both come of age under French rule and go to “EXPENSIVE!” colonial French schools. They see the irony in paying tuition fees to their oppressors, but also know that doing so presents their best chance at success. In short, they recognize the injustice embedded into their society but also see that they must use the tools of power to free themselves from it.

Later, Bui’s parents are equally suspicious of the South Vietnamese “police state” that tries to shave off Bố’s “hippie” haircut and the North Vietnamese government that labels them “ngụy” and actively persecutes them. Bui is particularly confused when Bố both defends and expresses his hatred for a particular well-known South Vietnamese general—he was the one who forced Bố to cut his hair, but was also reviled internationally for appearing in the “Saigon Execution” photo, a treatment that Bố considers unfair. Again, this complexity—which even baffles the author—shows the reader that simple narratives of “GOOD GUYS” versus “BAD GUYS” are not adequate to the complex and tumultuous history of Việt Nam. Bố does actively choose to live in the South over the North after his father tries to make him move to Hà Nội. In the North, he sees “even children” working and “people living in such poverty” in the countryside. He thinks that a comfortable life and French education await him in the South. Although he has this in Sài Gòn for some time, battles soon break out in the streets and he is threatened with Ngô Đình Diệm’s military draft. In other words, he flees one oppressive government only to fall into another’s arms.

Ultimately, Má, Bố, and others before them do not pick sides because they are pursuing their own freedom. During her French education, Má starts reading novels about revolutionaries and history books about colonialism; she quickly realizes that her country is being oppressed. (When she later gets sent to a school full of “FRANCOPHILE[S]!” in Đà Lạt, she is horrified and insists on going home to Nha Trang.) She realizes that the cause of freedom is more important than her family’s comfort, and so she becomes a nationalist even though her father works for the French. This also motivates her to pursue her education, even though it is in French, since she decides that “EDUCATION = FREEDOM.” Similarly, when he moves to Sài Gòn, Bố goes through a rebellious phase, dressing “like a movie star” and smoking cigarettes, reading philosophy and listening to rock music. This, like all teenage rebellion, is his way of articulating his own identity—expressing his freedom as an individual and refusing to conform to social expectations. (Later, Lan, Bích, and the author go through teenage rebellions of their own in the United States—namely, they move in with their boyfriends, to their parents’ horror.)

Of course, the central quest for freedom in this book is Má and Bố’s decision to escape Việt Nam with their children. Their preparations are secretive and their journey is dangerous, but the risk ultimately pays off: they make it to Malaysia, and they are relieved even though they have no idea what lies in store for them. They are not absolutely free, but they are free from the forces that oppressed them before. Má and Bố’s childhoods, educations, and escape to the United States suggest that the pursuit of human freedom is inevitable. On the ground, oppression and war look the same, whether perpetrated by one’s allies or one’s foes, and those affected will always seek their freedom from any oppressor through whatever means are available to them.