I never realized how much my life would change that frigid, cold night on the second floor of Tnb restaurant in late December 2009. The meeting I attended was the genesis of my involvement in the Vietnamese community, along with eight other Vietnamese Americans. We were too naïve to understand what we were getting ourselves into after being involuntarily nominated by others to spearhead the emerging Little Saigon of Sacramento committee. Although we had our doubts that freezing night, one particular moment struck a chord to me, which came in the form of an older gentleman whose voice I will never forget. Despite the chaos and excitement, he stood up and said, “Sonny, we’re all busy, I have chau noi (grandkids), chau ngoai, we have busy life with very few good years left. Please help us, all we do here as old people is bicker and argue, we need may chau (youngsters) to step it up and help the community…”
For me, it was an opportunity to affirm an identity and redefine my role as a member of a community, but for the community, it was a turning point after 35 years in Sacramento. The face of our nascent community was transitioning from old war veterans and refugees to young working professionals, community activists and a generation of Vietnamese Americans born or raised in the United States.
Weeks later the project took a life of its own as everyone went above and beyond in their own efforts. In the process, what started as just an opportunity to network and garner clienteles became a destiny, a mission, and a collaborative purpose that brought together a banker, a teacher, business owners, and financial professionals. This ultimately led us to create a fire that lit up the entire pho-selling, che-craving, haircutting, tax-preparing village of Vietnamese people. It was made up of those who came to the realization that they no longer needed to just live and survive, but rather thrive and be recognized.
What drew me to Stockton Boulevard was my love for food and the desire to be in the presence of people I share a common background with. I remember biking on 47th St with my dad when I first arrived in America, carrying what felt like 50 lbs of 3 Ladies brand long grain rice sack, when in reality it was about 25 lbs. I rode that same bike to My Tho Restaurant, where I would buy one order of hu tieu My Tho and ask for extra broth so I could share the portions with my siblings. I can still smell and remember how it tasted; the mixture of seafood and chicken broth that tasted like it took hours to cook. It wasn’t until years later after watching Iron Chef that I realized how much complexity is required to make such a broth.
These rituals became routine and brought comfort to a childhood filled with insecurity. I lacked an identity among my predominantly white high school and the neighborhood where urban realities took over my everyday life. In the projects, we co-existed among societies of people distant from us. With time I lost sight of the richness of my community. I was afraid to admit my love for it to my friends, and refused to see myself as part of it.
Even so, Stockton Boulevard wasn’t just an area filled with drug dealers and prostitution, it was our community. Stockton Boulevard was where I served as a native son, a banker, and a bridge that connected the old to the new. The first wedding I ever attended, and many weddings I attended thereafter took place on the Boulevard. The old Pack and Save, the Pepboy, the Alonzo restaurant, and the old Costco that is now SF Market, were all businesses that not only fed and clothed me, but made me who I am. Stockton Boulevard was an essential training ground and cultural haven that I desperately needed. It is there that my identity was reinforced, recognized, and accepted.
Twenty years later I am back to where I belong, where I started, except this time with a little more wisdom and a little more resources. Similar to many of my friends and people of my generation who lived in the projects and areas around Stockton Boulevard, we return home as professionals with similar visions and goals- to serve the people and to bring about positive change to the boulevard. The pride and joy of the community can be seen through opening of Dental and Law offices and Financial Planning firms.
I can now afford to buy two bowls instead of asking for extra broth, but unfortunately My Tho no long exists, it was replaced by another business, and before that a new Binh Dan Restaurant. Things have changed, much like the make-up and energy of Stockton Boulevard. Strips malls are replacing weathered auto shops with fancy neon signs and Art Decco styled buildings. Hmong kids know exactly what is in number 16 and Bun Bo Hue can be substituted with pho noodles instead of bun. African Americans, Mexicans and Caucasians admit freely that Huong Lan is their favorite place and cilantro is not just found in salsa anymore. Soon condos will be built for those who desire easy access to markets and commercial buildings will be developed to accommodate the demands of the changing demographics. One day Sacramento Stockton Boulevard will take its place in history, an area whose modest beginnings evolved into a vibrant center of commerce, enriched by its diversity. It will become a destination to visit in Sacramento for its people and atmosphere, not just its pho and nail salons.
For the people who escaped from a war ravaged country in search of freedom, the price of the journey has been paid through suffering and anguish. For the few who never forgot the dream, whose vision brought together a community torn by years of entrenched resentment emerges a community rejuvenated with hope and reconciliation. These endeavors have been achieved through hard work and determination through faith—the motto of those who never left or forgot Little Saigon.