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Introduction

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, an upcoming film starring Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett, is loosely based on a novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a well-known writer in the early 20th century. The premise of the story is following the life of Benjamin Button in which he ages in reverse to everyone else. As the years go on, he grows younger. I haven't read the book, but I'm rather curious to see it.

Years ago I came across a horoscope that told me, "You tend to be critical and analytical, but as you get older, you will start to take your criticisms less seriously." Over the years this line has stuck with me, and I sometimes think of it as a way of growing up backwards. At such a young age I developed a philosophical frame of mind, searching for the meaning behind the human condition. But over the years, I've been enveloping myself in things that bring me joy; simple things sometimes, at times rather childish. I read up on world news while an animated episode of Curious George is playing on PBS. But I think this isn't something unique to myself. At a youth-parent round table discussion hosted by the Santa Clara County Office of Human Relations, I recall a consensus that the group arrived to in that adults are just older versions of kids. We still hold the same hopes, frustrations, aspirations, worries, joy, dreams, and values. I'm pretty sure I can write tangentially for pages and psychoanalyze this statement, but that would deemphasize the point of writing this piece today.

There is a part of me who developed into a designer. "Design is a signal of intention" as Ted McDonough talks about, and to me, intent is a projection of one's future. I suppose the way I think about the future is to hold discussions with my descendants/successors, in this case, my daughter. She doesn't have a name, but I suppose I'll pick Samantha, which popularly means "intelligent listener". There was a day I asked, "If you were to become wedded to another (I haven't asked the plausibility that she might be homosexual), would you care about whether it is conducted in the Vietnamese tradition?" Now bear in mind, as a teenager, she grew up (will grow up?) with orange-bleached fusion dreadlocks, speaks Korean (because she loves Korean drama), and like many in her generation, grew up in an technology-laden environment. I'll come back to this question later.

At a staff retreat for uNAVSA earlier this year, we were asked to envision our future, and the first thing that came to mind was that I would have a hand in the construction or administration of a Vietnamese American Center in San Jose (as of now, the existing centers are dilapidated, small, and unable to house the fullness of the community's activities, so a new one is definitely needed). And with this particular envisioning, Samantha would be wedded in front of one of the halls. The issue is that I would have helped construct the Center in dedication to her (symbolic as a dedication to her generation), but I cannot construct something that is meaningless and alien to that generation. This is the conundrum when you are an urban architect planning to create public spaces: you not only honor the needs of the people today, but you must also be able to plan for the needs of the future.

So returning to the original question, I ask her that question because if she does not really desire to hold a wedding (even in partial) within the Vietnamese tradition, then the Center I help create would not need to be Vietnamese American, and we can throw away the useless "Vietnamese" identity into the trash and go for "Asian American", or I can give up on this dream assuming she'll wed at a cathedral or some mainstream venue. Nah, I don't think so dear. I have to live for something, so I hope you'll understand. Yet even among "Americanized" Vietnamese American peers, I feel that they would refuse to give up their ethnic identity, even if everything they do has nothing to do with their perceptions of "Vietnamese culture", they will still self-identify as being part of this ethnicity. This is an important fundamental: as long as you consider yourself Vietnamese, everything you do is potentially Vietnamese. (Applicable to any cultural identity). Oooh, potentially Vietnamese? So what's the other qualifier?

The other qualifier to what is considered Vietnamese is mimetics. Susan Blackmore gives a presentation on mimetics, and it basically boils down to this: Vietnamese culture as we know it is a summation of behaviors passed on generation-to-generation over the course of perhaps 43 centuries (at least, that's the claim of our folklore). In essence, the next generation mimics and preserves what was done with the previous generation (sometimes not perfectly of course). So if there is something that the first generation of Vietnamese Americans do that you find in the second generation of Vietnamese Americans, there is a strong possibility that that trait is considered "Vietnamese American" (or whatever label you choose). So to consider something Vietnamese American, people have to identify it to be associated Vietnamese American, but there also has to be a sense of mimicry across generations, otherwise it is just a fad. Once a cultural phenomenon has become popular, it is also possible for it to die in its usage, for example, the Nôm writing system. In this case, it just becomes part of the history, and even then history has to be passed on through mimetics. If we do not write it down as being part of a Vietnamese or Vietnamese American history, and pass it on, it will cease to exist being Vietnamese or Vietnamese American. Fancy that!

Now, going back to the wedding, the issue of whether she will hold a wedding combining Vietnamese traditions begs the question of what traditions will be established by the time the third generation of Vietnamese Americans roll around. If my own wedding is held a certain way, and Samantha's wedding is held a certain way, then it fits the definition, and thus my reason for being (i.e. to construct a Vietnamese American Center) is preserved—hopefully without enforcing my expectations on how a wedding should be conducted upon her. Shoot, just to be safe, I better be hella American and hella Vietnamese (as it is practiced from the previous generation to my generation) just to cover my bases. Maybe get some peers to do similarly <laugh>. Shoot, but we got to record this too.

Anyway, as I am envisioning what this Vietnamese American Center must have, the first thing I established is that this Center must be able to accommodate a wedding, rather beautifully I might add. Weddings would probably be our bread and butter to help sustain the Center's administrative costs. But I suppose the first thing I would have to do is dissect and reassemble the Vietnamese American wedding. Bad pop bands and 10 course dishes are too much! Designing this way, with the future in mind and working backwards, really does make me feel as though I am living my life in reverse.