The Memory Generation
Episode 16: Phuc Tran
INTRO
Rachael Cerrotti: Hey Everyone, I’m Rachael Cerrotti. Welcome to The Memory Generation – a podcast about the memories we inherit and the stories that are passed from one generation to the next. Today we are talking with Phuc Tran.
Phuc is an author, high school Latin teacher and tattoo artist. Today, we are talking about his book which was published in 2020 and is titled Sigh, Gone. The title which is Sigh - comma - Gone is a play on words, referencing the city of Saigon that he and his extended family fled during the Vietnam war. Phuc’s book is a coming of age story that explores growing up in America as a punk-rock child of refugees. In this conversation, we talk about his realities growing up Vietnamese in a rural white town, family abuse, sensitivities around retelling stories of trauma, and also about tattoos and how they can be the manifestation of memories. Phuc now lives in Portland, Maine with his wife and two daughters. And a little shameless plug is that both Phuc and I have won the Maine Literary award for Memoir and I am very proud to be in those ranks with him. We recorded this conversation on his birthday - November 21, 2022 in Portland, Maine.
INTERVIEW
Rachael Cerrotti: Phuc, Thank you so much for joining me today.
Phuc Tran: Oh thanks for having me on.
Rachael Cerrotti: So we are sitting here in Maine where we both live. In Portland. But neither of us are from here originally, which in this state is like kind of a thing.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. You know, there's that joke - I'm not from Maine, but I moved here as quickly As I could. So, my wife is from Maine.
Rachael Cerrotti: And so you are a writer.
Phuc Tran: Yeah.
Rachael Cerrotti: You're a teacher - Latin teacher.
Phuc Tran: Yeah, yeah.
Rachael Cerrotti: And then word on the street here in Maine, you're a highly sought after tattoo artist. I hear it takes a while to get an appointment.
Phuc Tran: That is true.
Rachael Cerrotti: And you grew up in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, which is a small place.
Phuc Tran: Yes. I was born in Saigon. My parents are both from Vietnam and my grandparents worked for the US Embassy. And then once the war ended, we were evacuated along with about 130,000 other South Vietnamese collaborators. And then we ended up in the United States.
Carlisle is in South Central Pennsylvania. It's maybe like 17,000 people, 90-whatever-percent white. You know, when I was growing up, we were the only Vietnamese refugee family in the town. And that's where we stayed because our sponsors were there. Once we arrived in Pennsylvania through the Vietnamese relocation program.
Rachael Cerrotti: Sigh, Gone is also the title of your book, but it's spelled S-I-G-H comma, G-O-N-E. So Sigh, Gone.
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: And I'm not going to lie. It took me, like, halfway through the book before I made the connection.
Phuc Tran: I'm out. See ya later. Thanks folks. Thanks for a great podcast. If it makes you feel any better, my editor for the book did the same thing, like six months into working on the book, she sent me this very sort of deeply apologetic emails, like I just got the title of the book. I was like that’s okay, I have zero faith in you now, but let’s forge on ahead.
Rachael Cerrotti: So just to spend a moment on that, what is the symbolism? I mean, you can understand that when you say Saigon, there's now - we get the play on words there. But for the S-I-G-H - comma - G-O-N-E title
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: Where did that come from?
Phuc Tran: Sure. I remember very clearly, I was sitting in my daughter's jujitsu class waiting for the class to be over. And I was sitting there, like, mulling over, like, potential titles. And then it just like, it was kind of like a clap of thunder. And it was like, oh that's it, that's it. And the more I thought about it, I was like, it's totally perfect. And, you know, one - obviously, like the English words convey a sense of loss and like theres a wistfulness to it. I also wanted to reclaim the spelling of Saigon as two words. In the American press, a lot of Vietnamese words like Vietnam, which is normally written as two words, gets smooshed into one word and same with Saigon. You know, so I'm reclaiming sort of that spelling where Saigon really should be written as two separate words. And also, you know, I wanted to recreate in sort of like a micro way, my experience of having to spell my name out every time I order anything and use my real name where I'm like, it's Phuc P H U C Tran T R A N. And so I really wanted to create this need for someone to spell out a thing. And then also just on a metaphorical level, it looks one way and sounds another way - I think very much like my whole life. The way that I look and the way that I sound and the way that people experience me is very different from what they would have expected, I think. All in a title.
Rachael Cerrotti: What do you think that people expect versus what they're getting?
Phuc Tran: I think that's a question for other people. I mean, I think maybe it's because, well, you know, racism. There's sort of like expectations about what a Vietnamese American or an Asian American does that's expected or is surprising. That was constantly what I was bumping up against in my town as like a young punk rock kid. People were like, you know, you already don't belong here. Like, why do you have to dress up like a freak, too, or whatever. You know like, but then I think definitely as a Latin teacher. I would be a wealthy person if I got a nickel for every time someone's like, ‘oh, like, you don't look like a latin teacher.’ And I'm like, What the fuck does a lot of teacher look like? You know, like, I don't look like Plato or whatever. I don’t look like Marcus Aurelius. Like come on.
Rachael Cerrotti: But coming up to Maine, and I mean, Maine is, is well known as being a very white state.
Phuc Tran: Mmhmm. I love it. I love Maine, I don't get hung up on the whiteness thing. Like I think if you're from a Marginalized community, like you have a Ph.D. in navigating sort of dominant cultures. Like I am not put off by the whiteness of Maine. That's my whole life. Like, I'm an expert in navigating and being comfortable in white spaces. And maybe that's not great. I don't know. Like maybe that's just maladaptive, but I don't feel uncomfortable.
Rachael Cerrotti: I want to start the conversation about your family history with your grandmother, who I think you write about in just a really wonderful way. Somewhat comical.
Phuc Tran: Oh thanks.
Rachael Cerrotti: Which a lot of the book is, is quite funny. But like without losing any of the essence of seriousness, which I really appreciate. Like your whole extended family came over here from Vietnam.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. Yeah. So when we came over, I think it was like 13 or 14 people came over. And my grandparents, my maternal grandparents were the ones who worked for the U.S. Embassy. I can't imagine what that was like to be required to pick which people go with you or which people escape. So my entire paternal side of the family was left behind in Vietnam. That's like a whole other story. It’s a wild story. So we came with my grandmother, my mother, all of her siblings, and then my great grandmother. You know, filial piety is super strong in Vietnamese culture and in many Asian cultures, so.
Rachael Cerrotti: What was that word?
Phuc Tran: Filial piety - child's devotion to their parents? So it's like a tenet of Confucianism. But you also find it in, like, Greco-Roman world as well. So it's like the duty that a child is bound to in relationship to their parents. You know, the idea of your kids are, their parent’s retirement. Parents get older kids take their parents into the house if, even if they ever left and they take care of their parents until they die. Like, my parents are taking care of my grandmother who's still alive.
Rachael Cerrotti: You grew up in a fairly violent household
Phuc Tran: Mmhmm
Rachael Cerrotti: And there was a lot of manifestations of trauma
Phuc Tran: Mmhmm
Rachael Cerrotti: That came out in really painful ways and physical punishments. I wanted you to read a little bit about your grandmother. Do you want to just set up this section for us?
Phuc Tran: Yeah. You know, we had only been in The United States for a couple of years and my uncle who’s only maybe six years older than me, got his bike stolen by some neighborhood bullies. And then my grandmother freaked out on him and beat him for having his bike stolen.
“My grandmother was apoplectic, having amassed unstoppable momentum. “That bike was a gift! Why didn't you take care of it?! Do you know how nice the Hookes were to give you that bike?! And now you lose it?!” The timbre of her voice peaked at a fervid pitch.
Wearing oversized rose-colored bifocals, Ba Ngoai, my grandmother, reigned as the undisputed heavyweight champion of the Tran family. At forty-seven years old, she had birthed ten kids over two decades, displaying a will and a uterus of iron. With her black hair in a bun, she powdered her face to lighten her already fair complexion, and her blush, which was actually lipstick rubbed in circles on her cheeks, gave her a carnival visage. Every morning, Ba Ngoai drew thin eyebrows on herself, penciling them slightly higher than her natural brow line. Her high brows gave her a look that - depending on the occasion - signaled alertness, alarm or surprise. At that moment in her vexation, the high brows gave her an erumpent intensity. She was not looking for a judges’ decision. She was in the ring to knock someone out.
Ba Ngoai’s ire wasn't the anger of personal damages but the anger of being shamed, a singular dishonor that she and my parents bore heavily. If our elders felt that we kids had done something to embarrass them or to cause them to lose face, our punishment was administered as if the entire town were watching and judging them as parents. Puritanical in its purity and unflinching in its deliverance. The severity of our punishment was commensurate to their own perception of their parenting. That is to say, the worse you were beaten or punished, the better they seemed to be as parents.”
Rachael Cerrotti: My guess is and please correct me if I'm wrong, but my guess is that that type of punishment in the home probably differentiated you from your peers as much as your ethnicity and the journey of your family history and all of that.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. And I think everyone in my nuclear family and I’ll include my cousins and uncles and stuff. There was no point at which someone said this isn't okay. So like I think for a long time I just accepted it as normal until one particular beating that my dad administered where, like, I couldn't even sit down at school. He, like, beat me so bad that, like, I physically was in pain. And then my second grade teacher actually came to my parents house and intervened. Like, had this, like, meeting with my parents and was like, I don't know how you guys do it in Vietnam. But you really, like you can't beat kids that bad. Although, I mean, this was also the seventies when principals, elementary school principals could still paddle kids. I remember telling my high school students about this. There was a principle and he had like a paddle, which was usually just like half of an ore with like holes drilled in it. And they were just like, this is legal. I was like, oh yeah. I mean just thinking about like the conversation. That my second grade teacher had with my parents with like, ‘oh, you can beat kids in America, but like, not like at not that much. So like dial it back, like take it from like a ten to like a six. You know, so your kids can sit down at school.’ It was bizarre. You know, in retrospect, like I wish that, like I had been able to, I don't know, like compare notes with somebody, you know, as a kid and be like, is this normal?
Rachael Cerrotti: There was a punishment your father gave you, where he kicked you out of the car.
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: And he just like left you on the side of the road.
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: You're like, what, seven or eight years old,
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: like really young
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: which is wild. But you got out of the car and I'm like, paraphrasing your story here.
Phuc Tran: Sure sure.
Rachael Cerrotti: But you got out of the car and we're like, well this isn't so bad.
Phuc Tran: Yeah, it really wasn't -I'd been beaten so much at that point. I was like, oh, I just got kicked out of the car. Cool. And it's like a beautiful day.
Rachael Cerrotti: So you just like hung out on the side of the road?
Phuc Tran: Yeah. And then they circled back and picked me up.
Rachael Cerrotti: Was there any fear that they weren't going to come back?
Phuc Tran: I think when you're little, you don't even think that far ahead. My brother and I have been goofing around in church. And I think the natural outcome of any sort of misbehavior for so long was like you're going to get beaten that once, like we weren't getting beaten. I was like, oh, like what's the worst that can happen?
Rachael Cerrotti: Well, and I think when it comes to being descended from a family history that does have a lot of trauma. It's like your spectrum of what's normal is completely different than other people. Like there's always this feeling where like, well, it's not that bad,
Phuc Tran: Hmm
Rachael Cerrotti: Compared to what my grandmother went through. Like, it's just not that bad.
Phuc Tran: Did that happen early for you? Like that idea of always having your grandmother's history casting a shadow over your own experience?
Rachael Cerrotti: I think it just all felt really normal. Like I think similarly to you said like as a kid you're not thinking that far ahead of like if your parents are going to turn back around. Like, I don't think I could think that deeply to understand why something felt or didn't feel the way it did. However, getting older, I definitely think about that as like a context quite often. I think a lot is quite empowering to be entirely honest.
Phuc Tran: Wait, what does that mean?
Rachael Cerrotti: Because there's been so much distance generationally since World War two. And because I work with Holocaust survivor testimony, a lot of the stories that I hear from survivors are stories that they're telling in their seventies or eighties when they're surrounded by grandchildren and family and they've kind of, you know, recovered in some sense and built up this beautiful life for themselves. And so you're really seeing a full arc of history.
Phuc Tran: Hmm
Rachael Cerrotti: So you're seeing somebody talk about like the worst of humanity, surrounded by a full family and a nice home and they're safe and they're secure. And so the context of, like I'm going through something difficult right now becomes I'm going to be okay.
Phuc Tran: Mmm.
Rachael Cerrotti: Like, if they can get through that, I can get through this. But I have talked to other grandchildren of Holocaust survivors who have a very different relationship with it. I think part of that was my grandmother's attitude is that she in general had very much the attitude of like, your pain is your pain. And she always said this line of like your feet still hurt even if the person next to you doesn't have feet. And I've held on to that. But that was her.
Phuc Tran: Yeah I think also this idea that trauma kind of freezes people. Like you're trapped in amber. You know, I've made the comparison, it's a little bit like you're stuck in Maslow's hierarchy of needs. My parents were always, as refugees - and I think I am, too, a little bit - they're always stuck in sort of like the lowest tier of the hierarchy of needs in terms of assessing, like, are we doing it? Like, are we okay? And they're just like food, shelter, water. If we have that, everything's fine. You know, And like, as a teenager really, like more American than not. I'm like, I want a sense of belonging. Like, I want someone to understand me. You know what I mean? Like, my parents are like are you fucking crazy. Like you could be dead in a ditch. Like, you're fine. You know there's, like that generational disconnect by privilege, right. And by circumstance. Like, I'm fortunate that I didn't have to worry about that lowest tier in the hierarchy of needs. That felt really secure to me. Ans so, like, I'm complaining about a sense of belonging and community, and my parents are just like, you're fucking out of your mind.
Rachael Cerrotti: Which are really valid things to desire.
Phuc Train: A thousand percent. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Rachael Cerrotti: Like. Did your family have a yearning to go back?
Phuc Train: To Vietnam?
Rachael Cerrotti: Yeah.
Phuc Tran: No, God, no. No, no, no, no. And that’s just a natural byproduct of losing a civil war. I think you lose a civil war, you're like, it's over. Like our country is gone. For ten years I was trying to convince my parents to go with me. My parents were like, no, like fuck that place. It’s dead to us and then finally, I just relented and was like, fine, I’ll go without you.
Rachael Cerrotti: And did you go?
Phuc Tran: No. And then my wife got pregnant and then we had another kid. And then we were waiting for our girls to be old enough so that we could go together and the pandemic happened. So we're still sort of waiting. And I think my parent’s attitude towards going back to Vietnam is really their thing. So my dad's brother and his sisters, they've all gone back. My brother went there on his honeymoon. So I'm not sure what it is for my parents particularly, that's like such a hang up for them. I mean, it's very painful. It's very very painful. You know, that was my dad's comment when he read my book. He said, ‘You made me relive some of the worst experiences of my life.’ You know, and I think for them they're just like, what good could come from revisiting, like, literally, like, the worst thing that could have happened to you? They're living in a post-apocalyptic world. If you think about, like, though, like the world that, you know, the universe that, you know, is cratered and just totally destroyed. And now you have to start over.
Rachael Cerrotti: Mmhmm
Phuc Tran: It's an apocalypse for them of some sort.
Rachael Cerrotti: I was going to ask you know about your family's response to this book. I mean, I was very aware when my book came out that many of the people I wrote about were no longer here - young and old. And there was like some freedom in being able to write however I wanted. And, I mean, there was also a lot of responsibility that I asked myself about, like, would I be comfortable writing this if they were still alive? Would they be comfortable with me saying this? And I was thinking about that a lot throughout your book because, yeah, you write about a lot of really difficult stuff that your parents inflicted on you and these memories. What was your choice in going there knowing that they were going to read it?
Phuc Tran: It's funny, someone asked me, are you parents still alive because you sure write about them like they're dead. Like the candor, you know. And I was like, no. But it's certainly liberating for me not to have a close relationship with my parents or a relationship in which I'm seeking validation or approval. Like, I definitely don't have that. I never have had that. So in some ways it was like I'm going to write a book and no one in my family was surprised that I wrote the book that I did. They were like, yep, there goes Phuc. Like just doing the thing he does. I mean, I wanted to write a truthful book and a book about, like, the formative experiences that shaped me and a lot of that is abuse and trauma at the hands of my family members. And I think it would not be honest - like it would be dishonest of me to leave that out. I also want this to be an invitation for people to talk about their own experiences, right. Like if they're like, well, if this guy - this like yahoo Latin-teaching tattoo guy is going to like, open up his closet and like, pull out all these skeletons, maybe it's okay for me to talk about that as well.
Rachael Cerrotti: Was it liberating to talk about it? Like was there some sort of like shedding of pain, resentment, sorrow in putting it down on paper. Like, was there some letting go?
Phuc Tran: No. But that's because, like, I'd done the work in my thirties, going through counseling and therapy and all that stuff. Writing can be therapeutic, but if you're going to think about sharing with other readers and family members, then you've got to think about, like, what is it you're trying to say and do. And, also, I think very early on, I just thought, it's going to be like a coming of age story. And I really wanted it to end as a nod to sort of like all those 80s like teen movies of high school where like it ends on like graduation. And I feel like cinematically and just in terms of storytelling, like I just think High school graduation is so complicated. Like it's so freighted in so many ways. And, that's been my experience. I didn't want to just like, put a bow on it, be like you know, guys, I'm totally fine. Like, I'm just like this well-adjusted adult now who like has kids and a career and dadadada. Like, I wanted the end of the book to feel complicated in the way that my whole experience has been. The title I think is a ligature to that. Right, like what did we lose in the process of getting here? And there's a narrative where it’s like, you made it. You got to America. Like all right, congratulations. There's a lot of loss. Someone asked me, what's it like? You know, you must be so grateful. And I'm like, I don’t - I don't know if I would use that word. You know, I'm thankful to many, many people. I think gratitude is just too neat and too simplistic. It’s complicated.
Rachael Cerrotti: Earlier you had mentioned your father asking about like, why did you need to go back into all of this stuff and him like not really understanding your need to return to all of these like traumatic memories. Why did you feel the need to do it?
Phuc Tran: The piece of being honest, right. Like, telling as well as you can tell your own story. Sometimes maybe you're too close and you don't have perspective, but those were the formative things. Like those are the things that shaped me, for better or worse. I think our experiences are really complicated. And I wanted my book to be as complicated as possible because I didn't want it to be trauma porn, but I also didn't want it to just be like this kind of plucky immigrant story where like, you know, he rises above and isn't that like, great. And America is awesome. You know, look what we did for these poor folks. And it’s like, well, you know, we're here because of American policy first of all. So the chickens are coming home to roost, so to speak.
Rachael Cerrotti: Mmhmm. Let's kind of move and move into adult life here in Maine.
Phuc Tran: Mmhmm
Rachael Cerrotti: I think tattoos and memory are fascinating.
Phuc Tran: Mmhmm
Rachael Cerrotti: So, I have three tattoos. They're all small. I have a very complicated tattoo about my widowhood, which I have like a little ‘s’ on my finger that I got the day I became a widow longer than I was a wife. And I got it in my husband's hometown in Poland with his mom because I love symbolism. So let's just layer it all on.
Phuc Tran: In the writer’s room, they would call that a hat on a hat.
Rachael Cerrotti: And I had this idea that, like, putting this little ‘s’ on my finger was just going to feel so good. I felt like, for the rest of my life, people will ask me questions about him. Because I was so fearful of losing the memory of him because I was 27 years old. I was like, no one's even going to know that I was married and this person was in my life. And this is one of my ways of keeping him alive. And then I got this tattoo and I was like, fuuuck, what did I do?
Phuc Tran: Wow. Like right away?
Rachael Cerrotti: Immediately.
Phuc Tran: Wow
Rachael Cerrotti: Immediately. Like called my mom in the middle of the night from Poland having like a complete panic attack. Like wanting to chop my finger off. I just like, I felt like I, like, branded myself with my trauma.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. And you did.
Rachael Cerrotti: I did. I did.
Phuc Tran: But if that wasn't your intent, you know.
Rachael Cerrotti: No. And I had gotten a tattoo already before that of a wolf that had symbolism. The longer story that I won’t go into now. When I got that, I felt like it had always belonged there.
Phuc Tran: Ooh
Rachael Cerrotti: So, artists all the time deal with memory, family history. We write books, photo projects, paintings, mixed media art. Tattoo is different because tattoo has this permanence and forward facing element to it. I mean, it depends where you get it on your body and of course you can get it removed. But it's a different type of permanence than like, okay, a book can be put on a shelf. It can be put away. A piece of art can be stored or it can be destroyed in some way.
Phuc Tran: Yeah Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: And I'm wondering, as a tattooer, how does that responsibility sit on you, particularly when it comes to tattooing individuals who are either commemorating something or maybe celebrating or mourning? As a general statement, I’ll say a lot of people get tattoos for one of those reasons.
Phuc Tran: Yeah, for sure. Like 99% they're there to memorialize something.
Rachael Cerrotti: Yeah.
Phuc Tran: In a good way.
Rachael Cerrotti: Or mark time in a way.
Phuc Tran: Yeah
Rachael Cerrotti: Mark a memory. And so how does that play into your work in what you do? Is that something that's really in the forefront of your consciousness as you're doing it? Or is it a little bit more of just like a part of the job that -
Phuc Tran: I'm very aware of it for sure. I think my engagement with it depends on the client and how much they want to talk about it. As much as I can, I want to be respectful of what the client needs. Again within the capacities as a tattooer. I'm not a licensed counselor or therapist. And I haven't talked about this publicly, but maybe like four years ago, we actually hired a psychologist to come to our shop and do a daylong workshop with all of our tattooers on I'll call it, like, deep listening. Like how do you be an active listener when someone is saying something about their trauma. So, like what I didn't want to have happen in our shop was, you know, Rachael comes in. She’s like I'm going to get this tattoo for my dead husband and I'm just like, cool, what color do you want? That didn't feel right to me. Just like as a human being. How do we lean into the conversation or create a space or invite you to talk more about it if you want. But also for us to know like what our boundaries are as tattooers, you know, because again, not licensed therapists. So that was really Important to me. And I wanted to center that, or at least have that be commensurate with the quality of the tattoo is like the quality of the experience. And I'm part of the experience or the people who are part of that experience. So, that's my way of just circling back to this idea of memory. It can be celebratory - like celebratory is like really easy. I'm just like, oh, my gosh, tell me about your baby and dadadada. And you're so happy and like, congratulations. Celebrating or delighting in another person's joy feels really easy to us.
Rachael Cerrotti: Mmhmm.
Phuc Tran: And I think, like, we're not great sometimes, especially this sort of, like, toxic positivity culture. We're not great about grief and loss. I want to be better about that. And for my kids too. Like I want to sort of model that for my children. I certainly want to be there for my clients.
Rachael Cerrotti: Have you had any profound experiences tattooing anyone who’s been going through grief or loss?
Phuc Tran: Yes. It can be super intense. Like stillbirths and young kids who’ve died. Siblings and pets. Like, I mean, I had a client who Was getting a memorial tattoo and she was like sobbing through the whole experience. And she warned me ahead of time, I'm going to be crying because they were like. That's totally fine. I was like, how do you want me to be there for you? Is it helpful for you to talk about your spouse or is it helpful for you to not. And she was like, no I want to talk about him. And I was like great, so let's talk about him.
Rachael Cerrotti: And then I'm assuming a lot of people get tattoos about their family history.
Phuc Tran: For sure. And that manifests itself in so many different ways. But I think that is really important. And I think that it's always like an identity marker in some form or fashion, right? Like either, like my heritage is really Important to me or a family member is lost and that's important to me. Or I brought a new family member into the world. And that's not to say that all tattoos are, like, freighted with that, but many are.
Rachael Cerrotti: I've seen a lot of stories of tattooers who are doing cover up work for people who maybe were white supremacists at one certain point in time and they got branded with a swastika or some other symbol and then change.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. I've done those for bikers. Like, so if you're in a bike club like the Hells Angels or Iron Horsemen and you leave the club and you have the logo on your arm, they remove it for you or you get it removed or covered up yourself.
Rachael Cerrotti: Have you had other other reasons people have come to do cover ups that felt like a shift in perspective.
Phuc Tran: I mean, the most obvious one is like, you know, I got divorced. I have my wife's name on me and she's not my wife anymore. Like I got to move on. That’s super common, right. Or I'm not this person anymore. Like, I got this American flag on 9/11. No, literally - I got this tattoo of this American flag on 9/11. And now 25 years later or whatever, it’s like I don’t feel the same way. Or I feel differently or - it’s fascinating.
Rachael Cerrotti: Well, In that sense, tattoos and memory are really interesting because, I mean, we're constantly changing, evolving as people. I mean, as we should be, right? Our opinions change. Like nobody should be held to the opinions they had, you know –
Phuc Tran: Oh god no
Rachael Cerrotti: a year ago, five years ago, ten years ago. But with tattoos, it's like. you have to confront things in a much more straightforward way. Like there's no getting around it. Like, if you have something on your body that symbolizes something and you've changed, it's painful to look at it.
Phuc Tran: Yeah. Unless your relationship with it will change. Not to quote my own - I’ve never done this - but to quote my own book. I talked a little bit about how you can't change the past. But you can change how you frame it or your relationship to it. And if you always looked at something as a great tragedy, but then all of a sudden you're like, you know what, actually, that was a blessing. That's almost just as good as changing the timeline. Right, like, you don't Necessarily need to have a time machine to change an event. maybe, it's just about reframing the narrative that you're telling around that thing.
Rachael Cerrotti: So speaking of narrative, we're coming towards the end of our time here. So that sets me up nicely for this last question I wanted to ask you, which is about your own kids.
Phuc Tran: Mmm
Rachael Cerrotti: Because, you wrote this book, which kind of was its own memory imprint of what your young life was like. And now you have kids who are growing up who are of the age that you're writing about yourself in this book. And so I'm wondering if the stories that you are passing down about your family history and the memories that they're inheriting from you. Are they the memories that you tell us in the book or is there a reframing of your own history as it gets passed down to them?
Phuc Tran: That’s so interesting. I want to sort of share things that they're curious about. I don't want to just, like, force them to be like oh, like all this trauma and they’re like we didn't want this. I don't want them to sort of be exposed to the complexities of my story until I think they're ready to metabolize them or digest them in a way that makes sense in some way. And then I want to revisit that as they're curious. I think ultimately I'll take the cue from them. I think if they're curious about my heritage/their heritage, great. And if they're not, that's okay because it's not about me. It’s their life. I want to give them space to engage with my story as much as they want to.
OUTRO
Rachael Cerrotti: Thank you to Phuc for joining me today. You can find his book, Sigh, Gone at your local bookstore. It will also be linked on our website.
The Memory Generation was created in partnership with USC Shoah Foundation which is home to more than 55,000 testimonies of survivors and witnesses of genocide. You can learn more about their work and the Visual History Archive at sfi.usc.edu.
You can find additional links, book lists, testimony clips and all types of other resources and stories on our website: memorygenerationpodcast.com. Our editor is Lene Bech Sillesen. Our executive producer and co-creator of this show is Stephen Smith. The music is from Kodomo. I’m Rachael Cerrotti. Thanks for being with us.