I believe that a symbolic issue that was often raised in class was the idea of the "ghost" that is repeatedly utilized in Kingston's book "Woman Warrior". Many students in class had different ideas on what the metaphor of the "ghost" meant. The interpretations varied, and there probably is no solid explanation as to what the "ghost" element truly meant. However, as I stumbled upon the ghost analogy throughout the book, I tried to fathom a general idea of what Kingston meant when she used the idea of the "ghost".

Ghosts, are usually feared in society, viewed as paranormal beings who haunt the living. Some say that ghosts return to life because of unfinished business. For example, in the story Shaman in "Woman Warrior", one of the characters in the story described her great-grandfather coming back because "[they] needed to put bigger helpings and a Ford in front of his plaque. And when [they] did, the haunting stopped immediately". Alot of the times however, the women in the book were related to the ghosts somehow. In "No Name Woman", the character's aunt was described as being a ghost from under the well. In "Shaman", the character's mother's secret place resided in a haunted room, full of ghosts. My interpretation is that Kingston incorporated the idea of the ghost and related that to the women in the stories because she attempted to express the way women were perceived as during the 60's-70's. Before females were able to gain a more "respectable position" in society, they lacked a numerous amount of rights and were viewed as inferior towards men. The ghost analogy may be accurate in portraying such a metaphoric image of women. Being related to ghosts, women can be perceived as "invisible" beings who are ignored, feared, and loathed, a portrayal that Kingston herself may have experienced as she grew up.

Uncle Hung

Sometimes, there are people in the family who feel like they are isolated from the rest of the world. They kick and scream, and shout at the top of their lungs, but to them, they feel as if they were mute and non-existent. Imagine little Hung, drowning at the bottom of a pool, kicking and pushing while gasping for air, but no one will rescue him. Only he can rescue himself. No one will save him. He carries the weight of the world of his shoulders, in seclusion, but he is happy because only he can make himself happy.

Uncle Hung, the second youngest person in a family of 7, has always been the outcast of the family. He ate dinner by himself, unless his second oldest sister was not too busy taking care of the rest of the family. She loved him to death, just as she loved everybody in the family. Chi Huong, elder sister, would always be looked up to and would always be respected, because she gave him unconditional love. He loved his older siblings, regardless of whether or not they paid attention to him. They loved him too, but living in a communist regime, everybody had their minds set on making a living. His parents, on the other hand, was a different story. During dinner time, there were ten pieces of glutenous tofu for the whole family, and a small portion of rice for everyone. If Hung was lucky, he'd be able to enjoy half a piece of tofu with a small portion of rice. Neglected, and ignored most of the time Bo and Me (mom and dad) would forget to buy him toys, but spoil the rest of the children. Forced to use his own creativity, he played with pots and pans and rubbed the grease and ashes off of them to use as makeup.

Back in 1979, all 7 children were living under the same roof, just a year before departing to the land of opportunity. The whole country was beginning to feel the affects of the Communist regime that had recently reigned over. It was time to leave. It was time to be a part of history, what is now known as “The Boat People”, the second wave of Vietnamese immigrants to leave the country after the war. As lonely as he already was, the departure of his siblings would make him even lonelier. At the age of 10, he was not ready to leave the motherland. They all left, one by one. For Hung, it was hard to see his older siblings leave. Having his siblings around was the closest thing he had to being existent, because even the slightest acknowledgement of such thing would be important to him.

One day, Si, a brother only one year older than he, was the only remaining elder sibling left. Hung clenched onto Si, in ecstasy that his only older brother stayed behind. He buried himself under his older brother's arms, feeling protected as if he was under a dragon's wings. One afternoon, they trailed off into the distance towards the local train tracks, an area that little children often played around.

Hung asked, "Anh Si, why are you holding that bag? What's in it?".

"Em, it's just some toys I brought along for us to play in", Si replied with remorse and sorrow.

Hung grabbed his brother's arms tightly, blissfully walking towards the train tracks. Maybe there are some people that care about him. A boisterous noise thunders from a distance. Slowly, the sound is getting louder and louder. Hung looks behind him and notices a black monster coming their way, blowing grey smoke out of its head. As it comes closer, he notices its a train. They both can see a massive amount of people sitting in a claustrophobic manner. Some looked as if they were suffering from the severe heat. Some, suffering from a lack of breathing space. The train passes by them. A loud horn sounds twice. Hung sees the people's faces, anxious to reach their destination. Looking at the direction towards which the train is going, Hung realizes its the train to the nearest shore. They were part of the boat people. The end of the train was coming near. Hung, so excited to begin his playtime with his big brother patiently waits for the train to pass. Suddenly, Si hugs him tightly, like a father would embrace a son, kisses him on the forehead and runs towards the train. He runs with all his might, throws his bag onto the top of the train, and jumps onto the back. Si, was on his way to America. As Si is standing on the back of the tip of the train, he looks back to see if his brother is safe. He sees a little boy, no bigger than four feet tall running the life out of him, bursting into tears. He yells and screams, but nothing is heard. Tears gush down his eyes in thoughts of never seeing his older brother again, not knowing where he'll be and why he left. He only sees his older brother drifting into the distance. Hung is alone now. This time, he has no one to turn to.

Throughout my lifetime, I have been involved with the Asian community quite a bit, specifically with the Vietnamese community. An important factor of the Vietnamese community is the issue of immigrant families, and unfortunately, illegal immigrant families. Reading Nguyen’s book, “We Are All Suspects Now”, reminds me of some of the memories I have of people I have encountered with who were, and some who still are, struggling with visa documents in order to permanently stay in the US. I have met families whose parents are illegal immigrants, but their children are natural US born citizens. Their lives have been restricted because of their lack of legal documents to stay in the US, however, not to the extent of the characters written about in the book. Nevertheless, I have been acquainted with people who I would recognize as victims of unjust immigration policies. I would say I have developed very close relationships with some of these people. My point is, I reflect on this issue, and I think about how hard it is for some of these people I know. Because I don’t want to disrespect anybody or would like to reveal anybody’s identity, I don’t want to use names or expose their relationships to me. I’ve met many who have had the ideal American dream of becoming rich, but because of their illegal status, they’re unable to obtain jobs that enable them to do so. On top of taking care of themselves, some even have to take care of their families in Vietnam. But, I remember that I could at times, feel the fear that borders their lives. There are things that I would take for granted, such as driving around in my car, that my acquaintances would always have to worry about. If one were to get pulled over, the result would be devastating. There is one person, who I have and will always retain in my memory forever. This friend of mine possessed all the qualities of a “good man” in my opinion. Very caring towards the people around him, treated people with the utmost respect, and constantly displayed a good sense of perseverance. These qualities make him no threat to society whatsoever. However, 20 years ago, he was involved in an incident, where he was attacked by a group of gang members. Naturally, he defended himself in a time of danger, however, when the police came, it was a different story. He was sent to jail and released on bail. At the time, he was only on a green card, but the country would not grant him permanent residency. Ever since, he’s been on the run, in fear that he will be detained and deported back to Vietnam where his sentencing could be even more devastating than he can imagine. People like him remind me of the characters in the story. Just hard-working immigrants, looking for a better life in the land of opportunity, but they are victimized by the immigration policies that fail to make justified judgments on certain decisions.

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