Where does your deep connection to your Khmer history and heritage come from? 

I was born in San Francisco, having grown up in the Bayview Hunter’s Point neighborhood and lived there until I was 8 years old and eventually returning about 8 years ago as a transfer student to San Francisco State University. I am of two identities - Khmer and Khmer Krom. I’ve recently chosen to identify as Khmer/Krom-American to note my Khmer Krom lineage on our mother’s side; Khmer Krom literally translates to Khmer Below. Our mother was born in what used to be called Preah Trapeang (now Tra Vinh) in Kampuchea Krom, which encompasses all of Southern Vietnam. The Khmer Krom believe they are direct descendants of the ancient Nokor Phnom (or Funan, a term originating from the Chinese) peoples. I didn’t always identify as Khmer Krom because I didn’t know much about that side of my lineage until later in life. Now, it is very much a part of my identity and served as part of the focal point of my first publication, Follow the Mekong Home.

Growing up, my family talked about their past all the time - often serious, sometimes jokingly. I’ve heard from many other Khmer people that their family kept their past to themselves, but my family was the total opposite. I learned a lot about the war, the genocide, and their hardships very early on. With all that knowledge, I was eager to utilize any school assignment and project opportunities I had to center on Khmer heritage and their stories. It felt very important to me, especially when I was often the class’ only Khmer student. It instilled a desire to continue learning and sharing Khmer-related information to others which, today, social media has greatly helped with. My Instagram followers have expressed how thankful they are for all of my informational posts. Additionally, I enjoy the discussions they have with me because we have so few opportunities to have those kinds of discussions in real life.

Like many other refugee families, our family is spread out all over, with relatives on the East Coast as well as distant families on our maternal side who reside in various states/cities. We also have plenty of relatives currently in Cambodia mostly situated in Takeo and Battambang province, some in Phnom Penh, and an unknown number of maternal relatives in Kampuchea Krom. We are most close to our maternal aunt, uncle, and cousins who currently reside in Boston. Boston is where my family first resided upon arriving to America. My parents said that when they landed in Boston, they were readily provided with an apartment, and the owners had left utensils and cookware for them which was nice as it enabled my mother to be able to readily cook meals. They were also lucky in that at the time, there were already a handful of established Asian food stores in the area. They said they often shopped at a nearby Korean-owned food store which allowed them to cook traditional Khmer dishes. It is little windows of the past like this that I find intriguing and motivates me to keep sharing and documenting my family’s stories.

For you, San Francisco has always been your home. What is it like as a second generation Khmer/Krom-American to grow up there, especially considering how San Francisco, namely the Tenderloin, was once one of the hubs of Khmer American life in the Bay Area?

Although I didn’t grow up in the TL (which is what we call it), I’ve heard so many stories about what it was like for my family to live there. And even when my family moved out to the Bayview Hunters Point, we still frequented the TL, like to go grocery shopping at Battambang Market, a Cambodian-owned food store on Eddy Street (where I’d often ask my mom to buy me a WWE ice cream bar). Later in life, I’d find myself back in the TL and San Francisco again, volunteering for Khmer New Year and Southeast Asian events, such as with the Southeast Asian Arts and Culture Coalition (SEAACC) with my sisters. Besides New Year’s, we also participated in the (now discontinued) annual Asian Heritage Street Festival, sometimes with other Khmer cultural groups in the Bay Area, and we’d dress in our cultural attire, including taking part in the cultural show and dance segments. It was nice to be surrounded by folks like me since by then, I was living in the suburbs and was away from a predominantly Khmer/SE Asian community. By participating, it allowed me to feel more connected with my culture. Unfortunately, the Khmer and overall Southeast Asian community in the TL and in SF in general is not the same anymore. One remnant left in the TL of our presence is a mural directly behind the Civic Center Inn. I don’t know who created the piece, but it’s a beautiful, physical relic of our past in the area. With how things are going in the city, who knows how many years left the mural has.

Our parents are traditional and often like to follow traditions closely. We always celebrated Khmer New Year (it used to be hosted in the gym of Booker T. Washington community service center on Presidio Ave) and followed Buddhist holidays and customs growing up. We were always exposed to Khmer cultural customs and I don’t think I ever thought what we did was strange growing up - I was so used to it that it never felt out of place to me (except sometimes, I wasn’t fond of wearing cultural attire!). At the time, the Khmer community in San Francisco was pretty sizable and we lived close to our parents’ friends and their kids, so I always felt a sense of closeness to my community. Combining all that and my family’s hardships, being proud to be Khmer came easy for me. I also enjoyed every day outings like our picnicking at Golden Gate Park and other parks in the Bay Area, going to the beaches, biking at Candlestick and Oyster Point, playing with my siblings, and basically just being a Khmer kid in a big city.

Most research on the Khmer American community in California centers on cities like Stockton and Long Beach, but not so much on the communities in the Bay. What does the current landscape of the Khmer American community in San Francisco look like? 

Like my sister, Ratha, mentioned in her interview, there isn’t much of a sizable Khmer community in SF anymore. I noticed a slight uptick of Khmers coming to SF for school, work, or both over the years from elsewhere, but it’s hard to reach them. Some Khmers who follow me on my social media handles live in other parts of the Bay Area and I try my best to always let them know about upcoming events, like at the temple or our SEAACC events, such as the yearly Mid-Autumn Harvest Festival held in the TL. Some of them would actually come through, but I wish the outcome was better.

I don’t completely know what the demographics of our community is in SF looks like these days. For the families that I know, a lot are getting older and have aging parents/relatives. Services that were once available in the past may no longer exist or have been reduced. There’s a group of elders who go to the temple often - not only for religious purposes, but to also be around familiar faces. It can be difficult to adjust when not so long ago, our community was thriving.

What is really amazing is that you and several of your sisters started your own individual artistic endeavors, all of which are inspired so beautifully by your Khmer heritage. We’d love to hear more about Follow the Mekong Home, your debut publication containing a collection of writings and reflections on your Khmer/Krom identity, figuring out where home is, history and culture, themes that permeate so much of your writing and art as a whole. Can you tell us about your path to becoming a writer and artist? 

I’m not sure when I started writing, I just remember writing a lot of short stories as a child. I was quite the imaginative kid - always coming up with silly stories, like one about a girl named Lucy and her love for tacos, or scary stories like about a family who becomes lost in a rainy drive home and ends up at a haunted hotel.  I never had any formal training in writing besides a creative writing class I took in high school. I do remember Mrs. Richardson, my 1st grade teacher at George Washington Carver Elementary School in the Bayview neighborhood, really encouraged my writing and stories. She gave me an opportunity to make my own mini “book” (which really just consisted of different colored construction paper) and had me share an original story to the entire class. I remember feeling very seen and proud of my work and skills. That moment definitely left a lasting impression on me.

Currently, I lean more towards prose and short essays. In 2018, I published my first book, Follow the Mekong Home, which started out as a goal of publishing a book before the end of the year. Before and after that time, I had submitted collages and prose to zine publications - Tiger Balm Zine and Cambodian American Literary Arts Association (CALAA). My work is inspired by my experiences as a 2nd-generation Khmer/Krom-American, Khmer history, and stories passed down to me. Most books by Khmer authors that garner a lot of attention often detail the author’s experiences as a 1st or 1.5 generation, so to add my perspective as a 2nd gen is a big deal because there’s so few of our stories out there and our experiences are very different from the older gen. That is what pushes me to put out my work. I think it’s nice to have a book and various published works available that people around my age or younger can relate to and find representation in. For my next book, whenever that will be, I want to focus on my family stories and my life thus far.

I treat my art almost the same as my writing, as in I don’t pre-plan much of anything. Sometimes I just start with a face and the rest falls into place. This year, I became inspired to start selling some of my art. It was something I contemplated for a while, but I never saw any value in selling my art until people started asking me about it online. It was a big step to take and in the process, I became aware of how little you see Khmer-American artists selling their work. So, I’m happy now to be offering Khmer-inspired art! My art is inspired by bright colors, my surroundings, and Khmer culture. I would describe my art as whimsical and colorful. I like to play around with colors and different mediums in one piece. I’ve started to include elongated earlobes on the people I draw as a homage to Khmer’s ancient past when elongated earlobes and heavy earrings was the norm. Adding Khmer elements gives my art so much more meaning, while also being able to explore different styles and ideas that otherwise wouldn’t be seen in traditional Khmer art. I recently started diving into t-shirt designs myself; I hope to design more styles that relate back to the Khmer identity throughout the year.

It wasn’t until I reached adulthood that I realized the power behind my writing and art. Khmer culture revolves around the arts. Even during the regime, the arts were still practiced as long as it aligned with the regime’s rules. There would be pro-Khmer Rouge dance and music performances and artists like Vann Nath who was asked to create head busts of Pol Pot when he was imprisoned at what is now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Many artists perished during the regime and for some of those who survived, they went on to revive the arts in Cambodia and/or in the diaspora. What is brewing in the Khmer diaspora right now is unique and exciting. We’re all bringing something different to the table with many slowly getting recognition for their work. We still have a long way to go, but our efforts seem to be paying off now.

This interview is part of a two-part series featuring Krystal and her sister Ratha. To read Ratha’s interview, please click here.