As someone who immigrated to the United States as a young age, you hold a unique experience as part of the 1.5 generation. Can you tell us about the push and pull factors behind your family’s decision to flee Cambodia and the meandering journey that ultimately led you to San Francisco, CA?

I was born in the Khao I Dang refugee camp in 1980. Our journey to America was not an easy one as our family of 8 (grandma, parents, aunt, cousin, two siblings and myself) faced numerous obstacles and hardships in reaching what the Khmers called the “New Land” or “Heavenly Land.” Those born in the camps were considered special or lucky and often referred to as “children of tevadas” or angels because they would be the first generation of Khmers to be born post war. That was me.

The conflict in Cambodia began earlier than 1975, those serving in the army like my father, knew it all too well. In 1975, when the Khmer Rouge started their march into Phnom Penh, my father’s superior told him to take his family and leave. My mother would not budge. She cared and loved her country so much that she could not bear to abandon the only place she knew. Because of her refusal, they were caught in the turmoil. For almost 4 years, my parents along with many others were forced into hard labor and re-education camps. My parents were separated and so were the kids (my 2 older siblings). At some point, my father was caught. They kept him in chains to be executed. Miraculously, he managed to escape. He went looking for my mother and found her and the kids and they headed straight for the Thai border. You see, my father served in the Lon Nol led military that was backed by the US, so when the Khmer Rouge took over, he was one of the many that was on their list to be “eliminated.” 

Their journey to the Thai border was days of nonstop walking and sleeping with fear that they may be caught by the Khmer Rouge, the Viet Cong or stepping on landmines, but they made it. It was a happy but also bittersweet moment filled with tears and so many mixed emotions. My mother, again, refused to go forward. She knew that once we entered the camps, there was no turning back. Leaving her homeland was not an option but this time my dad gave her an ultimatum: if you want to stay, you stay alone, I’m leaving and the kids are coming with me. At that moment, my mother recalled making one of the most difficult decisions of her life. She was a proud Khmer Kampuchea Krom woman, indigenous to the Mekong Delta. She thought if everyone left Cambodia, who will take care of the land and its people. The indigeous people are very much connected to the Earth, to their land; leaving meant abandonment and separation from their ancestors. If one were to travel or leave, a ritual would need to be performed. In this case, there simply was no time, though she finally agreed. And shortly after, I was born, conceived out of love, relief and comfort. My birth was a sign to my parents that life will continue. 

My father was excited to relocate; he had read and heard so much about America. He knew that his status would have allowed the family to leave right away, yet there was a problem. The staff from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugee (UNHCR) who was reviewing our paperwork had accused my father of having two wives. They did not want to believe that my aunt, who was a single mom, was his sister-in-law. This delayed paperwork for a whole year. In that year, my mother suffered from postpartum depression and because of our situation and poor living conditions, they often fought and argued. I was also very malnourished and suffered from a tongue infection that if left untreated, I would not have survived. I had stopped eating/drinking and had started to turn pale. It was the middle of the night that my late grandmother quickly took me to an herbal doctor. She did not have money for the treatment. She pleaded and got on her knees to beg for help. I was eventually treated and survived. My grandmother saved me, I will never forget this! Around the same time, our paperwork was finally processed, not because they figured the accusations weren’t true but because they had witnessed my grandmother being abused by the Thai staff. They had kicked her and hit her in the head, upset that she was not able to comprehend during a medical check up. She fell to the ground and bled. Since the incident, the head injury impacted her health greatly.

Before our arrival to the U.S., we stayed in Bataan, Philippines, for several months, as well as a few days in Germany, England and Egypt. By the time I was 1 years old, I had been in several countries, on planes, cars and trains! My family, being one of the few that arrived in Boston the fall of 1981, had little to no resettling support. From what my father remembered, he met a group of people on the streets whom he was able to communicate with (in French) and luckily, they were very helpful. They provided us with useful information and where to go for support.

I don’t remember much about Boston, but I know we moved around a lot. I rarely saw my parents, who worked around the clock. My cousin and aunt lived with us, and my grandmother babysat and cooked for us. We grew up eating a lot of Khmer Krom food (but more on that another time). Winters were cold, and we never had enough heat in the house. I recall seeing my first snowflake (which was beautiful) and summers were the best! My cousin and I, at the age of four, would go to our neighbor’s house and ask them to crank open the fire hydrant! Of course they agreed - all the kids on the block had been anxiously waiting for someone to do it. Just imagine those hot humid East Coast summers! 

There were several reasons that prompted the move to San Francisco in the mid-1980s. My mother could no longer work. She suffered from a miscarriage that left her to recover in the hospital for two weeks, it was hard to adapt to the harsh East Coast winters, and at around that time, my father found that his army buddies had settled in SF. This was devastating for me. As a young girl, all I knew was that I would be separated from my best friend (my cousin). We had an unbreakable bond - we were born around the same time, lived and grew up together. Though this would not be the last time; we separated again in 2011 when she was deported (which is a whole other story). 

My father made up his mind: we’re moving and we’re going to fly to SF. That is, until he found out that the person he was selling his car to was the same Khmer Rouge soldier that held him captive to be executed. This man asked my father to meet him privately to hand off the car. Fearing for his life yet again, he quickly loaded all of us (that included my mom, 2 older siblings, 1 younger sibling and myself) into our station wagon and braved a 7-day drive from Boston to San Francisco in 1985, probably becoming the first Khmer/Southeast Asian man to literally drive across the country. Armed with only a paper road map, they remembered the road trip as scary but thrilling all at the same time. My dad loves adventure, traveling and exploring (one of the biggest reasons he joined the army). Sure we came across rednecks who gave us the look; sure, we showered in the sprinklers at the rest area (for real), but once we crossed that Bay Bridge, it was the most satisfying feeling ever! One of my dad’s proudest moments and my very first taste of a road trip!

So many Southeast Asian folks in San Francisco have roots in the Tenderloin, aka the TL, a neighborhood unfortunately known more for its crime and poverty than its incredible community organizing legacy. What was it like for you all growing up Khmer American in the TL, and how did this experience shape your own relationship to your Khmer identity?

Upon our arrival, we stayed in the Mission/Woodward area of SF (was once a huge Cambodian enclave). It was a 1-bedroom apartment shared between three families. After a few months, we moved out to the Tenderloin (TL). There were a lot of Khmer folks in the TL in the early 80s. So many Southeast Asians resettled in the area that the Tenderloin Times, a local newspaper, was published in Khmer, Lao and the Vietnamese language. There were Khmer schools, organizations, basement parties and New Year celebrations that were celebrated outdoors. The dancing, singing and live band attracted a lot of spectators. We added so much color and culture to SF. There were plenty of Khmer businesses too- from grocery stores, laundromats, and auto service, to barbers and video rental shops. It was such a thriving community and because of this, I knew more than ever that I was Khmer. I belong in this community. It was these things like the music, the dances, the women in their sarongs walking around TL (imagine that) and the language I was learning that shaped my understanding of what it means to be Khmer. I recalled going to a Khmer language school that took place after my usual day school. I enjoyed it very much, so much that I was always eager to raise my hand so that I would get called on by the teacher. One day at the school, a stranger approached me. She showed me a copy of the Tenderloin Times with my photo on the front page, along with it was an article about the school. I’ve yet to find a copy of that article - it was probably published around 1987-88.

The first exodus: After the earthquake of 1989, at least a third of the Cambodians left. After the war and the hardships they’ve been through, natural disasters would be the last thing Cambodians wanted to deal with! My family stayed; we loved San Francisco. By then, we had already moved out to the Bayview Hunters Point on the southeast side of the city - the “unpretty” side. We were approved for Section 8 housing, and were relieved to move out of the TL. We were a family of 9 living in a studio apartment. Bedtime for us looked like packed sardines in a can. Not only that, the rise of drugs, gangs and violence affected our family. My older sister was hurt after being jumped by a group of guys on her way home from school. My older brother by then had joined a gang and was getting into all kinds of trouble. This continued for a long time that collect calls and our visits to the juvenile hall became “normal.” 

Thanks to a very strong Khmer upbringing and my early experiences in TL, it instilled pride in me but I didn’t always know how to be proud or how my identity fit into my new community. I was no longer surrounded by my people and I felt so far away from them. Over time, the lack of being around my community conflicted me; I didn’t know where I belong or where I fit in. I felt like I had to choose. I questioned whether I belonged with the Filipinos because in appearance they look similar or did I fit in more with the Black folks because I live in their neighborhood, I’m surrounded by them, I may have picked up on their mannerisms and the schools I attended taught us everything about Black pride and history- it was very much celebrated. By then also, I had picked up on hardcore/ganster rap music. I would listen to anything that my older brother was listening to. I thought it was so “cool” that I even taught my younger siblings all the rap lyrics that I enjoyed listening to. Looking back now, those lyrics were not meant for kids. We still laugh about it today… Anyhow, I was confused for a while, but I was NEVER ashamed to be Khmer.

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? 

The population of Khmer American is SF continues to dwindle and for several reasons. Gentrification/high cost of living is a huge factor, families that were disrupted by gangs and violence often move out of state or far enough where their kids can not find their way back and then you have the growing middle class who is able to afford homes but would rather purchase elsewhere because the housing cost in SF is ridiculous! There are still issues that our community continues to face. We don’t talk much about mental health/PTSD and the generational trauma that exists. There is also a need to address deportation and the impact of family separation. Then there's the drug problem, again swept under the rug because we just don't know how to deal with it and are afraid to talk about it. In the last years alone, 3 of our young adults died from overdose. For these reasons, I believe, many of our younger generation in SF find it hard to thrive, to reach their full potential and they become less involved and less interested in their community. However, there have been efforts over the years from the Cambodian School of SF, Samaki Project and the Southeast Asian Arts and Culture Coalition that specifically focuses on the community in SF.  We are a very small community that is dispersed through the city so because of this, it’s harder to engage the whole community but we do our best by hosting various community events and participating in bigger city events to promote the visibility of our people and community. We are also very thankful that there is a small Cambodian temple that serves not only religious purposes but it is also a hub for socializing and gathering. Having this space allows us to further engage the elders in the dissemination of information like the Census and hosting community flu shots and cultural workshops. There is still a lot to be done and I’m hoping that there’s enough passionate folks in our community to continue the efforts. We can’t do it alone. I myself have been doing this for over 20 years and I would like to transition into focusing more on my passion. I hope that spotlightling stories like this will bring awareness to the issues and engage new people.

Local organizations that we’d like to spotlight:

• Southeast Asian Development Center (formerly Vietnamese Youth Development Center): VYDC embraces a holistic approach to serving the needs of low-income Southeast Asian youth & families. We believe in developing skills that support Southeast Asian youth & families in various aspects of their lives so that they can realize their full potential. We provide jobs, academic support, social and cultural guidance, and language services, as well as strengthen family relationships and promote youth leadership. Whether you’re a recent immigrant, refugee, or San Francisco native, VYDC understands your unique struggle and is ready to offer personalized support and services.

• Southeast Asian Community Center: The Southeast Asian Community Center develops and administers programs that serve the needs of the Southeast Asian communities of Northern California. Our programs support self-sufficiency, economic viability, advocacy, community empowerment, leadership development, acculturation, and cultural preservation in these communities. A second, but equally, important part of our work is advising and financing small businesses in the region. We work with entrepreneurs and organizations of all ethnicities who are interested in small business and economic development in the Greater San Francisco Bay Area.

• Cambodian Community Development Inc.: CCDI is dedicated to serving the needs of the Cambodian community in the Bay Area. Since its founding in 1997, CCDI has provided support to Cambodian Americans with language interpretation, cultural and linguistic education, legal and medical assistance, and much more.

• Cambodian School of San Francisco: Our mission is to teach Khmer language to Cambodian children and adults who live abroad and are interested in learning the language, while preserving the value of our culture and helping to support Khmer kids to stay and be successful in school by offering free tutoring to khmer (K-12) kids in math, reading, writing, science and social studies/history; homework help; and college/career advices. Our tutors will also act as mentors and role models for Cambodian Youth. Our goal is to raise Cambodian high school and college graduates to be at a similar level to those of other immigrants.

• Southeast Asian Arts and Culture Coalition: SEAACC’s mission is to advance the visibility and vitality of each Southeast Asian culture through various educational, social, and cultural activities with an aim to strengthen relationships between Southeast Asian communities in the San Francisco Bay Area.

• Samaki Project: Unifying to preserve, support and celebrate Khmer cultural heritage and traditions-increasing the visibility of Cambodian Americans. The term “samaki” in the Khmer language means unity and solidarity.

• Khmer Women’s Alliance: KWA is a global network of Khmer Women from around the world with the passion to collaborate, empower and advance with the goal of forging a brighter future for all.

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. Can you tell us a little bit about where your love of Khmer textiles comes from and how it led to the creation of your business, Rajana Threads?

Rajana Threads is a Khmer fashion brand. Based in San Francisco, Rajana Threads aims to promote traditional handwoven Khmer fabric and also help local artisans in Cambodia by employing them to handcraft our products. Through our partnerships in Cambodia, we’re actively engaging in ethical practices in sourcing and production. Handmade in Cambodia, each piece has a story and is guaranteed a conversation starter. Rajana Threads hopes to bring you a true taste of Cambodian modern wear that is stylish and fashion forward! Our mission is simple: showcase the eclectic beauty of traditional Khmer fabric through contemporary fashion while supporting a collaborative of women artisans in Cambodia.

Fashion, art and style have always been my love and more so since my mother introduced me to Khmer textiles. She stressed the importance of owning at least one Khmer outfit or a piece of traditional textile. As she puts it, it is a piece of us, a piece of Cambodia - handwoven by our people. It is an art form that existed since the ancient days. We are the only country that produces the highly prized golden silk and are experts in a type of “weft” weaving technique. This is knowledge and skills that other people will never be able to take away from us. 

Typically months before the Cambodian New Year, my mother would always take my older sister and I to the seamstress to get our new year outfits made. I was always very excited because this meant I could sketch my own design and choose a fabric of my liking. The process involved getting measured, knowing the different textiles, and learning how to store/care for the clothing. These days, there is less of a demand as many of our younger generation only associate traditional Khmer clothing with temple wear. Many prefer not to invest in an outfit if it is only worn once a year (or so they think). Seamstresses no longer found making clothes a profitable side gig and it is difficult to source traditional Khmer clothing in the states. Those offering traditional clothes are often bridal clothing and services. As the older generation has retired, this craft seldom gets passed on to the next generation. It is quite a process and experience that I feel the younger generation missed out on, my younger sisters included. It is these experiences that helped me to understand the importance of our textile, how it plays a role in our culture and identity, to understand the value and the need for preservation. More importantly, it was the quality time I got to spend with my mother. I recently learned that my paternal grandmother from Takeo was a weaver. My father doesn’t know when she learned or started to weave, only that she had a loom underneath the house (traditional stilt homes in Cambodia typically have a vast space underneath the home). She wove traditional Cambodian checkered scarves called “krama” and sold them to locals. She stopped weaving some time when my father entered elementary or high school. The Takeo province in Cambodia is known for their exceptional weaving. Almost all families own some type of loom. Many of the silk textiles produced in the county today come from Takeo with it being the most prized.

Through my mom, I learned some sewing, stitching, and crocheting but sadly it has all been forgotten. I do sketches, all artwork and designs are my own. A lot of what I design is more contemporary, your everyday look. Although contemporary, there are still a lot of Khmer elements to it. When I previously served as the Executive Director of a Cambodian organization here in the Bay Area, I enjoyed wearing a lot of my designs to work and people loved it. This gave me more confidence to wear my Khmer clothes out, so during my 2-year stint with the U.S. Census Bureau, I intentionally chose to wear my Khmer clothes to various high level meetings, state convenings and even national conferences. People took notice, many wanted to know if I provided a “custom-made” service or had asked where they could get one. Because of this positive reception and my love for Khmer clothes, I began to lend and dress people for different events, from pageants to weddings - all free of charge! I did this for at least a decade for not even a penny, but no complaints- I just really enjoyed what I do. I realize I couldn't afford to do this anymore, the dry cleaning was costly and I don’t have the funds to make additional outfits, nor outfits that would fit all body size. I found myself constantly referring people to Stockton or Long Beach. This experience made me realize that our threads don’t have to be worn only for temples and cultural occasions but can be a part of your everyday wear. I think many 1.5 and 2nd gen grow up not super comfortable wearing their community’s traditional clothing, especially since it’s a very clear way to be othered. I love that now more and more folks are looking to embrace this form of cultural expression, and that I could model how to incorporate these pieces into your everyday wear as well. An idea was born.

Fast forward to 2019, my collection of sketches continued to pile and more than ever, I had all these great ideas- so my youngest sister decided to help. She was able to research and connect me with potential production partners. Going into this business, I knew it had to be meaningful. I wanted not only for women to feel comfortable in my clothes but they would know exactly where it came from and who made it. It was intentional that I work with groups/sewing enterprises that are Khmer women owned and run. The ethical-sustainable fashion world is filled with “privileged” white women at its core and I wanted to carve my own space and become the first Khmer-American owned ethical fashion line! We did just that - Rajana Threads was born. By doing this I am showing my community that we can:

• Support our community/people through ethical buying which in turn, directly supports a chain of (Khmer) women in the weaving community (includes the weavers, dyers, growers, pattern makers, loom builders, seamstresses and cotton/silkworm cultivators)

• Preserve our cultural heritage (weaving and sericulture), which ensures longevity

• Educate the wider community on what is real and what is faux (typically imported from Thailand, Japan and Italy)

• Understand the value of and appreciation for investing in each handmade textiles and/or pieces

• Promotion of traditional textiles through modern wear that the 1.5 and generations onward can enjoy and relate to, which can help in bridging the cultural gap and understanding among the older and younger generations

Rajana Threads tagline is: Where traditional textile meets modern wear. I want and hope Rajana Threads can contribute to a lasting legacy in the arts, tradition and more so cultural pride. When I thought of creating my own line, it had to be more than just a clothing brand. I wanted to circle back to the work I did in uplifting my community. There needed to be an educational piece to it. I've been communicating with my partners about offering a “homestay” and providing a hands on learning experience in the weaving villages. In addition to that and right before COVID19, I had already established connection to several Southeast Asian, African, and Polynesian women owned small businesses in planning a summer pop up event that would feature cultural performances and highlight their craft and artistry. I’m all for supporting one another and women empowerment! (I think this event would have been the first of its kind in the Bay).

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