Public Speeches

REDEFINING TRADITION

Keynote speech by Ms. Wendy Duong, former Texas judge and Colorado law professor, delivered at the annual banquet of the Seattle Vietnamese American Bar Association. (The theme and topic were chosen by the sponsoring Bar.)

October 22, 2013

Downtown Seattle, WA

SUMMARY:  At the 2013 Seattle bar banquet, former jugdge and former law professor Wendy Duong defined "tradition" for Vietnamese Americans and discussed the need for, and the challenge of, redefining it. She summarized her career path as a lawyer who combined law and art, and gave practical pointers to future lawyers, stressing the importance of professional ethics and Vietnamese core values.

Thank you for the introduction.  By the way, don’t pay attention to the length of my resume. That’s normal for academia.  Besides, the many pages simply reveal my age! [LAUGH]

 

Thank you for having me back.  It’s now beautiful autumn in… Sleepless Seattle! [LAUGH]

Alice Munro has just won the Nobel in literature, so I will borrow from literature to address this year’s theme: redefining tradition. (By the way, art and entertainment are very much part of the Vietnamese soul and tradition.  Many Vietnamese love to get on stage and sing, so Kareoke is popular, and everybody in the first generation tries to make poems!) [LAUGH]

Almost 40 years ago, the first 150,000 Vietnamese were airlifted to America, followed by about a million refugees, former political prisoners under President Reagan’s HO program, and families joining their loved ones under the Orderly Departure Program. 

These historical events mean that we have planted Vietnamese fruits on American soil. Tradition is what we brought from our former home to America. 

But, the very concept of replanting means transformation.  Ideally, the process means that we must combine what’s best about being Vietnamese  with what’s best of America. We want to be the best of both worlds.  

Tradition can mean norms of daily lives, from St. Patrick’s Day for the Irish and Tet for us Vietnamese, or it can mean our core values. I submit that flexibility and the ability to endure separation, displacement, and exodus are all part of our culture.   We proudly believe in the myth that we are descendants of the fairy and the dragon who had to divorce for the betterment of their children:  The first 50 Vietnamese went to the mountains while the other 50 went to the sea.  

Our tradition includes image of the Trung sisters, our first nation builders.  

Eighteen centuries later, another woman revolutionized Vietnamese poetry by using her pen to fight injustice [Ho Xuan Huong].  

Tradition for Vietnamese women can mean Warrior or Poet.

   

Our tradition also lies in family values.  We pursue education, and obtain success with hard work. Generally, our children do well in school and deliver achievement as professionals.

But I think that our greatest attribute is conveyed in a well-known short story from modern Vietnamese literature (written jointly by two members of the Independent Pen Club (Tu Luc Van Doan).  The story was about a very poor young Vietnamese couple who lived by the Red River.  They made a living by gathering lumber brought to shore by the River’s strong tides. (Those days, before environmental damage, the Red River was like a sea.) 

One day, in a storm, husband and wife miscalculated the strength of the tides, so they went into the river to gather logs.  They were swept away.  In their desperate swim to shore, the husband tried to carry his wife, but the wife knew that if she hung on, both of them might die, so she made a decision.  

Before she let go of her husband, she uttered the names of their three children and said, “NO YOU MUST LIVE.”  (“Khong, anh phai song.”) 

I believe that the ending of the story and those three words:  YOU MUST LIVE, sum up our greatest tradition to keep.  Our ancestors have survived typhoons, floods, hurricanes, monsoon, wars, invasions, starvation, and poverty.  We survive because others have undergone great hurt, and have done so much giving. Every Vietnamese family has stories to tell. 

So, I call for younger Vietnamese Americans to remember and treasure the sacrifice made by others in order for you to be here today.  (For many of you, that means the sacrifice of your parents.) That awareness is your strength and your luggage for the future. The tradition of family, community, hard work, sacrifice, and the will to survive is indeed our bond.

But, in order to survive and flourish, we must let go, adapt, and change.  Change is like the seasons, an evolving cycle that produces newness.  Here, I want to address specifically the law profession. 

As you know, in the law, I have done just about everything: from big-firm to government, from judgeship to professorship. I am one of those “law and…” persons -- I combine law and art.  

The law is my profession, but art is my vocation.  

I have made so much career compromise in the law in order to maintain the combination, and I am still at it.  Many lawyers have tried to do this, and so far no lawyer has won the Nobel prize in literature, nor become the next Picasso [LAUGH].  But we know that both Schumann and Matisse were in law school. Well, they quit.  [LAUGH]  

What’s more? Lawyer John Grisham became a millionaire writing legal thrillers.  OK, I have not quit the law, nor have I published any thrillers!  But, I have had the courage to make changes.  

In other words, I have followed traditions, but I have also broken traditions.  So you have chosen the right speaker (besides the fact that I may be “free” (like “freedom” or “buy one get one free!”).[LAUGH]  

My experience is that of a dual career person who’s totally self-made.  To begin my law career in the early 1980s, I did not have mentorship.  And I have never received financial support or career guidance from my parents.  Five years after the fall of Saigon, both of my parents became very ill, my mother with cancer, specifically.  They survived.  The only one inheritance I will have from them is their love for higher learning.

Unlike my parents who live in the Vietnamese community, I have spent my entire life in the mainstream.  Of course I have made mistakes in the planning of my law and writing careers.  In exchange, now I have the confidence to say to you that I know what should have been done, what should not have been done, and that I have done my best under very difficult circumstances. 

Today, I will say that my biggest personal accomplishment is perhaps the courage to begin early retirement in my late 50s, hoping to create new paths still, and to have the time for my parents in their old age.  (You can change careers, divorce spouse and adopt children, but we each have only two biological parents!) [LAUGH].  As immigrant parents, they are our link to a way of life of a former home that has been closed to us). When they are gone, that memory goes with them, but something lives in us: our memory.   

My many struggles should be in a memoir and not a speech, so I will simply transform my experience into 7 practical pointers for younger Vietnamese-Americans (7 like 7 days of the week for easy remembering):

First, racism, sexism, and age discrimination are the bad seeds of human nature, so they still exist today, even in the law profession.  Nowadays, glazed with affirmative action and political correctness, they are like the glass ceiling, unseen yet felt.  So, wisely choose your place to live, work, and practice.  Networking and seeking mentorship is a lifetime task, but it does not mean you have to sell your soul!

Second, decide whether you want to be a big fish in a small pond that has mud, or a small fish in a big pond that can lead you to the ocean. Understand your nature and plan your career in accordance with your nature, but don’t be afraid or ashamed of ambition.

Third, carve out specialties that make you unique. “Passion” or “love” for a career can be like appetite that develops during the meal.  Success must be defined by you, and you only.

Fourth, whatever you do, plan for not only the big goals but also the small daily goals that can lead you to the big goals, and, remember, all goals can be revised.  Life is like chartering a course for your boat. You can’t control the storm but you must plan and know what you will do in a storm.

Fifth, in order to combine law and art (law and tennis, law and cooking, law and whatever) [LAUGH], you must plan for your minimum financial well-being as early as in your 20s and your 30s. It means wisely invest, invest…and invest!  (But, please, don’t invest your client’s money in a trust account!) [LAUGH].

 

Sixth, take care of client representation as though clients were your guests or friends, while knowing that clients are neither  guests nor friends. They are…clients! [LAUGH].  What’s at stake is not what they are but what you are: once you accept the representation, you are their agent, their fiduciary.

Seventh:  last but not least, and this is a must.  Where is the law in our Vietnamese tradition?  Vietnamese are accustomed to “the law of the jungle” (Luat Rung).  Please don’t follow “the law of the jungle” when you practice law in America [LAUGH].  In a rule-of-law society, you must cross your T’s and dot your I’s.  The law is your profession and your regulator, even when you wish you would be doing something else (because you keep waiting, but…no appetite has come to you during the meal!) [LAUGH]

Now I am going to give the bonus for “breaking tradition.”  My  No. 8 and No. 9. (Vietnamese believe that nine is a lucky number. That is an unscientific tradition, but I am following it!) [LAUGH]

Number Eight:  For young women, the law profession is not your chicken soup for the soul, and the family you build should be a source of support. So, you need the right partner, but the nature of that partnership must change, and that is breaking tradition!  In choosing a partner:  look for the pearl inside the oyster.  WHY?  The pearl necklace does not go out of style…like the dress!  (We have a fashion designer on stage tonight, yet I am…encroaching upon his field!  Breaking tradition again!) [LAUGH]

Now the best for last:  Number Nine is for your law career planning:

--If you want to teach, get an LLM preferably from an Ivy League to get in the door, and then be prepared to do academia politics all day all night, although you don’t run for office! 

--For a mainstream career, big firms and major corporations are still good resume-builders.  Your most marketable time as a lawyer competing for jobs is roughly year 3 to year 7 from law school graduation. 

--Female lawyers should become skilled negotiators not only for clients, but also for...themselves! [LAUGH]. Market yourself wisely and never underestimate your own ability.  Don't be shy in demand ing the highest salary (just know that it goes with the highest responsibility (and the highest billable hours!!!) [LAUGH]  

--The federal government is an excellent choice to combine career and family, and fast advancement. 

--Languages are always an invaluable tool for this day and age.

--For small firms or solo practitioners: here is the challenge:   cyberspace and information technology have made it possible for lawyers to practice interstate and trans-nationally (there is an ethical issue here; we can discuss that one-to-one, later).  Here is my vision:  we should aim  to take certain areas of expertise away from the big firms by developing boutique practices that stay competitive both in terms of fees and skills; we should  make corporations realize the benefit of outsourcing legal services to minority counsel; and we should create new expertise that comes out of the “law and…” phenomenon that reflects the changing needs of our modern society.  That, is breaking tradition, or at least breaking ground!

--There are so many “first’s,” still, to be filled by Vietnamese Americans:  first ambassadorship, first dean of an Ivy League college, first US. Senator, first head of agency, or even first Supreme Court justice.  Or, simply increasing the critical mass in many fields and local communities. 

--Community unity is still difficult because of gaps and conflicts.  Ethnic law practice and the demographics are changing,. Community involvement requires cross-cultural emotional intelligence – the practitioner must become an observer-participant like an anthropologist, a personal commitment handled with insight and tolerance.

In summary, we keep tradition by redefining it for the future. Redefining tradition does not mean forgetting or severing our past.  It simply means making new beds for the heritage to pass on, and from that comes new, and renewed, beginnings. 

  

Thank you all.

Wendy Nicole NN Duong 
October 22, 2013

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SPEECH TO VIETNAMESE AMERICAN VALEDICTORIANS AND SALUTATORIANS IN THE HOUSTON METROPOLITAN AREA, Summer 2011

NOBLESSE OBLIGE AND THE STORY OF LORD TRAN HUNG DAO'S ELEPHANT

NOTE: Law professor and U.S. Fulbright Scholar Wendy Nicole Duong (Nhu-Nguyen) gave the keynote speech to honor Vietnamese American valedictorians and salutatorians in the Houston Area, 2011. Professor Duong told her story about the bonds she has with her parents, and recounted the tale her father had told her about the elephant of Lord Tran Hung Dao...

***

Distinguished guests, parents and the graduates:

Thanks for having me here today, a very meaningful occasion for me. I want to start by telling you my personal story. In 1972, in Vietnam, I was 13 going on 14 and wrote an essay about my dreams. I wanted to go abroad to tell people about the beauty of the Vietnamese culture. My homeroom teacher made me stand before the whole class to defend my dreams because she thought the girl was just too ambitious for her own good. Little did I know then that only 3 years later, under very sad circumstances I did go abroad. I was on a cargo plane for a one-way trip, definitely not as a cultural ambassador, but as a refugee.

Came the fall of 1980, I was working full time for the Houston Independent School District and going to law school at night. There was no Vietnamese at U of H law school then. Five years earlier, in 1975, roughly speaking, only U.S. citizens could attend law school in Texas. On the first day of the semester, I received a call from Memorial hospital. That day, my mother had gone to the hospital for a test. Like many Vietnamese mothers, she went by herself and did not tell anyone. (In 1975, like many Vietnamese parents, my mother, a small woman of 85 pounds and a former schoolteacher, worked in a factory to support all of us.)

Her medical test in 1980 led immediately to a major operation, because my mothers had signed all the consent papers by herself. When they called me, she was in intensive care. I was 21 going on 22. That night, after the first class meeting, I went to the hospital and slept on the floor next to my mother’s recovery bed, my law textbook was my pillow. The following day, I met with my mother’s surgeon and then her treating physician. They told me that since my mother’s illness was in the 3d of the 4 stages, the chance of survival was 25%. That was how life was for my 4 years of law school as an evening student working full time.

Many, many years later, my mother was on Harvard Yard to attend my graduation for my post JD degree. I stayed in the cheap dorm, no air conditioning, but I booked her room at the Sheraton Commodore in Boston. She complained: What a waste of money! She said.

I told you this story because today is not only your day, but it is also the day to celebrate your relationship with your parents. Family values to me are the same as the bond to your home culture. Studies have shown that truly bilingual children do better academically, even if some of them may be economically or socially disadvantaged. This is due to the positive and stimulating aspects of a multicultural, multilingual environment. Studies have also shown that in America, ethnic communities that hold on to the positives of their heritage come out stronger, more independent, more successful. Today, we celebrate that spirit of diversity, through all of you.

As Vietnamese, we all have sad stories to tell: our past sufferings, losses, and hardship. So in many ways we are the lucky ones. But today is not about luck. It’s not about what’s been handed to you on a golden platter. There is no element of luck in making all As or a 4.0 GPA. Those are not given. They are earned. Today is all about your hard work. Today is about the fruit and the flower that immigrant parents have planted when they work so hard to put food on the table and to invest in the education of their children. You are the proof of that fruit and that flower. Today is the recognition given by your home culture, just like the love given to, and by your family. The gesture may be modest, even confusing, but it is the foundation for everything else.

But today is just the beginning. If being the top was hard yesterday, then tomorrow will not be easier. Tomorrow is college, then more college, perhaps, then the world of work, a career. Along the way, you may find injustice, disappointment, even role reversal – you become the caretaker of your parents, for example. The home culture is there as the intangible that gives you strength, even if at times you may not feel like that.

But, in all of your achievements, there is still “luck” when you think of those who never made it to shore. In the dictionary of the American popular culture, there is now a definition for Vietnamese Boat People. That definition is America’s collective recognition of our presence. We are either boat people, plane people, or foot people. In each journey, there is a painful story to remember, and pass on. There is pride to assert. For example, Pulitzer Prize winner Robert Olen Butler said that my book is the voice of one of the most successful immigrant groups in America. That’s what this famous contemporary writer thinks of us. You are proof of our success.

But the standard of success must be defined by you, and not by an external world. This is called freedom of choice, the essence of the American ideals. It is hard in the Asian values to let our children go in search of their own dreams and make their own mistakes. For the graduates, the family bond also means meeting parental expectations. These are complex issues as our culture blends with the larger society. In that regard, I want to say this:

Cultural conflicts may never be resolved, but in defining success, please think of the less fortunate. Please think of the losses that we have endured individually and as a culture. I want to speak of a phrase that has made its way from French to English. It’s called noblesse oblige. It’s about a self-imposed duty that those who have achieved, like you, will undertake for the public good. It’s embedded in President Kennedy’s famous saying: Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do for your country. As the top students of your school, in defining the goal for your success, please add to it this sense of noblesse oblige. Ask yourself what you can do for the less fortunate.

After decades of living in America and working so hard, I have not become…Bill Gates! Perhaps you can. I am asking you to dream past today’s success. About dreams: Remember Dr. Martin Luther King’s famous speech: I have a dream – his dream was about a world where men and women are not judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. Dr. King, too, was speaking of noblesse oblige.

So, in closing, I want to tell you another personal story. This time, it’s about my father.

A former school teacher, he is now in his late 70s. Lately, he kept telling me the story of Lord Tran’s elephant. Lord Tran was the Vietnamese historical figure who defeated Khan’s army in the 15thcentury. Lord Tran’s elephant died on the way to combat. Before the animal died, it looked at Lord Tran, lowered its head, and teared. Lord Tran took the opportunity to draw his sword, pointed at the sun, and told his army that even the elephant, an animal, had a sense of noblesse oblige. Surely, after that, the motivation was so high, and the spirit so strong, that Lord Tran’s army delivered complete victory. Listening to this story, I renewed my bond with my father, because I understood the old Vietnamese immigrant who understood the story of Lord Tran’s elephant.

In a way, I think I have achieved the dreams that I wrote about in 1972. As the self-made woman who alone straddled two cultures to write my own definition of success, I consider it one of the most meaningful although poignant moments of my life when I knew I understood my father’s love and pride in his home culture. With that understanding, I think I have become the bridge between cultures and generations. I have become that story teller who, in my modest way, can translate the beauty of our home culture as we stand here in America the Beautiful. That beauty – the beauty of Vietnam brought to one beautiful America -- is what I consider to be the source of strength for all of you to reach your fullest potential and to write your own definition of success in the days and years ahead. 

Wendy Nicole NN Duong C 2011