I’m a surgeon. A wife. A proud mother of three. I’m a first-generation American. I’m a GenXer. There’s a lot of labels I could wear, but in the true sense of my generation, I don’t like to be labelled. I believe there’s too much of that these days. What I am and who I am is a reflection of a country I wasn’t even born in, yet is at the core of my personal and professional success.
My parents created a fire inside me that consisted of a culture of achievement, a culture of striving to be the best you can be. It’s a mindset I cherish, especially in today’s culture, where it can be challenging to see beyond labels and divisions. Having experienced inequality and racism firsthand, I believe it’s important for us to not be victimized, and to grow through these challenges and know that we can rise above them by focusing on personal growth and gratitude.
You see, if you want to discuss labels, I go against this current cultural narrative. I’m a woman. I’m an immigrant. I’m Asian. And I’m a successful, proud American. I’m a nationally respected doctor. I don’t like labels, but they were forced upon me from my earliest memories.
I was born in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. My parents were Vietnamese/Chinese and were quite literally forced to flee their country by the communists who had no tolerance and most certainly no compassion for anyone who didn’t believe as they did. They were merciless and we had few alternatives other than to flee or to die. You see, were the wrong label for them. I was five and grew up in an almost constant state of terror.
My father went from successful small businessman to fugitive to a refugee when my family fled for their lives. We left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few small gold bars we could use to barter for safe passage on a boat. I remember that my grandmother was caught during this and was thrown in jail. But, fortunately, my mother and father and my four sisters were able, lucky really, to get on a boat and head for Indonesia. Imagine, feeling lucky that you ended up in an Indonesian refugee camp for a year.
Back in the mid 1970s, there were sponsors through a Christian organization that could take the Vietnamese refugees and get them placed in France or Canada, the United States or Australia. A U.S. agency agreed to sponsor us as long as you could get gainful employment and a relative could vouch for you. We had a few distant relatives in the U.S., very distant, and somehow, we ended up in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1980. I remember that my mom went to work at a Dunkin’ Donuts and my dad got a job as a dishwasher in some random restaurant.
This sponsor group gave us clothes and helped my parents with job applications. None of us spoke a word of English, we all had this sort of odd Chinese Vietnamese dialect. I remember I would watch television and learn English by watching Reading Rainbow and those awful after-school specials in the afternoon. My parents, on the other hand, decided to move the family to New York City and settle in Chinatown so they didn’t really have to learn English. It was just easier to fit in, but I was determined to learn.
I think it’s easier to learn another language when you’re younger. I entered first grade in Allentown before we moved, although I was older than the other kids, but I didn’t speak or read English. Remember, this was 40 years ago – there were no special programs. And, as you might imagine, it wasn’t like there were a lot of Asian kids in school. I was picked on mercilessly, teased, bullied, called names. Again, wrong label. If only these kids could understand all I went through, and all I was going through. Moving to New York was a bit easier, it’s more of a melting pot, so I didn’t feel like the lone Asian kid anymore. And I worked hard on my English, even working on losing that “Asian” accent. Funny, I still work on that.
I remember there were times when I didn’t want to be Asian. But that pendulum has swung and as I got older I learned to embrace it and actually enjoyed my heritage – as it really is one of courage and survival and strength. My parents and my culture pushed me to be something far beyond a victim – I could have easily fallen into that trap. We observe certain Asian holidays and traditions. My daughter worked very hard to learn Mandarin, which I find ironic and wonderful at the same time, as I worked so hard to learn English.
I come from a culture of working hard to achieve your goals and your dreams. There is always this Chinese response in the back of my head that says you can always do better. And, I most certainly haven’t succeeded at everything but it’s important to keep at it and keep going and I work hard at everything I do. You have to put in the effort. I still struggle with shyness, and I actively have to work at talking to people.
But lately, I’m encouraged by what I’m starting to see, as more folks seem to be ditching the labelling madness that has taken over much of our popular culture. Pointing out perceived real differences and putting people into groups is the opposite of what we should be encouraging. I’m proud of my heritage, but it doesn’t define me. I believe we are defined by our actions and our inner strengths. We need to encourage everyone to strive to be their best self, to find balance and perhaps most importantly, to find meaning in all that they do.
Dr. Diana Chuong Ponsky
Dr. Diana Chuong Ponsky is a double board-certified and fellowship-trained plastic surgeon specializing in facial plastic surgery. She teaches both plastic surgery and otolaryngology residents at Case Medical Center as an Assistant Professor. She has a special interest in rhinoplasty, both functional and aesthetic.
