DR. BRIAN V. XIONG

Dr. Brian V. Xiong is a Hmong American scholar, researcher, and higher education professional. He is an in-demand, highly sought-after presenter, speaking regularly to various groups of diverse students, faculty, and staff on the importance of diversity, equity, inclusion, access, and equal opportunity in higher education. His presentation leaves the students and employees not just motivated but empowered. As a professor of color, LGBTQ scholar, and diversity champion in the classroom, his research covers a wide variety of interdisciplinary studies, including Multicultural, Race & Ethnic Studies; Gender & Sexuality Studies; Asian-American & Critical Hmong Studies; Counseling & Student Personnel; College Academic Affairs & Student Affairs; and Diversity, Inclusion & Social Justice in Higher Education. Dr. Xiong has provided educational and administrative leadership to achieve high standards of excellence and innovation in teaching and learning, student success, institutional equity and inclusion, and employees professional growth across campus wide. He has served at both, public and private, two-year community colleges and four-year universities.

Dr. Xiong holds a bachelor’s degree in Justice Administration and Sociology from Southwest Minnesota State University, a master’s degree in Multicultural and Ethnic Studies from Minnesota State University-Mankato, and a doctorate in Counselor Education and Supervision accredited by the Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP) from MSU-Mankato. 

Dr. Xiong is a former Page Scholar, Wallin Scholar, Cornwell Scholar, Diversity & Equity Fellow, Chief Diversity Officer & Affirmative Action Director, and an Advisory Chief Diversity Officer for the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity. He is an active Executive Board of numerous community services and nonprofit organizations.

Dr. Xiong is the author of:

* A Clan of Our Own: Coming Out Experiences of Gay Hmong Men,
* A New Journey: Hmong College Student Experiences,
* Puag Thaum Ub: Hmoob Xeem,
* Martha L. Zimmerman Paj Ntaub Collection,
* Sunrise Over Wat Thamkrabok,
* Hmong Teacher Experiences: Voices from the Field.

Like many other Hmong children in a traditional Hmong family, we often were told by our parents and grandparents that the Hmong history is like a broken mirror because it is not exactly known where our ancestors came from, and it is near impossible to go back in time to put all the shattered pieces together to figure out the roots of Hmong ancestry. Stories passed down from generation to generation through word of mouth, that our people had lived in China for thousands of years where the Chinese would call us “Miao,” or classified as “Miao” group, which includes Hmong, Kho Xiong, Hmu, and A Hmao. During those days, Hmong usually lived peacefully and independently in the mountains where families engaged in farming, gathering, and hunting. During this time, the majority of Hmong were animists and believed in shamanism, a belief that all living things have souls and spirits, and all things in this world are interconnected. Therefore, Hmong preferred to avoid war with anyone and worked toward living in peace within their family and village. Given that Hmong were a minority group in China, the Chinese sought to control the Hmong land and wanted the Hmong people to assimilate and live under Chinese rule.  However, Hmong people stood their ground and fought against this oppression. Hmong and expanding Chinese were at war with one another for more than 3,000 years until the Chinese defeated the last Hmong uprising in 1870. After losing the war, some of the Hmong then escaped southward to Southeast Asia and joined the earlier settlements in the remote highlands of Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand.

Continuing our traditional way of life as a hunting and farming society, our ancestors in Laos lived in autonomous villages scattered through remote mountains, valleys, and ridges with their clan family (kwv tij), and practiced slash-and-burn agriculture, planting rice, corn, and vegetables, and raising livestock: chickens, pigs, cows, buffalos, horses, goats, and sheep. Except for Pa Chay’s Madman’s War in 1918-1921, Hmong people did not encounter any major war after they escaped from China, until the Vietnam War, known as the “Secret War” to the Hmong, between 1963-1975. In support of non-communists and the Laotian Army’s efforts to keep the country out of the hands of the Pathet Lao, the United States supplied the Royalists with arms and personnel. It was during this time that Hmong were recruited by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) to gather information about the North Vietnamese movements in the country. Under the leadership of Hmong officer, Major General Vang Pao, Hmong men, women, and young boys were used in rescuing downed American pilots, cutting off supplies to the communists on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, flying combat missions, and fighting the ground war.


When the United States withdrew from the Vietnam War in May 1975, the communists gained complete control of Laos.  It was during this month that Major General Vang Pao was evacuated by air to Thailand while thousands of Hmong were left behind.  Hmong people became the target of violent reprisals from the new government. Fearing for their lives and to save their families, tens of thousands of Hmong fled across the Mekong River to seek refuge in Thailand in Ban Vinai and other refugee camps. It was estimated that around 30,000 to 40,000 Hmong died during the Vietnam War. After waiting in Thai refugee camps, the Hmong people received refugee status from the United Nations and were allowed to relocate to other countries, especially the United States, France, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and West Germany.

I was born in Ban Vinai Refugee Camp in Thailand in 1983. My parents and three older sisters settled in the camp eight years before I was born. Sometime in the early 1980’s, many Hmong families who resettled in the United Stated sent a voice cassette tape to the camp and informed the remaining families about nyav (monsters) in America – that White people were monsters and ate people. These rumors scared many Hmong parents and elders. My father was the oldest son and the caretaker of his siblings after my grandfather passed away in Laos during the war. He and his three younger brothers did not like what they heard from the cassette tapes about nyav and additional information about the disfunction of new Hmong American families and family values in America. The brothers decided that it would be best to escape Ban Vinai Camp to Wat Thamkrabok, a Buddhist temple located in the Phra Phutthabat District of Saraburi Province. The uncles’ families and my father’s family, along with several other Hmong families, were the first group to settle in Wat Thambrabok. When arrived, we lived among numbers of people with drug addiction who were seeking treatment and/or rehab in the Wat.

As a child growing up in Wat Thamkrabok, I remembered running around on the second floor of the white cement building, tsev dawb. I remembered playing cops and robbers with other Hmong kids around my age, and we chased each other up and down the stairs from floor to floor. Sometime my friends and I snuck outside the building and played marble games on the dirt floor at the corner of the tsev dawb. My family shared a small unit with another Hmong family in the building. The rest of the residents shared the same bathroom, only divided by gender for showering. As time passed by, more Hmong families slowly escaped from Ban Vinai and other places into Wat Thamkrabok, raising the population to 30,000. Half of us resettled in the United States between 2004 and 2006, while the rest scattered into the Thai landscape.


As refugee children, those who were old enough to help their parents, would either work at a small vegetable garden close by the tsev dawb with their parents (mostly girls and mothers), or help their parents clean and sweep around the temple. The men usually tried to find work outside of the Wat to bring additional income to help their family. Older boys and young men, if their parents had the money, got to attend Thai schools during the weekday. On the weekend, we were always excited and lined up in the hallway to watch Thai Boran Lakorn dramas in a crowded room where someone had a small television.

These memories from Wat Thamkrabok are a record of trials, experiences, and places that many of our Hmong children, parents, and beloved family members have lived through. Sometimes we would never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory of our life. Life brings joy, smiles, tears, and memories; thus, the tears dry and the smiles fade, but the joys of our past memories remain forever in our heart. As you page through this book, I hope these remarkable photos will remind you of the memories we have shared and made along our journey with the people we love, this place we have been, and the joy and tears we have not unforgotten – this was once sunrise over Wat Thamkrabok.


MARTHA L. ZIMMERMAN PAJ NTAUB COLLECTION:
When my mother, Porche Yang, died in 2011, I didn’t get the chance to record her paj ntaub story. I am glad that I got the opportunity to meet with Martha and put together this paj ntaub book from her collection for the Hmong community, and to remember my beloved mother and many amazing Hmong women who sew these pieces for the Hmong people and Hmong history.

I first became aware of Martha and her passionate collection of Hmoob Paj Ntaub tapestries and artifacts in 2016 and cannot begin to express my appreciation and gratefulness for her generosity in donating her entire collection to the Hmong Archives. Without her graciousness, this book would not have been possible. Her donation has enabled us to sustain the work and mission of Hmong Archives to research, collect, preserve, interpret, and disseminate materials in all formats about or by Hmong. All royalties and proceeds of this title will go to the Hmong Archives ensuring that Martha’s donation continues giving back to the Hmong community.

While Martha herself was not born into the Hmong community, she has been embraced by the many Hmong women she’s helped in selling their paj ntaub throughout the Midwest. Her thorough documentation of every artist, year, and type of paj ntaub sold ensured that the Hmong artists who created these beautiful works of art, were correctly attributed and received appropriate financial compensation for the works they sold. As deeply indebted to Martha as this book is, I would be remiss to not mention all of the work and artistry of the women who created these works of art themselves.

These women often received little to no level of formal education and instead supported their families and their dreams through their talent of putting needle to thread. They lived their lives making art and in turn, wove their narrative and the Hmong’s story into the larger fabric of America. Seeing their work was especially personal for me because they could’ve been my aunties, my sisters, or my mother. Like my mother, these women balanced their responsibilities as a mother and homemaker, and despite the demands of caring for a family in a new country, still somehow caught the last rays of sunshine to complete their paj ntaub. I still remember the sight of my own mother sitting on her green, bamboo, woven stool, sitting on the balcony of our two-bedroom apartment and repeating the same motions over and over again. Back then I found it tedious, but after her passing, the image of her sewing paj ntaub remains one of my most vivid memories. I hope that when members of the Hmong community page through the amazing works of art in this book, this familiarity resonates through them as well.

These intimate moments we share with paj ntaub itself remain one of the driving forces in the publication of this title. I wanted to share, honor, and immortalize the many Hmong women whose works appear in this book. Oftentimes, they don’t receive enough credit where credit is due, and we hope this book presents these Hmong artists in a new light.


We are often familiar with seeing paj ntaub created and sold to individuals outside of the Hmong community. With the support of the Minnesota Humanities Center’s Legacy Cultural Heritage and Identity Micro-Grants, the Hmong Archives and HER Publisher hope this book was created to be accessible enough to the Hmong people to bring our art and craft back into the community. Although there is such an abundance of works to be displayed at the Hmong Archives, we believe that the best way to experience these pieces is to see them live in person.

As of September 30, 2020, Hmong Archives had accessioned some 221,000 items by and about Hmong, in 13 categories, from over 1200 donors worldwide. Paj ntaub, or flower cloth, can refer to a female name, a Christian script, a music or fiction title, an event, or a periodical, so it is difficult to determine how many are paj ntaub textiles or contain information about this central element of Hmong culture. A full list of paj ntaub textiles and additional objects among the Hmong Archives’ complete collection can be found at the Hmong Archives website. To find more information on the operating hours of the Hmong Archives and to schedule a meeting, you can visit https://hmongarchives.org/

Ultimately, regardless of the context our readers bring into this book, we are proud that it was created by primarily Hmong hands first and foremost, for a primarily Hmong audience. Paj ntaub can be enjoyed by all, but there is extra cultural significance in seeing something from your history elevated with the care and respect our team committed.


A NEW JOURNEY: HMONG COLLEGE STUDENT EXPERIENCES:
I packed my doctoral textbooks and ran to class right after I visited my father at the hospital. As I got to class and sat down on my chair, I noticed that I was the only minority doctoral student in the classroom and the only Hmong student in my cohort. I remembered seeing more Hmong and diverse students in undergraduate studies, but as you go higher, you see few minority students, and you become one of the few doctoral students of color in graduate programs, or may be the only Hmong student in your program.

To start the class, my professor asked us, a total of seven doctoral students, to go around the room and share a bit about our summer and if there was something fun that we’d done over the break. As my White classmates took turns to tell their stories about their families’ vacations and trips that they took out-of-state and overseas - how I wished my summer break could have been as fun as theirs, if my Hmong family had the money to travel. Others shared stories about buying new houses, new cars, and adopting new pets into their families, and how they baptized their new dogs - how I wished my Hmong parents would have their own home so we could easily do ua neeb and other ritual ceremonies in our own house instead of borrowing extended Xiong family houses for such ceremonies. My parents lived in a small unit apartment in north Minneapolis, and it was hard to ua neeb with the loud noise of the gong and the smoke of the burning spirit money that would trigger the whole unit fire alarm system. When it was my turn to share my summer break story, the only thing I’d done over the summer was traveling back and forth from college and home to the hospital to take care of my dying parents. As a Hmong student and being the oldest son, it was my responsibility to look after my parents in their old age. There is no such thing as a nursing home in my culture.

As I reflected back to my own academic journey, and the many struggles and self-sacrifice that I’d gone through, it wasn’t an easy journey after all, especially being a first-generation Hmong college student in this higher education world. As the first person in my family to attend college, a lot of things were new to me, including financial aid, student loans, college orientation, college major and elected courses, and even the campus food. I came from a refugee and low-income family, and we didn’t get to do many things like many of my American peers did with their families back home, such as eating out at the restaurant. Dining out with my college friends was new to me. I remembered that one time when I ordered food at Perkins Restaurant, and the waitress asked me how I would like my eggs done? I looked at my college friends and didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know that I didn’t know how to order food either, and who knew that there so many ways of cooking eggs: hard scrambled, soft boiled, sunny-side-up, over-easy, over-medium, or over-hard? Back home with my Hmong family, we only have two styles of cooked eggs, either boiled eggs or fried eggs. I was so embarrassed while the waitress was waiting for my response. The next remarkable thing I did to cover this embarrassment moment was telling the waitress, “I want my plate to be exactly likes the picture in the menu.”

The last 17 years of my life in the education world have been non-stop schooling, from bachelor to master and doctor degrees. After both of my parents passed away while I was a full-time graduate student, balancing between two-worlds, school and family – I often asked myself, “Had I done enough for my beloved parents before they left this world?” The regret of chasing my education dream and being away from home, and not knowing whether I’d done enough for my parents, has always haunted me.

These are my college experiences of chasing educational degrees. Thus, earning a college degree can be challenging, but true educators are those who never give up and live a life for themselves for what they believe could be achievable through education. In this collection, I hope that you will enjoy reading these 24 brave Hmong college student writers, for sharing their stories of being Hmong students in higher education, their refreshing mix of voices that reflect the many joys, challenges, struggles and sacrifices in this NEW JOURNEY in the education world.

UA TSAUG KUV NIAM:
To my beloved mother, Porche Yang.
You left this world too soon. I miss you so much, and I hope you are looking down on me and my siblings, and from time to time, please advise me in my dreams. And to all the Hmong mothers, for loving, caring and raising us. Ua tsaug niam, uas nej hlub peb.

A CLAN OF OUR OWN: COMING OUT EXPERIENCES OF GAY HMONG MEN:
To my gay Hmong brothers and sisters; knowing that this is your once in a lifetime journey, spend it wisely with the people you love and don’t forget to appreciate the things of who you are.

As a Hmong counselor, educator, and researcher, I’ve come to learn that life is to appreciate the moment and decide what we can do with those years that are given to us. Being queer Hmong isn’t a choice, instead a beautiful life journey of several identities within yourself.

A CAREER IN STUDENT AFFAIRS: REFLECTIONS FROM HMONG STUDENT AFFAIRS EDUCATORS:
Finding yourself and what you are passionate to do in life, at certain ages and periods of time in your career, is a continue journey of self-discovery. Like many of the Hmong student affairs professionals and authors featured in this book, I was the first in my family to attend college. Since neither of my parents had any formal education, college was an entirely new experience for me. Being a pioneer in this educational journey, I often was not sure of my direction. I had to trust the process, hoping to achieve the academic goals I set for myself, while also learning to be comfortable with the uncertainty of what the future might hold.

Looking back on my journey in student affairs, my initial experience in higher education began as a student worker, 24 years ago, in the Office of Multicultural and Diversity at Southwest Minnesota State University during my undergraduate studies. At the time, I did not know there was any possibility for a career in student affairs, nor did I know there was a field dedicated to student services area in higher education. As a Hmong first-generation college student who worked in the diversity office as part of my work-study, I just wanted to ensure that new minority students felt welcome on campus and they had the support and resources necessary to succeed in their studies.

During my undergraduate years, there were only about seven Hmong students at my predominantly White university. Despite the lack of diversity on campus, I was passionate about fostering cultural diversity and inclusion. I organized cultural celebration events to encourage learning and understanding among all campus members. I took on the role of President of the Hmong Student Organization and donated a large Hmong paj ntaub (story cloth) for display in the Student Union Center. I assisted my Hmong peers in hosting the Hmong New Year Celebration to help the wider campus community learn about Hmong culture and the Hmong journey to the United States. I went beyond my comfort friends circle and joined other minority student groups, becoming a member of the Black Student Union and the Latino Student Organization. I helped coordinate the Black History Month Celebration and gave a presentation on influential Black leaders in America. I also cooked with Latino peers and participated in the Homecoming Parade to highlight Hispanic culture. In my second year, I collaborated with a few gay and lesbian White students to establish the Gay and Straight Alliance, as there was little focus on LGBTQ+ issues at the time. Later when I transferred to graduate school, I became a student senator and was involved in the student government to advocate for diverse students at Minnesota State University, Mankato.

As a child, my parents consistently emphasized the value of hard work, both at home and in the workplace, to my siblings and me. I have always strived to live by these principles, aiming to improve my life in America through dedication. As a first-generation college student, I am convinced that hard work is fundamental to achieving success. It is more than just a principle for me; it is a guiding philosophy that influences how I tackle every challenge and seize every opportunity in my career. My cherished mother frequently told me that as a minority in America, we rarely receive success easily; instead, it was achieved through persistent hard work and dedication to surpassing our limits. Growing up in a traditional Hmong family, my parents and elders consistently emphasized the importance of "respecting others and those who are older than you." Throughout my career, I often chose to remain silent, keep my head down, and work diligently. I preferred to focus on the positive aspects of people and overlook their flaws. However, it was not until I became an assistant professor and encountered the harsh realities of academic politics on campus that I began to see how diversity in the Midwest is predominantly framed around “Black and White” issues.

As a college professor, my influence was limited to the classroom and course management. I chose to transition into student affairs and focus on college and university policies, particularly in diversity, equity, inclusion, and affirmative action. I took on roles such as Chief Diversity Officer and Director of Affirmative Action and Equal Opportunity at various institutions in Minnesota and Wisconsin. I dedicated years to collecting data, attending relevant conferences, and immersing myself in this field. Through my experiences, I observed that many universities approach diversity through a narrow “Black and White” lens. Although Affirmative Action is intended to support all disadvantaged groups—including people of color, women, disabled individuals, and veterans—White women often benefit the most from these policies. I was involved in two lawsuits in higher education to advocate for those who lack a voice. These legal battles taught me that while we might sometimes be powerless to stop injustice on campus, we must always speak out against it. After I resolved the lawsuits and they were reported in a variety newspapers, people from student affairs across the country have contacted me for help, seeking recommendations for attorneys or advice on how to file their own lawsuits at their workplaces. These experiences have strengthened my resolve and commitment to advocating for everyone.

The student affairs field covers a variety of campus services, including academic advising, admissions, career services, counseling, financial aid, residence life, campus activities and intercollegiate athletics, campus safety and conduct, enrollment management, disability and accessibility services, multicultural services, international student services, LGBTQ+ student services, women’s center, nontraditional-student services, spirituality and campus ministry, on/off campus housing and dinning, TRIO and educational opportunity, etc. As you read through this book, I hope you find valuable insights and experiences from each author that you can use to forge your own path in student affairs. My own journey would have benefited from a resource like this, specifically a Hmong student affairs book. As one of the pioneers in this field, my knowledge has been built through hands-on experience, trial and error, and years of self-reflection and dedication. After all, it is not about where many of us, Hmong student affairs professionals, began, rather it is the lessons we have gained along the way that define who we are today as Hmong student affairs professionals.