Her American Sister,

Emily

By: Julia Heilrayne

 There is an old saying in Vietnam that says “children without a father are like homes
without a roof.”​1 ​Never was this saying and cultural belief shown more than in the case of Phan
Anh Kieu, and her american sister, Emily Alexander.

↟↟↟↟↟

Born in 1950 to a traditional Vietnamese family, Phan Anh Kieu’s mother was a
physically small women. She stood no more than 5’ 2” off the ground, and her name,
remembered only by her daughter as Hien, meant gentle. From the time she was a young girl,
Hien isolated herself in her village, and hid herself away from everyone, because she was not
interested in getting married off to some strange man selected by her father.​2​ Despite all the
evidence that would point elsewhere, despite her name, despite her physical appearance, despite
her habits of isolation, Hien was a force of nature. Hien was a strong woman who fought for
herself and later on, she would fight for her daughter. Hien would fight until the day when she
fell to a terrible sickness that eventually, would steal life from woman, woman away from life,
and mother away from daughter.
As strong a woman as she may have been, Hien was alone for much of her life; alone as a
teenager on the streets, alone parenting her baby, alone in sickness, and alone in death. Because
she was so alone, Hien did everything she could to make sure that her daughter never
experienced that feeling of being alone. When she was still alive, Hien would make a point to tell
her daughter that she should go to America when she was older and that once she got there, she
should “find the man with the kind eyes, the mark on his elbow, and good in his heart.” Hien
never gave up telling Kieu to go to America and look for this man, for he was her father.
In the wee hours of 1965, just a few months before the Americans would come,​3​ 15 year
old Hien gave birth to a beautiful little baby boy. He was small, like Hien, but he his hands
curled perfectly around Hien’s finger and he looked peaceful when he was born. In almost every
way, he was perfect. The baby had only one shortcoming- he was stillborn.
Hien’s father, already fueled by resentment he held for his daughter because he had not
yet been able to marry her off, grew furious at Hien and her child. In his eyes, not only was the
baby a stillborn, but he was born outside of marriage, born a bastard child, and that was the last
straw in Hien’s failures as a daughter.​ ​Yelling that she brought disgrace to the family and that she
need never return to their home, Hien’s father kicked his daughter out of their house just hours
after the baby, who Hien would go on to lovingly call Anh Dung, was born.
Hien, now on the streets alone at 15, ran from her village. For months, Hien lived on the
streets. Her alarm clock became the sound of bullets firing to close for comfort, and screams of
children, or were those screams coming soldiers...or both?​4
Hien quickly began earning a place to stay and food to feed herself by giving up her body
to older men who loved girls like her.​5​ Through her life as a sex toy, Hien was pregnant many
times. But each time, powered by the fear of her men finding out about her curse that gave her a
stillborn baby the first time, her wish to keep children away from this world she lived in, and her
habit of making sure she was alone at all times, Hien would end the pregnancy through means
that were neither safe nor legal.​6
Hien’s life as just a prostitute continued until April 1965, a month or so after the first
American troops had arrived in Vietnam, when Hien found her way to the walls of an American
military base, and found a job working a bar, which was frequented by American soldiers, who
liked to appreciate her past as a prostitute.​7​ Serving overtired and overworked American troops
became the best and most profitable way for Hien to stay afloat, and she did it diligently, despite
risking the unforgivable and indescribable wrath of Viet Cong.​8
It was in the bar one day, just as some of the last regular men were leaving, each with one
of the other girls who congregated at the bar to offer their services on their elbow, that Hein met
James Alexander. It was in this American soldier who saw her for more than her 15 year old
body, that Hien would find love for the first time in her life, and where she would feel like she
was wanted and appreciated for more than her prematurely developed skills in bed. It was this
man who gave Hien someone to rely on, and made her feel like she wasn’t alone, if only for a
little while.

↟↟↟↟↟

Phan Anh Kieu’s father, James Alexander, was a 24 year old American soldier. He was,
by American standards, one of the most handsome men ever to live. James was tall, and had a
sharp jaw bone and his hair that could not be rivaled by modern day photoshopped Calvin Klein
models. Women, including his wife, said that James’ military uniform only added to his stunning
handsomeness, and he was a favorite among the girls starting as early as grade school. On par
with what one might expect from a man like him, James was proud, a little too proud, of his
family, and how handsome he was. While some called him an egotistical man who thought to
much of himself, James liked to call himself a hero and a man of his country, even though some
people claimed that this only proved their point.
James never had a hard life. His father raised him in the great state of Texas, and taught
him to value old American traditions and values like life, liberty, guns, and God. James was
raised with his brother who was about 3 years older than him, and both of the children lead an
idealistic southern life, accompanied by high scores in school, a place on multiple varsity sports
teams, and church every Sunday.
Because James’ father was in the military, it was a given that either James or his brother
would follow their father in his footsteps. Then when his brother was seriously injured in a
football game his senior year of high school, it became clear that James would be the one to
follow his father and so when James was deployed to Vietnam, he was proud to be fighting and
representing the United States of America; but he was blissfully ignorant about the people and
the lives on the receiving end of the bullets he shot.
 One night at the bar, James met the young girl who the other men said would make him
forget all about his wife in America and to go for it, whether or not she wanted to.​9​ This young
girl, who James would learn was called by the name Hien, would show James what it really
meant to love someone, and to love what they had to offer. This girl would teach James what
regret meant, what it meant to wish you could go back in time, and what it meant to be alone.

↟↟↟↟↟

After James and Kieu met in May of 1965,​10​ their love flourished. At first, it was a once
or twice a week visit to the bar, where James would stay later than the rest of the men, and after
the bar emptied, he would get to know Hien, through any means necessary. Questionable morals
aside, what started out as late night pleasure would quickly turn into a love story of sorts. James
would bring Hien gifts of food, flowers, and love from the American base. After receiving the
gifts, Hien would listen intensely to James’ tales of heroic action on the battlefield, and she
would feel safe in the arms of this kind, brave man.
It was through this telling of stories that Hien would fall for James, and it was through the
innocent aire that accompanied what she could offer him, that James fell for Hien. Just 2 months
after the pair met, Hien found herself pregnant yet another time, but this time, wanting to please
James with a gift of her own, Hien decided to try and have the baby. James was happy, and
celebrated the coming of their child. He said that Hien gave him what he had always wanted in
the mother of his children, and that no life in America could compare to the love that they shared
on an almost nightly basis, hidden by the shadows of the bar.
In the the next months, Hien only felt James’ love for her grow and flourish into
something she had always wanted. James came to the bar as much as he could, and when he was
there, he could kiss Hien on her forehead and whisper that he loved her and was excited for their
child to be born, and to be a family all together. Finally, Hien felt like she had someone who
cared about her in the way that she had always craved for, and she loved James for it, even
though the other girls in the bar warned her that he was a bad person, and not someone she
should be seeing over and over again.
Phan Anh Kieu was born on a night where a rare blanket of silence fell over VIetnam,
sometime in April of 1966. She was born in a dark alleyway behind a bar just on the outskirts of
the Da Nang Air Base, as to say hidden from people who would not like a child like her and
​ When her father laid eyes on her for the first time, his hard shell that
would call her ​bui doi.11​
people warned Hien about melted away and he smiled. With a tear in his eye, James leaned over
towards Hien and whispered in her ear “Our daughter is so beautiful, just like you.” Hien smiled
up at James and whispered her daughter’s name, “Kieu is her name, it means pretty like you
said.” Brushing his hand across her tiny face, James promised to protect the little girl in front of
him forever. If only in the moment, he had known what was coming.
 As American troops began to pull out of Vietnam and get sent home, James too, was sent
back to Texas to be with his wife and daughter. But unknown to his American family, James left
something priceless back in Vietnam- Hien and his daughter, who at the time was less than a
year old. The story that follows is what became of Hien and her little baby, and later, what
became of James, for he was never able to separate the war from the warrior, something that
America itself is just now learning how to do.​12

↟↟↟↟↟

After James and the other American soldiers were pulled out of Vietnam, Hien and
Kieu’s life changed forever. Hien, out of a job now that the American air base could not supply
her with men to give large amounts of alcohol and charm into coming back every night, went
back to her life of being a fulltime, street-roaming prostitute, leaving her baby girl alone at home
as early as 2 years old.
The pair’s daily routine involved Hien waking up bright and early, leaving food by the
blanket on the floor that functioned Kieu’s bed, and leaving their shack of a home, built out of
cardboard and scrap wood from the streets. Then, whenever her internal clock decided to, Kieu
would wake up, eat the meager rations left at her bedside, and get to the task of occupying
herself until very late that night when Hien would come home again.
Kieu can tell you today stories starting as young as she has memories, of seeing her
mother come home, battered with bruises and scrapes, but always with a small amount of food or
money to help them survive. Today, Kieu can tell stories of the men who would sometimes drop
her mother off at their home, very late at night. None of the men had a name, and even though
they were each different, they were in a way, all the same man. Kieu can recall that when she
was about 5 or 6, these men would sometimes take her and her mother to nice hotels or houses
together. One time, one of the men even took them to the beach, where Kieu was allowed to put
her feet in the water and bury her toes into the sand. Keiu says now that she loved when the men
would take her and Hien places, because they would be fed well, and they would be able to sleep
in nice beds. The price, Kieu says, was that the men were allowed their way with her body, but in
return for food and a nice blanket to huddle under afterwards, it was a small price to pay as a
young child.
Throughout their life with these men, every night, be it when she was coming home from
a late night by herself, or as they lay together in a nice bed somewhere new, Hien would wrap
her arms around her daughter and whisper “when you are older, you must run to America and
find the man with the kind eyes, the mark on his elbow, and good in his heart. He is your father
Kieu, and he will take care of you. You will not be alone when you find him.” Those words
became like a security blanket for Kieu, and she loved to listen to her mother whisper them to
her. The sound of her mother saying “He is your father Kieu...you will not be alone when you
find him.” still ring in Kieu’s ears today, but now she shudders at the memory of them.
 One morning, when Kieu was 8 years old, her mother woke her up and pulled her out of a
deep sleep in a nice hotel bed. Kieu protested being woken up so early, and cried out when her
mother pulled on her freshly bruised arms to get her standing up; she cried that is, until she saw
her mother’s face. Hien had been crying too, and she was radiating heat. She had a fever, and
that fever would not break for more than a year. That fever would leave Kieu by herself, all
alone, for the rest of her life.

↟↟↟↟↟

In 1974, after a long battle with a mystery illness that rendered her unable to walk, talk,
or function by herself, Hien lay in her bed with tears in her eyes, and her daughter wrapped in
her arms.
“Kieu, tell me where you are going to go when you are older.” Hien whispered.
“America.” Kieu answered, and tears caught in her throat.
​ ​.​” She responded, her voice was no more than a breath.
“That’s right. I love you ​anh ơi13
Then Hien passed away at 24 years old, with her 9 year old daughter, lying next to her, tears
streaming down the little girl’s face.
After her mother died, Kieu was taken away to an orphanage by a woman who promised
to teach her how to be close to Buddha, someone who Kieu had never heard of before.​14​ This
women allowed Kieu to take a small bag of her personal belongings with her to the orphanage. In
the bag, Kieu packed a small doll she had been given by one of the men who she and her mother
had lived with, and even though she could not read, a notebook that her mother had written a
small amount in, because it made her feel close to the only person who had ever really taken care
of her. And even though she had never heard of the god, Buddha, that the woman at the
orphanage talked of, Kieu thought that it was okay if she was to learn how to be close to this
Buddha, for maybe he could show her the way to America, where she was determined she would
find her father.​15
Kieu lived in the orphanage with the 12 other girls until she was 16 years old, but she was
alone the entire time. Many of the other girls had been hurt by the war, both physically and
emotionally. Some of the youngest girls, the ones between the ages of 1 and 5, didn’t talk, and
many of them had nightmares about the explosions and bullets that would send them crying and
screaming into the older girls’ rooms for comfort. Some of the girls never made it out the
orphanage at all.​16
During her time in the orphanage, the women who ran it were kind to Kieu and the other
girls lived a hard life, but the women who ran it tried to be kind to them. When money was
available, Kieu and the other girls were given food and sometimes they were even given a toy to
share between them, and they felt like they weren't so alone. But when Kieu was 16, she decided
to take matters into her own hands. In the middle of the night, a few weeks before her 17th
birthday, Kieu put her doll and the notebook that she had clung to for so many years now into the
same old tattered bag, and slipped off, alone, into the night. She knew, from other times when
older girls had run away, that they would not care that she was gone. They might fake to be
concerned so the younger girls thought they cared, but in the end, they would be relieved that she
was gone, for it was one less mouth to feed.
Kieu, following in her mother’s footsteps, was thrown into the lonely world of
prostitution for the second time in her life. She was taken in by men, some of them she
recognized from many years ago when she was a child, treated like she was when she was a
young child. The men gave Kieu food, and a place to sleep. Sometimes, on the good days, when
Keiu had performed particularly well, they gave her a little money, but usually, Kieu traded her
body and skills that her mother taught her for a place to stay, a place where she would be safe, or
as safe as she could be.
When Kieu was almost 18 years old, she came across a man who treated her particularly
well. He was wealthy, and gave her a place to stay in one of his many houses. He was very good
to her, and sometimes he even let Kieu come with him when he went out into the city to go about
his business. One day, as this man and Kieu sat together in her bedroom, she pulled out the
notebook the bag, and she opened it to the first page, where her mother had scrawled a few
numbers.
Holding up the notebook to the man, she asked “What are these numbers?”
The man smiled and said “That is a phone number my dear. You dial those numbers into
a phone and you are able to talk to someone who is far away.”
Kieu nodded and said thank you, tucking the notebook away in her bag again.
That night, Kieu ran away again. She picked up her bag, snuck down to the kitchen of the
nice man’s house, and stole some food. Then, alone in the dark silence of the night, Kieu ran.
Her feet pounded on the dry ground and her lungs heaved as she ran. The cold night air burned
her eyes and her body ached from the running, but she kept going. Kieu ran until she came to a
house that was far enough away from where she had been staying and she could not run
anymore. She hit the porch of the house with a thud, and pushed on the door. A woman opened
the door, and picked up the skinny, battered girl laying on her doorstep.
“What is your name child?” She asked, and carried Kieu inside.
“Kieu.” Kieu whispered, her voice horse and nearly gone all together.
“You must eat, and sleep.” The women said, and brushed Kieu’s matted hair out of her
eyes.
“I need a phone.” Kieu coughed.
“You can use my phone tomorrow.” The woman said, and then she laid Kieu down on the
couch. Kieu sank into the cushions of the couch, grateful for a place to sleep where she knew she
could sleep in peace, without the interruptions of the man’s needs.
The next morning, Kieu woke up, well rested, with the rising of the sun. The women who
had carried her back into the house was standing over her, with a small mother-like smile on her
face, and a bowl of soup in her hands.
 “I need a phone.” Kieu croaked, not forgetting the women’s promise from the night
before, “I must use your phone. I have to call America. Please, let me call my family.”
The woman nodded, and said “Of course my dear. I will get you my phone. You may call
your family.” Then she left the room. A couple of moments later, she came back, holding what
Kieu assumed was a phone in her hands.
“Do you have a phone number you can show me?” The women asked, understanding that
Kieu had never before made a phone call in her entire life.
Kieu nodded, and pulled out the notebook from her bag. She opened it to the first page,
and pointed to the numbers written along the top of the page in her mother’s hand writing.

713-555-1297

“I have this number. I was told it is a phone number. Is this good?” Kieu’s hands were
shaking as she held the notebook, and she felt tears in the corner of her eyes.
“Yes, this is good.” The woman replied. Then, she dialed the phone number.

↟↟↟↟↟

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone sounded like it belonged to a young
woman, about as old as Kieu.
“Hello.” Kieu said.
“Can I help you?” The voice asked.
Kieu considered for a moment before answering, “I am looking for my father.”
The voice on the other end faltered, and it sounded as though the owner of the of the
voice was thinking. After a long moment, the voice spoke again, “Who is your father?”
“He is an American soldier!” Kieu said happily.
“Where are you calling from?” The voice asked cautiously.
“Vietnam” Kieu said, “Can you help me find the American soldier I am looking for? He
has a mark on his elbow.”
“A birthmark?” The voice asked softly, in an almost whisper, “Does he have a birthmark
on his elbow.”
“Yes!” Kieu exclaimed.
“You are looking for James Alexander.” The American voice said quietly.
“You know him! Can you help me find him?” Kieu asked, and her heart skipped a beat.
“What is your name?” The voice asked.
“I am Kieu.” Kieu said. And then she continued, “My mother’s name was Hien, but she
died from being very sick. My father was an American soldier, but he went back to America
when I was very young. My mother left this phone number for me to call him. They met each
other at the bar where my mother worked. He was stationed at the Da Nang-”
“Air Base.” The voice finished Kieu’s sentence for her. “Your father was stationed at the
Da Nang Air Base.​17​ And yes, I knew your father., but I cannot help you find him.”
“Why not?” Kieu asked, and she felt her eyes filling with tears for the second time that
morning.
“Kieu,” The voice started, “There is so much you do not know. I didn’t even know you
existed. I have heard of people born like you...children like you...we call children like you
Amerasian​18​...but I never thought…there is so much…”
“I have time,” whispered Kieu, “Tell me everything.” Kieu looked over at the woman
who had brought her into the house the night before, and the woman smiled at her.
“Take all the time you need.” The woman said. Kieu nodded, and slid onto the ground,
pressing the phone closer to her ear.

↟↟↟↟↟

The story that the American voice told Kieu over the next hour and a half was not a
happy story. The voice told Kieu the story of her father, after he left the war, after he left Kieu
and Hein alone in a war-torn country.
James had come home, where his wife Jennifer, and his daughter Emily were living.
They had a beautiful and tear jerking reunion in the airport in January of 1967. But, their life was
never able to return to the normal that they had hoped. James had come home in pristine physical
shape, but he had other injuries, and it didn’t take long for a doctor to tell the family that James
had PTSD.​19
James missed Hien and Kieu dearly, and he started to hate his “perfect” American life.
Alone in his head, he replayed the scenes of bullets and screams of pain from his military
brothers, and the screams from Hien and daughter when the guns grew too close. At night, as he
lay in bed tossing and turning, he would scream out as well, as the fan blades became helicopter
blades, and the laughter of his wife and daughter in the kitchen became the loud pop of bullets.
James grew to hate Jennifer and Emily. He resented them for not being Hien and Kieu,
and he saw them as a piece of his old life, his life before he found happiness in Vietnam. Hs
grew angry very quickly, and on the worst days, when the memories of his time in Vietnam him
the hardest, he would lash out and hit his wife and daughter. They would cry and pull away from
him, and he would wrap his arms around them and apologize, saying it would never happen
again.
As his Vietnamese daughter was turning 7 and his American daughter was turning 9,
James left his American family, leaving yet another mother and daughter alone, without a father,
without a husband. Alone.
 Two years later, as Kieu lay mourned her mother in the orphanage, and as Emily was
celebrating her 11th birthday, the Alexander family received news from a family member that
would once and for all, leave two mothers and daughters alone, a world away from each other.
When Jennifer found out what had happened, her knees buckled and she hit the floor, tears
streaming down her face, and cried out in distress. Emily ran into the room, where she too,
received the news.
James Alexander, American soldier, father of two girls more than an ocean away from
each other, had shot and killed himself with a handgun in his bedroom after a long night of
drinking and partying.

↟↟↟↟↟

“Your father killed himself.”​20​ the American voice said, “You were 9. That is why I
cannot help you find him.”
Kieu stayed silent for a long, long moment, alone in the house with the women and the
phone. Finally, she mustered up enough words to speak, “Who are you?”
Kieu’s voice broke on the last word, and she felt tears sliding down her cheek, faster and
faster, one after the other.
“James was my father, he left me and my mother for Vietnam, and then he left us again,
after he left you.” The American voice paused. “I am your sister.” She finished.
“We’re all alone aren’t we?” Kieu said.
“Everyone is,” replied Her American Sister, Emily.
 Endnotes

1. This is a real Vietnamese saying, and is often used when the children left behind from the
Vietnam War are talked about.
2. At the time of the Vietnam War, it was still the tradition for fathers to marry off their
daughters, often before they reached their teenage years.
3. American troops entered Vietnam on March 8, 1965, when the 9th Marine Expeditionary
Brigade came ashore at China Beach north of Da Nang. There were also 23,000 military
advisors already on the ground
4. During the Vietnam War, many children, some of them survivors of village attacks but
some of them found abandoned, were used as soldiers.
5. During the Vietnam War, the prostitute business boomed. It has been estimated that
during the time period of the war, there were as many as 300,000 prostitutes on the street
in Vietnam.
6. During the Vietnam War, many of the prostitute got pregnant. The ones who did not want
to have children had to either deal with an unwanted pregnancy, or find unsafe ways to
get an abortion.
7. Many girls and young women found jobs as bar girls and house cleaners around the
American military bases during the war, but these jobs were almost always accompanied
by being forced to have sex with the men they served.
8. Viet Nam Cong San, or Viet Cong, were English Vietnamese Communists, that, with the
support of the North Vietnamese Army, fought against South Vietnam and the United
States during the Vietnam War.
9. The times when the girls who worked in the bars or homes were allowed to choose if they
had sex were few and far between.
10. Starting in early 1965, the United States rapidly increased its military forces in South
Vietnam, in order to combat the communist government that was trying to have power
over the country.
11. This translates to “dust of life” and was a name that was sued to refer to the children of
Vietnamese women and American soldier fathers, along with the term “trẻ bụi đời”
which means “street children” and was used to refer juvenile gangs, especially those that
had Vietnamese/American wartime parents.
12. This is based off a quote from Max Cleland, a former United States Senator, and a
Vietnam War vet, /?/who said “Within the soul of eery VIetnam War
13. In Vietnamese, this is an endearing term, meaning “dear” to “sweetie” and is used from
parent to child, from spouse to spouse, and in other similar situations in which the
speaker wants to convey affection for the other.
14. Many unwanted children were left for orphanages during the Vietnam War, and many of
these orphanages were Buddhist institutions
15. For many children who were left behind, finding their fathers became a life goal and
something they worked towards in order to get US citizenship. To date, less than 3% of
these children have found their fathers.
16. Because of the lack of funds available to the orgapanhes, many of the children who were
brought into them died there, and never saw another life.
17. This air base was located in the city of Da Nang in southern Vietnam and during the war,
it served as a major base with United States Army, United States Air Force (USAF), and
United States Marine Corps (USMC) units stationed there.
18. The term “Amerasian” is used to describe children born from American soldier fathers
and Vietnamese mothers, often in a derogatory sense (but not always). Many of these
children, now adults, hate the term, and just want to be called American.
19. Many of the veterans from Vietnam had or have PTSD, and it is estimated that about
200,000 of these vets still suffer from the disorder, even long after the war has ended.
20. It is estimated that between 50,000 and 100,000 Vietnam veterans have committed
suicide, and for the first 5 years after discharge, there were 1.7 suicides committed by a
veteran from the Vietnam War, for every 1 suicide committed by a veteran from any
other conflict, 5 years after their discharge