When the Vietnam War ended in 1975, my family immigrated to the United States as refugees. With little else but their clothes in a hobo bag—my grandmother, grandfather, and all seven of their living children—got on a plane, landed in Honolulu, and then arrived in Yakima, Washington. Their destination was the American dream. The freedom from communism and the livelihood of a better life far from war and its effects.
[For more of this story, written by Tina Semko, go to https://traumainformedoregon.o...ional-racial-trauma/]
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