Christine M Su - Voices of a New Generation: Cambodian Americans in the Creative Arts

Kingdom of Cambodia map indicating areas mentioned by the artists in this book. 2021. All rights reserved. This image may not be used or duplicated without express permission in writing from the author.

Introduction

M y father was born in the province of Kampot, to the southwest of Phnom Penh, in a place called Tani Tuk Meas. While I know very little about his childhood, I like to imagine that daily life was much like what we see in idyllic paintings: coconut palm trees swaying in the warm summer winds, green rice fields, people making offerings at the local Buddhist temple. I like to imagine my father running along the road on his way to elementary school, wearing the typical uniform of a white shirt and blue shorts or trousers. Sadly, much of my connection with my father comes through my imagination.

On April 17, 1975, communist guerillas known as the Khmer Rouge marched into Phnom Penh and other provincial cities, declaring victory. At first, people cheered, thinking that the bombing and war they had endured for more than a decade had finally come to an end. Instead, that day marked the beginning of nearly four years of terror. The Khmer Rouge implemented a radical Maoist and Marxist-Leninist policy with the goal of transforming Cambodia into a classless society, abolishing money and private property, traditional education, religion, and cultural practices. People were forced into the countryside to undertake arduous agricultural work from morning to evening, with little food to sustain them. Schools, pagodas, mosques, stores, and government buildings were turned into stables, granaries, torture centers, and prisons.

During the Khmer Rouge regime, more than 2 million people died of starvation, disease, overwork, torture, and execution in what became known as the killing fields. Among those were my fathers parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, friends. Cambodia was not spoken of in our house, and as far as I knew, it was a bad place--or at least, a place I believed had stolen my fathers happiness.

It wasnt until I traveled to Cambodia for the first time that I actually began to see the beauty and brilliance in Khmer culture. I remember one day very distinctly. I had taken a taxi with some friends from the capital city of Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, where the Angkor temples are located. I of course wanted to visit the famous Angkor Wat first, but it was early afternoon when we arrived, and our taxi driver insisted it would be best to wait either until evening to see the sunset or until the next morning to see the sunrise over Angkor Wat, so instead we went to visit the Bayon, part of Angkor Thom.

Built in the 12th century by King Jayavarman VII, the Bayon encompasses hundreds of huge faces carved into stone, facing north, south, east, and west. I had gone expecting to see magnificent monuments, but not faces in the stone, faces that seemed serene, at peace. The tranquility reflected in the gentle smiles and partially closed eyes of each face stood in stark contrast to nearly all of my beliefs and perceptions about Cambodia as a grim place of war, destruction, and trauma. I looked up at them and literally fell to my knees, overwhelmed with emotion.

For the rest of the afternoon I walked among the many faces, and felt that they were watching me, comforting me. While silent, they spoke to me.

This was a pivotal moment, because I realized just how much I had been focusing on Cambodia and my Cambodian identity in a negative way. Without discounting the trauma and suffering endured during the Khmer Rouge regime (and we will never, ever forget), I realized that period is but a very short fragment within the timeline of Cambodian history. The Khmer Empire once encompassed most of what is now Thailand and Vietnam. The Khmer built complex cities and spectacular temples without modern tools or equipment, reflecting Buddhist and Hindu cosmology on earth. They expressed their love of music, dance, martial arts, cooking, adornment, and other creative endeavors on the temple walls themselves, through intricate carvings that tell tales of both everyday life and ancient mythos.

The Power of Art to Connect, to Heal

Under the Khmer Rouge regime, approximately 90 percent of Cambodias artisans were killed. The regime wanted to erase all vestiges of outside influence or elite, oppressor" culture, and targeted artists--painters, singers, martial artists, and dancers--for execution.

Yet just as the Khmer Rouge sought to eliminate traditional arts, post-war Cambodians seek to rebuild them. In so doing, they strive to repair and heal their shattered spirits.