Inheriting a Resettled Life
This is the first in a series of OpEds published by Hello Neighbor Network members for the Belonging Begins with Us Campaign. We all know what it feels like to be left out, for refugees and immigrants that feeling can last more than just a moment. Every individual and community has the power to change that.
Daniel Hien Phan, Advisory Board Member for Miry’s List, provided us with the following OpEd about his journey of belonging.
A Note from Miry Whitehill, Founder and Executive Director of Miry’s List
To our helpers, and those curious about helping:
Families resettling as refugees come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution, leaving behind family and friends, and sometimes everything they own. Arrival for resettlement in a new country is a critical life milestone. And we, the new neighbors and communities surrounding newcomers, have the ability to directly and positively impact their lives and experiences. A sense of belonging cannot be given, convinced, or expedited; Belonging is built together. In the words of Brené Brown, “True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.”
Miry’s List is a community-based nonprofit organization that provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the incredible challenge of resettlement in the US. Miry’s List is made up of thousands of helpers all over the world, and below you will read the words and life experience of one of them. Daniel Phan, who serves on the Advisory Board of Miry’s List, has been helping us realize our vision since May 2020, when a friend of his from law school introduced us over email. Friend to friend, family to family, Daniel and I (and thousands more helpers) are improving the experience for families resettling as refugees in our communities. Join us.
We are here and we all belong.
My name is Daniel Hien Phan.
I was born in California in 1987, 12 years after my family began a lifelong journey to rebuild from nothing. Four decades after the Fall of Saigon and two generations removed from that distant memory, my family continues to sew an American life that is constantly — and I think forever — influenced by resettlement.
I’m not a refugee, but my parents and their collective 16 (sixteen!) siblings are. Some were able to find their way to America through refugee resettlement camps in Guam and Pennsylvania, like my parents did, and some were delayed for nearly a decade as political prisoners, as my uncle was. Regardless of their paths to becoming American citizens, I learn from stories that there was no easy route. Though I was spared from the trials of resettlement, I’ve inherited, and almost depend on, a psyche of constant change. The difference between my father’s life decisions and my own is that he sought change to help us survive, whereas I seek change to ensure we can thrive — regardless, there’s a common story.
In his twenties, my father was a student-turned-soldier, and the war disrupted the trajectory he originally imagined. He was forced to flee his home aboard a naval ship, and upon coming to America was assigned to live with a sponsor family in Minnesota. Life in America then became about rebuilding stability and maintaining an inconspicuous home. In seeking this, he took a bus to Louisiana to work as a dishwasher, oil rig janitor, and welder. Years later, he and my mother moved on to California together, where he enrolled in vocational school and found a production planning job with Mcdonnell Douglass — later acquired by Boeing. While working a full-time night shift, he raised two boys at home, and, with corporate sponsorship, earned a bachelor’s and master’s degree. With that dedication, he found a late-career path in engineering and retired with a pension after more than 33 years with the same company. My parents chose to build their family in Southern California where my brother and I could create a life without disruption.
In my twenties, I graduated at the height of the financial crisis, and for a brief moment, my economics degree guaranteed nothing. I earned a full scholarship to attend law school five miles from my parents’ home, where I almost immediately began visualizing a path to lead me away. Life for me became about non-conformity and outspoken self-advocacy. I asked my law professors for guidance towards a business career. I implored the CEO of my investment firm to bring me into client meetings. Finally, I abandoned my active license with the California Bar to seek new career inspiration in New York City and Chicago before actualizing a passion for creative and strategic thinking. Rather than seeing my explorations as disruption or delay, I count these changes as generational leaps that are only enabled by my parents’ hard-won stability. Today, my role at the largest internet company in the world allows me to tackle product growth and corporate strategy questions with global teammates — some even in Vietnam.
I share all of this to say that, for refugees, the feeling of belonging will follow wherever you go as long as you also bring determination and optimism. If you’ve left anything behind, there are communities like Miry’s List to help you rebuild.
When immigrant and new American families thrive, this creates a rising tide of socioeconomic and cultural richness that positively lifts entire communities. Because my family helped me earn this position of privilege, I began working with Miry’s List to pour my experience and gratitude into the virtuous cycle of immigration. Successful resettlement requires sponsorship, just as my family received. At Miry’s List I’ve settled into another growing family that, no matter what faith, race, or origin, shares a common story with the people I love and admire most.
Thank you, Mom and Dad.
Miry’s List is a movement of neighbors and friends dedicated to welcoming new arrival refugee families into our community through inspired crowdsourcing solutions. Join and support the movement at www.miryslist.org.
