I set my head price.
My parents and I spent years arguing about the bride price practices in our Hmong community. I was twenty-three years old, and a fresh graduate of UCSF, when my parents sat me down and told me it was time to get married. They were going to call my boyfriend’s side of the family to begin the marriage negotiation. I told them I did not consent but Dad made the call anyways.
I immediately drove to my parents’ home. I was bewildered, “You betrayed me, Dad. If you proceed to move forward with this, you will lose your daughter for good. Do not expect me to show up when you begin to negotiate my head price. It would be wise for you to save face.” I walked out the door and did not speak to my Dad for the next nine months. The negotiation process did not continue and would not be discussed again for another five years.
My circumstances were different from others for a variety of reasons. Like many Hmong women, my parents did not invest in my college education because of my gender. I began working at fifteen to save up for college applications, SAT’s, and basic necessities. Education was the only way out and I learned this at a young age. I continued working until I turned twenty-eight. I had no breaks or vacations in-between. By the time I graduated with my masters, I had not asked my parents for financial help for over six years. I was no longer living with them and I had developed deep relationships with people of all backgrounds who supported my progressive perspective of the world. My parents had no leverage over me.
Mom hated that I wouldn’t get married on her terms. She was a boiling pot of toxicity. She spoke to me like an animal and viewed me as one too. She regularly reminded me I was a girl. “Not worth the investment. Girls are useless, a waste of time. You just make sure you get the money back from them when they get married. (They) are a waste of nine months in the womb.” She feverishly spouted, “Your sister got married at twenty years old for 10k! She did not even have a degree. I’m going to make sure you go for 20k since you think you know better than me and you have multiple degrees. I’m going to make you regret it.”
Hmong women can also be complicit in toxic patriarchal culture. They raise our boys into men. Yes, we need to change the frame of thinking in our Hmong men but we also need to to hold our female counterparts accountable. Is it not our Hmong mothers who give the larger chicken leg to their sons? Is it not our Hmong mothers who passively comply and condition girls to conform to obscene household norms? How many horror stories have we heard, of nyabs being beaten by their mother in law? Do women not contribute to slut shaming and gossip around divorcees or women who are abused? I began thinking constructively about how I could change my narrative while still holding on to this deeply rooted marriage tradition.
One day, during a work lunch, my colleagues and I discussed our cultural wedding practices. They were Korean, White, Vietnamese, and Chinese. They had had elaborate weddings with hefty price-tags paid by their husbands. When it was finally my turn to talk, I told them about the complex Hmong bride price practices. They were fascinated. “How much will you go for? Is it expensive? Does he pay for the wedding too? This is so intriguing!” When I told them 10k was considered a high price, they laughed hysterically. “Don’t you know the average American wedding is 30k? That’s not even a nice wedding. 10k might buy you a used car here, your annual salary is more than that.” Just like that. The conversation moved on.
At twenty-eight, I finally decided to have a sit-down talk with my Dad. I took him out to dinner and told him I was ready to get married. I told him I understood the principle and practice of the Hmong wedding traditions. I understood it had been distorted along the way. I understood that this practice meant a lot to him but I also told him it meant just as much to me. I told him I understood that it was originally a practice meant to safeguard daughters and to thank her parents for raising a good daughter. As the community became more westernized, the practice became warped, and women’s worth were reduced to dollar amounts.
I made a deal with my Dad:
“I do not want to be bargained or negotiated for. I am not an animal. No matter where I go, I will continue to support and love you. We are in America now. I will set my head price based on the traditions and precedent set by my siblings, but I will not go for 20k. My fiance’s family cannot afford to pay 20k. We can have mekongs and a few elders to bear witness, like the traditional practice, but I want Mom and I at the table. I want everyone in the room to know that women have a seat at the table. My fiance has agreed to these terms and he believes this is the best way to preserve our culture while treating women with the dignity and respect they deserve. I have chosen my head price between 10k to 20k and there will be no room for negotiation on either side.
Last, but not least, the elders on our side need to make it clear that I will be furthering my education. If they have an issue with this, we will not get married and simply go our separate ways.”
My Dad stared at me. Maybe he was shell shocked but eventually he agreed. We spent the next four months carefully planning how to execute this plan. My (now) husband agreed to let his family know the price but did not let them know any of the details. We were planning a move that would not sit well with many community members. It was breaking tradition on all fronts, but I had found my allies.
