FWHS Student's Winning Essay Tells Personal Story of Multiculturalism

Vanessa P., a 2009 graduate of Federal Way High School, was the winner of the Musselman Award, the top student award at the Duman Bay Writer's Retreat held earlier this Spring. With permission of the Arts Commission and Venessa, her essay follows. We think you'll agree it's a winner in many ways, not the least of which is the quality of the writing.

My History and Heritage: It’s All Within Reach

            From diapers to designer jeans – my family has lived in Federal Way for several evolutions of lower body attire. Even before my Huggies days, I believe my destiny in this city was already laid out, like a fresh pair of pants ready to be worn:

            21 years ago, at our city’s own 320th Library, a hip, Korean-American gal in straight leg jeans stood scanning the shelves. Little did she know, a young Vietnamese guy had spotted her through the books. The woman would never have guessed that someday, he and she would be happily married. Even more unfathomable was that their two daughters would be checking out books at the very same library. Wearing, what else? Straight leg jeans, of course!

            That day in the library was the day my parents first met. It would not have been possible if they both hadn’t ended up on this one place on earth – which was not a very easy task. You see, my mom and her twin were born in Korea and at six months old, they were adopted by a couple living in, of all places, Federal Way. The couple – my grandparents – moved to Federal Way from Oregon in the early 60s and built themselves a home and family near Lakota Middle School. Soon, my mom and aunt were gators at Decatur (back then, a relatively new high school).

            My dad was born and raised in Vietnam, but in 1980 arrived in, where else? Federal Way. He was only fourteen years old and didn’t speak any English. He learned the language while attending Sacajawea and eventually graduated from Federal Way High School. Some force of magic must have been at work for my parents to both find themselves here, when they were born an entire ocean away.

            I love living in a place where I can trace the path my mom walked to school. I can go to McDonald’s and order the same milkshake my grandfather used to get after his hang gliding accident. I can visit the one house where the majority of my dad’s siblings, and even my own family, once lived. I can run up and down Redondo, where my parents had their first date. I got a satisfying sense of nostalgia every time I have walked through the halls of Totem Middle School, the place my dad got a summer job working for the custodian. Thankfully, he didn’t know that his daughters, nieces, and nephews would be tracking mud on his floors. At Federal Way High School, I often imagine a younger version of my dad working in auto shop or working out in the weight room. For me, more than just Mt. Rainer, Seattle, and Puget Sound are within reach.

            Federal Way is the one place that the two sides of my family have in common. I always wonder: what are the chances that a Korean adoptee and a Vietnamese refugee would meet on this tiny dot on the map? Against all odds (different upbringings in different countries, rival schools, and an impossible Zodiac match), my parents have made a life together. Federal Way has an important place in my heart. This is the city where my mom and dad fell in love, where at St. Francis Hospital, I was born, and where I know I will always have a history.

            Today, my mom, sister, and I visit the library whenever we can. I can’t help but wonder if my future husband is in the next aisle. When I do have a family of my own, I will be sure to tell my children the story of their grandparents. How my family swelled with excitement at the addition of so many Vietnamese restaurants in Federal Way, but also how my mom and I loved Greek food and always ordered from Gyros House at the Common’s.  How in hot summer days, my cousins and I took swimming lessons at Marine Hills. How in the cold winter months, my sister and I and our neighbors would take our sleds to the nearby school, to play on the playground. How I took my driver’s license test at the same place my parents did. How my neighborhood was once a wood, but became a place for friends and barbecues. This is my history, and my family will continue to leave our mark on Federal Way, just as it has left its mark on us. Because when you get right down to it, all of this is my heritage.

Posted: June 16, 2009