I think it goes without saying that conferences are needed to put our lives in perspective. They say you need to sometimes take a step back to remind yourself of why you're doing the things you do in the first place. But VASCON is one of those places where you step forward and see the possibilities, the kind of future you can embark upon.

I've been to conferences, perhaps more than I should. After awhile, I figure maybe I already know enough about the issues, leadership skills and social networking to write my own book. And yet there is always something you just need a refresher on, like how to really mingle and create long-lasting bonds. From the first impression of "booming" the other person, to finding common ground, building foundations, and creating the bridges. But what we really haven't had much experience in is how to utilize these bridges. Now that I have contacts all over the continent (or in my case, the world), now what? What do we hope to aspire to? I'll try to answer that with two stories.

Finding Acceptance

You just need a few goals, a few people, and construct an engine to keep your momentum going. Back in mid-2005, my President went AWOL due to personal circumstances, and I was left on my own to oversee my VSA network. I had a lot of knowledge, but no one to really talk to about it. Isolated and invisible, I went through clinical depression that lasted several months. It just shows how weak my social bonds are that no one knew about it. My cousin one day asked me to help her edit her film, and I obliged since I was experienced in visual design. But what really intrigued me was that she was doing a narrative coming-of-age film whose main character was bisexual in the middle of a love triangle. And from there we had one of the deepest conversations that delved into the hearts of matters.

I knew the power of the media in shaping our knowledge and experiences, and that invisibility of people in the media was a form of identity annihilation. I think if you don't see yourself in the media, you don't exist. As an Asian male, finding other Asian male role models on television or film is something of an impossibility. My cousin was just as bad: Southeast Asian queer female. If she talked to other Southeast Asians (namely Vietnamese), who would understand what it was like to come out to her parents that she was queer? If you were queer, how could you understand what it is like to grow up as a child of a generation of refugees? And then there's women's issues in regards to media, but don't let me get started on that! Though different as far as physical appearances are concerned, we were both victims of symbolic annihilation. We don't exist. We are a generation of invisibles.

After we finished the film, we had it shown at a small film festival or two. My mother eventually found out about my cousin through my aunt, and we had a discussion on the queer issue. She contends it is a mental illness, which I quickly identified as our community's ignorance on mental health as well as queer issues. But I don't blame my mother because no one talks about it. Invisibility causes ignorance. We had a frank discussion about how much harder it is to live today than in the past. When I reflect back on that statement, I think she was right. In our Vietnamese history, our people have stories of fighting against invaders; those enemies were easily identifiable. But today's enemies are subtle, invisible in fact, and require a kind of education, such as mental health, poverty, political apathy, etc. No one really writes legendary stories on these subjects. Doesn't seem as glorious as a good sword fight!

And so I pushed my cousin to coming to VASCON2. She needed to at least meet Ham Tran, the film maker. But it turns out that we were both in for a surprise. She got to boom with Magnetic North and Bao Phi, and I know she's really into the underground arts. I took her to an Asian Pacific American arts and performance event in San Francisco a few years ago, called APAture, and we both loved it. Asian American youth finding validation with each other because the media ignores us. But here were three Vietnamese Americans, 2 MCs and a spoken word poet. When she met Magnetic North's T-Vu during the social mixer session, she was actually flustered to be in the presence of an idol. I thought that was interesting. I guess we all need different kinds of role models. If only entertainment directors understood what power they wield in choosing the kinds of performances for their shows. Can a song or dance teach me how to be stronger? Teach me something about who I am? There is a reason why my cousin don't go to those VSA shows. Most of the time they show dances that depict on how women ought to be soft and gentle, or be sexual objects to please the audience, not that there is anything wrong with that, but guess who becomes invisible? And I jokingly tell her that I cheer loudly at dances involving couples, because it shows the relationship between Asian males and their female counterpart, which you don't see in television!

My cousin and I got to see a late-night screening of Journey from the Fall, and I saw that she was crying profusely. We talked about how her grandfather (on her side of the family) and how he was captured by the North Vietnamese Army, and all of this family history she recorded onto tape through her camcorder. It got me thinking about my own grandparents and the dying first generation. Their stories are largely unknown to me. I can only ask my mother about these stories because she can explain it to me in English, a travesty, but the only way I can understand where I came from and how much pain my family – and really their entire generation – went through.

When we came home, she said for the first time, she never felt like she had to split her identity up just to associate with different groups of people. She could just be herself. Of course, I already knew that. I just never gave myself the chance to share that knowledge. But I am glad I spoke up.

Living Within the Rhythm

During VASCON2, I had the pleasure of reconnecting with so many familiar faces of the people I grew up with at UCLA (including Thomas' Apartment), the people I worked with as a National Representative, the people behind the scenes putting together this milestone in our community's history, and just folks from all walks of life looking for answers in their own lives here at the conference, just as much as I was.

I went to the Fourth International Vietnamese Youth Conference just three months earlier in Sydney, Australia, and I asked myself this question: There is a problem that lay before me, so why am I passively observing? After I came home from Sydney and saw VASCON being promoted, I immediately went to book my flight, knowing my next set of answer lay there. Building my community, I figured, required leaders to go to a conference to find the blueprints, and to go back to their local community and begin constructing the foundations. And while I may have the international blueprint in mind, creating a foundation in North America alone requires more blueprints, and likewise even in the city of San Jose, building something there is still a feat!

So the theme of the conference was building bridges, and the Vu Crew hosted the social mixer activities to help us connect with each other, which in my opinion was a great asset to the conference. Because it would be in those brief interludes between workshops and lunches, and after we return to our hotel rooms, that we can spend a few minutes just sharing ideas with one another, the kind of ideas written on dinner napkins that spawn successful corporations, only that in this case, it was building a movement, and a social infrastructure as mighty as the San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge capable of withstanding the rough and rumbles of earthquakes. My roommates were all from San Jose, and it was clear that we wanted an inspirational change. I told them about a letter my President wrote to me two years ago:

"Throughout my years in high school, all the VSAs and VSUs would do every year is the annual fashion show and that's it. After the annual fashion show, comes the after party. That's all the VSA and VSU would do. I didn't just want to do fashion show and the after party. I wanted to give back to the community. I wanted to do more than just that. I wanted to learn more about my identity and heritage. My Vietnamese is not all that great and my identity was blurred."

And I concurred, "When I went down to UCLA, I was involved with the Vietnamese Student Union. My first experience shocked me, and moved me. It was a culture show put into a play format. … And the reason why these people impressed me so much, was because for the first time I heard a story about Vietnamese people. Much of my life I didn't. I grew up in San Jose, Piedmont Hills High School to be exact, but video games were all the stories I probably needed to hear. The Vietnamese Student Body Association at my high school never really told me stories. So I didn't really feel I wanted to be involved with them. But once I got into UCLA, VSU told me a different story. And I wanted to learn more."

Journey from the Fall was one of those stories about the struggles of our boat people. I think I'll never forget my fellow representative MyAn crying during Ham Tran's preview of his film. And I smiled knowing something she didn't, "My dear, I know how you feel. I've been down that road." That's why I smile, not the grinning kind in front of cameras, but the consistent smirk I put up whenever I walk around. It comes from empathy, a certain knowledge and feeling of other people. "Mi casa es su casa." My home is your home. And if home is where the heart is, then "Lòng anh là lòng em." My heart is your heart. Well that sounds a bit cheesy doesn't it?

At the live performance, the other beautiful scene is seeing my brothers and sisters hovering around the stage in solidarity, singing along with the bands and performers. I asked Dr. Ninh if this is what he meant by a single Vietnamese Consciousness, which he wrote about prior to arriving to the conference. And he smiled and looked on. I knew. I wasn't seeking an answer. I was witnessing a generation who found their true selves. And I began to understand my father when he said he felt his generation lost something, some sort of undying spirit and optimism that was no longer there. Fighting invisibility is one goal, but it was clear to me that the other goal was keeping the flame of hope burning like the searing sun. Steve Jobs would say, "Stay hungry. Stay foolish."

When it came time to KimChi's reflection exercise, with all eyes closed except those in the center of the ring of people, where their job is to touch a person in the ring who inspired them. Touch a person who you thought was friendly. Touch someone you definitely want to keep in touch with. Touch someone who made you smile. My body went spastic, in a way. You hear KimChi say the condition, and your mind just flashes that person who did make you smile, who did inspire you, who offered you a hug before they even knew your name. And for those in the ring, how much it means to them to feel the touch, an affirmation that they're doing something right in life, a chance for other's to express something simple and honest that we just never have enough time in our lives to express. And that's where I hope, that despite the lack of time to boom with everyone individually, that we're still unified by a common history, culture and consciousness. No need to be sorry for not having seen each other so long. No need to go through formalities. Don't worry about forgetting names. We pick up where we leave off. Just keep reminding each other where we're going. Sometimes we forget that. As Magnetic North puts it, "Let me live within the rhythm. Let me free my soul."