Portland Community College Foundation

Thach Nguyen

Posted by haley.stupasky

When I jumped onto that ship, I couldn’t have known that I wouldn’t see family again for 15 years. It was 1975 and the end of the Vietnam War. The North Vietnamese were taking over Saigon. Tanks rolled in the streets. Helicopters circled above. People panicked.

There was no guarantee that I would survive if I left. But, I didn’t see any other option. I was 16-years-old.

I left my family in Saigon and hopped onto the ship with 4,000 other people. They sailed on the ocean for five days with no food and little water. Then the ship started sinking. Luckily, I was rescued.

It was a nightmare for a lot of people. But I was young so for me it was like an adventure. One day I woke up in a hotel in Hong Kong on a clean mattress and soft pillows and thought, “Oh, my dream came true!”

Living under communist rule in war-torn Vietnam was difficult. My dad was a low-level public servant in the government, my mom was the proprietor of a small grocery business. We barely survived the day-to-day and I always dreamt of going to the U.S.

The war made it happen. After Hong Kong, I stayed in a refugee camp in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania before settling in Chicago with a foster family. Eventually, I landed in Portland.

Since arriving, I have worked with youth, families and the community. That’s been more than 30 years now. I survived for a reason. I’m here to make a difference.

Justice for all

At the time of my arrival in the U.S., anti-immigrant sentiment was high. It wasn’t uncommon to hear, “Go back where you came from.” I also saw how other immigrant families were working multiple jobs and still struggling to survive.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do in Portland, but I did know one thing. I had a few hundred dollars in my pocket, a few sets of clothes, no car, no family and no home. I knew at that time education, especially higher education, was the only way to get out and to get better. PCC provided that opportunity.

At the Sylvania campus, I took English, writing and social science classes. The latter gave me perspective on social justice issues and psychology specifically made me realize I liked working with people. To help pay for my education, I drove migrant workers in a school bus to and from strawberry fields.

I wanted to get a degree as soon as possible. From PCC, I transferred to George Fox University and got a bachelor’s in management and later a master’s in public administration at Portland State University. While getting a master’s, I raised two kids and worked as a juvenile probation officer at the Multnomah County Department of Community Justice.

I just loved the job. I had the opportunity to work with young people to make a difference in their lives and give them a second chance.

I eventually became a supervisor, helping implement numerous policies that addressed the racial disparity of how minority youth are treated in the criminal justice system. My guiding philosophy was, “If this was my kid, what would I do?” I have always believed that kids could turn their lives around.

Many of them did. When I was in charge, my department reduced the number of kids on probation from 3,000 to 600 at one point. A model site for juvenile justice reform, other programs from all over the country came to learn from them.

Still, I wanted to do more. Many of the kids in the juvenile justice system were also refugees, having a hard time adjusting to a new life and school.

So, I  joined the board of the Immigrant & Refugee Community Organization (IRCO). Over a span of 25 years, I founded the Asian Family Center program and helped unite IRCO and other groups in Portland to create the Coalition of Communities of Color. By the time I left, IRCO was one of the top 20 organizations in Oregon.

Passing the torch

Throughout my career, I have been on a mission to debunk the “model minority myth”: the idea that the entire swath of the Asian community has achieved success. One of the problems with the myth is the invisibility that comes with it.

Any stereotype, negative or positive, hurts when you don’t fit into it. There are a lot of Asian students who aren’t doing well. In our community, the gaps are huge. We have the most educated and the most undereducated. The richest, and the poorest.

Twenty years ago, I co-founded APANO out of a desire to bring changemakers together to address these inequities. A grassroots organization with a focus on social justice, APANO organizes and mobilizes the community to create a new generation of leaders, specifically through political advocacy.

I am most proud of how APANO has been able to work with other communities of color―helping pass the minimum wage law in Oregon, for example―to ensure a just and fair community for everyone.

We don’t want to speak for the people. We want to mobilize the people to speak for themselves. We want to help them have a seat at the table.

Nowadays, I still have a seat on the APANO board but I have been enjoying retirement. When I’m not traveling―I visited Vietnam for the first time since leaving almost four decades ago―I spend time with my children and grandchildren doing things like picking strawberries, an irony that’s not lost on me.

PCC is still a part of my journey. My youngest daughter went to PCC to begin her journey as a teacher, and I was on the PCC Foundation Board. I continue to support now as a monthly Future Connect donor. It’s been full circle.

For more information on the Future Connect program visit pcc.edu/futureconnect.