By Michelle Banh

Chinese railroad workers line the Transcontinental Railroad, buried in snow. Roughly 3,000 Chinese were recruited to work on the railroad project, which started in 1865.

From as early as the mid-1800s, people from Asian countries have immigrated to the United States seeking better lives. With assurances of prosperity and opportunities abound, the U.S. has and continues to play the role of the promised land for many foreigners.

Filipinos expected just that when they settled in modern day Louisiana in the 1760s. Arriving by Spanish galleons – broad, multi-decked ships – that stopped in Mexican ports, these Asian pioneers deserted their maritime posts to make their way into America. Once settled, Filipinos began forming shrimping villages that have lasted to this day.

Roughly 80 years later, Chinese and Indian immigrants came to the U.S., though under extremely unsavory circumstances. With the abolition of the slave trade recently underway, British and Spanish colonialists were running short on African slaves. Before long, South China and India became the new “it” locations to find replacement laborers. These Chinese and Indian individuals were ultimately “recruited” to work at remote sugar and cotton plantations.

Approximately 250,000 Chinese and 500,000 Indians were transported to America under this new system of slavery.

It was not until 1848 that Asians voluntarily immigrated to the U.S. in significant numbers. Lured by the promise of wealth at “Gold Mountain” (a Chinese nickname for California during the Gold Rush), Chinese immigrants flocked to America in record numbers. While some became miners, others worked as smalltime merchants, gardeners, and domestics.

Then in 1865, the Transcontinental Railroad project revolutionized transportation and effectively established Asian social standing in America.

As the Union Pacific worked westward from Nebraska and the Central Pacific worked eastward from Sacramento, the two companies hired roughly 3,000 Chinese immigrants to take part. Although they worked strenuous hours – often without fair pay – and sacrificed a number of their lives in the process, the Chinese were ultimately left out of any celebrations when the railroad was complete.

Anti-Chinese sentiments came to a head in 1882 with the Chinese Exclusion Act, which stopped all immigration from China and denied citizenship to any Chinese already in the U.S.

Such were the beginnings of Asian immigration to America – not always positive, but definitive of the Asian American community today.

“When I read about how Asians used to be persecuted by Americans in history, I feel a sense of happiness that we have moved so far from that now that Americans can embrace being Asian,” said Jenny Liu, a USC freshman from Fremont, Calif.

Though the Asian American community has had its fair share of obstacles in immigrating to this country, its tremendous efforts to build and foster an Asian American identity from the ground up has forever impacted the millions of people living in America today.

By Chanel Hung

Vietnamese & Cambodian shrimpers at a meeting in Buras, La., for more information about the spill in May. Photo: Sean Gardner, Reuters

More than 1 million people fled Vietnam after the fall of Saigon at the end of the Vietnam War 35 years ago. Thousands died trying to escape the country via boat. Those who survived became refugees, most settling in North America, Europe and Australia.

The United States accepted 823,000 Vietnamese refugees who came to rebuild their lives.

In the face of struggles establishing a new life in a foreign land, Vietnamese Americans have rapidly built strong and resilient communities throughout the U.S.

One such community established itself in New Orleans.

Perhaps finding the tropical weather familiar to home, the Vietnamese found New Orleans a perfect place to settle. Even more, the Catholic community there sponsored many Vietnamese refugees following the Vietnam War. Most of the population became involved in the fishing and shrimping industries and through the years developed a thriving network that has come together, especially in the midst of disaster.

In Louisiana, there are about 25,000 Vietnamese Americans according to the New Orleans Tourism Marketing Corporation. Of those, 6,000 live in a concentrated area of New Orleans East. Roughly 80 percent of Vietnamese Americans in the Gulf region have ties to the fishing industry, whether it be as seafood restaurant owners, vendors, or fishermen.

These fishermen’s ties to the sea trace back to their roots, back to Vietnam, where many fishermen relied on the sea to fuel their livelihoods.

Hurricane Katrina ripped through the Gulf Coast in 2005, leaving the region devastated physically and financially.

A public housing neighborhood named Versailles is home to many Vietnamese Americans on the outskirts of New Orleans. In the wake of the damage incurred, the Vietnamese community congregated to rebuild its existence. With little government funding, the community reconstructed Versailles faster than other neighborhoods in New Orleans. Then, the local government attempted to implement a landfill harboring toxic waste from the nearby hurricane. The community rallied together to protest against the city’s will, forming one voice to save their neighborhood.

Now, Vietnamese Americans dependent on the Gulf of Mexico for survival face another crisis. The British Petroleum oil spill that started in April and gushed for three months has left many out of work and with many bills to pay.

This time, recovery is uncertain.

Many Vietnamese Americans have lost their jobs now that fishing zones are restricted and there is no work available. Fishers are bringing in less than half the yield normally produced in the Gulf waters. Without jobs, the Vietnamese American community struggles to pay off mortgages and bills.

“Entire livelihoods are affected, and there may not be an immediate recovery due to the environmental impacts of the spill,” said Mai Phan, a Vietnamese lawyer who works with the Vietnamese American Bar Association’s efforts to help the New Orleans community.

But while many need assistance, few actively seek it, quite possibly due to cultural norms. Vietnamese Americans are self-driven hard workers and have always managed to rebuild from scratch. It is no surprise that they are a proud people. Accepting government-sponsored assistance is equivalent to accepting charity in a community that deems accepting handouts a sign of weakness.

Meanwhile, the legal fight with BP is another battle all its own. The lengthy and complex legal documents that are supposed to offer compensation for damages have proven to be tedious and unhelpful.

Many Vietnamese Americans, especially the older generation, are not fluent in English. With such a strong community and knowledge about their trade, English isn’t a necessity. This language barrier has hindered Vietnamese Americans in pursuit of filing claims against BP to gain compensation. Moreover, BP offers only about half the amount of revenue these fishermen would be earning if the Gulf were clean and healthy.

A gloomy future lies ahead for Vietnamese Americans in the Gulf region. Until BP successfully cleans up the spill, disastrous environmental and economic implications remain for those who rely on the sea to maintain their livelihoods.

For such a strong and hardworking community, idleness and powerlessness during BP’s inaction is painful. There is no doubt, however, that the Vietnamese people will pull through the oil crisis and become stronger than ever.

By Ivana Banh

The South gave birth to jazz, bourbon, Elvis Presley, fried anything and now: a handful of strong Asian American political leaders. Art: Edwin Lee

Although Asians only make up a mere 4.6 percent of the United States’ population, several political leaders of Asian descent are beginning to make their mark in history. Vietnamese Americans made up 45 percent of Hurricane Katrina’s victims – a statistic that strongly urged people like Anh Joseph Cao to aid in the recovery of many of those who could not speak English. Other Asian American political leaders have also been prompted to rise to power in order to aid the growing Asian population. As can be seen from the accomplishments of leaders like Bobby Jindal and Harry Lee, their strong cultural connections with the people have clearly been beneficial.

BOBBY JINDAL

In 2008, Bobby Jindal was sworn in as the governor of Louisiana. At the age of 36, Jindal was not only one of the youngest but also one of the few Indian Americans to take political office. Jindal was born in Baton Rouge, La., on June 10, 1971, to parents who had emigrated from India several years earlier. The first-generation baby attended both Brown and Oxford Universities and completed a two-year stint as a consultant for numerous Fortune 500 companies. Jindal also aided in rebuilding Louisiana, which was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. After a multitude of accomplishments with the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Jindal emerged as one of the most favored candidates for governor. Since his election, Jindal has been heavily involved with Louisiana’s Hurricane Katrina recovery and medical and taxing policies.

HARRY LEE

“King” Harry Lee served 28 years as the sheriff of Jefferson Parish, La., before his death in October 2007. Lee was born in 1932 to a Chinese family in New Orleans. He attended Louisiana State University and Loyola Law School. Lee worked as a right-hand man for a congressman and was quickly inspired to pursue politics. He ran for sheriff in 1979 and easily defeated his opponent. During his political career,  Lee was often accused of racism. He had been known for barricading to separate races and for unjust court cases against African Americans. Despite the accusations, Lee’s loyalty to the citizens won him six re-elections. Lee’s final accomplishments included his quick evacuation of the Parish during Hurricane Katrina, as well as his patrol of the area after the storm. “The Chinese Cowboy” died of leukemia several months after Katrina, leaving behind a wife, daughter, and two grandchildren.

ANH JOSEPH CAO

Cao’s childhood in Vietnam during the 1970s may very well have inspired him to devote his life to social equity. After eight years in Saigon, he emigrated to Houston, Texas, as a refugee following the Vietnam War. Cao’s mother shipped him and two siblings out just three days before the Fall of Saigon. His father was serving in the Southern Vietnamese Army.

Cao started a new life in the U.S., initially intending to become a Jesuit priest. After graduating with degrees from Baylor and Fordham Universities and Loyola Law School, Cao became a legal counsel and later part of the National Advisory Council of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. As a member of the Conference, Cao aided in the recovery of Louisiana following Hurricane Katrina. In 2007, Cao was nominated to head the Louisiana Republican Party and as a delegate to Minneapolis. Cao’s political efforts eventually earned him the title of Louisiana’s 2nd Congressional District Representative as well as the first Vietnamese American and Vietnam native in the U.S. Congress.

By Vivian Yan

USC junior Eaphy Mao was one of two Asians in his high school class. He's learned more about being Asian American at USC, but the charm of the South still has his heart. Photo: Stacy Kwok

Junior Eaphy Mao seems like your average USC student in Los Angeles: jeans, a tan, a friendly smile and a love for football. And then you hear he’s from Oklahoma.

What?

It’s alright – he gets that reaction a lot.

“And I totally understand,” said Mao. “Because before I moved there, when I was told by my parents I was moving there, I was like, ‘What? Why?’”

Though he was not born in Oklahoma, Mao, a self-described American-born Chinese, has lived in the South for the majority of his life. He moved from Texas to Florida to a suburb outside Atlanta, Georgia, before settling in Ponca City, Oklahoma. Ponca City is a small place of 25,000 in north-central Oklahoma that is comfortably outnumbered by USC’s student body of 35,000.

Among those students, more than 10,000 are Asian – a striking contrast to Mao’s hometown demographics.

“I was one of two Asian kids in my class of 300,” said Mao. “So there were maybe 10 Asians in my high school out of 1,500.”

Mao, a business and Chinese double major, knew all the other Chinese people in his town, which amounted to a total of 20 or 30 people.

“It’s like a circle of friends,” said Mao. “You know all the Chinese kids and then your parents know each other and… on holidays we’d all get together.”

But outside of his home life, Mao describes himself as “just another guy” in his town, absorbing many facets of Southern culture into his own personality. He espouses a die-hard love for soul food – fried chicken in particular – and passionately roots for his home team at football games.

“Football’s like a way of life there,” said Mao, who played football, cross country and track in high school. “Like here, ‘SC football fans, we go and when we’re up by 20, we leave. But there, they get excited about the game probably a week before. And then they stay for the entire game. And then after the game, that’s all they talk about for like the next half-week or so.”

Mao also recalls celebrating other American traditions with a similar exuberance unique to the South, largely due to the openness of Oklahoma’s landscape. In southern California, not everyone will buy fireworks from stands for the Fourth of July, but according to Mao, it’s a common practice down South.

“My friends and I, during the summer, would usually go and pool a bunch of money together, spending like $300 on fireworks, and just shooting them off for hours,” said Mao. “In the country, no one really cares in the middle of nowhere. Everyone does it.”

Though Mao “grew up in an all-American way,” as he describes it, his parents tried to keep him in touch with his Chinese heritage. They sent him to Chinese school to learn the language and took him to China to visit his relatives.

Yet the mix of Chinese and Southern backgrounds led Mao, like many other American-born Asians, to struggle finding a balance between cultures.

“When I was younger, I tried to do everything I could to be more white, because all my friends were white and I just wanted to fit in with them,” said Mao. “But then as I got older, I’ve gotten more and more interested in Asian culture.”

Coming to USC also influenced Mao’s desire to explore his Chinese heritage further, partly because of the sizeable Asian population on campus.

“I felt like I knew a lot less about Asian culture,” said Mao. “They [other students] knew the dates of all the Asian holidays, or they’d eat Asian food. Like I had no idea what boba was before I came here, and they were more used to hanging out with Asians than I was.”

Mao now looks toward having a career that eventually takes him to China. But he still wants to live mainly in the American South, evidence of his obvious love for its people and lifestyle.

“You’ve heard the term Southern hospitality? It’s basically just like that,” said Mao. “It seems like people there just care more or are more interested in you when they meet you. They’re just friendly for friendliness’ sake. They’re just friendly because it’s the right thing to do.”

Mao admits with practicality and a wry grin that Oklahoma wouldn’t be his first choice to settle in (“I’m a business major, right? There’s not a whole lot there”). But it’s clear that his love for the South, with its fried chicken, its football and its people, will have him living there again.