Amy Ng, Senior Client Engagement Program Manager, DailyPay
By Amy Ng, Senior Client Engagement Program Manager, DailyPay
As Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) Heritage month unfolds in the U.S., I find myself reflecting not just on my identity as a Hmong American, but on the generations of resilience and quiet strength that shaped my story. The word Hmong means “Free”; a profound irony for a people who, despite their spirit of independence, have never possessed a country of their own. Our story is one of displacement, survival, and the relentless search for belonging.
My parents were born in Laos and, like many Hmong families, fled their homeland during the Secret War in the 1970s—a chapter of history still unfamiliar to many Americans. In Laos, they were farmers, a lifestyle passed down through generations. Their lives were defined by the land, community, and their rich traditions. But when they arrived in the U.S. as refugees, that life was left behind.
I grew up watching my parents live through the aftermath of their journey to the US. I saw the weight they carried—of lost homelands, unspoken trauma, and dreams deferred. In a new country where their language was foreign and their skills undervalued, they worked tirelessly to provide for their eight children. And while material wealth was scarce, the depth of their love, grit, and endurance shaped the foundation of my childhood.
Being first-generation meant growing up between two worlds. My parents’ past was ever-present in our home, yet I was constantly navigating a future they couldn’t prepare me for. It wasn’t a rejection of my roots that propelled me forward, but a desire to honor them—to take the sacrifices my parents made and do something meaningful with them. I watched them rebuild their lives from nothing, and that determination became the blueprint for my own ambitions. It pushed me to pursue higher education and a career path they never even had the chance to imagine.
Stepping into spaces where there was no precedent for someone like me often felt like balancing between identities. There were moments I felt like an outsider, unsure if I truly belonged in the rooms I had worked so hard to enter. But I carried with me the strength I had seen in my mother—who navigated unfamiliar systems to advocate for our family in a world that didn’t understand her—and over time, that strength transformed into something steady and unshakeable: my own sense of belonging, built with purpose and pride.
This AANHPI Heritage Month, my heart swells with gratitude for the Hmong mothers and fathers, whose silent sacrifices laid the very foundation upon which I now stand. As a Hmong woman, I carry their resilience within me, filled with immense pride in our collective achievements and the barriers we continue to break. Let our story—the story of a free people who, despite statelessness, found refuge and are forging a vibrant future in America—resonate with the depth and complexity it deserves, and be honored as an essential and deeply personal part of this month’s celebration.
