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My Ma got off on whipping me mercilessly. Ma whipped me with a strap until I bled. She lifted the prongs on the strap to create greater punishment. She'd beat me within an inch of my life. This occurred time after time from when I was four years old until I was sixteen and mature enough to stop her. She didn't care how much blood was on my face or head or arms and legs.

Most of the time, I didn't know why I was getting whipped. She loved to whip me. She didn't want sex with my Dad, so she got her rocks off...

Farmers in Laos, U.S. allies during the Vietnam War, refugees in Thailand, citizens of the Western world the stories of the Hmong who now live in America have been told in detail through books and articles and oral histories over the past several decades. Like any immigrant group, members of the first generation may yearn for the past as they watch their children and grandchildren find their way in the dominant culture of their new home. For Hmong people born and educated in the United States, a definition of self often includes traditional practices and tight-knit family groups but also a...