As a Vietnamese bilingual mom in the Pacific Northwest, my journey has felt a little like that, the mystery of bilingual parenting I hadn’t experienced yet.
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The Pacific Northwest is famous for its foggy forests, mountain views, and of course, the setting of the Twilight series. On some mornings, the trees, mountains, and even entire neighborhoods seem to disappear behind a blanket of fog. They’re still there, of course. You just can’t see them yet.
When I first started bilingual parenting, I spent countless hours searching for resources, community, and answers.
How do I raise Vietnamese-speaking children when I am the only Vietnamese speaker at home?
How do I help my children stay connected to their roots?
Where is the village everyone talks about?
For a while, it felt like I was walking through the fog of the Pacific Northwest, unable to see very far ahead. Then something unexpected happened. The longer I stayed on the path, the more people appeared.
Teachers running the immersion language programs.
Librarians creating culturally inclusive spaces.
Community leaders organizing events.
Parents sharing their experiences.
Authors, artists, and educators creating resources for the next generation.
One by one, the villagers emerged from the mist.
What I once thought was an empty landscape turned out to be a thriving community working quietly behind the scenes. Many of us have never met. Some work through schools. Some through nonprofits. Some through churches, cultural organizations, businesses, libraries, or simply their own homes. Yet we are all working toward the same goal: Helping future Vietnamese diaspora generations keep their language, culture, and sense of belonging.
That has been one of the biggest lessons of my bilingual parenting journey:
The village was always there.
I just needed time to see it.
And now, through Little Ears, I am grateful to be one small villager among many, helping keep the light on for the families walking this path after us.
