Com puc parlar en només 10 minuts sobre els vincles de les dones durant tres generacions, sobre com la sorprenent força d'aquests vincles es va apoderar de la vida d'una nena de quatre anys al costat de la seva germana petita la seva mare i la seva àvia durant cinc dies i cinc nits dins un petit vaixell al Mar de la Xina fa més de 30 anys, uns vincles que es van apoderar d'aquesta nena i mai la van deixar anar; aquesta nena que ara viu a Sant Francisco i els esta parlant avui? Aquesta no és una història acabada. És un trencaclosques a mig fer. Deixeu-me parlar sobre les seves peces.
How can I speak in 10 minutes about the bonds of women over three generations, about how the astonishing strength of those bonds took hold in the life of a four-year-old girl huddled with her young sister, her mother and her grandmother for five days and nights in a small boat in the China Sea more than 30 years ago. Bonds that took hold in the life of that small girl and never let go -- that small girl now living in San Francisco and speaking to you today. This is not a finished story. It is a jigsaw puzzle still being put together. Let me tell you about some of the pieces.
Imagineu-vos la primera peça: un home veient cremar la feina de tota una vida. És poeta i dramaturg, un home la vida del qual s'havia recolzat en l'esperança única de la unitat i la llibertat al seu país. Imagineu-vos-el quan els comunistes van entrar a Saigon, afrontant el fet que la seva vida havia estat una pèrdua de temps. Les paraules, amigues durant tant temps, ara es reien d'ell. Es va refugiar en el silenci. Va morir atordit per la història. Parlo del meu avi. Mai el vaig conèixer. Però les nostres vides són més que memòries. La meva àvia mai va deixar que oblidés la seva història. La meva tasca era no permetre que allò hagués passat en va, i la meva lliçó era aprendre que sí, la història va intentar aixafar-nos, però vam resistir.
Imagine the first piece: a man burning his life's work. He is a poet, a playwright, a man whose whole life had been balanced on the single hope of his country's unity and freedom. Imagine him as the communists enter Saigon -- confronting the fact that his life had been a complete waste. Words, for so long his friends, now mocked him. He retreated into silence. He died broken by history. He is my grandfather. I never knew him in real life. But our lives are much more than our memories. My grandmother never let me forget his life. My duty was not to allow it to have been in vain, and my lesson was to learn that, yes, history tried to crush us, but we endured.
La següent peça del trencaclosques és un vaixell de matinada lliscant silenciosament mar endins. Mai, la meva mare, tenia 18 anys quan el seu pare va morir; amb un matrimoni concertat, quan ja tenia dues nenes petites. Per a ella, la vida s'havia reduït a una sola tasca: la fugida de la seva família i una nova vida a Australia. Per a ella era inconcebible no aconseguir-ho. I després d'una saga de 4 anys que desafia la ficció, un vaixell va lliscar mar endins disfressat d'embarcació de pesca. Tots els adults coneixien els riscs. El temor més gran eren els pirates, la violació i la mort. Com la majoria d'adults de la barca, la meva mare portava un pot petit de verí. Si ens capturaven, jo i la meva germana primer, i després ella i la meva àvia en beurien.
The next piece of the jigsaw is of a boat in the early dawn slipping silently out to sea. My mother, Mai, was 18 when her father died -- already in an arranged marriage, already with two small girls. For her, life had distilled itself into one task: the escape of her family and a new life in Australia. It was inconceivable to her that she would not succeed. So after a four-year saga that defies fiction, a boat slipped out to sea disguised as a fishing vessel. All the adults knew the risks. The greatest fear was of pirates, rape and death. Like most adults on the boat, my mother carried a small bottle of poison. If we were captured, first my sister and I, then she and my grandmother would drink.
Els meus primers records són del vaixell: la marxa continua del motor, la proa submergint-se a cada onada, l'horitzó buit i immens. No recordo els pirates que van venir alguns cops, però que van ser enganyats amb valentia pels homes que hi havia al vaixell, o el motor fallant i deixant de funcionar durant 6 hores. Però recordo els llums de la plataforma petrolífera prop de la costa de Malasia i l'home jove qui va sofrir un col·lapse i va morir, acabar el viatge era massa per ell; i la primera poma que vaig tastar, me la va donar un home de la plataforma. Cap poma ha tornat a tenir el mateix gust.
My first memories are from the boat -- the steady beat of the engine, the bow dipping into each wave, the vast and empty horizon. I don't remember the pirates who came many times, but were bluffed by the bravado of the men on our boat, or the engine dying and failing to start for six hours. But I do remember the lights on the oil rig off the Malaysian coast and the young man who collapsed and died, the journey's end too much for him, and the first apple I tasted, given to me by the men on the rig. No apple has ever tasted the same.
Després de tres mesos en un camp de refugiats, vam desembarcar a Melbourne. La següent peça del trencaclosques és sobre quatre dones al llarg de tres generacions construint una nova vida juntes. Ens vam instal·lar a Footscray, un suburbi de classe obrera amb una població formada d'immigrants. A diferència dels suburbis de classe mitjana, dels quals en desconeixia l'existència, a Footscray no hi havia sentit del dret. Les olors provinents de les botigues eren d'arreu del món. Els fragments d'anglès entretallat eren intercanviats entre unes persones que tenien una cosa en comú: estaven començant de nou.
After three months in a refugee camp, we landed in Melbourne. And the next piece of the jigsaw is about four women across three generations shaping a new life together. We settled in Footscray, a working-class suburb whose demographic is layers of immigrants. Unlike the settled middle-class suburbs, whose existence I was oblivious of, there was no sense of entitlement in Footscray. The smells from shop doors were from the rest of the world. And the snippets of halting English were exchanged between people who had one thing in common: They were starting again.
La meva mare va treballar a granges, després en una cadena de muntatge de cotxes, treballant sis dies a doble torn. D'alguna manera va trobar temps per a estudiar anglès, i obtenir un títol d'informàtica. Érem pobres. Tots els diners estaven assignats i les classes extra d'anglès i matemàtiques es financiaven sense importar de què prescindíem, que normalment era roba nova; sempre era de segona mà. Dos parells de mitjons per a l'escola, un per a tapar els forats de l'altre. Un uniforme escolar llarg fins als turmells, perquè havia de durar sis anys. Hi havia cants estranys però dolorosos sobre els "ulls esquinçats" i els grafits habituals: "Asiàtics, torneu a casa". Tornar a casa, on? Alguna cosa es va encendre dins meu. Era una acumulació de propòsits i una veu suau que deia: "Ho superaré".
My mother worked on farms, then on a car assembly line, working six days, double shifts. Somehow, she found time to study English and gain IT qualifications. We were poor. All the dollars were allocated and extra tuition in English and mathematics was budgeted for regardless of what missed out, which was usually new clothes; they were always secondhand. Two pairs of stockings for school, each to hide the holes in the other. A school uniform down to the ankles, because it had to last for six years. And there were rare but searing chants of "slit-eye" and the occasional graffiti: "Asian, go home." Go home to where? Something stiffened inside me. There was a gathering of resolve and a quiet voice saying, "I will bypass you."
La meva mare, la meva germana i jo dormíem al mateix llit. Cada nit, la meva mare estava esgotada, però ens explicàvem com ens havia anat el dia i escoltàvem els moviments de la meva àvia per casa. La meva mare tenia malsons tots del vaixell. La meva feina era estar desperta fins que arribaven els malsons per així poder despertar-la. Va obrir una botiga d'ordinadors i després va estudiar per ser esteticista i va obrir un altre negoci. Les dones venien amb les seves històries sobre homes incapaços d'evolucionar, enfadats i inflexibles, i nens amb problemes atrapats entre dos móns.
My mother, my sister and I slept in the same bed. My mother was exhausted each night, but we told one another about our day and listened to the movements of my grandmother around the house. My mother suffered from nightmares, all about the boat. And my job was to stay awake until her nightmares came so I could wake her. She opened a computer store, then studied to be a beautician and opened another business. And the women came with their stories about men who could not make the transition, angry and inflexible, and troubled children caught between two worlds.
Es van cercar subvencions i patrocinadors. Es van crear centres. Vivia en dos móns paral·lels. En un, era la típica estudiant asiàtica, implacable en allò que em proposava a mi mateixa. En l'altre, estava involucrada en vides precàries, marcades tràgicament per la violència, les drogues i la marginació. Però molts vam rebre ajuda al llarg dels anys. I gràcies a això, quan estava cursant l'últim any de dret, vaig ser nombrada australiana jove de l'any. I vaig saltar d'una peça del trencaclosques a una altra, i els seus marges no encaixaven.
Grants and sponsors were sought. Centers were established. I lived in parallel worlds. In one, I was the classic Asian student, relentless in the demands that I made on myself. In the other, I was enmeshed in lives that were precarious, tragically scarred by violence, drug abuse and isolation. But so many over the years were helped. And for that work, when I was a final-year law student, I was chosen as the Young Australian of the Year. And I was catapulted from one piece of the jigsaw to another, and their edges didn't fit.
Tan Le, resident anònima de Footscray, era llavors Tan Le, refugiada i activista social, convidada a parlar en reunions de les que no havia sentit a parlar mai i a cases l'existència de les quals no s'havia imaginat mai. No coneixia els protocols. No sabia com utilitzar la coberteria. No sabia parlar de vins. No sabia parlar de res. Volia retrocedir a la rutina i el comfort de la vida en un suburbi desconegut: una àvia, una mare i dues filles finalitzant el dia tal com havien fet durant gairebé 20 anys, explicant-se com els havia anat el dia i adormint-se les tres encara al mateix llit. Vaig dir a la meva mare que no podia fer-ho. Em va recordar que llavors jo tenia la mateixa edat que ella quan vam pujar en aquell vaixell. El "no" mai havia estat una opció. "Simplement fes-ho", va dir, "i no siguis el que no ets".
Tan Le, anonymous Footscray resident, was now Tan Le, refugee and social activist, invited to speak in venues she had never heard of and into homes whose existence she could never have imagined. I didn't know the protocols. I didn't know how to use the cutlery. I didn't know how to talk about wine. I didn't know how to talk about anything. I wanted to retreat to the routines and comfort of life in an unsung suburb -- a grandmother, a mother and two daughters ending each day as they had for almost 20 years, telling one another the story of their day and falling asleep, the three of us still in the same bed. I told my mother I couldn't do it. She reminded me that I was now the same age she had been when we boarded the boat. "No" had never been an option. "Just do it," she said, "and don't be what you're not."
Així que vaig parlar sobre l'educació i la desocupació dels joves i la desatenció dels marginats i aquelles persones privades de drets. I com més parlava amb franquesa, més em demanaven per parlar. Vaig conèixer gent de diferents professions i condicions socials, molts d'ells fent allò que estimaven, vivint a la frontera del possible. I tot i que vaig acabar els estudis, em vaig adonar que no em podia endinsar en una carrera de dret. Havia d'haver-hi una altra peça del trencaclosques. I al mateix temps vaig adonar-me que està bé ser un desconegut, un recent arribat, nou a l'escenari; i no només està bé, sinó que cal agrair-ho, potser un regal del vaixell. Perquè estar a dins fàcilment pot significar col·lapsar els horitzons, fàcilment pot significar acceptar les assumpcions de la teva província. He trepitjat prou fora del meu espai de comfort per saber que, sí, el món cau a trossos, però no de la manera que temem.
So I spoke out on youth unemployment and education and the neglect of the marginalized and disenfranchised. And the more candidly I spoke, the more I was asked to speak. I met people from all walks of life, so many of them doing the thing they loved, living on the frontiers of possibility. And even though I finished my degree, I realized I could not settle into a career in law. There had to be another piece of the jigsaw. And I realized, at the same time, that it is OK to be an outsider, a recent arrival, new on the scene -- and not just OK, but something to be thankful for, perhaps a gift from the boat. Because being an insider can so easily mean collapsing the horizons, can so easily mean accepting the presumptions of your province. I have stepped outside my comfort zone enough now to know that, yes, the world does fall apart, but not in the way that you fear.
Possibilitats que no haurien estat permeses es fomentaven arravadatament. Allà hi havia una energia, un optimisme implacable, una barreja estranya d'humilitat i atreviment. Així que vaig fer cas de la meva intuïció. Vaig reunir amb mi un equip petit de persones per a qui l'etiqueta "no es pot fer" era un repte irresistible. No vam tenir diners durant un any. Al final de cada dia, cuinava una olla de sopa enorme i la compartíem. Treballàvem fins tard a la nit, La majoria de les nostres idees eren bogeries, però algunes eren brillants, i ens vam obrir pas. Vaig decidir traslladar-me als Estats Units després d'un sol viatge. Altre cop la meva intuïció. Tres mesos després m'havia traslladat, i l'aventura ha continuat.
Possibilities that would not have been allowed were outrageously encouraged. There was an energy there, an implacable optimism, a strange mixture of humility and daring. So I followed my hunches. I gathered around me a small team of people for whom the label "It can't be done" was an irresistible challenge. For a year, we were penniless. At the end of each day, I made a huge pot of soup which we all shared. We worked well into each night. Most of our ideas were crazy, but a few were brilliant, and we broke through. I made the decision to move to the US after only one trip. My hunches again. Three months later, I had relocated, and the adventure has continued.
Abans d'acabar, però, deixeu que us parli de la meva àvia. Va ser criada en una època en què el confucianisme era la norma social i l'única persona important era el mandarí local. La vida no havia canviat durant segles. El seu pare va morir poc després del seu naixement. La seva mare la va criar tota sola. Als 17 anys es va casar per segon cop amb un mandarí la mare del qual la pegava. Sense cap suport del seu marit, va despertar el furor portant-lo a judici i portant el cas ella sola, i un furor encara més gran quan va el guanyar. (Riures) (Aplaudiments) Resulta que que el "no es pot fer" era erroni.
Before I close, though, let me tell you about my grandmother. She grew up at a time when Confucianism was the social norm and the local mandarin was the person who mattered. Life hadn't changed for centuries. Her father died soon after she was born. Her mother raised her alone. At 17, she became the second wife of a mandarin whose mother beat her. With no support from her husband, she caused a sensation by taking him to court and prosecuting her own case, and a far greater sensation when she won. (Laughter) (Applause) "It can't be done" was shown to be wrong.
Era en una habitació d'hotel a Sydney dutxant-me quan va morir a 700 quilòmetres de Melbourne. Vaig mirar a través del vidre de la dutxa i la vaig veure de peu a l'altra banda. Sabia que havia vingut a dir-me adéu. La meva mare va trucar minuts després. Uns dies més tard, vam anar a un temple budista de Footscray i vam seure al voltant del taüt. Li vam explicar històries i vam assegurar-li que encara érem amb ella. A mitjanit va arribar el monjo i ens va dir que havia de tancar el taüt. La meva mare va demanar-li que li toqués la mà. Va preguntar al monjo, "Com és que la seva mà és tan calenta i la resta del cos tan fred?" "Perquè la hi heu agafat des d'aquest matí", va respondre. "No l'heu deixada anar."
I was taking a shower in a hotel room in Sydney the moment she died, 600 miles away, in Melbourne. I looked through the shower screen and saw her standing on the other side. I knew she had come to say goodbye. My mother phoned minutes later. A few days later, we went to a Buddhist temple in Footscray and sat around her casket. We told her stories and assured her that we were still with her. At midnight, the monk came and told us he had to close the casket. My mother asked us to feel her hand. She asked the monk, "Why is it that her hand is so warm and the rest of her is so cold?" "Because you have been holding it since this morning," he said. "You have not let it go."
Si hi ha una connexió en la nostra família, és la que passa per les dones. A partir de qui érem i com la vida ens havia transformat, ara podem veure que els homes a les nostres vides ens haguessin fet fracassar. La derrota hagués estat massa fàcil. Ara m'agradaria tenir els meus propis fills, i penso en el vaixell. Qui podria mai desitjar això? Encara tinc por al privilegi, de la comoditat, del dret. Puc posar una proa a la seva vida, que es submergeix a cada onada, la marxa continua i immutable del motor, l'immens horitzó que no garanteixen res? No ho sé. Però si pogués fer-ho i conservar la seva seguretat, ho faria.
If there is a sinew in our family, it runs through the women. Given who we were and how life had shaped us, we can now see that the men that might have come into our lives would have thwarted us. Defeat would have come too easily. Now I would like to have my own children, and I wonder about the boat. Who could ever wish it on their own? Yet I am afraid of privilege, of ease, of entitlement. Can I give them a bow in their lives, dipping bravely into each wave, the unperturbed and steady beat of the engine, the vast horizon that guarantees nothing? I don't know. But if I could give it and still see them safely through, I would.
(Aplaudiments)
(Applause)
Trevor Neilson: La mare de la Tan també és aquí avui a la quarta o cinquena fila.
Trevor Neilson: And also, Tan's mother is here today, in the fourth or fifth row.
(Aplaudiments)
(Applause)