Finding The Courage to Leave
How single mothers in Vietnam navigate family and cultural expectations when they make the difficult decision to leave abusive marriages
Last week Just Peoples co-founder Jo and I (Christey) had the privilege of visiting our project leader Hong in Danang, Vietnam. We’ve worked with Hong for over 4 years, backing her groundbreaking work that supports a network of over 34,000 single mothers all over Vietnam.
Spending the day with Hong and other mothers who’ve made the decision to leave their husbands, families and entire communities in search of freedom and safety, and the implications that those choices have on their lives, brought us to new levels of understanding of Hong's work, and awe at the courage of these women.
I lived in Hanoi, Vietnam between 2010 and 2013 and was very close friends with a woman we’ll call Ly. Ly is an ethnic minority from a rural and very traditional province in north Vietnam. She had left her home village and created a life in Hanoi where she had a job she loved that earned her enough money to pay her own rent, drive her own motorbike, wear the fashionable and flattering clothes she liked, and have a vibrant social life.
When Ly was 26 the pressure from her family to go back to her village and get married was huge. But she wanted to do a Master’s degree in Paris and was determined to make that happen, so she applied for two years to get a scholarship to go. The day she was accepted into a university in France was the day her family arranged her marriage to local man Huy.
Huy, to his credit, gave his permission (yes, permission) for Ly to go to France. But his mother didn’t. Huy’s mother drove 8 hours to Hanoi, packed up Ly’s apartment and physically brought her back to the village to marry her son. Ly had grown up believing that a daughter’s duty was to get married and look after her husband’s family, and if she didn’t, it would cause great shame to her own family. So she obeyed Huy’s mother and fulfilled her cultural obligations as a woman. But it came at substantial personal cost.
Ly had to give up her scholarship to France, and her life in Hanoi. And step by step she gave up everything else she’d worked hard for. When I visited her in her village in 2015 I didn’t recognise her. No more bright and tight, colourful dresses, she now wore simple pyjama-style matching pants and t-shirts. Her mother in law insisted her dyed hair and modern haircut was unacceptable, so she now pulled it back in a long, black ponytail. She’d also put on a lot of weight under the stress of looking after her alcoholic father in law, cleaning Huy’s parents home everyday, cooking meals for everyone and being told she was a ‘bad woman’ because she hadn’t fallen pregnant yet. When she eventually did get pregnant she was a ‘bad mother’ for having morning sickness which prevented her from doing all her chores.
Meanwhile her husband was out drinking every night and having a grand old time. He even made the decision to mortgage Ly’s parent’s house without anyone’s knowledge let alone consent, so he could invest $50,000 into an acquaintance's business idea. The acquaintance turned out to be a gambler so the money was gone and it was up to Ly to earn it back and save her parents’ house. How she did that was up to her to work out.
Naturally, Ly was depressed and disempowered, but she was also resigned to obey her community’s cultural rules and live out the rest of her life as a servant. Ly and I haven’t been in touch for a few years now. She stopped responding to concerned messages from her friends in Hanoi as they reminded her of the life she’d had to give up, and the contrast to her current situation burned her heart.
I thought a lot about Ly this week as we hung out in Danang with a group of Vietnamese women who had left their husbands and were setting up new lives for themselves and their children. Their husbands had been violent and abusive, had had affairs and controlled all aspects of their lives. Their mothers in law had told them not to complain, that their sons were young men who needed to be free. They were told it was their duty as women to obey their husbands and if they didn’t they were ‘bad’. They had spent their time cooking and cleaning their in-laws’ homes, taking care of their drunk husbands and fathers in law, and protecting their children from the violence and danger that surrounded them.
Yet leaving was no walk in the park either. For some, they were immediately cut off from the family with no financial support. Others had their husband’s mothers and their own mothers calling them daily and abusing them over the phone, then demanding they come home and fulfil their duty because their selfish behaviour is bringing shame on the family.
Hong, who also went through the pain of leaving her hometown before using her experience to help others get through the journey, said the women cry often. She told us about how the ex husband of a woman she supports came to find Hong in Danang and slapped her in the face for ruining his family. People tell Hong she’s bad for Vietnam as she encourages and helps women to break family traditions.
Jo and I spoke at length with Hong and the women, and were absolutely blown away by their courage. They are pioneers, breaking taboos that have been in place for centuries, that keep Vietnamese women oppressed and in servitude, so the patriarchy can drink, play and have their homes cleaned, their meals cooked and their children raised.
Just Peoples supports this community of single mothers by funding Hong’s projects. Hong is on the coalface of this work and knows exactly what newly-single mothers need to get on their feet and live their own lives safely. As well as providing shelter - even in her own home when necessary - Hong gives women access to psychological therapy, skills training and helps them find employment.
One of the women we chatted with is Loc, who is trained as a naturopathic beauty therapist. She gave Jo and I a facial treatment and it was perfect. Hong is setting up a training centre so more single mothers can learn these and other popular wellness techniques so they can find work in the many therapeutic spas and beauty salons that you see on every street in Vietnam.
Nuong, another woman we met, told us how she feels ready to date again. She met a nice man and sent him a photo of her standing amongst wild flowers. He responded that she shouldn’t waste her time doing frivolous things like that and should be more focussed on earning money. She IS very focused on earning money, but also makes time for things that bring her joy. She didn’t see that man again because he didn’t see any value in women experiencing joy and freedom, and that’s a deal breaker for her now.
We asked the women what gave them the courage to go against everyone and everything they knew, to make the decision to leave. Most of them did it for their daughters, so they wouldn’t grow up to be slaves. One of them did it for herself because despite the conditioning, she knew in her heart that she was worth more than what they told her.
And when we asked the women if this difficult road was worth all the stigma, isolation, abuse from family members and extreme economic hardship, Luyen thought about it and after a long pause said ‘yes’. Then she smiled brightly. Her smile was full of life and hope and the knowledge that she was doing something incredibly hard, but that it was right for her and her daughter.
I hope that one day my friend Ly can smile like that again too.