June 20 was World Refugee Day. I had the honor of delivering remarks at Philadelphia’s World Refugee Day celebration. Of course I talked about Chen Lok Lee, my dear father.
The first image is a Chen Lok Lee lithograph that I have hanging in my bedroom. The more I had looked at this lithograph, the more I realized it told a story that he could not tell.
It shows the story of what was lost, and what was gained in my father’s refugee experience, and how he tried to knit the pieces together.
The person in the lower left hand corner has an inner tube over his shoulders. This reminds of the story he used to tell us about how he swam out of China with nothing but an inner tube.
#celebrateimmigrants #worldrefugeeday2021
Here’s the text from my speech:
Good afternoon to all of our guests, friends, neighbors, and leaders who have come together today to celebrate World Refugee Day. As we know, World Refugee Day is designed to shed light on the plight of refugees around the world, and to call for the protection of their human rights.
Congratulations to the Philadelphia Regional Refugee Providers’ Collaborative on faithfully planning such a thoughtful event. The Office of Immigrant Affairs is always pleased to be part of these efforts, and is proud to come together with all of you today to acknowledge our refugee families and friends who have put down roots here in Philadelphia.
I also want to acknowledge that today is Father’s Day, so first I want to take a moment to shout out all of the fathers and father-figures in the crowd, and all of the mothers that have stood in place for fathers. I acknowledge and hold space for those who have lost fathers, or who have been separated from their fathers.
I’m one of those people.
You see, the journey of a refugee is something I know very well, because my father was one himself. He endured hardship and loss after fleeing a politically turbulent China over 60 years ago – he left family behind, and never saw his parents again. He never returned to China. He lived in the United States until passed away due to COVID-19 at the end of last year.
But this is not the only thing I want you to know about my father – the refugee.
In between the beginning and the end of his refugee journey was so much life and inspiration. He came to the United States in 1959 and pursued his passion of becoming an artist. He succeeded in his goals, and eventually became a professor of printmaking at Moore College of Art and Design, right here in Philadelphia where he taught for more than 20 years, impacting the lives of many.
And I am here today, as a proud public servant for the City of Philadelphia, because of the resiliency and fortitude of my refugee father. He showed me the way of pursuing your passion, standing up for your values and beliefs and making a difference along the way.
So yes, for those of us who know the refugee experience, we have grief and generational trauma, but at the same time, I know we also hold joy. Look around here in this park. There is so much joy. So many stories of overcoming and making something out of nothing. Grief and joy – can they co-exist? I contend that they do, especially in this refugee journey.
So THANK YOU for allowing me to share my story with you all, and to be part of this special day to showcase the wonderful contributions of each and every culture represented here today and your own powerful stories.
