PHAN LE QUYNH NHU
Growing up in Vietnam in a family facing severe social and economic challenges, I witnessed firsthand the transformative power of education. My grandparents, who worked for the American forces during the Vietnam War, instilled in me a love of learning despite the systemic discrimination they endured afterward. Their resilience and belief in education became my guiding principle.
My roots lie in the rural lands of Long An, where the Vam Co River, shaped by the gentle yet powerful currents, has nurtured a resilient yet graceful spirit within me. Here, I have forged a lifelong desire to create transformative change in our world, inspired by the meaningful memories of my childhood.
Guided by Buddhist teachings on karma, life impermanence, and universal compassion, I have dedicated myself to doing good for others and building an interconnected world where kindness and equity prevail.
As a victim of gender-based violence and bullying, I understand my role of striving harder than others to grow into a future well-educated woman, inspiring millions of unheard women and children. I want to call for the unheard to break free of the strings of our corsets - suffocating societal expectations - to defy stereotypes.
This is my story, my vision, and my mission: to build a brighter, more equitable world where hope blossoms like the water hyacinths of my childhood, even in the most forgotten corners of the world.
Below are the materials regarding my Grandma's poetry journal, my Grandpa's scientific materials, Buddhist rituals and other traditions in my culturally rich hometown, Long An.
RELIGIONS
Kite Flying on Nang Thom Cho Dao golden rice paddies
These rice fields cradled my childhood—where I took my first steps, awaited my parents returning from the city, clung to my grandmother as she carried water hyacinth crafts to market, and welcomed my grandfather with food and books from the pagoda. The rice we yielded from these fields was more than sustenance; it was the essence that nourished and united my family.
In childhood, I would gather with neighborhood friends to craft kites from discarded magazine paper and slender bamboo, flying them over the boundless rice paddies. Each kite carried handwritten notes of our dreams, entrusted to the heavens with the belief that the gods would read our aspirations and bestow our blessings.
This is my grandmother's wood-burning stove, the hearth that has sustained generations of my family. It is where water hyacinth soup, fermented fish hotpot, floating rice cake, and herbal creations (black locust tree shampoo and coconut oil) came to life.
Grandmother’s Hearth
The fire flickers, steady and warm,
cutting through the hush of dawn.
Ashes settle like quiet echoes,
holding the breath of generations.
A pot of hyacinth soup simmers,
its fragrance rising with the past.
Fermented spice lingers on the tongue,
the taste of a land that never fades.
Bamboo ladles stir rice cakes afloat,
soft and yielding, like her embrace.
The hearth hums a familiar tune,
its glow a refuge, its warmth a vow.
Black locust perfumes her silvered hair,
coconut oil softens her timeworn hands.
Bent by years, yet steady as stone,
she carries the echoes of those before.
The embers fade, but their glow stays,
a quiet light through all of our days.
The UNESCO Informatics Magazine - Vietnamese version(my Grandpa's scientific magazine regarding scientific breakthroughs and their ethics)
My Grandma's poetry collection written when she was the Saigon Ministry of Education Secretary before 1975
Map of Europe and Asia drawn by my Grandma
