Learning what dầu was and having to apply it to my life in the U.S. was intimidating, but I've learned to embrace it and appreciate my family and culture for teaching me what dầu is used for :)
Being a Vietnamese American means that I have to constantly switch between two worlds– learning English to endure school in the U.S, and having to preserve my Vietnamese culture by communicating to my parents in Vietnamese at home. However, when I was younger, the fear of being left out won over my love for my own culture, thus making me lose my fluency in Vietnamese. Therefore, when my family would use unfamiliar words, I would ask them what it meant and how it could be applied in context. Among all the words I learned, my favorite word that I learned was “dầu.” To me, it’s not just a word, but it also carries many memories, lessons, and love from my parents. The first time I heard of the word “dầu” was on my trip to Vietnam when I was five. As a child with a fear of heights and motion sickness, a 24-hour flight was torture. When we finally got there, I was overwhelmed; not just from the physical discomfort but by the number of relatives that I couldn’t recognize. Having left Vietnam as a baby, this was my first time back, and I was already having a bad experience. Overstimulated with all of these emotions, I clinged onto my dad and asked him to carry me. But my dad, eager to reconnect with his family that he hasn’t seen in years, told me to just apply gió on my forehead and under my nose. Not knowing what dầu was, it scared me. But at the same time, I was desperate for a way to feel better, so I reluctantly agreed. That’s when my mom opened a small container that released this pungent spicy scent that had me at a loss for words. Scared of the scent, I told my mom I didn’t want to use it anymore, but my mom comforted me and told me, “If you apply it I promise you will feel better and I will massage your head too.” That’s when I allowed her to apply for it, because who can deny a free head massage from your mom. Right? To my surprise, the discomfort, the stress, and my worries disappeared almost immediately. From that moment on, “dầu” wasn’t just a pain-reliever for my external pains, but it became a warm memory– filled with my family’s love. As you can tell by the context , “dầu” refers to tiger balm, a commonly used pain reliever used in many Southeast Asian cultures for symptoms ranging from muscle aches to colds. For Vietnamese cultures, the tiger balm is usually paired with a coin in a practice called “cạo gió,” or directly translated to “shaving the wind.” This method involves scraping the back skin with a coin after applying the balm, as translated, to “release the trapped wind” (metaphorically refers to the cold winter or any illness) from the body. Now, despite the fact that “dầu” is defined to be a remedy, the meaning holds many more memories for me. As I grew older, my grandma became my caregiver, and her being an immigrant from Vietnam, she always insisted that things had to be done her way. That being said, whenever I was sick, she would insist on “cạo gió”-ing me because constantly relying on Western medicine was not good for my weak immune system. Although I knew she meant well, I never looked forward to it. It wasn’t just because the process was extremely painful, but the social embarrassment that I had to face afterwards. One memory in particular stands out. I was in middle school and had a nasty cold and my grandma told me she would “cạo gió” me so that I would be able to attend school. The following day, when I was in the P.E. locker room, I remember some girls asking me why I had such a distinct and strong smell that clung onto me. Already feeling offended, I tried to change in a corner when one of my friends saw the marks on my back, and she asked me if I got abused at home. I could only laugh nervously and explain that “cạo gió” was a cultural practice Vietnamese people do when we’re sick. But her concerned look stayed with me and for a while, I felt self-conscious about using dầu. I tried avoiding “cạo gió” as much as possible or even steered away from my family if they used dầu because I was ashamed of the smell and the idea. However, as I matured, I realized that ultimately “dầu” ties me so intimately to not only my cultural heritage but my family. What became an embarrassing memory became a self-lesson to embrace my culture and appreciate my family. It also isn’t just the fact that dầu can heal my external pain, but applying dầu is an unspoken language of love in my family. With every coin scratch and nagging that came with “cạo gió”, it felt like they were telling me “I care about you” “I want to ease your pain” and “I love you.”
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