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From Laos to La Crosse: Hmong immigrants build a solid home in the Coulee Region

The Hmong Mutual Assistance Association is now housed in a new cultural center, located on Mormon Coulee Road in La Crosse. The building will be used for a variety of purposes including educational offerings, Hmong funerals and cooking classes.

During the Vietnam War, the United States government solicited help from the Hmong people living in the hill tribes of Laos, who were known for their skills in guerrilla warfare. During that war, about 100,000 Hmong people died in their efforts to advance the goals of the U.S. But even after the conflict the Hmong people who had survived were at risk, facing the wrath of communist forces. Thousands fled to Thailand and lived in refugee camps until they found a safe place to live in another country; most were destined for the United States.

Three decades later, about 4,000 Hmong people make the La Crosse area their home. Granted political refugee status in the wake of the conflict, these immigrants were often sponsored by families in the U.S. Thai Vue, now executive director of the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association in La Crosse, was among them. With a wife and a 3-year-old child in tow, he found himself living with a family in Madison, Wis., in September of 1979. “My sponsor lived right on Monona Lake,” he said. “We watched the ducks swimming and would wonder, ‘Who raised all of these ducks?’ We wouldn’t see wild ducks wandering around like that in Laos. If they did, it would end up in somebody’s stomach,” he explains with a laugh. Within three weeks, he landed a job working as a custodian at the state building of the State Capitol.

Fall changed to winter, which presented even more surprises to the Hmong who made Wisconsin their home. “In January you see people driving on the lake. How could a lake turn into a road so you can actually walk on it?” says Vue, “I would wonder, are we still in Madison, or are we in a different world now?”

A few years later, Sister Leclare Beres was in the process of retiring from St. Francis Hospital in La Crosse (now Franciscan Skemp Healthcare), but all around her the needs of the community were changing. As more and more Hmong refugees settled in the city, there was interest in establishing a clinic to screen the newcomers and immunize them against disease. The health department was overwhelmed, unable to meet the needs of the hundreds of people moving into the Coulee Region, so local health care institutions collaborated to conceptualize a solution: the Indochinese Screening Clinic. “La Crosse was so lily white,” explains Sister Leclare. “There was nobody here who had experience with any other culture except Caucasian. Absolutely none.” As someone with nine years of experience living and working with nurses in Guam, Sister Leclare was asked by FSPA community members to launch and lead the clinic. In 1984, she stepped into the role. The workload was immense.

“They said we would see 800 Hmong in 1984. We saw a thousand,” says Sister Leclare. Each immigrant, even the babies, had to be tested for Hepatitis B, which required a blood draw. They had to provide stool samples, so they could be treated for parasites, if necessary. And, they needed to be immunized. Sister Leclare’s responsibilities involved drawing blood from all of the newcomers, even Vue and his family when they arrived in La Crosse. The clinic, which saw thousands of Hmong immigrants in all, was widely regarded as the best in the state of Wisconsin.

Thai Vue, executive director of the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association

The challenges for the Hmong immigrants in those early years were many. Racism was rampant. “They used to talk about how they ate dogs…and that was not their custom, they protected dogs as a matter of fact. They’d say they were dirty people and that they were stupid.” Although Sister Leclare is careful to point out that there were many, many good people who helped the immigrants, including the hospitals and churches, “La Crosse as a whole wanted them to go right back to Laos. They would spit at them, holler at them, they would throw stuff through their rooms. They would call at 2:00 in the morning and say, ‘The police are looking for you—you have to get your ticket and go home.’”

Language also presented a barrier for the immigrants. Many Hmong had never had the opportunity to go to school, so they didn’t read or write their own language, much less English. Most signed their name with an X on the paperwork at the Indochinese Screening Clinic. For Vue, whose mother had the foresight to hire a tutor for him, language still presented difficulties. He would read the newspaper and try to understand stories, but could only understand about 5 percent at first. He would highlight the terms he did not understand and look them up in the dictionary, then attempt to comprehend the meaning of the text as a whole. The language barrier even made eating a challenge. “I can remember the first time I tried to go to Burger King to order food, I couldn’t order. Vue explains. Eventually, he was successful. “I decided it’s just a hamburger (and ordered), and then they asked what kind of a hamburger I wanted. In the end I got a cheeseburger,” he laughs. “It’s sort of like climbing a hill. I thought, ‘Wow, I got a cheeseburger.’”

Within a month of their arrival, most Hmong immigrants qualified for medical assistance, and the school systems began to adjust to the needs of their newly-diverse classrooms. The establishment of the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association in 1982 offered a roadmap for those on their journey toward a new life—helping people obtain education, find jobs and secure housing. “To try to start a new life in a new country—look at the obstacles that people have,” says Vue. “To overcome those to get here was a tremendous journey…not from Laos to Thailand to the United States, but within here, in the Coulee Region.”

Thirty years after their arrival, the first-generation Hmong Americans are now grown adults having children of their own. Says Sister Leclare, “They’re very well accepted in the community and they’ve made a good name for themselves. The Hmong Association has done a wonderful job of keeping down the gangs because they have worked so hard with the youth. They’ve become self-sufficient. About 80-90 percent are employed and they’ve built their own homes and they pay taxes.”

“The integration and the progress that has been made is tremendous,” says Vue. “In 1982 our welfare population (among the Hmong) was 95-96 percent. Today it’s less than 2 percent. Where can you make an investment where you get a 90 percent return?

These days, the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association is housed in a newly-renovated building, the product of a public fundraising campaign. The Hmong people are responsible for the $725,000 land and old building costs, and members of the community pitched in to help cover the rest. While additional funding is still needed, the collaboration of resources between the Hmong and non-Hmong toward completion of the project signals a significant shift from darker days when the Hmong people were not welcomed by the community. “I can tell you, without the community support both from the Hmong and the non-Hmong, this building would never happen,” says Vue, from his new office at the center. “For the community to offer this support, we have come a long way.”

According to Vue, the new location will serve as a cultural and community center, aimed at offering programs that help further integrate the wide range of cultures in the area as well as develop social and economic self-sufficiency for the ethnic communities. In addition, it will host the traditional four-day Hmong memorial services, as well as meetings. Challenges still exist, says Vue. His greatest vision is of true community integration. “Right now, we’re sort of a community within a community,” he explains. “This center could really help people integrate at the heart level. To be engaged at that level, we’re not there yet.”

Sister Leclare, retired at last, is greeted warmly at the door of the association when she visits. (By 1998, as the numbers of new Hmong refugees entering the community dwindled, the Indochinese Screening Clinic was no longer needed.) They have not forgotten the woman from the Indochinese Screening Clinic who helped them when they first arrived. Hmong men and women approach her with broad smiles and call her “Grandma.” “She is the Hmong mother,” says one man.

When she looks at the situation faced by today’s immigrants, in particular the Latino/Hispanic immigrants, Sister Leclare sees a different situation. “The Hmong were mountain people. They never went to school they couldn’t read and write Hmong. They would make an X for their name, and they never had health care,” she reflects. “The Latinos had health care, though they may not have been able to afford it.” Also, in comparison, more of them are educated in their native language as they cross the border to the U.S., she says. However, there is one similarity. “They need people reaching out to them,” she says, “but not in the same degree. That’s how I view it.”

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