Little Hanoi: Next Generation explores what it means to grow up Vietnamese in Czechia
An exhibition now on display at Prague's Holešovice Market Hall explores what it means to grow up between two cultures. Little Hanoi: Next Generation combines large-scale portraits with personal stories to introduce the children of Vietnamese immigrants who settled in former Czechoslovakia decades ago. Ruth Fraňková went along to find out more.
The exhibition follows up on the original Little Hanoi project from 2008, created by photographers Štěpánka Stein and Salim Issa, which documented the first generation of Vietnamese immigrants who arrived in what was then Czechoslovakia in the late 1970s and early 1980s.
Nearly twenty years later, Stein has returned to the subject, this time together with photographer Vendy Mlejnská. Instead of their parents, however, the focus is now on the second generation, young people who grew up between two cultures but now call Czechia home.
Stein says that after documenting the lives of the first generation nearly twenty years ago, it was only natural to return and tell the story of their children.
"The reason why this new project actually happened is that those people had children, and those children are now around 18 to 30 years old. We wanted to capture their portraits, their lives and their thoughts.
"We call them the second generation, which means you still have your roots, but you also have roots in the country where you live, where you were born. The language you mainly speak is Czech. You still understand your parents, but you might not speak Vietnamese so well. They're living between two cultures, like any other second generation."
The new exhibition features 76 large-scale portraits, each accompanied by a short personal story written by Thuy Duong Nguyen Trinh. She says one of its aims was to challenge stereotypes about the Vietnamese community.
"We wanted to show the wide range of our generation. Our generation is not only people who work in večerky, small convenience stores. We also have artists, lawyers and doctors. There are so many professions represented here. If you look at the 76 portraits and read the stories, you can really feel that diversity."
Thuy says one of the biggest differences between her parents' generation and her own is their sense of belonging.
"Our parents came here to work, and they didn't know whether they would stay or go back to Vietnam. Most of the second generation grew up here from childhood or were even born here. Now they feel that the Czech Republic is their home. If they say, 'I'm going home,' they mean they're going home to the Czech Republic."
Thuy herself is also one of the people featured in the exhibition. She came to Czechia with her parents when she was seven years old and says her family's story reflects that of many first-generation Vietnamese immigrants.
"My parents lived here in the 1990s and studied at Chemopetrol Litvínov. Then they had to go back to Vietnam because, under the bilateral agreements at the time, they weren't allowed to have a family here. But the economic situation in Vietnam was really difficult, so they decided to come back, this time with us, their children.
"I've now been living here for thirty years. I still have a strong connection with Vietnam because my parents taught us Vietnamese traditions, and I can speak Vietnamese. But I feel that the Czech Republic is my second home."
The exhibition hall is filled with large portrait banners, some hanging from the ceiling and others mounted on the walls. Each shows its subject against a pastel-coloured background, partly veiled by smoke and holding an object that has a special meaning in their life. Photographer Vendy Mlejnská explains how the visual concept came about.
"We wanted bright pastel colours, but when you're photographing almost 80 people, you need something more or you'll end up with 80 passport pictures on the wall. We thought about the feeling at the beginning of a concert, when there's smoke on the stage and you slowly start to see the performer.
"Then Štěpánka said the pictures also needed to tell a story, and that's why everyone is holding an object that has a personal connection to them."
For Štěpánka Stein, working on the exhibition also felt very different from photographing the first generation almost thirty years ago. While she and Salim Issa spent a year documenting life in Prague's Sapa market for the original project, they never really managed to build close relationships with many of the people they photographed, she says.
"I think it's really good that the Czech Republic has this community here. A hundred years ago this was also a very diverse country, but much of that diversity disappeared."
"In this new project, I feel much closer to the people we photographed. I know their stories, we understand each other much more. Maybe it's because we now share small things: traditions, jokes, a sense of humour. For me, that's the biggest difference."
Seeing so many of the people featured in the exhibition attend the opening made the project especially rewarding.
"They came to us and said, 'Thank you for doing this.' It was a really good feeling."
For Stein, the exhibition also reflects a broader change in Czech society's view of the Vietnamese community.
"Whenever I travelled to places like Paris, London or Berlin, I saw multicultural societies everywhere. I think it's really good that the Czech Republic has this community here. A hundred years ago this was also a very diverse country, but much of that diversity disappeared. I also feel there's been much greater respect from Czech society towards the Vietnamese community over the past ten or fifteen years."
"I still sometimes meet people who tell me, 'Go back where you came from.' But a lot of the people you see here were born in the Czech Republic, so where should they go? "
And if there is one thing Thuy Duong Nguyen Trinh hopes visitors will take away from the exhibition, it is that the Vietnamese community is not something separate from Czech society, but an integral part of it.
"I would like people to leave this exhibition feeling that the Vietnamese community is part of Czech society, because I still sometimes meet people who tell me, 'Go back where you came from.'
"But a lot of the people you see here were born in the Czech Republic, so where should they go? I know they mean where my parents came from, but I would love people to accept us as part of Czech society, because I already feel like part of Czech society."
