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A monologue from the play by Lauren Yee
Pao
Okay. So. My name’s Pao. You can call me Mr. P. That’s cool, too, if you want. Right, Ms. G? Okay. So. Hmong.
Everyone, they wanna know what Hmong is. Everyone around here, they like, what the f***—’scuse my mouth—
But they like, f***, it’s cold up in here and we’re freezing our a**es off and there’re all these tropical Asians showing up.
And they’re like, I thought we were all blond up in here. So I can tell you what Hmong is. But it’s like real secret.
Like I’ma kill you secret. No sh*t. Okay, so Hmong, we come from a bunch of different countries. We ain’t got no, like, Hmong country . . .
I don’t know why. Guess ’cause nobody likes us. Which I get—I don’t like me either, story of my life—And we’re from all over.
We’re in China. And then f***ing Chinese—no offense, nobody’s Chinese? —F***ing Chinese, they’re like, f*** you.
So we go down to Laos. And f***ing Laos—or Laotians—They’re also like, f*** you, and they try to kill us. BUT THEY CAN’T!
’Cause we’re TROPICAL SURVIVORS! With the TIGERS and LIONS and flesh-eating MONKEYS! We hunt those dudes for breakfast.
We eat tiger for breakfast! Tony the Tiger kind! ’Cause we’re CIA motherf***ers! You ever hear this sh*t?
About how the American government recruited Hmong guys to fight the Viet Kong for them, ’cause I guess Asian on Asian violence is cheaper.
OH! And we eat snake. For the protein. We bite the sh*t out of them headfirst and swallow the whole thing up.
They’re like noodles to us: snake ramen. That’s our Thanksgiving dinner. People’re like, “Oh, yeah, turkey,”
And we’re like, “Oh, yeah, snake.” Naw, I’m just playing! We don’t really eat snake.
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