[lively string music] [somber qeej music] - Cara Yang: In the mountains of Laos is where my father's story began.

We are Hmong, which means "free people."

Life was much different than the stories we tell of our lives today.

With each careful stitch and decision, Joe Bee Xiong's story cloth, or paj ntaub, remembers his childhood surrounded by war all the way to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, where he later lived in freedom and peace.

That is my father as a boy-- No, that is a water buffalo.

That is my father, Joe Bee Xiong.

While kids his age in the United States were learning reading, writing, and arithmetic, Hmong kids like Bee were learning cooking, fishing, and farming from their elders.

Something more treacherous also lingered in the back of their minds.

When Bee was born, war had already broken out in the neighboring country of Vietnam.

The threat of communism was spreading and shaking up Laos as well.

Laos was techinically out of bounds for the fighting countries, but some Hmong wanted to help prevent the Communists from taking over their country.

The United States wanted this too.

So secretly, Hmong men and boys were trained to be soldiers and given weapons.

Things quickly got real for my father.

He was about 12 years old when he started blocking supply lines and helping rescue American pilots who had been shot down.

[helicopter whirring] When America left the war in 1975, communism was still spreading hot and fast.

All the Hmong who fought against the Communists were now left defenseless.

If caught, they would be sent to reeducation camps or killed.

They had to get out of there.

Bee and several others led about 1,000 villagers 150 miles over mountains, through jungles, and past enemy ambushes to the Mekong River.

Safety in Thailand was just on the other side.

Bee and the other leaders crossed the river to clear the way, but the Thai authorities stopped them from going back for the others.

The rest of the villagers, with their backs to the river, were once again left vulnerable.

With an attack from the Communists, the villagers dispersed to hide or find their own way across the river.

Not everyone made it.

Thankfully, my family's story doesn't end there.

They all made it to Thailand.

There, they were safe at a refugee camp with other Hmong refugees.

At about age 16, Bee studied English while he and his family waited to move to another country.

His water buffalo life in the rice fields was now in his past.

He wondered where they would go.

The United States, Australia, France?

Only time would tell.

After eight months of waiting, his family was headed to the United States up in the clouds.

Well, that's what they believed all this time, seeing airplanes take off and disappear above.

Remember, so much was new to Bee.

He could play a mean qeej, but geography?

Not his best subject.

He gained some understanding, though, as they arrived in Philidelphia as a refugee.

America was new to Bee and Bee was new to America.

Sadly, not everyone understood my father's language or why the Hmong were there.

He didn't fall in love with the place, but in the City of Brotherly Love, he did fall for his future wife, Ta Moua.

Their stay in Philly wasn't long.

They moved to be with more relatives who had settled in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

Just like when he was growing up in Laos, he got to be with family in Eau Claire.

Bee found a few other familiar things as well.

It was here in Wisconsin that he and his family could finally pursue happiness.

He remained true to his Hmong traditions and beautiful culture.

He worked to earn his high school degree at age 21 and then went on to get three college degrees.

Yep, those are their eight kids.

I told you that my father liked family.

After you get married and have kids, you are considered an elder in a Hmong family.

So according to tradition, Ta's parents gave him a feast and added a new first name: Joua Bee, instead of just Bee.

To make it easier to say in English, he went by Joe Bee.

Joe Bee was civic-minded.

"I always felt that I could make a difference and help people have their voices heard."

He did just that, beginning in Laos, when he aided his fellow villagers in escaping communist control, and then again here in Wisconsin, protecting and serving as a police officer, a social worker, and the director at the city's Hmong Mutual Assistance Association.

My father was also the first Hmong-American elected to the Eau Claire city council, or actually, to any elected office in the entire state.

To help keep our ancestor's heritage alive, my parents taught all of us children the Hmong language and Shamanism, our traditional beliefs.

Joe Bee even taught my brothers how to play the qeej.

[qeej music] Do you wear hand-embroidered festival garments and hats to your celebrations?

We do!

For Hmong New Year, we first celebrate at our home and then with others in the area.

We invite all of Eau Claire.

Joe Bee sometimes traveled back to Laos, where many Hmong still live in fear and try to escape to find peace.

On one trip, my father sadly passed away.

His spirit returned to the sky.

We held a traditional Hmong funeral for him in Eau Claire that lasted three days.

Many mourned his death, but we celebrated his many accomplishments.

Joe Bee Xiong once said, "There is nothing better than a role model."

And he was this for so many.

As he stitched his story from escaping war-torn Laos to finding peace in a new country, Joe Bee cloaked us in a blanket of examples, showing us how to help others and design a beautiful life.

[qeej music]