Kissing in Vietnamese

“Kissing in Vietnamese” provides a glimpse into the lives of people who have lived through war and how the effects echo through their lives even after the war is over. The speaker’s grandmother kisses him on the cheek, which is a seemingly ordinary activity, however, the way that she kisses him gives the speaker insight into the grandmother’s internal world. She continues to fear for his life, and secretly believes that the war is still happening, that death is everywhere, and that each kiss could be her last opportunity

The opening lines “My grandmother kisses / as if bombs are bursting in the backyard” (Lines 1-2) make it clear that in reality, the war is over. The “bombs” (Line 2) only go off in the grandmother’s mind, yet by drawing out this detail, the speaker demonstrates how vivid the world of war-torn Vietnam remains for the grandmother in her psyche. She can still smell “mint and jasmine […] / through the kitchen window” (Lines 3-4). She still feels the weight of knowing that anybody could get killed just by walking through a doorway. Vuong juxtaposes the vivid smells of “mint and jasmine” (Line 3) with the violent images of a child’s thigh being penetrated by “flames” (Line 6), a possible allusion to the use of napalm during the war, and the grotesque “dance” (Line 9) of a body riddled with gunfire. The memories of Vietnam are as sensual and precious as they are violent and unspeakable.

Next, the speaker compares the way their grandmother kisses to the way a “western” (Line 11) grandmother might kiss. The speaker characterizes the Western grandmother’s kisses as more glamorous and carefree. Their kisses are less urgent, less meaningful, almost disposable. The Western version is all for show. By contrast, when the speaker’s grandmother kisses, “there would be / no flashy smooching, no western music / of pursed lips” (Lines 10-12). Instead, she seems to kiss in order to memorize her grandchild. She is trying to absorb some part of them, holding on to their “scent” (Line 14) and “sweat” (Line 15), because it is implied that she feels they may die at any moment. She kisses as if trying to “relearn” (Line 14) the person, until “sweat pearls into drops of gold” (Line 15). It shows how each kiss makes the person being kissed more precious, more valuable, and rarer, like gold. The use of “pearls” (Line 15) and “gold” (Line 15) calls to mind precious materials, expressing a value that is perhaps unappreciated by Western grandmothers who have not witnessed the devastating loss of children during wartime. These symbols likewise insinuate that those who know death and are highly aware of everyone’s mortality can appreciate the value of life more.

The last full sentence “My grandmother kisses as if history / never ended” (Lines 18-19) echoes the opening lines of the poem. It reinforces the idea that though the war (history) has ended, the emotional impact of the war remains. The grandmother is kissing her grandson as though “a body is still / falling apart” (Lines 20-21), as though it could be his body falling apart at any moment. These last lines carry their own ironic weight as well, for while the speaker may express some mystery at their grandmother’s profound affection for them, the reality is that at any given time in the world, there are children being killed in countries at war, and likewise by gunfire in America. The abbreviated last two lines of the poem draw attention to this irony, “as if somewhere / a body is still / falling apart” (Lines 19-21). Indeed, “history” (Line 18) as not ended, war can break out suddenly and unexpectedly on domestic land and abroad, and perhaps the speaker’s grandmother sees that potential more clearly than the younger, surviving generations who only live with the generational trauma, and not the actual memory of it.

The title of the poem, “Kissing in Vietnamese” implies that this perspective goes beyond that of the speaker and their grandmother. Post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, is often discussed in relation to war veterans (and specifically

Vietnam War Veterans) who later struggle with the trauma of war once they have returned home. In the poem, the perspective is flipped, and the trauma is explored through the perspective of a civilian who witnessed the violence of the Vietnam War. Vuong depicts her as living with the constant fear that, decades later, something similar will destroy her family as well. The grandmother stands for all Vietnamese, as generations struggle to cope with the aftermath of half a century of war—from the First Indochina War, which segued right into American Vietnam War (also known as the Second Indochina War), followed by the more regional Third Indochina War, which lasted until 1991. Like the grandmother, Vuong suggests with his title that the Vietnamese have learned to kiss their loved ones differently, playing a tug-of-war with death who is always lurking, “clutching your wrist” (Line 17).