Philippa Hughes' life has the makings of an epic novel that would span international romance, divorce, an abduction, art and politics. It's a life that has driven her to constantly look for ways to bring people together. Even better if those people don't see eye to eye.
"I spent most of my formative years not having any friends or real family around," said Hughes. "And so it totally makes sense that I would spend my entire adult life creating connection, creating community, and I absolutely want to create those experiences for other people. But also, I realize it's for me."
Hughes moved around a lot as a child. She was born in the Philippines, spent time in Vietnam, moved to the U.S., and ultimately grew up in Richmond, Va. As the daughter of a Vietnamese mother and a white American father, she believes the Vietnam War had a profound impact on her life, even though she was only 6 years old when it ended 50 years ago this month.
I recently met Hughes for lunch at Eden Center, a strip mall in Fairfax, Va., that is a mecca for Vietnamese culture with restaurants, gift shops and hair salons.
She was craving a particular dish — grilled fish with dill and turmeric (called Chả Cá Thăng Long), so we headed to Hai Duong Restaurant. "In Hanoi, there's a whole street of places that just serve this dish, and it's awesome," Hughes gushed.
Richmond in the late 1970s didn't have many options to experience Vietnamese culture, prompting Hughes' mother to drive Philippa and her brother up to Eden Center.
A blond American soldier with "blue eyes and a big nose"
Hughes lights up when she talks about her mother, Gia Thi Pham, whom she calls "one of the most resourceful, resilient people I have ever met."
In 1954, when Pham was a little girl, her family fled to South Vietnam to avoid persecution in the communist-ruled North. Hughes said her mother often told a story about being too small to climb the ladder of the U.S. gunboat taking them to safety. "So this American soldier with blond hair and blue eyes and a big nose carried her up the stairs and gave her an orange. And she was so happy and grateful that she said that image of this man is seared into her mind," said Hughes.
About a decade later, according to Pham's telling, she met another blond hair, blue eyed American with a big nose. "I mean, it wasn't the same man," Hughes laughed. He also wasn't a soldier. Hughes said she's still trying to "excavate" the details, but they married in Thailand around 1966. Two years later, Philippa was born in the Philippines.
In 1974, they moved from Vietnam to the U.S. While her mother didn't talk much about leaving, Hughes believes it must've been painful.
"It's a big deal for anybody to leave their homeland. But Vietnamese culture is very tied to the land, to the physical land," said Hughes. "And I did not appreciate that until I went to visit [Vietnam] myself as an adult. And the way relatives who were like fourth cousins once removed or something were greeting me as if I was part of the family."
The fall of Saigon and an abduction
Hughes' parents divorced shortly after arriving in the U.S. Meantime, the war raged on, and her mother worried about her family back in Vietnam. In 1975, as the North Vietnamese army made its way to Saigon, her mother returned to help her relatives plan their escape. She left her children in the U.S. with her ex-husband's sister, thinking they'd be safe with their aunt. Instead, Hughes said, her father took them to Alaska and told his sister not to tell their mother their location.
Hughes said her mother spent a year looking for them "and finally found us in this little village in Alaska called Glennallen." Hughes said her father was working on the Alaska pipeline. Her mother hired a lawyer. A judge gave her full custody. NPR has not been able to independently verify the decision.
Political differences with a powerful cousin
The story of how her mother's family escaped from Vietnam and the events that followed reflect Hughes' determination to bring people together.
One of the heroes of that story is John "Jerry" Edwards, a U.S. Embassy official in Saigon her mother had befriended. Edwards, Hughes said, "was instrumental in helping" her extended family flee Vietnam. Hughes' uncle was in the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN), which supported the U.S. military. As the communists took control of Saigon, "Anybody who fought alongside the American military was in danger," said Hughes.
To help Hughes' extended family receive protection in the U.S., Edwards wrote a letter introducing himself as the brother-in-law of her uncle. "That was a lie to help our family," said Hughes.
Hughes' cousin, Tony Pham, was one of the family members Edwards helped escape. Pham cherishes the letter. In 2015, he told an ABC affiliate in Virginia that he carries it with him everywhere, calling it "our document to freedom."
In 2020, during President Trump's first term, Pham served as the acting director of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
This did not sit well with Hughes, who opposes Trump's immigration policies. In an essay for Ms. Magazine, she wrote that her cousin "will fight to block more refugees from following in his own footsteps."
While Hughes said most of her family is conservative, Edwards was "very liberal" and "like a father to me."
"Tony Pham and others who are in his camp have said, 'We came here the right way. And so subsequent immigrants need to stand in line and come the right way, follow the rules,' " said Hughes. "And so I was just pointing out the fact that this letter has a lie in it."
Hughes said she's reached out to Pham numerous times but never received a reply. Pham did not respond to NPR's requests for comment.
Break bread together despite your differences
The estrangement from her cousin hasn't discouraged Hughes from bringing people across the political divide together, something she's been doing since 2016.
Shortly after Trump was elected, she hosted the first of many dinners at her home in Washington, D.C., inviting an equal number of Republicans and Democrats. At first there were three of each. The dinners were so successful, Hughes started holding them at larger venues to allow for more people.
"The first one was absolutely wonderful, even magical," said Melissa Canadas, a Republican who has attended some of the dinners. She said each one began with guests breaking bread together, symbolizing that, "We're all on the same level."
Canadas said she was eager to talk to people on the other side of the political divide and debunk the idea that all Republicans are "extremists." She said Hughes created an atmosphere where everyone felt comfortable. "The only way to get connection is through empathy."
A Vietnamese American performance to commemorate the end of the Vietnam War
Until recently, Hughes was a social practice resident in the Kennedy Center's Social Impact division. One of her projects was curating a cabaret-style show featuring all Vietnamese American artists called Saigon By Night. Hughes said it was inspired by Paris By Night, a popular direct-to-video variety show produced by and for the Vietnamese diaspora that began in the 1980s.
After President Trump took over the Center, Hughes got a call from a staff member asking if she would remove or modify a five-minute drag performance. Hughes declined. Shortly thereafter, the Kennedy Center listed Saigon By Night as "cancelled by artist." Hughes said she did not cancel it.
"I wanted to showcase Vietnamese American artists on the Kennedy Center stage. So it feels hurtful that they would say I would want to cancel it. They canceled it," she said. A few weeks later, the Center's Social Impact Team was dismantled.
Anthony Le, the artist scheduled to perform in drag, said Hughes involved all of the performers in the decision not to eliminate his act. "The group really rallied together," to support him, he said.
Le, who has worked with Hughes on numerous projects, said he's benefited from her passion for communicating across differences. She encouraged him to talk to his parents about his sexuality and to ask them about having to flee Vietnam in 1975, topics they had never addressed.
"That's something I've shied away from," said Le, "and she's told me to speak up and to enjoy the uncomfortableness of that."
Le said his parents "responded with love and curiosity" when he came out, an experience that inspires the Saigon By Night drag performance. He said he's still learning about their journey to the U.S. 50 years ago.
"In a lot of ways, it's very natural for people to think in terms of good and evil. But you need to talk. Compromise, ceasefire, treaties, all these things happen when you talk to each other. And I just learned that from Philippa," said Le.
Philippa Hughes has seen firsthand how mistrust and bitter divisions can destroy families and countries. It's why she says she's on a mission to "repair the social fabric of our country through connection and relationships."
And it's through her connections that she's been able to secure another venue for Saigon By Night for the fall.
Ciera Crawford edited this story for audio and digital. Chloee Weiner produced the audio story.
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