Starting at the Origin
The Flexed Back Fingers

Changol: My right index finger points to the ground, imitating the plantation of a new seed. Slowly, I point upward to the sky, imitating the transformation of the seed, growing roots and forming into a tree.
At the age of nine, I enrolled in my first dancing class after watching delicate dancers performed Khmer Classical Dance on TV. Since then, I have been a practitioner of that ancient and sacred dance form of my Khmer descendants. Every single day, the chhing sound of the finger cymbals chimes through my headphone and echoes in my ears from the Khmer classical songs. Simultaneously, there is the high-and-low-pitched voice of the singers, narrating the tale of angels. Listening and dancing to this music, I feel as if I am pilgrimaging to sthansuokr, the sacred place where I can offer my prayers of beauty, love, and peace to all the Tevoda, past dancers, and Preah Kru (sacred teachers). Khmer Classical Dance is the essence of my identity, my “Khmerness.”
Lea: My four fingers bends backward, and my thumb bends forward. I am a tree, growing out my leaves and reaching for the sunlight.
One evening not so long ago, I saw myself standing in front of the mirror. My reflection looked back at me; he was wearing a folded crimson garment known as somput bot, a set of glittering jewels, and a gold pointed crown, symbolic of the great era of Angkor. At that moment, my back arched. My knees bent. My toes curled. My fingers flexed back and my elbows flexed up. Moving slowly side to side, I mimicked the fluidity of water and the impression of a serpent — a celestial nymph conveying the beauty and immortality of the earth.
“What are you doing?”
My younger sister stood behind me, frowning.
“Do you want to be a girl?”
Her words paralyzed me. I started hyperventilating. My flexed-back fingers no longer bent; instead, they quivered. Fear rushed through my veins uncontrollably. The ching sound stopped echoing in my ears and my hands fell to my sides.
After the tree grows its leaves, can it continue to flourish itself and grow its flowers?
With this, and a million other moments I have experienced in response to my dancing, I have questioned who I truly am. I know expressly that it was not my sister’s fault; I assume it was just her misunderstanding, but I was confused. I felt that I had been teleported into a dark hole, losing the courage and optimism to dance. I felt as if I lived in expectations of my community instead of my reality. I felt as if I was not dancing to express and celebrate my cultural identity, but dancing in defiance of it.
In ancient Cambodia, dancing originated for both male and female dancers, who were known as the “living bridges” between heaven and earth. Throughout time, society started to discourage males from dancing because of the societal stereotypes placed upon gender: dancing is for girls. Now, Cambodian society is persistent in trying to preserve the culture of Khmer Classical Dance, but it allows for only women and girls to dance. But how will our culture be preserved when this gender-bias is involved? Why must my gender restrict my relationship with my culture? Why can’t I dance, too?
Chhib: My index finger and thumb touch each other, and my remaining fingers bend backward — the gesture of a flower.
So, I decided: I can. I will not stop dancing. Dancing helps me discover part of my identity and through it, I celebrate my culture. I will not let the contradiction of society stop me and other silent seeds from dancing because denying this ability is the same as stripping away my cultural identity, my “Khmerness.” The tree that already grew its leaves now has to keep flourishing and grow out the flowers.
Khuong: My middle finger touches the thumb, forming a circle and my remaining fingers bend backward — the imitation of a fruit.
This is my time to transform my Chhib into Khuong. My time to absorb the Khuong’s power, to break all the gender stereotypes and cultural barriers surrounding Khmer Classical Dance. My time to shout my glorious aspirations and fearless love of my culture to the universe because I am the seed that keeps growing into a tree until my fruits flourish.
From now on, this is the cycle of my journey. Soon my fruits will drop their seeds and new trees will thrive and be the next generation of dancing warriors.
Seasons of Migration: My Life Elixir
Since last year and the past four nights, I had the opportunity to train and perform in a masterpiece directed and choreographed by Master Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, an artistic director of Sophiline Arts Ensemble, called “SEASONS OF MIGRATION.” The four part classical choreography (Euphoria, Rejection, Adjustment, and Equilibrium) is about the psychological experience of culture shock. The production was an awakening call and a reminder to my experience. It is a work that is too personal to me, and I wish to hold it in my heart forever.

The symbolic gestures of Euphoria. Dancers: Srey Run, Khun Chay, Than Venghour, Morn Sopharoth, Li Na, Seourn Chamroeun, Ean Si Nin, Path Reaksmey, Inn Serey Vibol, Dy Puthik | Photo: Florent de Warren
Euphoria: Almost three years ago, in August 2021, my foot stepped on what I was told was the “land of dream” for the first time. Landed at the JFK airport in the afternoon, carrying my two luggages, and checking through the security, I kept staring blankly at my passport, “Kingdom of Cambodia” and the white paper that says “F1,” bolded and capitalized. For one moment, I felt stuck between these two proofs of identification, contemplating who I am and who I am about to be when I leave the airport for my school, Trinity College. The immensity of the airport somehow measured up to 1,4096 kilometers between me and my home. But it also described what was happening inside me, a hollow feeling that was, ironically, full of all sorts of emotions.

The deities are landing in a new land and pointing at the way of people moving they have never witnessed before. Dancers: Srey Run, Khun Chay, Than Venghour, Morn Sopharoth, Li Na, Seourn Chamroeun, Ean Si Nin, Path Reaksmey, Inn Serey Vibol, Dy Puthik | Photo: Florent de Warren
I remember the College’s shuttle brought me and other international students to the campus in Hartford, Connecticut, which was about three hours away from JFK. From the window that afternoon, I saw the skyline of New York City looking like a tiara dropped from the sky — glittering and dense. I arrived at Trinity campus and was suddenly amazed by its vastness and beauty — the school buildings, the dormitory, the dinning hall, the classrooms, trees, fields, and students. Everything was built different from where I am from. Later on and once school started, I made new friends, and traveled to NYC, Boston, and other places for the first time, slowly blending myself into the culture. A friend there even said, “Venghour, you picked up the walking pace of NYC, you are now American.” Everything was euphoric. It felt right.
Rejection: When the Christmas break arrived, I realized I couldn’t travel home. As a middle class from Cambodia, I could not pay a round-trip ticket for the break. At the same time, I could not afford to do the visa process all over again. Unfortunately for Cambodian students with an F1 visa, the visa is only valid for 3 months with two times of entry permitted. This hardship says that we could not travel to other places, if we would love to, because the visa would be expired while we are still studying. Another document called I-20 is the paper holding our status as international students while we are there when my F1 visa is expired. However, its power is not equivalent to F1, and it is not a visa. If I leave the US during the winter, I would have to redo my visa, which causes a lot. Not to mention, other international students, their visa status was far more superior of having more than one-year expiration and multiple entries (more than two). I started to worry and asked myself, “Why mine wasn’t like them?”
I also was mad when hearing my friends, who were international students and locals, said they will visit their relatives in Boston, California, and somewhere else in the US. I asked myself, where was I supposed to go? Why didn’t I have any relatives here? It was at this moment, I wished I could change something about myself. To the extreme, I wished I was born here in the US, so I could have the privilege to visit my relative during the Christmas break or any break. Trinity actually provided housing for international students to stay on campus. One thinks it is wonderful, and it is better than nothing. I have to agree that it is better than nothing. However, would staying in your dorm room on a dead campus when the snow is falling, temperature is cooling down, you are thinking about your family far away in Cambodia and imagining the non-existing family you would love to visit in the US, is a decision you would choose? Probably not. So in this intense moment of separation and loneliness, I wanted to be like them (the students who can visit their family).

Neang Neak (The Naga Queen) is pulling her own tail from self-hatred. Dancer: Mot Pharan | Photo: Ana Ma
Adjustment: Three months into the spring semester, the snow slowly disappeared. Trees and flowers on the campus were resurrected, green, and colorful. The sunlight shines again across the green field on campus like the one I saw in the Fall when I first arrived, after long months of waiting and hibernating, (for me, surviving) in gloomy clouds and the cold temperature of the winter. Everything seemed greatly encouraging and inspiring. I, like those green trees and colorful flowers, stood tall and continued to walk towards for my future — getting the degree and making my parents proud. One week prior to the finals, I applied to and received a dance residency opportunity in Vermont for the summer, and the excitement was too real to expand my world in the place I was not confident to call home. The residency was also where my College’s head of dance and theater department used to serve as a director in his earlier career.
But one night, I received a call from my father.
“I need you to be ready for what I am about to say. You hear me……….There is no hope for Ma.”
“I need to go home, Pa.”
“No, stay there. Don’t come back. Go and join your residency. I will take care of everything.”
“But Pa…”
He hung up. I sat in the dark in my dorm room. I didn’t know how to decide whether to go home or stay. Do I choose my mother or dance?
I chose my mother. I came back to Cambodia and had my last moment with her. Ma, I hope you are reading this. I didn’t get to tell you this story.

Amari (at the center) points with anger at the shadows (the past) that keeps chasing her while the lights (the future in golden apearels) stares at what is happening. Dancers: Ean Si Nin, Inn Sereyvibol, Sot Sovandy, Srey Run, Imara, Li Na
Equilibrium? Until today, it has been almost a year that I took a gap year from Trinity. I would not dare to claim that I have found the equilibrium point of my life and my identity. However, I have to say that during the journey described above, I always watched SEASONS OF MIGRATION, both the dance and the documentary about it explained by Master Sophiline herself. On days I wanted to give up, the dance was my beam of hope. I felt I was home. I was an admirer of her work, and this year, 2024, I got to perform on stage the magic that cured me and keeps curing me. Life just comes in full circle, and I believe the past four nights were the Equilibrium point of my life.
In less than two months, I am returning to Trinity. After the performance while I was taking off the costumes and removing my makeup, I said to myself out loud in my mind, “This time going back, it won’t start at Euphoria again, Venghour. It will begin at the Equilibrium and forever forward.”
Like what Master Sophiline said at the end of the show, tears coursing down her cheeks after thanking the audience and her teachers who supported her in this creation and looking at all of us the performers, “TIME TO RISE.” In that moment, everything in the theater was simply balanced. It was the most perfect concluding words for SEASONS OF MIGRATION and for me to keep repeating to myself when I am far away from home again.
Thank you, SEASONS OF MIGRATION, Master Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, teachers, dancers, and the audience. I am indebted to your healing power.

Lord Vishnu and Lord Shiva join together and be “HariHara.” Dancers: Phal Lyseavlong, Kheang Panha, Chouy Chay, Phal Oudom, Chok Borin, Selbot, Karona Somnieng, Tep Vannsopheaktra | Photo: Dy Puthik

Lord Vishnu and Lord Shiva join together and be “HariHara.” Dancers: Phal Lyseavlong, Kheang Panha, Chouy Chay, Phal Oudom, Chok Borin, Selbot, Karona Somnieng, Tep Vannsopheaktra | Photo: Ana Ma
Seasons of Migration started in 2004, and on the third night of the recent performance, June 8th, 2024, was marked as the 20th anniversary for the work, and it was also Master Sophiline’s birthday celebration. The four nights of performance were our gift for her and our deep, sincere gratitude to her work and the dance masters and musicians who opened the path.
Connecting the Unfamiliar with Familiar
The essay is gratefully published by Trinity College in Trinity College Digital Repository in 2023.
Citation: Than, Venghour. Connecting the Unfamiliar with Familiar. Trinity College Digital Repository, 2023. Trinity Student Scholarship. Trinity College Digital Repository, JSTOR, https://jstor.org/stable/community.38594017. Accessed 5 June 2025.
I admit it. I had never read Shakespeare until last month. I was afraid of his work; I heard it was difficult. Finally, as a sophomore who recently declared his major in English, I read The Merchant of Venice. It is common that students, especially in America, have read at least one Shakespeare play in high school. In fact, all of my peers in class read Shakespeare in high school. The Merchant of Venice, as agreed upon by the class, is an anti-Semitic play with explicit discrimination, violence, and injustice toward the Jewish citizens. The sensitive theme gives my peers the chance to reflect on their high school self and ask whether students at that level should read the play. A Shakespeare scholar, Ayanna Thompson, in an interview staunchly says, “No.” Well, I am Khmer, a 19-year-old boy who grew up in Cambodia. My high school experience is not at all the same as my peers. I studied at a project-based learning school called Liger Leadership Academy. There, teachers are called “facilitators.” The students are encouraged to engage global issues within their classrooms to understand themselves and the community in which they live. So, I ask a different question than my peers. Should students at Liger read Merchant? How is the play relevant to my school in a country where English is not the first language? Without further ado, I state my position: Yes, Liger students should read the play, however with a pedagogy that helps with contextualization. From this perspective, I re-discover the play in connection to Cambodia’s tragedy with the Khmer Rouge genocide in 1975 to 1979.
Anti-Semitism is a sensitive topic. You would think that it is challenging for high school students to comprehend, but I believe it is crucial for teenage learners to see that violence and discrimination still exist today. The Merchant of Venice is a Comedy set in 16th-century Venice, with a villain named Shylock whose Jewishness leads to his ostracism. A pound of flesh is the revenge the audience witnesses when reading the play. Shylock desires to cut Antonio’s flesh as the merchant fails to owe the money agreed in their bond. CC Bennett, my classmate, wrote, “Due to the subject matters that encompass this play and the lack of understanding that most high school students have on these topics, I do not think that The Merchant of Venice should be read at the high school level” (Personal communications 29 March, 2022). In her response, Bennett worries that students’ maturity level is not capable of carrying the play’s complex issues in a conversation such as xenophobia and racism. Although I agree with her concern about students’ “lack of understanding” towards anti-Semitism, I would not prevent students from reading the play.
Yes, I see that in the entire play, Shylock is always referred to as “the Jew” by every character. Shylock fumes to Antonio, “You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog, / And spit upon my Jewish gabardine, / And all for use of that which is mine own” (I.iii.108-110). Antonio’s statements and action are undoubtably anti-Semitic and heavy in the dehumanization. I had a conversation with Caroline Bell, my school principal and former English facilitator at Liger, about high school students’ maturity. She states: “let’s talk about these things [anti-Semitism, racism, and discrimination] and maybe kids won’t be such bullies because they will be reckoning with these themes in a classroom space” (Personal interview, 31 March, 2022). She also emphasizes that there are many texts about anti-Semitism, sexism, racism: “those are things people are going to face, why not read about it. Reading about someone who is anti-Semitic isn’t going to make you antiSemitic if you’re thinking about it critically and processing it.” Therefore, reading Merchant within the context of contemporary issues eventually sharpens the students’ consciousness about antiSemitism and their capability to have conversations about the heavy topic after high school.
As I critically read and process the play, I respond to Ayanna Thompson’s “no.” Her disagreement is self-contradicting. She stakes her argument by asking educators how well prepared and “comfortable are you dealing with this long history with anti-Semitism or racism, misogyny?” However, she wrote a book called Teaching Shakespeare with Purpose: A StudentCentered Approach, assisting educators with non-conventional pedagogy for 21st century learners. She encourages educators to eliminate the “congealed interpretation” of Shakespeare and to ensure that the playwright’s works and their meanings connect with the reality today (Thompson 17 and 4). Thompson wrote the book that fundamentally prepares the kinds of teachers she thinks the play demands. Reading Merchant with context of the play’s historical setting and the context of contemporary problems ignites students’ awareness as responsible and mature individuals.
At this point I would like to raise another objection inspired by the skeptic in me. He feels that I have not been answering another question. Why should Liger students read Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice to learn about anti-Semitism instead of other plays or texts by other authors who also address the theme? After many conversations with my Khmer friends from Liger, I am touched to see the play’s specific speeches reflect my country’s experience of genocide and ethnic discrimination. Shylock’s famous line “Hath not a Jew eyes?” (III.i.55-56) speaks of the victims’ vulnerability and agony, echoing the sentiments felt by the Khmer community—my parents, relatives, teachers, etc.—as they experienced the aftermath of the Khmer Rouge genocide. Furthermore, Portia’s speech on mercy illustrates the survival of the victims, redefining the genocide’s devastating legacy in the nation.
Being ill-treated, Shylock holds on to the agony that I see shared with the genocide survivors. In the 1970s, in Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge--a group of radical Communists--took over the country. They wanted to eliminate all forms of elite culture. Khmer citizens suffered and were forced to endure family separations, backbreaking labor, torture, and malnutrition. A third of the population died. Khmer children and adolescents were indoctrinated and trained to be soldiers for Angkar or the organization (the Khmer Rouge leaders). They were taught to hate the Vietnamese, dehumanizing them as cockroaches for taking Cambodia’s territories. Ma lost both her parents and brothers at the age of two. Pa lost his father. As a Khmer classical dancer, I was told by my dance teacher that 90% of Khmer dance artists died. Looking back at Merchant with the tragedy, I can see Ma, Pa, and my dance teachers as Shylock who can literally hold a knife or an ax to take “a pound of flesh” from the Khmer Rouge soldier whom they caught. An eye for an eye, as my peers and I said in class about Shylock.
Last year, I was a part of a dance performance called A Bend in the River that speaks about revenge. The choreographer Sophiline Cheam Shapiro said to Khmer Times, “I remember one time when we were just rescued from the Pol Pot [Khmer Rouge] regime. People in my village executed Khmer Rouge soldiers out of their anger and frustration. I asked myself whether I should do the same thing because those soldiers killed our loved ones. I, myself, lost my father and my two brothers” (Thyna). As Shylock painfully emphasized, “And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” (III.i.63). My parents and dance teachers’ laments mirror Shylock’s experience, with the same impulse toward revenge. How do you feel when someone kills your loved ones?
At the same time, in Act IV, I find myself in agreement with the message in Portia’s speech about mercy, attempting to convince Shylock to forsake the bond. She asks Shylock to accept mercy, not justice. Of course, many will probably disagree with me because Shylock, as a Jew, is deeply affected by the Christians’ anti-Semitism. “An eye for an eye” will do Shylock justice, but as we know an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. I feel ashamed to disappoint Shylock here, though I am in full support and sympathy for him, but my allegiance with the victim only goes so far. I now understand my parents. Instead of killing the Khmer Rouge soldiers, just like what was done to them, they choose forgiveness, to continue to live. I now understand my choreographer Ms. Shapiro. She “came to learn about turning revenge into a positive attitude from her dance teachers” (Thyna). Khmer dance masters revive Khmer classical dance from ashes of the genocide--one student, one gesture at a time. As an English professor at Havard, Stephen Greenblatt, eloquently expressed in “Shakespeare’s Cure for Xenophobia,” “What you inherit, what you receive from a world that you did not fashion but that will do its best to fashion you, is at once beautiful and repellent. You somehow have to come to terms with what is ugly as well as what is precious.” In other words, he believes that victims of discrimination and injustice possess the power to investigate their experiences as both traumatic and resilient. The genocide is ugly, but what is precious is the future and hope, stolen by the Khmer Rouge, that my parents and Khmer dance artists want to build.
Violence is twice cursed. Ms. Bell explains, “If someone violents you and you back them, you are both losing because you make yourself violent and now someone is weaker for it. You are weaker for their violence, and they are weaker of your violence. You both are perpetrators of violence.” This could be Shylock’s—my parents and teachers’—consequence for taking a pound of flesh. And as for mercy, Portia claims, “it is twice blest” (IV.i.185). You and the other person both receive it. I am proud to say that my siblings and I are the blessing Ma and Pa receive. Their children value the tragic event and learn to be better people so that history does not repeat itself.
My classmates suggest that Portia is a racist character. She is referring to a black suitor, “A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. / Let all of his complexion choose me so” (II.vii.78-79). In other words, “no one of that color will ever win my heart,” says Thompson. Therefore, for what reason do we take her words about mercy when she is racist and punishes men who wished to marry her? The reality is that I do agree with this objection. There is nothing we can say to justify her racism, but my question is: are we here only to see Portia as a one-sided person? Are the soldiers who killed many people during the Khmer Rouge murderers forever? We live in a complicated world with mixed confusion, but that is the beauty. The questions above interrogate Shylock’s character, too, even as he is sympathized with by readers. Imagine he ends up taking Antonio’s flesh: he will become a murderer. Here is where the complication arises. Are we still in the position to protect or sympathize with him? “I think people have more than one side to them. We are all two things at the same time. To say that anybody is just one thing, it is just not true,” Ms. Bell protests. I agree, and it makes me think that Portia can be merciful in one way and unpleasant in another.
I think about the case of the prisoner-actors in the podcast Act V. The prisoners were convicted murders, but in performing a murderous play, Hamlet, they were granted a chance to reflect on their own cases. A prisoner, James Word, who played as Laertes, admits that, “To put a gun in somebody's face, that's an unfair advantage. You know, and that's a cowardly act. That's what criminals are. We're cowards” (Hitt). His confessions add more perspective to my understanding of violence. Ultimately, the host, Jack Hitt, asks an important question, “Are we forever the prisoner of our actions?” My parents and victims of the genocide must have been living their lives by pondering the question before deciding to choose mercy. I sincerely applaud for their continued act of positivity and resistance, which is to forgive and live.
Reading Merchant through the lens of my country’s tragedy, I see the complexity of the play. As Greenblatt puts it, Shakespeare’s work “offers the possibility of an escape from the mental ghettos most of us inhabit.” He means that what Shakespeare provided us as a reader is the opportunity to reassess the complication of being a human from coexisting and conflicting point of views. The majority of Cambodians are Buddhist; forgiveness and mercy are the philosophy we adhere to. To move forward from the genocide and the trauma, showing love and compassion and dropping the desire of a pound of flesh are the way. As the Buddha guides, “Violence is destroyed through detaching ourselves from violence.”
I am beyond intrigued and grateful to read the play that nurtures a never-imagined understanding of my identity and the history I grew up knowing. Reading Shakespeare for the first time in my life, I connect the unfamiliar with familiar: the genocide. From that, I realize that at the place we are afraid to explore, there can be an answer to what happened to us.
Bibliography
Shakespeare, William, and Kenneth Myrick. “The Merchant of Venice.” New York: New American Library, 1965. Print.
Thompson, Ayanna, and Laura Turchi. Teaching Shakespeare With Purpose: A Student-Centred Approach. Illustrated, PDF ed., The Arden Shakespeare, 2020.
Bloomsbury Arden Shakespeare, 2016. “Act V.” This American Life, 20 Sept. 2021, www.thisa mericanlife.org/218/act-v.
Thyna. “‘A Bend in a River’: First Premiere in Cambodia - Khmer Times.” Khmer Times - Insight into Cambodia, 4 June 2014, https://www.khmertimeskh.com/49646/a-bend -in-a-river-first-premiere-in-cambodia/.
Greenblatt, Stephen. “Shakespeare’s Cure for Xenophobia.” The New Yorker, 3 July 2017,
www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/07/10/shakespeares-cure-for-xenophobia.
“All That Glisters Are Not Gold : Code Switch.” NPR, 21 August 2019, https://www.npr. org/2019/ 08/21/752850055/all-that-glisters-is-not-gold.
Bell, Caroline. Personal interview. By Venghour Than, 31 March 2022.
Bennett, CC. Personal response,. Moodle. Accessed 5 April 2022