A Lesson in Forgiveness from the Killing Fields

"“There’s a saying in the Khmer language: ‘If a mad dog bites you, you don’t bite it back.’ If you do, it means you are mad, too.”

Chum Mey

In the winter of 2019, during my junior year of high school, my mother announced that our family would be taking a trip to Asia for our upcoming summer vacation. When she proposed the trip, I insisted that we visit Cambodia to see the Killing Fields, where the Khmer Rouge had

executed 17,000 people between 1975 and 1979.

While most people wouldn’t consider this site a vacation destination, I’d been preoccupied by the Cambodian genocide ever since seeing the film “The Killing Fields.” As I watched the movie, I couldn't get over how brutal and systematic this atrocity was. How can people commit such heinous acts? Why do genocides keep happening when countries vow “never again”? Why did other countries turn a blind eye as innocent men, women and children were being murdered? What do genocides reveal about human nature? Former members of the Khmer Rouge now running Cambodia claim they were “simply following orders,” but how can someone justify mass murder by asserting that they were only doing their job?

When we arrived that summer at the Killing Fields, it was eerily quiet. There were very few visitors and the grassy countryside seemed almost deserted. The first thing that caught my attention was the Choeung Ek Monument, a massive glass tower containing multiple stories of skulls. I walked up to the monument and gazed at the thousands of bleached white skulls, most bearing traumatic wounds, which stared silently back at me. These skulls, exhumed from the mass graves that lay directly behind the memorial, represented only a fraction of the people who were murdered in the Cambodian genocide.

As my family and I walked quietly around the area, I noticed something peculiar. Human bone remnants were poking out from the ground, decaying, but still visible. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to clean them up? It was both irking and surprising to see these fragments. I pointed them out to my family and they all had the same reaction to these small white remnants which seemed almost hidden until you looked closely. We were careful to look down at where we stepped so we wouldn’t traipse over these bones. I also passed a seemingly ordinary tree which I later learned was the site where, 45 years ago, countless infants met their violent deaths. The babies were bashed against the trunk of the tree as their mothers were forced to witness the unthinkable.

As painful as it was to learn the harrowing details of the Cambodian genocide, the trip gave me the incredible opportunity to hear firsthand from the genocide’s survivors. As we were exiting the Tuol Sleng Museum and getting ready to leave the Killing Fields, I met Mr. Chum Mey, who is one of seven adult survivors out of the over 18,000 people killed in the Tuol Sleng prison. He was sitting serenely at a table just outside the museum’s entrance, selling his book, Survivor: The Triumph of an Ordinary Man in the Khmer Rouge Genocide. I had read about his story in the museum and had marveled at how he was able to forgive the people who had murdered his wife and son and move on with his life.

Meeting him in person was even more extraordinary. With the help of his translator, I thanked him for his resilience and bravery and told him how inspiring his story was. He smiled and responded, “While it’s hard to forgive those who have destroyed everything important in your life, forgiveness is the best way to move on from traumatic experiences and live a peaceful life.”

The last couple of years, witnessing the sharp rise of anti-Asian hate crimes in our country, I’ve thought a lot about Mr. Mey’s words to me. As a Chinese-American, it’s been extremely difficult and heart-aching to see members of my community being physically assaulted and verbally harassed simply due to their race. It’s saddening to hear about the racial taunts and harassments my friends have been subjected to. It’s especially frustrating to see the perpetrators not being held accountable or these incidents not being deemed as hate crimes, however clear the evidence.

But I know my anger and frustration won’t end the violence and hate. As Mr. Mey says, hatred cannot be solved by more hatred. And so I strive to gather and build strength within my community to rise up against these acts of hatred, speak out, and spread awareness. Mr. Mey’s courage, wisdom, and dignity inspire me to live every day with kindness and appreciation. It’s difficult to forgive the perpetrators of these anti-Asian hate crimes, especially when they continue to promote violence and harm. I don’t think I’ve attained forgiveness yet. However, I believe trying to forgive and not quite succeeding is better than allowing our anger and hate to fester. Rejecting anger and hate and, instead, finding peace and strength in one’s community is essential and, in Mr. Mey’s case, truly remarkable. His story reminds me that it is always possible to transform a negative experience, no matter how terrible, into a story of resilience and faith.

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Aimee Catherine is a first-year at Yale University who is interested in studying the humanities. Her YouTube channel documenting her life has over 6,000 subscribers. You can subscribe to Aimee’s channel here and follow her on Instagram @aimeecatherinee!

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