There’s a stark contrast between the green mountainsides, the red and yellow flag, and the white fog that hides the distance from our eyes. I’m in Hà Giang, a city in northern Vietnam, sipping a salted coffee after our hour-long motorcycle ride to the viewpoint. It’s only the beginning of our three-day adventure throughout northern Vietnam, known as the Hà Giang Loop, but I couldn’t be more excited about coming back to do it again, hopefully with better weather. This landscape, a mix of green, red, yellow, and white, is the palette that will surround me throughout my time here. I hope for some blue skies and a clear view of the valley, but I guess there’s always next time. I can finally breathe, and that’s all that matters.
I think back to the last meal I ate before getting on the six-hour sleeper bus to the hostel: a chicken bánh mì that easily surpassed any attempt of báhn mì I had tried prior. I wonder what the meals on the loop will be like and if I will be seeing any more of that trusty sandwich. As I continue to look into the distance, the color palette of Vietnam comes to life. I start to see the tan of the roads winding through the green, as darkness rolls over us. Maybe I’m just hungry, but the colors remind me of the sandwich I associate with Vietnam. The greenery mirrors that of its cucumber, chili, and cilantro mixture while the light brown resembles the color of its iconic baguette base.
The sky is covered with the whites and darks of the pickled daikon and charred meat; the narrow strips of carrots reflecting the warm shades of the national flag. Little did I know, learning about bánh mì’s history would reveal the complex nature of Western imperialism in Vietnam.
The construction of the sandwich is marked by the arrival of French colonists. Its history offers a glimpse of how globalization and imperialist influences diluted the Asian identity of a concept for the sake of Western acceptance. Initially, bánh mì meant wheat bread (bánh: cake/bread, mì: wheat), referring to the baguette introduced by the French in the mid-1800s. However, this baguette was reserved for the elite, as wheat was imported from Europe. Accompanying the baguette was cheese, butter, duck/goose liver paté, and cold cuts, all expensive luxuries only European colonists could afford.
The century-long period of French colonization introduced Vietnam to the baguette, which became the base of the sandwich; as French presence grew, so did the baguette’s accessibility. Key to this was the inclusion of rice flour in the recipe, creating the bread we are familiar with today. This transition in the bread recipe highlights that the most sustainable decisions utilize a nation’s own resources, something often made inaccessible by Western imperialism. The control of Vietnam’s natural resources, such as rice, rubber, and coal were left to the French, and this neo-colonialist exploitation still occurs throughout Asia, South America, and Africa today.
The end of the French colonial period marked the beginning of bánh mì as we know it. Migrants from the northern parts of Vietnam brought their bread-making strategies to Ho Chi Minh City, a major city in the south, known as Saigon during colonial times. Vietnamese vendors innovated the sandwich to make it more accessible and appetizing for locals, opting for mayonnaise instead of butter, adding pork and seasonings to create a more balanced paté, and replacing the cold cuts with locally sourced grilled pork or Vietnamese sausages. However, the alteration that decidedly transformed bánh mì into what we know today comes from efforts to make the sandwich cheaper and more filling. The addition of pickled carrots and daikon, cilantro, and cucumber added a satisfying amount of textural variety, freshness, and dimension, all of which solidified the sandwich’s position as an unmistakable part of Vietnamese cuisine.
The elevation of bánh mì into an internationally recognizable dish is a result of the United States’ imperialism, primarily through the Vietnam War. The U.S. military joined southern Vietnam to fight against the Việt Cộng, fearing the spread of communism. The war, however, was protested by millions both in the U.S. and Vietnam, and eventually ended in a loss for the U.S.-backed southern troops when northern Vietnamese troops captured Saigon. Physical and economic destruction throughout Vietnam, along with fears of persecution, resulted in almost three million refugees fleeing Vietnam and neighboring countries. Laos and Cambodia were often used by northern Vietnamese troops and were thus ravaged by bombs dropped by the U.S.; Laos is the most heavily bombed nation in history as a result of U.S. efforts to suppress communism.
As refugees resettled in countries such as the United States, Australia, Canada, and France, they brought with them Vietnamese culture. This diaspora introduced the newly redefined bánh mì to an international audience, and the delicately balanced sandwich quickly rose to fame.
Now, bánh mì is a hallmark of Vietnamese cuisine, reclaiming the impact of French colonialism in a way that celebrates Vietnamese heart. Bánh mì represents a form of Vietnamese resistance and resilience against French rule, challenging the narrative that all Western influence leads to westernization. Oftentimes, when the Western world leaves its mark, the origins of concepts, objects, and traditions are forgotten; this relates to the reigning belief that Western colonization is for the better of the country, undermining the exploitation and destruction it caused. The distinction lies in the fact that the West created no seemingly positive change in Vietnam, instead only representing the traumas carried out.
Bánh mì is, simply put, a product of love. It is the love for their country and their citizens that encouraged the sandwich to evolve in a way that empowered Vietnamese heritage. Love for each other prevailed, despite being pitted against one another in a civil war. Bánh mì surviving in spite of this, and being spread around the world after the war, serves as a symbol of unity between Vietnamese generations, and as a model for larger demographics at odds throughout the globe.
In this ever-globalizing world, the sharing of cultures becomes more common, and food is undoubtedly an easy way to facilitate this exchange. Fusion cuisines often bridge political divides between nations, and similarities between rice dishes across the globe foster thoughtful comparisons between cultures. Bánh mì acts as a guide: despite the overwhelming horrors of imperialism, unity between citizens and nations can create a more tolerant and respectful world. The glorification of bánh mì does not erase the immense suffering imperialism caused, but instead forms new connections between conflicting nations as the oppressed fight for their sovereignty. When considering Vietnamese progress, it is imperative to not minimize the agony that Western imperialism inflicted; reducing the East to the few benefits that came from forced globalization reinforces Western supremacy, thus supporting efforts to continue the imperialist patterns.
The sandwich’s survival is a testament to the strength and resilience of Vietnam, and its popularity represents the increasingly connected world that we live in. My own experience visiting Vietnam demonstrates the power of bánh mì; by connecting foreigners to Vietnam and educating them on the history of the sandwich, a glimpse into Vietnam’s fight against imperialism is shared. While I did not eat bánh mì on the loop, every bite of that sandwich I eat now transports me to a world drawn in the same colors that make up Vietnam for me: brown, white, grey, red, yellow, and green.
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