An alternative story of triumph over trauma
Lam Ho was 6 years old when he came to Brockton from Vietnam. An aunt who lived in Bridgewater sponsored Lam, his sister, and their parents, and they moved into an apartment on a seedy stretch of Main Street. Both parents worked in a factory, and meals were often taken in a local soup kitchen. At one point, nine relatives shared the two bedrooms.
From the start, Lam was taunted by classmates. He spoke no English. His hair was shoulder-length, and because his father had heard that all Americans had curly hair, it had been permed. His clothes were hand-me-downs from his cousins -- all of them girls. ''It was a very traumatic experience," recalls Lam, who is now 26. ''But it helped make me resilient."
But things would get worse before they got better. There was violence inside the apartment and out. His parents fought bitterly and later divorced. On the streets, drug dealers plied their wares. The sound of gunshots were the norm. Lam escaped into books, quickly mastering English and making good grades. ''It's very important in the Vietnamese immigrant community," he says.
At Brockton High School, he was one of the first openly gay students, coming out his sophomore year, in 1994. It was not easy. He was, he says, jeered, trapped in lockers, groped by jocks, and, once, dumped in a trash bin. At a rehearsal for the National Honor Society banquet, he recalls, a housemaster told him, in front of the others, ''to stop walking like a sissy and walk like a man."
Instead, Lam formed the school's Gay-Straight Alliance, got involved in peer leadership, and spoke out about being gay. He joined Amnesty International. He founded the first AIDS community service project at his high school, and served on the city's Teen Council. He volunteered at the local soup kitchen. His junior year, he won a scholarship to study in Denmark, where he lived with a farm family and attended public high school. All along, he worked several jobs, from cleaning toilets to working a cash register and waiting tables.
Lam returned to Brockton High for his senior year, graduating number one in his class. He went to Brown University on scholarships and financial aid, despite his father's wish for him to attend Harvard, where he was also accepted. Lam's coming out shocked and alienated his religious parents and grandparents, but Lam remained close to his sister, Bao.
It was at Brown that Lam feels he really found himself. ''I felt safe there. It really is the place I feel I established myself as a person," he says recently at a coffee shop near his Watertown apartment. ''It was no longer just a constant fight to survive." Lam tells his story matter-of-factly; no self-pity, just facts. His mother, he notes, faced much more adversity. ''She had so much more to survive than I did. I remember even in the middle of winter, she would walk 2 miles to work to save the bus fare, for food for us." His mother, who speaks little English, still works on an assembly line.
While at Brown, Lam also worked nearly full time, and continued his gay activism and community service projects with the poor. An English literature major, he completed his honors bachelor's and master's degrees in four years. He won three academic awards, the Beinecke, Marshall, and
The Point Foundation, the country's first scholarship organization focusing on what it calls ''marginalized lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender youth," is providing substantial financial help to Lam during law school. Many of the Point grant recipients have been cut off by their families; the foundation pairs them with adult mentors.
Lam says much of his drive to achieve comes from ''psychological scars" of being taunted for being gay, and from his family's reaction. ''In my family's eyes, I'm never going to be enough. I'm the eldest grandson, and I'm supposed to carry on the family name. Instead, I disgraced and dishonored my family because I'm queer." The family, he says, still won't discuss his sexual orientation. ''I know one day they hope I will bring home a wife," he says, smiling.
Though he has never had much money, Lam deliberately chose a field where he will not make much. ''I think corporate law is unethical," he says. ''You have people in the US who can't afford food, clothing, shelter, or healthcare, and then you have a small percentage who possess more than some countries have. I don't want to be a part of that."
As a lawyer, he'd like to focus on poverty, immigration, and discrimination -- all subjects near to his heart. Some day, he'd like to be a judge.
His former English teacher at Brockton High, Mark Lincoln, has even loftier ideas for Lam.
''I always thought he could be a Supreme Court justice," says Lincoln, who still teaches at the high school. ''Not only because he's a good thinker, but because he cares so much." Lincoln was the adviser to the National Honor Society, and recalls Lam as a straight-A student.
''He was the first kid from Brockton High School to go to Oxford. He's not just a good student; he's one in a million. He came to this country with nothing, and look what he's done with his young life." Lincoln especially remembers his community service: ''He'd do everything from walking for hunger to working the Channel 2 auction to buying Christmas gifts for poor children."
Lincoln says Lam's coming out at the high school was tough on the boy, and notes that the atmosphere there has changed since Lam helped pave the way for change. ''The new administration is very tolerant compared to the old administration. You even hear announcements in the morning by the Gay-Straight Alliance. It's very different today."
Lam, whose parents still live in Brockton, visits the school from time to time, dropping by to see old teachers and speaking to students about his experiences. He says he is proud to have survived the harassment there and would thank his tormentors, if he could, for giving him his resilience. ''One of the best moments of my life was two years ago when I went back to visit. The Gay-Straight Alliance was flourishing and it made me feel really proud, and gave me an overwhelming sense of hope."
Bella English writes from Milton. She can be reached at 617-929-8770 or via e-mail at english@globe.com. 
