Journey to her roots: The story of a French-Vietnamese woman

That day the two-year-old suddenly disappeared, and Bertrand and Martine, her adoptive parents, searched their entire home in Toulouse, only to find her sleeping outside under a table on a gravel floor.

The little girl, not even two years old, had been adopted from an orphanage in Vietnam. In her early days in France, she struggled to adjust to sleeping on a bed with a mattress and blanket, bathing in a tub and dressing warmly.

"I still have a habit of hiding food because I fear being left with nothing," she says.

Naomi (far right) with her adoptive mother and two older brothers. Photo courtesy of Naomi

Growing up, she received great love from her adoptive parents and two foster brothers. From an early age she excelled academically and showed artistic talent, earning acclaim in dance and children's beauty contests. Her curiosity drove her to explore everything, but deep down, she wanted to prove that her adoptive parents had made the right decision.

"I was afraid of being abandoned again," she recalls.

Because of this fear, she refused to attend the Vietnamese language and culture classes her parents arranged for her. She convinced herself that she would never return to Asia, only befriended white people, and even considered cosmetic surgery to remove her Asian features.

At 18 she traveled to Taiwan to study languages. During her time there, an internal "battle" over her identity began. She struggled to reconcile whether she was French or Vietnamese, frequently reflecting on her past and wondering about her biological family. "Are my birth parents still alive?" she would often ask herself.

Naomi (Pham Thi Hoa) sits on her biological mother’s lap, next to her biological father and sisters in a photo taken around the early 1990s. Photo courtesy of Naomi's family

She set herself a goal of finding her family by the time she turned 25, hoping to her stabilize her career by then. In 2019, while working in Hong Kong, she contacted the Vietnamese consulate there to seek assistance in locating her biological family, but received no response. The Covid-19 pandemic forced her to put her search on hold.

"During those years my desire to return to my roots grew stronger. But so did my fear that I might never find my birth parents as they might have already passed away due to old age."

In 2023 Naomi met a French-Vietnamese teacher named Sang in Singapore. After hearing her story Sang offered to help, and they planned a trip to Vietnam in June 2024.

But in early May Naomi’s story, along with a photo of her family of six, was suddenly shared on social media. Shortly after, the police in Hien Van Commune, Tien Du District, Bac Ninh Province, contacted Nguyen Thi Men’s family to inform them that their daughter, now living in France, was looking for them.

It turned out that Sang had discreetly reached out to various contacts, eventually finding Naomi’s family, and kept the entire process a secret to avoid raising Naomi’s hopes. When Naomi heard the news she asked Sang to confirm it five times before breaking down in tears.

A few days later Sang informed Naomi that she could not accompany her to Vietnam. The news left Naomi disheartened. Vietnam was then an emotionally overwhelming place for her. "I could not face the psychological trauma I had accumulated over 30 years without my friend’s support," she explains.

The visit plan was postponed. But in mid-July Naomi was invited to the launch of a fashion and cosmetics brand in HCMC, and this time she was determined to face her fears.

At 11:25 p.m. on July 17 Naomi opened a messaging app, entered her eldest sister Hien’s phone number, and sent a long message: "Hello, my beloved sister! I’m Pham Thi Hoa, your younger sister..." The response was immediate. The two sisters exchanged messages with the help of a translation tool until the following morning.

On July 22 Naomi traveled to her birth family's home. Her car arrived at a village more than 30 minutes away from Bac Ninh city. Nervously clutching a letter she had written to her mother, she handed it to her eldest sister to give to their mother to read first.

Moments later, Naomi entered the house. The first thing she saw was the altar with her father’s photo - the same man she had seen in a picture her adoptive parents had shown her throughout her childhood. Her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to breathe.

Her sister pointed to a room on the right, telling her to meet their mother there. After taking a moment to calm herself she knocked on the door. Silence filled the air. Then, suddenly the door opened, lights came on and cheers erupted.

In front of her were many faces - people holding flowers, cakes and clapping. Everyone was filled with joy and tears. Her mother stepped forward and hugged her. Naomi was overwhelmed. She received a much warmer welcome than she had ever imagined. "I wanted to surprise them, but in the end, they surprised me," she says.

Hoa (Naomi), in the pink dress with her birth mother and three sisters standing in front of their father's altar on the day of their reunion, July 22, in Bac Ninh, a city 30 kilometers northeast of Hanoi. Photo courtesy of Naomi's family

Her adoption story gradually unfolded. In the early 1990s her family was the poorest in the village. Her father suffered from a severe heart condition, unable to speak or walk. Her mother, Men, had to care for four children while also paying for her husband’s medical treatment. With no other option the family sent Hoa (Naomi) to an orphanage.

At that time, Martine and her husband, who had some Vietnamese heritage, had longed to adopt a less fortunate Asian girl. After two years of paperwork, the orphanage recommended Hoa. When Martine first saw her, she immediately fell in love with the little girl with golden hair.

Before taking her home, they visited the village and witnessed her biological father’s deteriorating condition in their small house made of earthen walls. Men recalls the day her daughter left for France as also the day her husband passed away. "There has been no greater pain than having to part with my daughter while also losing my husband," she says.

The family’s poverty forced Naomi’s eldest sister to leave school early and work as a housemaid to support the family. The second sister studied up to high school and later worked abroad in Taiwan. Thanks to the sacrifices of her two older sisters, the third sister was able to attend university.

"It was only then that I understood the difficult and painful decision my parents had to make—to send me away in the hope of giving me a better life," Naomi says.

In a letter to her mother before the reunion, Pham Thi Hoa summarized her journey to find her family and expressed her desire to "write a new chapter together." She plans to spend more time exploring Vietnam, engaging in charitable activities, and fostering connections between her homeland and French fashion brands. "My adoptive parents are about to retire, and the idea of bringing both families together fills me with joy," she says.

For many years Naomi has participated in humanitarian efforts around the world. Recently she has been busy in Singapore organizing a charity event to raise funds for victims of Typhoon Yagi and plans to return to Vietnam in early October to support them.

"Now, I can finally begin my journey of healing."