There’s a saying in Vietnamese, “ngũ long công chúa” — don’t ask me how to pronounce that lol — which means “Five Dragon Princesses.” The phrase describes a household filled with prosperous, independent, and powerful young women.

It’s a blessing, they say. A family gifted with five daughters — a symbol of luck, prosperity, and strength. In Vietnamese culture, people believe they are descendants of dragons, and dragons stand for power, nobility, and authority.

Five daughters is something to be proud of. Something to celebrate.

And then… there’s me.

The youngest.
The only boy.
Maybe the sixth princess.

Growing up with five older sisters was difficult at times. I got picked on, given more attention, given less attention, blamed, yelled at, excluded — you name it.

My father wasn’t very present growing up, and he still isn’t, so my mom and my five older sisters did most of the raising and influencing.

There was just one complication: they didn’t exactly want a gay little brother or a gay son.

It’s hard not to absorb femininity when you’re raised by women. I admired them. I mirrored them. They were the blueprint I had.

By the time I got to high school, all of my sisters were gone — off at college, off building their lives. The house felt bigger. Quieter. Lonelier. So I built my own world in friendships, in classrooms, in places where I could exist a little more freely.

That’s the age when you’re supposed to know what you want to be. I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I just knew where I wanted to go.

New York City.

So I followed that feeling. I went to college in NYC and lived my gay best life. And honestly? I don’t regret the joy I found there. The nights, the friendships, the version of myself I got to meet for the first time.

But now, years later, I’m still figuring out my career and my life. Meanwhile, 4 out of 5 of my sisters have built stable, impressive lives. The two oldest are Optometrists. Two of the others are Physician Assistants. Some of them are married, and the married ones have thriving careers and successful white husbands to match. It’s giving Oxford study.

Also, my closest cousins became Orthodontists and built three practices together as brothers. They’re married. They have kids. They built the life our culture quietly points to and says, That’s the one.

I try not to compare myself, but it’s hard not to when you shared the same roof, the same blood, the same beginnings. From the outside, it looks like everyone followed the map — tradition, religion, honor — and arrived exactly where they were supposed to.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed fully closeted. If I had chosen safety over self. If I had followed the medical path like the rest of them instead of chasing freedom in New York.

Would I be more stable?
More accepted?
More “successful”?

If I had followed their path, would they have helped me more? Supported me more? Maybe my parents would be proud of me and my sisters instead of quietly disappointed in the son/brother who didn’t follow the script.

Damn. If only they didn’t have a gay son. If only they didn’t have a gay brother.

Family is complicated. Vietnamese, Catholic, Republican families? Even more so.

To this day, I’m still not fully out to my family. Maybe I’m waiting for the right person to walk into my life. Maybe I’m waiting for the moment when I’m successful enough to say, Look — the untraditional path I chose still led somewhere good. I made it.

But I’m not there yet.

I made a lot of mistakes in my twenties, and sometimes I wonder if choosing to live openly and freely was one of them. But the more I sit with it, the more I know it wasn’t.

Every messy choice, every heartbreak, every wrong turn shaped the person writing this right now. Without those years, I wouldn’t have this voice. I wouldn’t have these stories. I wouldn’t have this space to reflect.

I’m learning that honoring the family name doesn’t always look traditional. I wanted to follow the path that was laid out before me. I still do, in some ways. But being gay complicates that story in ways my family doesn’t always see or understand.

Still… I’m here. Still figuring it out. Still becoming. Even if I don’t follow their path, I’m still walking toward a life that’s honest.

Maybe I’m not the son/brother they prayed for…but I’m still becoming someone worth loving.

And maybe… still a dragon princess after all.