Elk Grove Mayor Steve Ly

When You See Spring’s Bloom, There’s a Promise for the Future

Photo by Beth Baugher.

Steve Ly is mayor of Elk Grove, California. In 2016 he became the first Hmong-American to be elected mayor of a U.S. city. He also works as a juvenile counselor. Before taking part in a Zócalo/The California Wellness Foundation panel discussion titled “What Can California Teach America About Immigrant Integration?” at Capitol Event Center in Sacramento, he spoke in the green room about fleeing Laos with his family, where he takes out-of-town guests, and a mysterious pen that could’ve been made for James Bond.

Q:

Where do you take out-of-town visitors to Elk Grove?


A:

The thing they love most is going to the council chambers. And it was funny, because when I got elected there were many people coming and knocking on my door. They just wanted to see city hall, and see the mayor at work. And one particular night it was pretty late, and there was a visitor from Thailand. And by the time we got to the city of Elk Grove, it was like 11 or 12 at night. And I’d just gotten elected, and I took him to the chamber and turned on all the lights, and it’s being monitored, right? So dispatchers are looking at this in the back, saying, “Oh my god, we’ve got people in the council chambers!” And about five minutes later I’ve got these big, tough officers saying, “What are you doing? Who are you?” And I’m going, “I’m the mayor!” It took a while for them to make the connection. It was kind of humorous, but the visitors were kind of in a panic. And I said, “They’re just doing their job.”


Q:

Was there a teacher or professor who really influenced you?


A:

Rick Talley, a counselor. I think it was ninth-grade, and he really believed in me. Just having a dialogue on a regular basis with me really impacted me. When he’d start to notice that I wasn’t on course he’d really pull me in. He’d say, “I want to be sitting down with you and writing these college applications with you, but you’re not really focused right now.” That in itself made me connect, knowing that there was somebody at the school that really cared for me. But it’s not just one teacher. There was Mr. Ballenger, my U.S. history teacher. I failed his class, and he pulled me in and said, “You know, you have the skills to succeed in there—what is going on with you?” And the following year I aced his class. It made me feel that I needed to step up my game. That’s probably what motivated me to go into the field of working with kids, because I saw that the more assets that you build with young people, the more resilient they will become. And I’m the perfect example of that.


Q:

You seem like a guy who’s really got it together, it’s kind of hard to imagine you otherwise.


A:

Yeah, I’m just an ordinary person who decided to run for public office!


Q:

Do you feel that the struggles you had yourself helped you to work with young people?


A:

It’s good you say that—I’ll share a story with you. Just the other day there was a debate in our city council about transitional housing. We wanted to buy a house and have one additional transitional house in Elk Grove. And we had these community members come in and they were upset because it’s in their neighborhood. I understand and appreciate and respect that. But some of their language and the tone that they were taking was more of, “You know, this Section 8 housing”—they don’t even call it that anymore—“and the type of people that you’ll be bringing into our city are riff raff, and they’re going to cause problems and their kids are juvenile delinquents.” And I was just really affected by that, and I shared something that I hadn’t before. I said, “I lived in Section 8 housing, I lived in government housing. So based on what you said, I should be a drug addict and I should be in prison.” Yet I truly believe that young people need a chance, and this is an opportunity for young people. And if I can do it, I believe that these young people can do it as well. I work in juvenile hall on a day-to-day basis. I see kids that just need a fair chance.


Q:

Every American has an immigration story. What’s yours?


A:

I’m a product of the Laotian theater of the Vietnam War. I’m Hmong ethnically, but I was born in Laos and my father was a Laotian citizen. He joined the military, specifically the CIA army in Laos. Part of his job was to protect the radar installation in northern Laos that guided the bombing runs in Hanoi, and another part was to rescue American pilots, and the third part was to disrupt the Ho Chi Minh Trail. This was the mission for every Hmong soldier. His primary role was to rescue American pilots and he did that for a solid 15 years. After doing that we kind of earned our opportunity to apply for amnesty to the United States. Of course that was after the United States pulled out of Southeast Asia, and the Hmong army was then disassembled, and that’s what prompted the mass exodus out of Laos. My father wasn’t high enough on the totem pole to be air-lifted out of Laos. As a result of that we sneaked through the jungle and crossed the Mekong River. I remember he explained to me that the one thing that he was worried about was these river pilots. There were stories about crossing the Mekong and the river pilots would rob the clients and then just dump the boat, and refugees would be drowning. And so he would tell me this, that he had a pen gun that was issued by the CIA—“What in the world is that, dad, a pen gun? Sounds like James Bond.” He explained it was a pen that had a bullet in it and was used for military purposes, but he said, “I have one bullet.” So I knew that if they were going to rob us, this one bullet was going to kill the river pirate, and then his second job was to rescue me. This was very touching because he saw me as his opportunity to make it in the world; I was the only son during that time. So he said, “I’ll rescue you, and your sisters—I’ll have mom rescue the rest of them.” But the truth is, if that really was to happen, there’s no way my mom would be able to rescue all three of the sisters. When I look at that, I’m like, “I understand, dad. I understand that I represented your hopes and dreams.” So we made it across the Mekong, we made it to refugee camps.


Q:

How old were you?


A:

By the time I got to the United States I was between four and five. We didn’t have an accurate way of recording our birthdays. We went into a refugee camp in Thailand, then made the trip down to Gardena, of all places, because Catholic Charities brought us, and figured they’d locate us close to other Asians. And I was frustrated. I said to my mom, “I see all these other Hmong kids, and they don’t understand a word I’m saying!” They were Korean and Japanese kids. We discovered what food banks were. Our African-American neighbor, a single mom with six kids, she came over and said, “I’ll show you guys how to survive. There are food banks that you can go to.”


Q:

Do you have a favorite season here?


A:

Spring, because of the bloom, and the rebirth. That is a reminder that there is hope. Granted, California itself has terrific weather. But I’m from the Central Valley, I grew up in Clovis-Fresno. And so I always think of spring as an opportunity to see that growth, and to know that when you see the bloom there’s a promise for the future.