It was the early afternoon, a gloomy day with bouts of rain and a general mugginess about the air. Even so, no amount of rain or gloom could dampen my excitement for the conversation I was about to have with Markeiz. I’d met him a few times up until then, mostly at our day jobs as English teachers. He’d always been friendly, and from the blips I’d heard about his life prior to Vietnam, it sounded like he had a few stories to share. Then there was the fact that he actually spoke Vietnamese, he was one of those unicorns that had made a serious effort at learning the language and, through trial, error, and numerous sideways glances whenever a Vietnamese person didn’t understand him, he’d reached that golden point when all of them did. As someone who kept talking about learning the language but never actually went through with it, I was as much curious to learn how he’d managed to do it as I was about the rest of his story. We’d arranged to meet at the Coco Ichinbanya in Landmark 81. When I arrived he had a large bowl of curry in front of him, as well as a number of sides which he proceeded to mix into the bowl. He laughed, said this had long been his post-workout meal after hitting the gym upstairs. I ordered a coffee, pulled out my laptop, and for the next two hours Markeiz filled me in on his whole life until that day.
He was born in Rockville, Maryland, a suburb twenty-minutes away from Washington DC. Growing up, Markeiz said his family bounced between lower and middle class, with the biggest blow coming as a result of the 2008 financial crisis. Despite such trying times, he credits his upbringing for making him independent, a characteristic that defines him to this day. However, as is often the case with those defined by their independence, there’s an equal tendency to possess something of a rebellious streak. This rebellion came to the fore after he graduated high school and began attending Penn State. Considered something of a party school, Markeiz—as if trying to live up to the Penn State name—went out non-stop and ended up getting caught for underage drinking. This ultimately led to him dropping out which, as it turned out, would end up being one of the best decisions in his life. It was funny how Markeiz himself recognised this common thread: how whenever it’d seemed like he’d screwed everything up, these mistakes were only stepping stones into a new, better phase of his life. So after dropping out of college, he realised it was time to figure things out. He decided to join the military.
Markeiz started out working in a job called Services. Essentially, this was hospitality for the military with work ranging from managing food and gyms all the way to taking care of VIPs and dead bodies in the morgue. It wasn’t long before Markeiz was shipped to Germany, given his work in the morgue and the fact that whenever a serviceperson died overseas, they were shipped there. Naturally, the work took a toll. Hundreds of bodies would come in every week, and it wasn’t long before Markeiz started questioning the nature of American politics and the industrial military complex at large. After all, the people being shipped to the morgue were his countrymen, but more alarming than that, they were also his peers: was it out of the question to think that one day he might be on the other side of the casket? Moving to Germany as part of the military was the first time Markeiz experienced America’s pearly red, white, and blue facade coming undone. This occurred not only as a result of his time working in the morgue but also when he was out and about in the country. Compared to the States, where he believed people judged each other on factors like skin colour, social standing, and political viewpoints, in Germany he felt he had much more of a chance at making a first impression.
Thankfully, Markeiz’s first deployment in Germany wasn’t all shadowed by death and the shattering of the American dream. He credits this period as one that opened his eyes in more ways than one. For starters, the military quite literally whipped Markeiz into shape and put him on a path of discipline and structure. Long gone were the college days of binge drinking and partying, now that he had a job and a duty to fulfill he found he relished the responsibility. Besides that, the military allowed him to see the world—he visited forty countries (including Vietnam) in six years—which in turn gave him a newfound perspective on humanity as a whole. Constantly exposed to people, cultures, and communities far different from those he grew up with back in Maryland—and yet treated as an equal by many of them—he realised the borders he grew up believing separated people were nothing more than man-made illusions. During our talk, he went as far as saying that he thinks it’s worth every American experiencing being in the military because of the exposure it provides. Doing so may act as a buffer in how divisive Americans have become, given that nowadays it’s even difficult for neighbours coming from differing backgrounds to have a discourse between one another.
Working in the military gave Markeiz a more nuanced view on war and politics. The period could be considered something of a rite of passage as he went from a young, naive teenager to a man who’d been around the world and started grasping some idea of his place inside of it. Needless to say, by the time he was stationed in Korea, the work in the morgue had long since taken its toll. He’d already been disillusioned by Obama—someone he’d initially thought of as anti-war—and once in Korea he was forced to contend with Trump who’d gone on record several times stating how America had troops in Korea that were ready to die. This was news to Markeiz. When did he ever say he was ready to die? This made him come to terms with another grim reality: that at the end of the day, whether America had a Democratic or Republican president, neither party really had the best interest of the individuals actually fighting on the ground. As hard a pill as it is to swallow, you end up becoming something of a number.
While in Korea, Markeiz felt powerless, as if he didn’t have a say in the trajectory of his own life. At work alerts were constant, sirens were always ringing, and he’d come to live in a state of paranoia where death seemed like it was right around the corner. It got to the point where it was hard to figure out a better means of leveling out besides having a drink. Him and his colleagues would go out at the end of their shift, both as a means of celebrating the joy of living out another day and lamenting the fact that they didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. On one such night, Markeiz ended up missing curfew. It was his first and only infraction in the military and despite having only three beers that night, he was slapped with three months' loss of pay, loss of rank from Sergeant down to Airman, and mandatory rehab for six-months. After leaving Korea, he was stationed at multiple nuke silos around the mid-west, from Nebraska, Wyoming, to Colorado. This work offered even more insight into why there’s such a divide in the US—urban and rural America are two completely different worlds, with a gap that widens every year and little connecting the two places and its people together. This was the last job he had before he made the move to Vietnam.
We have to circle back a bit in order to get a clearer picture on why Markeiz came to Vietnam in the first place. It was the first country he could visit after he was punished for curfew violation. His expat friends in Hanoi were very aware of his troubles and the depression that he was coiled in, and so they invited him over on the weekend of his birthday. Little did he know what he was getting himself into. Upon arrival in Hanoi, he was informed that the visa he’d purchased had been bought off a scam website. First he was told he had to leave the country, but after three hours in a holding cell he was finally allowed to buy an emergency visa. From there, he hopped on a taxi but he’d made the mistake of giving his phone to the driver to navigate, so when he was getting things out of the trunk, the driver sped off with his phone. Despite the not-so-warm-welcome into the country, Markeiz said this ended up being one of the best weekends of his life, from the food to the people and the culture itself, Vietnam grabbed a hold of his imagination as it does for so many of us. His second trip to the country was even larger and wilder, hitting Saigon and Da Nang with several friends at which point Markeiz had to ask himself what was stopping him from moving here. Working with the military at the nuke silo offered him the opportunity to teach English on the side, so he’d already had some experience in the field. The deal, at that point, was all but sealed.
From the moment Markeiz arrived in Saigon, he hit the ground running. He already knew a few people who were relatively established in the expat scene. This resulted in meetings with Phúc Mập as well as members of rap crew Ngữ Wave, Troy and Blaise, during his first week in town. Witnessing the spirit of fun that ran through these individuals and their work resulted in the birth of Markeiz’s own desire to start content creation, which might be how you know of him today.
Markeiz also made it a point to learn Vietnamese. His background in the military helped, given that he’d already learned a few languages like German, Korean, and French as a result of his travels. This meant he understood the value of learning a country’s language as he noticed how locals would go from perceiving him as an outsider to someone they could actually be friends with. Initially his Vietnamese lessons consisted of private classes once a week—Progress was slow and oftentimes felt non-existent. This is why when his friend Micka Chu recommended the courses by the University of Social Sciences and Humanities, he was happy to take her advice. Adding onto that the study buddies he began meeting and playing badminton with, as well as the online calls he has with three different tutors who help him understand northern, central, and southern Vietnamese accents, it’s no wonder why he now speaks Vietnamese with the ease of a local. Getting to this level of fluency means that more than anything, Markeiz can stand on his own two feet. He’s stopped having to rely on Vietnamese friends to hold his hand in certain situations, not to mention the fact that speaking the language has given him something of a halo-effect where countless doors have opened for him that otherwise would’ve remained closed. Naturally, this has impacted his content creation. He’s got an ever-growing number of followers on his Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok accounts, boasts numerous collaborations with Phúc Mập, VTV, and AfroViet, and he’s also got several upcoming roles in movies. As is the case with these things, once you’ve struck a nerve, exposure only starts to snowball. While he spoke of the dark sides of this type of fame and a general uncertainty at whether he wants people recognising him wherever he goes, he also wants to use the platform he’s created to broaden Vietnamese people’s knowledge on his identity as a black man. The reality is, he’s aware of people’s stereotypes. He wants to be the voice to change this.
Besides teaching English, learning Vietnamese, and creating content, Markeiz has been involved in several ventures in Saigon. He’s got a bachelors in Business Management (he did this online through free college grants from the military) which has allowed him to work as a consultant for several startups in the city. Markeiz also frequently hosts and MCs for community events like karaoke nights, Blood on the Clocktower murder mystery deduction game nights, and spoken word poetry nights. More recently, a friend needed help setting up an impromptu summer school for a group of Chinese students in the city. Markeiz hopped on board, built out a curriculum that covered the morning and afternoon programs, and even chaperoned during excursions to the zoo and other city-wide locations. He enjoyed the work and was interested in figuring out a way to make a job like that something more permanent, rather than something relegated to summers.
Hearing Markeiz’s story, I was struck by just how much he likes to try things out. You never know what you might enjoy or be good at until you really give it a shot and Markeiz is someone who lives by this philosophy. It’s no wonder why when I asked him about how he’s changed since moving to Vietnam, he responded with the fact that it’s taught him how to be more adaptable. As he put it, in Vietnam you're uncomfortable in the best way possible. The country can be chaotic which often makes you feel like a fish out of water. However, once you get past the discomfort and learn to embrace the chaos, you find that Vietnam gives you countless opportunities to do things you never thought you would before. I understand the sentiment. It’s why Garrett, Aidan, and I started District 0—It actually felt like something we could do. Markeiz went on to tell me how when he returned to the States last year for a short trip, he didn’t think there was much opportunity there anymore, ironic given that it’s hailed as The Land of Opportunity. Contrast that to Vietnam where he believes he’s in a position where he can grow as a person and try a variety of things out, it’s easy to see why he loves the country so much.
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