Amanda Nguyen's dream to become an astronaut was put on pause when, in her last semester at Harvard University, she was raped. But she soon will become the first Vietnamese woman in space, and is doing so as a survivor dedicated to helping others.
Amanda Nguyen has called herself a “Civil Rights Astronaut” for many years, even using the title in her social media bios. That was before she knew she was going to space. “When my astronaut announcement was out in the world, I realized, oh, I don't have to change anything about this because I've always been this,” she tells Inside Edition Digital.
Born and raised in southern California, Nguyen says she has always been acutely aware of her Vietnamese heritage. Strong family ties in an area nicknamed “Little Saigon,” she says, “really just filled my childhood with a strong sense of heritage. I knew, one, that I was Vietnamese, and two, I knew the cost of freedom.”
Nguyen’s mother was the first in her family to go to college, but she did not get to finish her education. That made Nguyen’s acceptance into Harvard University a dream come true for her entire family. “That dream turned into a nightmare,” Nguyen says. “I was raped on campus in 2013, my last semester of Harvard.”
That assault altered the trajectory of the aspiring astronaut’s life. After the six-hour rape kit examination, used by law enforcement as evidence in sexual assault cases, Nguyen says she was given information that said the state of Massachusetts could destroy her untested rape kit in six months, despite the statute of limitations being 15 years for rape.
“I lived, because of the criminal justice system, by the date of rape,” she says. “It was five months to destruction of rape kit, three months to destruction, five days from destruction of kit. That was how I lived and how 25 million people lived who have to, because of the stigma that survivors face, hide it, not tell people about it even though we were the ones that were hurt.”
With a Harvard degree in astrophysics, Nguyen’s focus shifted from exploring space to getting justice for herself and for all survivors.
In November of 2014, Nguyen founded Rise, a non-governmental civil rights organization. Its first mission was to rewrite the laws concerning sexual assault survivors.
Nguyen and her team introduced the Sexual Assault Survivor’s Bill of Rights. It guaranteed that a rape kit examination would be performed free of charge, and that law enforcement would hold on to that evidence for the duration of the statute of limitations. It also made sure rape survivors were notified if there was a match to their kit and requires states to let survivors know if their kit is going to be destroyed.
According to Nguyen, it takes 10 to 15 years on average for a bill to pass through the U.S. Congress. “Ours passed unanimously in seven months,” Nguyen says. The landmark legislation was signed into law by President Barack Obama in October of 2016.
The Sexual Assault Survivor’s Bill of Rights passing through Congress led to individual states passing their own bills, giving more rights to the estimated 25 million rape survivors in the United States.
“Rape is about power,” Nguyen says. “It's about taking away bodily autonomy, a base elemental right that all humans have. And to have that taken away can distort self-worth. What are we surviving? It's not only the physical attack, it's the societal and mental trauma attack afterwards in a world that tells us that it's your fault, the victim blaming of survivors.”
The U.S. wasn’t enough for Nguyen and Rise. They had the goal of changing the world, though doing so was as smooth a process as getting bipartisan support in the U.S. Congress in just seven months. At the time, the United Nations had no guidelines for the treatment of rape victims outside of the context of war crimes. A global survivor’s bill of rights gave voice to the kind of violence that can happen during times of peace.
“Our goal, was to create the standard system by which the justice systems of the world have agreed this is how rape survivors should be treated,” says Nguyen. “But more equally, perhaps as important, was making rape a world issue, demanding that world leaders take this issue seriously. Because rape was just swept under the rug as, in a bucket of gender-based violence.”
For Nguyen, lobbying the diplomats from the United Nations was a daunting experience. “How do you go from being a rape survivor, children of boat refugees, to being in a room with heads of states and presidents to talk to them and negotiate for human rights around the world?”
One of the ways Rise courted United Nations officials was through clothing. Activists started by setting up mannequins inside the United Nation lobby. From far away, it looked like an art exhibit, but these were the clothes worn by survivors on the Rise team the day they were raped.
Fashion is one of the things that Nguyen says brings her joy. “During fashion week, the most commonly asked question is, ‘I love your outfit. What were you wearing?’ I remembered I was like, oh, I've been asked these same exact words after my assault. ‘What were you wearing?’ And the same words in one context is empowering, it's your identity, it's what you choose creatively to express yourself. And in the other one, it's blaming you for the violence that happened to you.”
From the mannequins in the lobby grew the New York Fashion Week Survivor Fashion Show. Rise partnered with fashion designers to dress survivors and allies for the runway. “The point was that you didn't know who was a survivor or an ally,” says Nguyen. The organization invited the United Nations diplomats to sit in the front row, leading to 25 countries confirming “yes” votes for the global survivors resolution.
It took six years of organizing and lobbying for the survivors resolution to pass in the United Nations.
“Even though over and over again we were told, ‘It is impossible. It is impossible,’ we proved that impossible is just an opinion," Nguyen says. "And we passed it unanimously.”
According to Nguyen, some diplomats changed their tune after the vote. “There were so many countries that were like, ‘This is never going to happen. This is never going to happen.’ And then at the vote, they were making speeches, ‘We've supported this all along.’"
“I do meet a fair share of survivors who come to me and say, ‘I didn't speak up. I just try to survive,’" Nguyen continues. “And to those people, I'm going to say that is absolutely within your right. You do not have to do this labor to fight the world. Your existence, your health and your happiness is in fact activism in itself.”
Nguyen’s work has garnered high-profile recognition, including a nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize. “There's no doubt that these things helped shine a spotlight on our work, and I am so deeply grateful to them,” she says.
Those accolades are appreciated, but they always bring her focus back to the work ahead. “I think one of the most common questions I get is, ‘Well, where do you go from here? What next?’ And it's always the same answer, ‘The work. The work is next.’ This fight is an intergenerational fight. And I am so lucky as an activist to have fought for my rights, to in my lifetime see these rights pass, and to even see the legacy of its ripple effects,” she says.
Family is a source of inspiration for Nguyen. “My parents are survivors. They survived war. My mom and her siblings are boat refugees from Vietnam. They survived pirates, they survived the refugee camp, they survived the guards as they escaped, they survived a tidal wave storm. So when people ask me, ‘Well, how did you have the courage to take on the United States government or the United Nations to pen your own civil rights into existence?’ I look at my mom and I look at my aunt and I say, ‘If they went through all of that, what's emailing a senator?’”
The dreams of going into space that were put on hold after the attack will come true on an upcoming Blue Origin flight. “I'm going to be the first Vietnamese woman, Southeast Asian woman in space,” she proudly proclaims.
Taking on the mantle of being a role model for others makes Nguyen think of her youth. “I wish that I had someone like me growing up, somebody who lived their life so authentically in both their pain, but also their joy,” she says. “I think that female emotion is one of the most powerful things that exist, which is why it is so highly criticized and regulated.”
Nguyen has gotten justice for others walking through the life altering days after a sexual assault while keeping her dreams in tact. She knows there is more work to be done for civil and human rights. But she has hope. “I think hope is what sustains movements. I do think that hope is a renewable resource”
Much of her hope comes from the people she surrounds herself with. “What makes me hopeful is the teammates that I have at Rise,” she says. “Every single day, there are hundreds of them around the world who are fighting in incremental ways.”
Despite taking on governments and organizing for the rights of herself and others, Nguyen sees true activism in terms of an emotion. “I think joy is the most radical form of rebellion. And that also applies, by the way, to people who don't want to be activists,” she says. “In a world that doesn't want you to be happy and in a world that tells you you shouldn't be happy, the fact that you are is an act of rebellion.
“For all little Vietnamese girls, Southeast Asian girls out there, or anyone who sees me in them,” Nguyen continues. “I want you to know that you can honor all parts of you, both your pain, the justice you seek, and also your dreams because they can all be honored.”
