Cambodian rapper VannDa: ‘We’re honoring what was lost while creating something new’

I can relate to the feeling. Growing up Cambodian American, I spent quite a bit of time explaining to people that I’m not Chinese (or more often, Filipina) and where Cambodia is. It’s not exactly a “mainstream” Asian country. And if people did know anything about Cambodia, it was probably about the Khmer Rouge. Although it’s been 50 years, the Cambodian diaspora is still living in the shadow of the genocide.

But one of my favorite things about working at a media outlet focused on stories from the Asian and Pacific Islander diasporas is being able to highlight stories from my Cambodian community—especially of those who are working to tell our stories and share our culture beyond Pol Pot’s regime. Because as VannDa puts it, “We are more than our history.”

A long recovery

But it is largely in part due to the aforementioned regime that Cambodian music isn’t well known (even within our community, especially with the younger generations). When the Khmer Rouge took over the country in 1975, killing about a quarter of the Cambodian population, the educated, artists, actors, and musicians were among those who were specifically and systematically targeted in an effort to destroy the country’s culture.

Unfortunately, they were very successful in nearly wiping out Cambodia’s artistic population, as half a century later, the country is still repairing the damage. “A lot was destroyed—not just the artists, but the trust in art itself,” VannDa says. “It takes time to recover from something like that. But now, a new generation is rising. We’re honoring what was lost while creating something new.”

Although he was born in 1997, nearly two decades after the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979, VannDa—who was born and raised in the coastal city of Sihanoukville and now lives in the capital city of Phnom Penh—says its shadow is still around everything in Cambodia. It’s in the way people talk, in what they fear, and in what they remember. “My mom lived through that time,” he says. “Her strength, and her silence, influenced me deeply.” VannDa adds that while the country is making a comeback, with growing cities and rising new voices, they still carry those old wounds. And that duality is a big part of his music. An example of this is his song “Khmer Blood,” in which he raps, “We rise with memory in our veins.”

VannDa admits the work hasn’t been easy, as they don’t always have the resources or support. However, he says, they have the spirit, which is alive in their music, visuals, and storytelling. “We’re not just rebuilding—we’re reimagining,” he says.

From Internet cafes to cultural phenomena

VannDa—who will be performing at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco on July 19—was first introduced to hip-hop and American rap by his older brother. The first song that really hit him was Twista’s 2004 song, “Overnight Celebrity.” After that, he got into other artists including Lil Wayne and Eminem, as well as later artists such as J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar. VannDa, who has always been a writer and student of everything he loves, says the latter in particular is one of his biggest inspirations, and seeing Lamar’s Juneteenth concert, “The Pop Out,” live was an unforgettable experience and “100 percent influenced (his) career and taste.”

During his early days, VannDa used to go to Internet cafes to download FL Studio—a software program used for recording, editing and producing audio files—and experiment with beats. For the self-taught rapper, music became his way of building his own world. “I fell in love with the energy of rap, but I also grew up around Cambodian oldies and pop, so my sound is wide,” he says. “I’ve always tried to blend all of that into something that’s me. I do not limit myself to rap.”

Although rap and hip-hop were already popular in Cambodia before he started making music, VannDa says Khmer-language rap was still new. In the 2000s, hip-hop had a reputation of being linked to gangsters and street life, and wasn’t really accepted by mainstream society, he explains. But by 2016—when he started rapping seriously—artists like Khmer1Jivit and Kmeng Khmer helped localize the genre. Around 2019, hip-hop started dominating Cambodian clubs, tuk-tuk bars and nightlife, and became part of the culture.