By Rachel Tran
On a crisp fall day, I attended a screening of Minds of Their Own: Migrants in the GDR at Humboldt University’s Center for Transdisciplinary Gender Studies (ZtG) in Berlin. The event took place in the heart of Humboldt University, a respected institution and home to ZtG, a pioneering hub for studying gender issues through global, multidisciplinary lenses. Known for bridging academic research with societal issues, the center provides a collaborative space for students, researchers, and activists to engage with topics like identity, social justice, and historical narratives.
Julia Oelkers and Phuong Thuy Nguyen are the creative minds behind Minds of Their Own, each bringing a distinct background and personal connection to the project. Julia Oelkers, a seasoned journalist and filmmaker, has a history of focusing on themes related to racism, migration, and pivotal events in German history. Her co-director, Phuong Thuy Nguyen, is an education and science consultant with roots in East Germany’s Vietnamese community. An artist and cultural worker, Nguyen’s lived experiences in East Germany fuel her advocacy for political education and the empowerment of migrant and BIPOC communities. Together, they have created a documentary that deeply examines the lives and struggles of migrants in the former GDR.
Minds of Their Own is a web documentary that follows the journeys of migrants who arrived in East Germany as part of intergovernmental agreements with other Socialist countries. The film delves into their personal stories, shedding light on the challenges they faced in adapting to a vastly different society. It reshaped my understanding of migration under Socialist regimes, revealing both the unique opportunities and limitations that defined their experiences.
The documentary reveals that entry into the GDR wasn’t always straightforward. Routes to East Germany varied, often involving familial or political connections, academic scholarships, or even bribes. One interviewee, Nguyen Do Thinh, who was from South Vietnam, shared how his mother secured his placement in East Germany to avoid his drafting into the Vietnam-Cambodia war. Given the Socialist ties between Northern Vietnam and the GDR, this background helped me realize how diverse the migrants’ backgrounds could be.
For many migrants, dreams of education and vocational training quickly met the harsh realities of factory work. Despite hopes of learning new skills, they discovered that the GDR government tightly controlled their job assignments, placing them in labor-intensive industries with little flexibility. Mai-Phuong Kollath, who aspired to a career in tourism, was instead assigned to strenuous kitchen work at Rostock’s port.
Employment conditions were often challenging, with contract workers restricted from leaving their positions voluntarily. If deemed to have broken “socialist work discipline” or faced illness or pregnancy, they could be swiftly sent home. Occasional strikes erupted, such as the one by Vietnamese trainees at the Robur plant, who protested the unmet promises around their training and the poor living conditions.
The documentary also explores the intimate dimensions of the migrants’ lives, revealing how deeply political restrictions infiltrated even personal relationships. Vietnamese women who became pregnant often faced forced choices between abortion or deportation, as their contracts required them to prioritize work and return home upon completion. The Vietnamese government’s demand that citizens marrying Germans repay “education costs” further underscored this lack of personal freedom, as seen in Mai-Phuong Kollath’s story of navigating family pressures to avoid deportation. Yet, love found its way. One woman, Pham Thi Hoai, shared how she would sneak partners into dormitories, defying curfews to spend time with her boyfriend. These relationships, maintained despite prohibitions, stood as acts of resilience, showing that personal autonomy and emotional connection were paramount, even in restrictive settings.
The reunification of Germany in 1990 removed the security and stability that state agreements had once provided. Former contract workers found themselves in legal and economic limbo, as the safety net of state-sponsored jobs and housing arrangements dissolved. Some migrants faced potential deportation simply due to perceived inadequacies or minor rule infractions. It took nearly a decade before many former GDR contract workers could secure permanent residency in Germany, finally achieving the stability they had long sought.
Throughout the screening, illustrations and video clips transported us into the intimate world of these migrants. Hearing Vietnamese accents—both Northern and Southern—brought an added authenticity and connection for me. Their voices and dialects transformed their stories from historical accounts to personal narratives, evoking memories of family conversations and grounding their experiences in a familiar cultural resonance.
Born and raised in Vietnam, I initially viewed those who emigrated to Europe as individuals who left their past behind for a wealthier, better life. But Minds of Their Own revealed the sacrifices they made and the struggles they endured, challenging my assumptions and reminding me of the complexity behind each migrant’s journey. Their experiences highlight the kinship that migration creates, connecting lives across borders through shared resilience, dreams, and the courage to forge new lives in unknown lands.
The documentary can be found here: https://bruderland.de/en/