Devaki Murch is an Operation Babylift adoptee, a survivor of the April 4, 1975 C-5A Galaxy crash, and the steward of the Operation Babylift Collection. Her Vietnamese birth name is Nguyễn Thị Mỹ Phượng. The 鳳 mark that runs through this work is the Phượng of that name.
She did not set out to build an archive. The archive found her. When it did, every path she had ever followed connected to every other one.
In 2024, Sister Mary Nelle Gage, the last surviving leader of Friends For All Children, the agency through which Devaki was adopted, entrusted her with 33 boxes of original records spanning 1962 to 1975. She did not send them to a university. She did not send them to a government archive. She sent them to one of the children. Her directive was simple.
"Connect as many adoptees as you can."
In Hawaiian, where Devaki grew up, this is kuleana: a responsibility entrusted to you, to carry forward with care. The boxes held more than 4,800 individual documents, photographs, letters, and case files. Together they form the most complete surviving record of the 1975 Vietnamese child evacuation in private hands, and they had been kept, box by box, for fifty years, by one person.
Devaki grew up on Kauaʻi, shaped by an island where identity is layered in tradition, where history is carried in the mind, body, and spirit, and where the ocean connects you to everywhere else at once. She had been born in one country and landed in another. Her history was written in headlines and told by voices on the news. None of it was hers.
She was nine months old on April 4, 1975, when the first Operation Babylift flight went down thirty-eight miles from Saigon. Of the people aboard, many did not survive. Devaki did. The person she is today is not the person who was carried off that aircraft, and she cannot go back to ask her.
For twenty years in the outdoor industry, every time she checked a hang tag that read Made in Vietnam, she said the same thing: Made in Vietnam. Just like me. It was a joke, kind of. But if you looked closer, it was a door, with a hang tag on it. Then the archives opened it.
Among the records is an intake card from Saigon, dated January 26, 1975. It describes a female child, approximately eight months old, fifteen and a half pounds, alert. A name is typed at the top: Mimosa.
The moment a document becomes a mirror, and a person recognizes themselves in history for the first time, is the space where this work lives. My Name Is Mimosa began there.
Process and digitize fragile originals through Love Ethic Archival Practice (LEAP), and secure a permanent institutional home before the records deteriorate further.
Return original files to the people they document, and respond to the generation now coming forward to search.
Build the relational network across all seven streams of Vietnamese displacement, and record the voices of caregivers while there is still time.
Surface what has long been invisible through exhibitions, the Children of War StoryDeck, author talks, and public programming.
Most archives process records as objects. LEAP processes them as relationships. It is a trauma-informed, community-centered framework grounded in bell hooks's principles of love and the Hawaiian cultural values Devaki was raised with: Mālama, Kuleana, Pilina, Aloha ʻāina, Naʻau.
The methodology was built from eighteen months of field practice with the Operation Babylift Collection. Its premise is a posture, not a technique: the archive exists to serve the people it was created about, not the institutions that hold it. It connects the official record, the public record, the personal history, and the shared history, four things that have rarely been in the same space before.
In 2026, the work returned to Vietnam. Not to find anything specific, but to follow the path all the way to its source and see what it looks like from the other side of the mirror. What happens when the variables stop being historical abstractions and become geography you can stand in.
The Made in Vietnam fieldwork carries the Children of War StoryDeck through Ho Chi Minh City, the Mekong Delta, Da Nang, and Hanoi: National Archives II, Tu Du Hospital, provincial courts, the orphanages named in the files, and the places the records came from. It is origins research and archival fieldwork at once, gathering what the boxes could only point toward.
The Secret Ability to Fly → Operation Babylift Collection → Archives in Love and War → My Name Is Mimosa → The Fine Print of Belonging → Made in Vietnam → 鳳 Phượng
However you connect to this history, whatever stage you are at, there is a place for you here.
Connect with the Archive Support the Work