Why Cambodian New Year Matters to Me

Every April, as the sun marks the beginning of a new astrological year, I find myself pausing—with deep reverence and emotion—for Choul Chnam Thmey, the Cambodian New Year. This time of year has always meant more to me than just tradition or festivity. It is a sacred moment of renewal, remembrance, and cultural pride—a time when I feel most connected to my roots and my family’s story.

A Time of Renewal and Gratitude

Cambodian New Year traditionally spans three days, beginning around April 13th or 14th. For many Cambodian families, especially those from rural areas, this celebration marked the end of the harvest season—a well-earned pause after months of hard work. Growing up, I did not work the fields the way my parents once did, but I still feel the rhythm of that agricultural calendar in my body. It is a time to slow down, reflect, and reset. We clean our homes to sweep away bad luck and prepare for the blessings to come. We offer prayers for peace and prosperity. I often light incense and think of my grandparents, and the many elders whose resilience flows through my blood. This is the season where I feel most grounded, most whole.

Cultural and Spiritual Significance

The rituals of Cambodian New Year carry such deep meaning. We go to temple not just to celebrate, but to reconnect—to our ancestors, to our spiritual path, and to one another. The gentle pouring of water over elders’ hands, the offerings of food to the monks—these are not just cultural customs. They are living practices that remind me who I am and where I come from. Water, in particular, carries great symbolism. When I pour water as a blessing, I think about the cleansing of the past year’s struggles and the hope for a kinder, more fruitful year ahead. There is something powerful in these gestures—simple, yet sacred.

Why It Means So Much to Me

As a second-generation Cambodian American, I carry the weight and beauty of my family’s history. My parents survived unimaginable loss during the Khmer Rouge genocide. They came to the United States as refugees, carrying with them memories, sorrow, strength—and the determination to keep our culture alive.

Cambodian New Year is one way I honor that. It's how I pass the torch to my daughter, Yanara, how I teach her to embrace her heritage with pride and joy. In the food we prepare, the music we play, the language we speak, and the prayers we whisper—I see the faces of those we have lost, and I feel their presence in everything we do. This celebration is not just about joy. It is about resilience. It is about remembering. It is about reclaiming a sense of identity that war tried to erase but could never destroy.

A Living Legacy

Each year, when Cambodian New Year comes around, I feel the pull of generations. I think about the farmers and monks, the grandmothers and children, the dancers and dreamers. I think about how they endured, how they celebrated, how they loved.

Choul Chnam Thmey is my reminder that I am part of something larger—something enduring. It’s not just a moment on the calendar. It is a living legacy. And it means everything to me.

From our family to yours, 

may this year be filled with peace, joy, and abundant blessings. 🙏🏽