Yuen: Tou Ger Xiong was an optimist, and that's why his brutal murder hurts the most

Someone who is unquestionably funny can make you laugh so hard that you forget, if even for a half-second, your heartache.

That was Tou Ger Xiong in a nutshell. He's still doing it now.

The reason I've been mourning, of course, is the violent, despicable end to Xiong's life at age 50. The Twin Cities community leader and entertainer — he always claimed to be the first Hmong comedian — was kidnapped and held ransom while traveling to Colombia. His body was found last week with stab wounds and evidence of blunt force trauma.

His murder is an affront to everything Xiong stood for: exuberance, justice and contagious joy. And that's why while reminiscing with some of his friends over the past week, I've found myself alternating between laughter and lumps in my throat. The warmth he gave, and how carelessly his killers snuffed it out, is what makes his death so jarring to accept.

"It's a mismatch," said St. Paul Mayor Melvin Carter. "I didn't believe it. It shakes you to the core, thinking something like that could happen to someone who's that pure and good on the inside."

Carter befriended Xiong in the late 1990s before either of them became civic leaders. They were public storytellers, each drawing from their culture's rich tradition of oral history. As friends, they bonded over karaoke duets at the now-defunct Señor Wong restaurant and traded hugs at Hmong New Year celebrations. And at Carter's campaign events and inaugural celebrations, Xiong would arrive glittering, suited up as either James Brown or Elvis Presley.

But beneath his slapstick humor and impersonations was a brilliance, Carter said. Xiong used his comedy to initiate conversation and heal divides.

"When you let your life shine, you let others do the same," Carter said. "We all spend our lives thinking, 'I want to ask this question. I want to grab the mic. I want to be in a costume.' He was in touch with his inner child and knew how to pull out other people's inner child and free them to play."

Before I moved to Minnesota to take a reporting job at the St. Paul Pioneer Press, I had never met a Hmong American. Xiong was one of the first, and he made sure he wasn't the last.

With an open hand that is sometimes missing in today's toxic echo chambers, he welcomed me to gatherings and introduced me to other community activists. I must have interviewed him at least a dozen times over the past two decades on everything from police brutality to "Gran Torino." The Clint Eastwood movie was the first blockbuster to explore Hmong culture, but it disappointed a lot of people because it portrayed Hmong teens as gangsters.

Ever the pragmatist, Xiong's response: "First things first, let's get our foot in the door. Complain later."

To understand Xiong's reach with Hmong Americans across the nation, picture a young Gia Vang growing up in California in the '90s, armed with curiosity and a dial-up modem. She discovered online videos of Xiong in a Dr. Seuss-like hat, rapping about egg rolls and fleeing the Vietnam War at the age of 4.

"We knew what it was like to be different because our parents were fresh from another country. We didn't quite understand our place yet in the world," said Vang, a broadcast journalist. "We were looking for someone to help guide us. That's what Tou Ger did with his videos and skits, being this person that we could all look to."

Shortly after relocating to Minnesota to become an anchor for KARE 11, Vang attended her stepsister's wedding. There was Xiong, bedecked in his Elvis jumpsuit, emceeing the event as if it were a sold-out crowd at the Xcel. Over the years, the two personalities teamed up for social good, whether it was a food drive or a school assembly.

When he told stories, Xiong so keenly conveyed themes of the immigrant experience — what your parents sacrificed for you, and how that shaped your own hopes for your life — that audiences who were howling in laughter one minute would be crying the next, Vang recalled. "It was a big idea that he simplified," she said.

The only time I saw Xiong fail to garner a chuckle was when he auditioned for "America's Got Talent" on national TV. Naturally, he was there to lip-sync "I Feel Good" as the Asian James Brown. Within seconds, he was buzzed by all three judges — Piers Morgan, Sharon Osbourne and Howie Mandel. It sounded like people in the audience were laughing at him, not with him.

You just don't get Tou Ger, I remember myself thinking. Hollywood couldn't possibly appreciate him the way we Minnesotans did.

The product of public housing on St. Paul's West Side, Xiong graduated as valedictorian from Humboldt High School and ascended to Carleton College. As a storyteller, he riveted audiences around the country who knew nothing about the Hmong with tales about escaping the Mekong, only to find dreams along the Mississippi. He reminded Minnesotans about how they opened their doors, as well as their hearts, making the Twin Cities home to the nation's largest urban concentration of Hmong.

"It's almost as if there was a St. Paul spirit, and this spirit said to us, "Oh yah, won'tcha come in for a drink?" Xiong told a crowd of civic boosters in 2009.

As he got older, Xiong still showed up at community events but was content passing the torch to a younger generation of activists. He went through a divorce four years ago. Over the past year, he frequently posted videos of his solo travels, going where the wind took him. They often involved live music, tasty drinks, beautiful women and singing.

"So if you happen to see me dancing on the street or on a beach somewhere, please know that I am in my happy place," he wrote. "This is how I rejuvenate. I wish the same for you— happiness."

Xiong knew the dangers of vacationing in Colombia, where kidnappings of tourists are on the rise. His abductors took him following a date with a woman he met online, the Colombian newspaper El Colombiano reported. But "he believed in love," his longtime friend Bo Thao-Urabe told me.

And that shade of idealism defined Xiong.

"It's easy to rally people around anger," Carter reminded me. "Even when he was active in protesting, he's somebody who believed in people and human spirit. We'll be going through rough times, but he'd always have a smile and a joke for you — and his loud laugh. He fundamentally believes that we're always on our way up."

Which is why I'll miss you most, Tou Ger. You were an optimist in a world where that's harder to come by. In Minnesota, we were always laughing with you.

A candlelight vigil honoring Tou Ger Xiong will be held 4-8 p.m. Dec. 23 at East Ridge High School, 4200 Pioneer Drive, Woodbury. All are welcome.