Roots of Resilience: How Sunisa Lee’s Hmong Heritage Shapes Her Gymnastics Artistry

When Sunisa Lee mounted the podium at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics to accept the individual all-around gold medal, she carried more than personal ambition. She carried the hopes, stories, and cultural legacy of the Hmong people — an ethnic community whose journey through displacement and survival has been etched into every thread of their vibrant traditions. Lee’s victory was historic not only because she became the first Hmong American gymnast to achieve such a feat, but because her ascent signaled a new era of cultural representation in a sport that has long been slow to embrace diversity beyond the competition floor.

Lee’s performances resonate deeply with audiences because they are unmistakably personal. Each routine — whether on floor, beam, or bars — bears the imprint of her heritage: the lush storytelling traditions of the Hmong, their reverence for community, and their exquisite textile arts. By weaving these elements into her gymnastics, Lee creates routines that are technically formidable and emotionally arresting. Her artistry is not decoration; it is a deliberate act of cultural preservation and pride. This article explores the many ways her Hmong roots infuse her athletic expression, from choreography and costume to music selection and mental resilience, and examines how her approach redefines what it means to bring one’s full identity onto the world stage.

Understanding Hmong Cultural Identity

The Hmong people originate from the mountainous regions of southern China, Laos, Vietnam, and Thailand. Their culture is built on a foundation of oral tradition, intricate needlework, and deep communal bonds. For centuries, Hmong families passed down history, moral lessons, and spiritual beliefs through spoken word, song, and elaborate ceremonial dances. The pa’ndau — or story cloth — is one of the most recognizable Hmong art forms, with embroidered panels depicting everything from daily life to epic tales of migration and resistance. These textiles are not decorative; they are visual archives of a people’s memory.

Sunisa Lee was born into this heritage in Saint Paul, Minnesota, home to one of the largest Hmong populations in the United States. Her parents and extended family fled Laos after the Vietnam War, resettling in America with little more than their traditions and a fierce determination to build a new life. Growing up, Lee absorbed the values of kev ua siab ntev (perseverance) and kev hwm (respect) through everyday interactions — helping her mother prepare traditional dishes, listening to elders recount their journey, and participating in community celebrations. These experiences did not remain separate from her athletic pursuits; they became the emotional scaffolding that supported her through the grueling demands of elite gymnastics.

Lee has frequently credited her upbringing with giving her the mental toughness required to compete at the highest level. In an interview with Team USA, she explained, “My culture is about never giving up. That’s how I approach gymnastics every day.” This perspective is not merely motivational rhetoric — it reflects a worldview shaped by generations who overcame war, displacement, and systemic barriers. Lee carries that legacy into the gym and onto the competition floor.

The Storytelling Impulse in Hmong Culture

At the heart of Hmong cultural expression is storytelling. Traditional Hmong New Year celebrations feature kwv txhiaj, a form of poetic song in which performers improvise lyrics that narrate love stories, historical events, or humorous anecdotes. The singer’s hands and body accompany the voice, with subtle gestures emphasizing emotional beats. These performances are not strictly rehearsed; they require spontaneity and emotional attunement. For Lee, this tradition maps naturally onto the requirements of artistic gymnastics, where choreography must convey a narrative within a tightly constrained time frame. Her ability to shift from explosive power to delicate expression mirrors the emotional range of a kwv txhiaj performance, even if the connection is not immediately visible to audiences unfamiliar with Hmong arts.

Choreographic Language: Cultural Gestures on Floor and Beam

Floor exercise and balance beam are the two events in women’s artistic gymnastics where artistry is formally judged. The Code of Points rewards choreographic composition, musical interpretation, and expressive range. Lee has used these criteria as a platform to embed movements that echo Hmong dance traditions. In her floor routines, certain arm paths, hand placements, and transitions draw directly from the vocabulary of Hmong New Year dances, which often simulate agricultural labor, courtship rituals, or communal celebrations.

For example, the sweeping circular motions of her arms during a series of turns bear a strong resemblance to gestures used in the pev poj niam, a traditional Hmong women’s dance that emphasizes grace and coordination. The sharp, precise footwork she executes before a tumbling pass mirrors the rhythmic stepping patterns of ntaus menyuam, a children’s game that teaches timing and spatial awareness. These are not mere aesthetic choices — they are intentional references to a cultural lexicon that Lee and her choreographers have studied and adapted for the competitive environment.

Judges and commentators have noted that Lee’s routines possess a distinctive quality that sets her apart from peers who may rely on more generic choreographic templates. Her ability to blend culturally specific movement with high-level athleticism creates a style that is at once personal and universal. In a sport where gymnasts often adopt similar body positions and transitions, Lee’s work stands out for its emotional specificity. Each gesture carries meaning beyond its technical function, inviting audiences to read depth into movement that might otherwise be overlooked.

Artistic Risk and the Judging System

Incorporating culturally specific movements into gymnastics is not without risk. The Code of Points is detailed and prescriptive, and judges trained in a Western-centric aesthetic may not immediately recognize or reward movements outside the standard lexicon. Lee and her coaches have navigated this challenge by ensuring that her cultural gestures remain within the boundaries of what the Code recognizes as artistic expression. The hand movements, for instance, are not so unfamiliar that they disrupt the flow of the routine, yet they are distinct enough to signal a different cultural origin. This balancing act requires deep knowledge of both Hmong dance and gymnastics judging criteria — a dual expertise that Lee has developed over years of collaboration with choreographers who respect her vision.

Costume as Cultural Statement

In gymnastics, the leotard is more than a uniform — it is a visual announcement of the athlete’s persona. Lee has used her competition attire to proudly display her heritage, commissioning designs that incorporate motifs, colors, and textures from traditional Hmong textiles. Her leotards often feature deep reds, royal blues, and gold accents — colors that dominate Hmong pa’ndau embroidery. These hues are not arbitrary; in Hmong symbolism, red represents life and vitality, blue stands for peace and stability, and gold signifies prosperity and honor.

For the Tokyo Olympics, Lee wore a leotard that included subtle embroidery along the collar and sleeves, echoing the patterns found on her grandmother’s traditional dresses. The design was a collaboration between Lee and her costume team, who worked to translate the geometric precision of Hmong embroidery into a garment that could withstand the demands of elite competition. The result was a piece that felt both athletic and ceremonial. In an interview with ESPN, Lee said, “I wanted to show people who I am. The colors and patterns remind me of my grandma’s dresses and make me feel like she’s with me.”

Expanding the Market for Culturally Inclusive Athletic Wear

Lee’s insistence on culturally specific design has had a ripple effect beyond her own wardrobe. Her collaboration with sportswear manufacturers has encouraged them to consider broader representation in their product lines. Where gymnastics leotards have historically followed narrow aesthetic conventions, Lee’s visibility has opened the door for other athletes to request designs that reflect their own backgrounds. This shift is incremental but meaningful: when a major brand produces a leotard inspired by Hmong embroidery, it signals that cultural expression has commercial and cultural value in the athletic space. For young Hmong girls who see themselves reflected in Lee’s attire, the message is clear: their heritage is not an obstacle to athletic achievement but a source of pride and distinction.

Music Selection: Bridging Tradition and Modernity

Music anchors a gymnast’s floor routine, providing rhythm, mood, and narrative structure. Lee has experimented with incorporating Hmong musical elements into her performances, particularly in exhibition settings where she has more freedom to deviate from competitive norms. She has worked with composers and choreographers to blend traditional Hmong instruments — such as the qeej, a bamboo mouth organ historically used in spiritual ceremonies — with contemporary electronic and orchestral arrangements.

One of her post-Olympic exhibition routines opens with a solo qeej melody that evokes the soundscape of a Hmong New Year celebration. The piece gradually builds in intensity, introducing percussion and synthesizer layers that propel the gymnast into her tumbling passes. The fusion is seamless; the traditional instrument does not feel out of place alongside modern production techniques. This musical choice is deliberate. Lee has stated that she wants audiences to hear her culture — to encounter sounds that may be unfamiliar and to associate them with athletic excellence. In an interview with NBC News, she said, “I want people to hear my culture. When they watch me, I hope they learn something about where I come from.”

The Technical Challenge of Cultural Music

Adapting Hmong music for a gymnastics routine presents significant technical challenges. Traditional Hmong melodies often follow a pentatonic scale and use irregular time signatures that do not easily map onto the 90-second floor exercise format. The tempo can fluctuate, and the rhythmic structure may not provide the clear downbeats that gymnasts rely on for timing their tumbling passes. Lee and her team have addressed this by working with arrangers who understand both Hmong musical traditions and the specific needs of competitive gymnastics. The solution has been to preserve the melodic and instrumental character of the traditional music while adjusting the tempo and rhythmic structure to accommodate the athletic requirements. The result is a piece that honors its origins while functioning effectively within the strict parameters of the sport.

Health Challenges and the Role of Cultural Resilience

Lee’s athletic journey has been punctuated by serious health setbacks that would have ended many careers. In 2019, she competed with a broken foot. More severely, during the lead-up to the Paris 2024 Olympics, she was diagnosed with two kidney conditions — including a disease that caused her kidneys to swell and left her in considerable pain. She required extensive medical treatment, including medications with side effects that made training difficult. Throughout this period, she continued to train, often at a reduced intensity, while managing her health under medical supervision.

Lee has spoken openly about how her Hmong upbringing gave her the perspective to endure these challenges. The concept of kev ua siab ntev — perseverance in the face of difficulty — is not abstract in her family’s history. Her parents and grandparents survived the trauma of war and displacement, rebuilding their lives in a new country with limited resources. Lee has said that she draws on their example when she faces her own obstacles. In an interview with Olympics.com, she reflected, “Our culture teaches us that we are never alone. Even when I felt my weakest, I knew my ancestors were with me.”

Community Support as a Healing Force

The Hmong community’s response to Lee’s health struggles demonstrated the reciprocal nature of cultural support. Hmong organizations across the United States organized prayer circles, fundraisers, and public awareness campaigns about kidney disease. Lee has frequently acknowledged that this collective embrace provided emotional sustenance during her most difficult moments. In turn, she has used her platform to raise awareness about kidney health, particularly within the Hmong community, where access to healthcare and health literacy can be limited. This exchange — community supporting athlete, athlete supporting community — exemplifies the relational values that underlie Hmong culture. Lee’s resilience is not solely an individual achievement; it is a reflection of a community that refuses to let its members face hardship alone.

Inspiring a Generation of Hmong Athletes and Artists

Before Sunisa Lee, elite gymnastics had no prominent Hmong American role models. The sport is expensive to access, geographically concentrated, and historically insular. Lee’s success has changed the landscape. Gymnastics clubs in cities with significant Hmong populations — Saint Paul, Fresno, Sacramento — have reported increased enrollment among Hmong children since her Olympic victory. Parents who were unfamiliar with the sport now see a path for their children, and young athletes who may have felt pressure to assimilate into mainstream athletic culture now have an example of someone who succeeded without hiding her identity.

Lee has actively mentored Hmong youth through camps, virtual sessions, and public appearances. Her message is consistent: you do not need to compartmentalize your identity to excel in sport. “You can bring your whole self onto the competition floor,” she has told young gymnasts. This is not a platitude — it is a practical philosophy she has demonstrated through her own career. By refusing to separate her athletic ambition from her cultural identity, Lee has created a template that other young athletes can follow. The result is a generation of Hmong youth who see sport as a vehicle for cultural expression, not a space where heritage must be concealed.

Beyond Gymnastics: Cultural Ripple Effects

Lee’s influence extends well beyond the gymnastics community. Hmong fashion designers have cited her leotard designs as inspiration for their own work, incorporating traditional motifs into contemporary clothing lines. Hmong dancers have been invited to perform at major sporting events, including NBA halftime shows, following the visibility that Lee brought to their art form. Hmong musicians have seen renewed interest in traditional instruments like the qeej as audiences encounter them in new contexts. This cultural ripple effect demonstrates that representation in elite sport can catalyze broader recognition and appreciation for marginalized cultural traditions. Lee’s achievement is not just an athletic milestone — it is a cultural event that has shifted how Hmong people are seen and how they see themselves in the American cultural landscape.

Authenticity as Competitive Advantage

Some observers might assume that emphasizing cultural identity comes at a cost to athletic performance — that time spent on choreographic detail or costume design detracts from training. Lee’s career suggests the opposite. Her cultural heritage is not a distraction from her athletic goals; it is a source of motivation, emotional grounding, and distinctive style that sets her apart from competitors. In a sport where individuality can be difficult to achieve within strict technical parameters, Lee’s cultural expression gives her routines a signature that is difficult to replicate. Judges recognize authenticity, and audiences reward it with attention and emotional investment.

Lee’s approach offers lessons for athletes in any sport. Bringing your full identity into your performance — whether that identity is cultural, linguistic, religious, or otherwise — can enhance rather than diminish your competitive edge. Authenticity resonates. It creates connections that transcend the scoreboard. For Lee, those connections have been a source of strength during difficult competitions and a source of meaning when the medals are put away.

Looking Forward: Heritage as a Living Practice

Sunisa Lee has stated that she intends to continue representing her Hmong heritage throughout her athletic career. She has expressed interest in further exploring Hmong music and dance in her routines, and in mentoring young athletes from underrepresented backgrounds. As she competes in the Paris 2024 Olympics and beyond, her routines will likely continue to evolve, incorporating new elements that reflect her deepening engagement with her culture. The project is ongoing — not a fixed statement but a living practice that grows with her experience and maturity.

For the Hmong community, Lee’s continued presence on the world stage reinforces a message that has been central to their cultural identity for generations: survival is not enough — one must also tell the story, wear the colors, and dance the dance. Lee does all three, and in doing so, she ensures that Hmong heritage is not only preserved but celebrated in contexts where it has never been seen before. Her legacy will be measured not just in gold medals but in the young people who see themselves in her and dare to dream as she did.

Sunisa Lee’s gymnastics are a testament to the power of cultural identity as a source of artistic and athletic excellence. Her routines remind us that sport is never separate from life — it is a medium through which we share our deepest stories. By bringing her heritage into every performance, Lee has enriched the sport and opened doors for those who will follow. Her message is simple and profound: bring your whole self. It will not hold you back. It will lift you, and everyone who watches, higher than you imagined possible.