The History of Vietnam’s Traditional Grass Brooms — and How They Are Made

Long before plastic brooms and vacuum cleaners became common, the Vietnamese household broom was usually something much simpler: a handmade bundle of dried grass, tied tightly by hand and shaped through experience rather than machinery. Across Vietnam, especially in rural and craft-village communities, the chổi đót became one of the most familiar tools in daily life. It was cheap, durable, light in the hand, and made from a plant that could be gathered, dried, stored, and turned into a product with very little waste.

In Vietnam, the traditional grass broom is most commonly associated with đót or chít, a tall grass known scientifically today as Thysanolaena latifolia. Older references often use the name Thysanolaena maxima, which Kew now treats as a synonym of Thysanolaena latifolia. The plant grows widely in Asia, including Vietnam, and its flowering heads are well suited for broom-making because they are light, flexible, and reasonably tough once properly dried.

What makes the Vietnamese grass broom interesting is that it is not just a household object. In many places, it is also a village craft, a small-scale rural industry, and a cultural marker of patient manual labor. Some broom-making communities only date back a few decades, while others claim much deeper roots. In Hà Ân village in Hà Tĩnh, for example, official and local reports describe the craft as having existed for more than 150 years. In Chiêm Sơn, Quảng Nam, the broom-making village is described as being over 100 years old. In Con Nhỏ village in An Giang, by contrast, the craft is described as having developed over decades, evolving from home use into a larger livelihood.

That variety matters. There was never just one single “origin story” for Vietnamese grass brooms. Instead, broom-making appears to have developed in different regions according to local ecology and trade. In some places, people originally gathered local reed or broom grass during the flood season and tied together simple home-use brooms. In other places, villages later shifted to imported đót from central Vietnam, the northern mountains, or Laos when local supplies became scarce or demand increased. That pattern suggests a craft shaped less by royal workshops or elite tradition than by rural necessity, adaptation, and market networks.

A broom born from rural life

The traditional Vietnamese grass broom belongs to the world of small, practical crafts that grew out of everyday agricultural life. Farmers and villagers needed a tool that could sweep earthen floors, brick courtyards, wooden houses, shrines, kitchens, and workspaces. The raw material had to be easy to transport, affordable, and available in bulk. Đót fit that need extremely well. Reports from craft villages note that families would gather the grass, dry it under the sun, store it in bundles, and then work on the brooms during off-hours or slack farming seasons. Over time, what began as household making became a commercial activity.

In Hà Ân, local reporting says villagers once went into nearby hills to gather đót themselves, especially in the less busy farming months. Later, when local wild stands became insufficient, they began sourcing the material from other Vietnamese provinces and from Laos. That transition from gathering to broader supply chains is a good example of how a humble rural craft became part of a much larger regional trade.

In some southern communities, the story is slightly different. Con Nhỏ village in An Giang first relied on locally available reed grass during flood season. As that resource declined, producers moved increasingly to tiger grass, which could be sourced more reliably and used throughout the year. The broom itself stayed traditional in purpose, but the supply system modernized.

Why chổi đót lasted so long

The longevity of the Vietnamese grass broom is not hard to understand. A good chổi đót is springy but firm, light but strong, and gives a distinctive dry brushing sound that many Vietnamese people immediately recognize. It works well on rough surfaces and catches dust without the brittleness of some cheap plastic bristles. Craft workers repeatedly stress that broom quality depends heavily on choosing the right grass and drying it properly. Grass that is cut too old, too young, too wet, or badly dried will not make a durable broom.

There is also a social reason it lasted. Because broom-making can be done in stages and often by hand at home or in small workshops, it creates work for many kinds of labor: older people, women, part-time rural workers, and people who may not have access to factory jobs. In several villages, the craft is described as a major local employer or a reliable supplemental income source.

Even today, many villages continue producing large quantities. Chiêm Sơn is reported to produce millions of brooms a year, while Con Nhỏ supplies around 200,000 brooms per month. That tells us the traditional grass broom is not merely a relic; it remains a living product, even while facing competition from plastic goods and modern appliances.

How a traditional Vietnamese grass broom is made

Although details vary from village to village, the basic process is fairly consistent.

The first step is selecting and harvesting the grass. Artisans prefer đót that is still relatively young. Vietnamese reports note that the broom grass should be cut before it fully flowers, when the fibers remain bright, smooth, and tough. If the material is too mature, it can become coarse or less resilient.

Next comes drying. This is one of the most important stages. The grass is spread out and sun-dried until it reaches the right color and texture. Producers say the dried material should stay pale, smooth, and flexible. Drying is not just a matter of removing moisture; it determines how durable the final broom will be. Experienced workers adjust thickness, layering, and drying time depending on the weather.

After drying, the maker begins sorting and splitting the material. The flowering part is separated and arranged into smaller bunches. A portion of the stalk is often left longer so it can help form the broom’s inner structure or handle. Sources describing Saigon broom makers and Hà Tĩnh craft workers both note this careful bundling stage, where the grass is stripped into smaller groups and aligned by hand.

Then comes bundling and shaping. The artisan gathers the grass into compact clusters, ties them tightly, and begins forming the broom head. This is where skill really matters. If the binding is loose, the broom will shed or fall apart in use. Workers repeatedly stress that the grass must be wrapped evenly and tightly.

Depending on the style, the broom may then be woven, wired, or fitted with a handle. Traditional versions can be rattan-woven. Other versions are wrapped with metal wire or plastic cord. Some broom types use a plastic handle; others retain a handle made from the stalk structure itself. Modern workshops often produce several designs at once to meet different market preferences.

The final step is trimming and finishing. The artisan evens the sweeping edge, checks the shape, and compresses the broom so it opens like a fan or holds the desired profile. In some villages, machines now help with certain finishing stages, especially to improve durability and uniformity, but most sources still describe production as largely manual.

What the making process tells us

A Vietnamese grass broom may look simple, but the process behind it is really a craft of judgment. The maker must know which grass to buy, when it was cut, how long to dry it, how tightly to bind it, and how to balance flexibility with firmness. None of that is glamorous, but it is exactly why these brooms survived for generations.

It also reflects a broader pattern in Vietnamese traditional craftsmanship: practical objects often carry local identity. A broom is not a ceremonial object like lacquerware or silk embroidery, yet villages still build reputations around it. Hà Ân, Chiêm Sơn, Phổ Phong, Con Nhỏ, and small broom streets in Ho Chi Minh City all show the same thing in different ways: everyday life can preserve craft traditions just as effectively as museums do.

A tradition under pressure, but still alive

Today, Vietnamese grass brooms compete with plastic brooms, imported cleaning tools, and vacuum cleaners. Some urban broom-making communities have shrunk sharply, and artisans note that the work is no longer as profitable as it once was. Yet the craft has not disappeared. Many villages have adapted by diversifying designs, selling online, improving branding, and reaching export markets in Southeast Asia and beyond.

That persistence says something important about the object itself. The traditional Vietnamese grass broom is sustainable, repairable in its simplest forms, and tied to local material knowledge. It belongs to an older rhythm of life, but not only to the past. As long as there are villages that still know how to select the right đót, dry it in the sun, bind it by hand, and shape it into a firm sweeping fan, the chổi đót remains a living piece of Vietnam’s material culture.