"Hiya" by Samantha Dizon

 

“Hiya.”

Base sa akda ni Dr. Kevin Nadal na “Filipino American Psychology,” ang hiya ay parte ng kulturang Pilipino mula pa sa ating mga ninuno. Bago pa man makarating ang mga dayuhan, umiiral na ang “hiya” sa ating mga tahanan. Ngunit ang tipo ng “hiya” na kanyang isinulat ay batay sa karangalan; kumbaga tayo ay may hiya dahil gusto nating ipakita sa lipunan ang pinakamabuting bersyon ng ating sarili at pamilya.

Kaya nang mabasa ko ang mga kumento ni Teddy Locsin, napatanong ako kung nakakahiya ba talaga ang Tagalog? Nakababawas ba ito sa karangalan ng isang tao, lalo na kung sila ay Pilipino? Anong bersyon ba ng ating sarili ang ipinahihiwatig natin kapag tayo ay nagsasalita ng Ingles imbis na Filipino? Talaga bang ganoon kababa ang tingin nating mga Pilipino sa ating sarili na pati ang ating wika ay ayaw na nating bigkasin? Hindi raw angkop sa debate, hindi tunog “propesyunal,” parang nagkwekwentuhan lang sa palengke. Ganyan ba talaga ang tingin natin sa Filipino ngayon?

Nakalulungkot dahil hindi lang si Teddy Locsin ang may pananaw na ganito. Bawat uwi ko sa Pilipinas, puro Ingles na ang salita ng mga “elite” na pamilya. Para bang kapag hindi ka marunong magsalita ng Filipino ay mas mataas kang uri ng tao. Sabi ng mga magulang ngayon ay dapat Ingles ang ginagamit sa kanilang mga anak para sila ay matuto, kaya wala nang Tagalog na naririnig sa tahanan. Napakamali ng ganitong pag-iisip. Sa tingin ko ay kung may pagkakataon kang matutunan ang sarili mong wika, ay dapat mong samantalahin ito. Napakaraming Pilipino na walang oportunidad na aralin ang Filipino, na magbabayad ng ilang daang dolyar para lang makausap ang kanilang mga pamilya. Kung alam niyo lang kung gaano kahirap intindihin ang Filipino para sa iba. Kung alam niyo lang kung gaano kahirap isulat ang talatang ito kahit ilang taon ako nag-aral ng Filipino at tumira sa Pilipinas.

Ginoong Locsin (at kung sinoman ang may katulad na pananaw), sayang sa iyo ang wikang Filipino. Sayang ang karunungan mo ng wikang Filipino. Sana ay ipinagkaloob ito sa libu-libong Pilipino na gustung-gustong matuto, gamitin, pahalagahan, mahalin, ang wikang Filipino. Sana sila na lang ang nabiyayaan ng oportunidad na para bang wala lang sa iyo.

Katatapos lang ng klase ko ng kolehiyo, at ngayon, ang mga kaibigan ko noong mataas na paaralan na ang mga guro. Sana ang henerasyon namin ay magising sa halaga ng ating wika, at igiit ito sa bagong henerasyon. Nawa’y maubos ang mga Teddy Locsin ng Pilipinas at mawala na ang ating hiya sa sarili nating kultura.

(Paumanhin kung barok man, o mali ang grammar/spelling ko. Out of practice na ako, haha.)

Translation for non-Tagalog-speaking folks:

“Shame.”

According to Dr. Kevin Nadal’s “Filipino American Psychology,” shame has been a part of Filipino culture dating back to our ancestors. Before Western colonizers even arrived in the Philippines, “shame” prevailed in our households. But the “shame” that Nadal wrote about is based on honor; as in, we have “shame” because we want to show society the best version of ourselves and of our families to preserve this honor.

So when I read the comments by Teddy Locsin, it made me question what about Tagalog is so shameful? Does it dishonor a person so, especially when the person is Filipino? What version of ourselves do we really show when we speak English instead of Filipino? Do we, Filipinos, think so lowly of ourselves that we don’t even wish to speak our own language? They say Filipino is not appropriate for debate, that it doesn’t sound professional, that it’s akin to gossiping in the market. Is that really how we view Filipino today?

It is so sad that it is not only Teddy Locsin who has this point of view. Every time I go back to the Philippines, more and more “elite” families speak solely in English. It seems as though the less Filipino you know, the “higher” your rank as a human being becomes. Parents these days say we should use English around their children so they can learn, so we no longer hear Tagalog in the home. This mentality is so wrong. I personally think that if one is given the chance to learn their own language, that they should embrace it. So many Filipinos don’t have the same opportunity to learn Filipino, who pay hundreds of dollars just so they can hold a conversation with their families. If you only knew how hard it is for others to understand Filipino. If you only knew how hard it was to write this even though I studied Filipino for years and grew up in the Philippines.

Mr. Locsin (and whomever shares his point of view), the Filipino language is wasted on you. Your knowledge and skill of Filipino is a waste. If only the proficiency you possess was bestowed upon the thousands of Filipinos who would like nothing more than to learn, use, value, and love the Filipino language. If only they were blessed with the opportunities that seem to mean nothing to you.

My class just finished college, and now my friends from high school have become the teachers. I hope our generation is able to wake up to the value of our native tongue, and to emphasize this value to the future generations. That we rid ourselves of  the Teddy Locsins of the Philippines and shame of our own culture.

#AmIFilAm “How I Was Inspired To Forge My Own Path” by Kristina London

The below submission is one of future stories to be told under the #AmIFilAm blog series.  

Inspired by our past blog series #FKEDUP, UniPro wants to delve deeper into identity struggles that all Filipinos face in the community. We want to challenge what it means to be Filipino and to encourage readers to contribute their unique qualities to shape the idea of Filipino identity. The series is intended to discover how you value yourself as an individual and how you value yourself within the Filipino community.

My dad had three topics he relied on for storytelling:

1) Religious miracles he’d overheard or sworn had happened to him

2) Occurrences in the child psychiatric unit he worked in at the hospital

3) His childhood

Story types 1 and 2 tended to blur together in my mind.  He would talk about praying over an anxiety-riddled child and simultaneously inspiring the child to start eating again.   I usually found these stories hard to believe so I paid little attention to their message.  But the stories of his childhood stood out in stark contrast among the rest.  He grew up as one of thirteen children.  He lived in a house with a makeshift metal roof.  He sometimes hid his ulam[1] underneath his rice just to trick his parents into giving him more to eat.  He didn’t have any toys. He played with the neighbors out in the street and a stray dog he named Batman.

I was one of two children. I grew up in a house with a mortgage that was paid by the time I was in sixth grade.   I was a picky eater and often left half of my plate uneaten.  I had two shelves filled with beanie babies that were gathering fine layers of dust.

From his stories, I was able to piece together a common message: if you want a good life for your children, you need to have the means to provide for them.  These ‘means’ were universally interpreted as having a high paying job.  My dad wanted to become a doctor, but lacked the money to pay for the many years of schooling required.   He settled for becoming a nurse, moved to the states, met my mom (who was also a nurse), had two girls, and now happily works in Manhasset where he’s supplied with material for story types 1 and 2 daily.

There was a formula he applied to his life, that my mother also applied to hers and later my sister to hers.   The formula was to pick a career that was respectable, always hiring, and paid well.  My parents were thrilled about their eldest daughter completing her degree in nursing.  She found work immediately and makes enough to rent her own apartment in a prime location of Brooklyn.

But what about their strange, little bunso[2]?

I became severely stressed about finding a career path that would make me money.  Every career my parents suggested I go into, from physical therapy to nursing, was based on a potential paycheck.  I grew numb from trying to find an alternative degree that I’d be happy with, and enrolled in a college heavily focused on pumping out professionals in the medical field.  The guilt I carried from being a first generation Filipino with all these privileges bestowed upon me definitely influenced my choices.  How could I grumble about an education being paid for out of pocket when my dad grew up not able to even afford school lunch some days?

The first two years of my academic college career were unremarkable and lacked passion.   I remember crying to my mother over lacking the passion for the future that all my peers seemed to have.  My peers were excited to become doctors.  They knew that the studying involved was tough, but they were driven by their end goal.  They had a passion I couldn’t replicate, as hard as I tried.  My end goal was wealth while theirs was to save lives.

Feeling disconnected from my peers, I attended a meeting of a Filipino based organization at my school.  Here, I thought, maybe I could relate to others who are being pressured by their parents with similar circumstances.  It was at this meeting I was introduced to UniPro and the young professionals associated with the organization.  I attended my first Summit conference on a whim, and in a random turn of events, my ‘end goal’ transformed.

Being exposed to Filipinos who were in fields other than medicine really blew my mind.  These people were chefs, news anchors, and artists.  One even worked at the White House.  From their stories, I was shaken from my belief that there is a set formula to follow growing up.  Instead, it was more than okay to try or fail at pursuing your passions.  Being able to look up to successful, young professional Filipinos really changed the game for me.

They were living, breathing examples of end goals

not based on money, but passion.

Here’s the thing about my dad’s stories: I think I was interpreting them wrong all this time.   He did not tell them with the intention of making me feel guilty of all my privileges.  He told his stories to remind me that I had opportunities present he never had, and would be a fool not to take advantage of them. His stories have shaped my upbringing for as long as I can remember, but now it is time for me to set my own narrative.

[1] ulam: main dish

[2] bunso: youngest in the family

James Villar – Filipino American serving his countrymen both here in the US and the Philippines

Originally Posted on Asiaamericana.com

James Villar moved to the United States, with his family when he was only three years old. He recalls, “I didn’t really have a choice in why we immigrated here. This was in 1971, and my parents came here looking for a better life for us all. My family included my mother and father, myself, my two older brothers, and one younger sister.”

James lives in Chicago, IL, and is currently employed as a government contractor, with a focus on Information Technology and Healthcare.  He is also a member of the Illinois Army National Guard, and a co-founder of a Veteran’s healthcare services organization.

When asked about his biggest accomplishment while living in America, he says “I suppose I could count surviving a house full of girls as my biggest accomplishment here.  Watching them grow from babies to adults. Sure, it was great, but those teenage years can really age someone.”

All throughout his life as a Filipino American in the US, James has accounted a number of professional successes, and an almost equal amount of failures. “One thing that I am proud of is being a US Marine.  My time with the Marines actually helped me later on in life, especially when times were tough.  I was able to persevere and rely on the discipline that I learned with them,” James explains.

James and his family have been involved in a lot of community-building efforts. His parents have a long track record of supporting projects that benefit the local Filipino American community in Chicago, and communities in the Philippines. James recalls, “I look at how far our community has come, from the early days to present, and I would say that I’m proud to be a part of it.  So many of our community members found success and through that success, they have contributed so much to making this country great.”

James received the Philippine Military Civic Action Award for Services during the Mt. Pinatubo eruption in 1991.  The Award was given by the Philippine Consul General Office in Chicago. James was a young US Marine at that time stationed in Subic Bay.  He got the award 23 years later.

James interviewed and featured by ABC7 News during the awarding ceremony at the Philippine Consul General Office in Chicago.

James with his family, (L-R): Angelique, Renee, Bonnie (wife), Scarlett (granddaughter), Jaimie, Danielle

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About the Author

Ryan Tejero is a Chicago-based journalist, where he is writes a monthly column on “Club President,” for a Filipino American newsmagazine, Via Times. He is also currently the Editor-in-Chief of the national newsletter of the National Federation of Filipino American Associations. Overseas, Ryan co-founded, and is currently the Editor-in-Chief of the online newsletter, Pinoy Sa Romania, which is the first newsletter of the Filipino community in Romania. He also maintains a column on “Spotted Filipino on the Map,” for a Filipino newsmagazine, Pasa Pinoy in Melbourne, Australia. Ryan graduated from the University of the Philippines with Philosophy and Political Science majors.

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About Asia Americana

Asia Americana is about Asian Americans, or US Asians, numbering about 18.7 million (5.8% of the US population) and the fastest growing racial group in the country. By the year 2050, Asian Americans will be more than 40.6 million and will represent 9.2% of the total US population. Asia Americana features the most compelling stories of Asian Americans: our joys, our sorrows, our successes, and our struggles in blending and mixing with mainstream America, with the hope that America will embrace us as partners in this journey to form a stronger and more equitable union. Asia Americana also aims to put Asian American issues at the forefront, topics that are near and dear to us and use our news magazine as a forum to further our causes. A dynamic online news magazine, Asia Americana hopefully will incite critical thinking and discussion, promote ideas, inspire change, and awe the imagination.

Asia Americana is everything fresh and relevant to Asians and Asian Americans. Welcome to Asia Americana.

Stella Abrera, ABT’s First Fil-Am Principal Ballerina

Originally Posted on asiaamericana.com

Stella Abrera was promoted to principal dancer at the American Ballet Theater. She becomes the company’s first Filipino American principal ballerina. Abrera of South Pasadena, California, began her studies with Philip and Charles Fuller and Cynthia Young at Le Studio in Pasadena and with Lorna Diamond and Patricia Hoffman at the West Coast Ballet Theatre in San Diego. She also studied the Royal Academy of Dancing method at the Halliday Dance Centre in Sydney, Australia.  Abrera joined American Ballet Theatre as a member of the corps de ballet in 1996 and was appointed a Soloist in 2001.

Her repertoire with ABT includes Calliope in Apollo, Gamzatti in La Bayadère, the Ballerina in The Bright Stream, the Fairy Godmother in Frederick Ashton’s Cinderella, Gulnare in Le Corsaire, Mercedes and the Driad Queen in Don Quixote, Helena in The Dream, Giselle, Myrta and the peasant pas de deux in Giselle, Manon in Lady of the Camellias, Lescaut’s Mistress in Manon, His Friend’s Wife in The Moor’s Pavane, Clara, the Princess in Alexei Ratmansky’s The Nutcracker, Emilia in Othello, the Older Sister in Pillar of Fire, Lady Capulet in Romeo and Juliet, the Lilac Fairy and Princess Florine in The Sleeping Beauty, the pas de trois in Swan Lake, leading roles in Airs, Bach Partita, Baker’s Dozen, Ballet Imperial, Birthday Offering, The Brahms-Haydn Variations, C. to C. (Close to Chuck), Fancy Free, In the Upper Room, The Leaves Are Fading, Petite Mort, Sinfonietta, Les Sylphides, Symphonic Variations, Symphonie Concertante, Symphony #9, Symphony in C, Thirteen Diversions, Within You Without You: A Tribute to George Harrison, Without Words. Abrera created the Spanish Dance in Ratmansky’s The Nutcracker, the Fairy Violente (Temperament) in Ratmansky’s The Sleeping Beauty and leading roles in Pretty Good Year and Seven Sonatas.  Abrera received the Gold Medal at the Royal Academy of Dancing’s Adeline Genée Awards in London in 1995.  She has performed as a guest artist across the United States and Europe, as well as with The Australian Ballet, The Royal New Zealand Ballet and Ballet Philippines.

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About Asia Americana

Asia Americana is about Asian Americans, or US Asians, numbering about 18.7 million (5.8% of the US population) and the fastest growing racial group in the country. By the year 2050, Asian Americans will be more than 40.6 million and will represent 9.2% of the total US population. Asia Americana features the most compelling stories of Asian Americans: our joys, our sorrows, our successes, and our struggles in blending and mixing with mainstream America, with the hope that America will embrace us as partners in this journey to form a stronger and more equitable union. Asia Americana also aims to put Asian American issues at the forefront, topics that are near and dear to us and use our news magazine as a forum to further our causes. A dynamic online news magazine, Asia Americana hopefully will incite critical thinking and discussion, promote ideas, inspire change, and awe the imagination.

Asia Americana is everything fresh and relevant to Asians and Asian Americans. Welcome to Asia Americana.

Any Port in A Storm - Philippine Safe Haven

The plight of an oppressed Muslim minority from Myanmar, the Rohingya people, has made headlines worldwide recently. After months of floating across South East Asia, they have found temporary safe haven in the Philippines. The decision to take in the Rohingya was met with international approval, as other Asian nations refused to allow them entry. The case of the Rohingya is not the first time South East Asia faced a refugee crisis.

April 30 2015 marked forty years since the fall of Saigon. After communist victory in the Vietnam War, hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese and other Indochinese people left their homes. Hoping to escape repressive regimes, they took to sea in small boats and braved a harrowing journey across the South China Sea and the Gulf of Thailand. Storms, thirst, hunger, and pirates were just a few of the dangers they had to face.  “Thuyền nhân”, or boat people in Vietnamese, would become a concern for a generation of South East Asian diplomats and policy makers. The flow of refugees began with just a trickle in 1975, with few choosing to leave Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia so soon after the end of the war. The number fleeing the region increased dramatically each year afterward as economic depression deepened and political persecution intensified. The peak was in 1979, with nearly a quarter of a million refugees fleeing Vietnam during that year alone. Many were ethnic Chinese who became targets for revenge due to China’s 1979 invasion of Vietnam. Refugees continued to flee Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia for neighboring countries throughout the 1980’s, with the flow only stopping completely in 1994. By then, economic growth and political reforms in Vietnam had made it far less likely for people to leave the country.

While the Philippines was not the destination for the majority of the refugees, around 200,000 Vietnamese, Lao, and Cambodians were processed by the two main centers in Morong, Bataan, and Puerto Princesa in Palawan. Boat people rescued by the Philippine Navy or Coast Guard would be taken to either of the two where they would stay until they were resettled permanently in other countries, with the United States the destination of choice. Many of the refugees suffered in diplomatic and political limbo, having no documentation or citizenship in the countries they wanted to resettle. As their immigration status and resettlement arrangements were handled, they lived and worked in the refugee centers. The term refugee camp brings to mind nightmarish images of tent cities teeming with disease and despair. Thankfully, the facilities in the Philippines were nothing of the sort. The main center in Morong and Vietville in Palawan were like pieces of Vietnam transplanted to the Philippines. Social services from a range of organizations, religious, governmental, and international, helped the boat people rebuild their lives and provide a semblance of normalcy. The Philippine government provided the land on which the centers were constructed and also guaranteed their security. International groups, primarily the UN High Commission on Refugees and the Red Cross, provided the funding.

Sadly, the treatment the boat people received in the Philippines was not the norm across the region. In Malaysia, Hong Kong, and Indonesia, they were often crammed into crowded and unsanitary camps. Singapore took the hardest line against refugees. The Singaporean Navy was ordered to intercept any boats and tow them out of Singapore’s territorial waters, regardless of the condition of the passengers or the seaworthiness of their vessels. The late Prime Minister of Singapore, Lee Kuan Yew was unapologetic about this policy, stating in November 1978 – “You’ve got to grow calluses on your heart or you just bleed to death… Can I afford to have people festering away in refugee camps, being hawked around to countries which are supposed to have compassion for long suffering humanity?” Undoubtedly, these actions led to the death of many boat people whose vessels sank before they could reach safe haven elsewhere. To some degree, Singapore’s policy was understandable. Hong Kong and Singapore in particular had little space or resources to devote to potentially hundreds of thousands of refugees. The Philippines, an entire archipelago and several large islands, could afford to be more generous with space.

Yet the situation in the Philippines was far from ideal when it hosted the boat people. The late 70’s and early 80’s saw economic stagnation and increasing domestic turmoil. The EDSA revolution and the end of the Marcos regime in 1986 only brought a new set of challenges. The economy was in free fall and military coups against the new, democratic government of Corazon Aquino made an already unstable situation worse. The insult “the sick man of Asia” was never more truly applied to the Philippines than during the late 70’s and 80’s. Despite these challenges, the Philippine government addressed the refugee problem with surprising wisdom and humanity. By 1996, the centers in Morong and Palawan were closed, with the overwhelming majority of refugees resettled in the United States and other developed countries.

Philippine policy makers faced a difficult dilemma concerning the boat people. They had to balance national interests against the undeniable suffering of a people in need. To this day, the Philippines is not a rich country and much of its still growing population suffers from grinding poverty and inequality. These problems were even more acute in the 1980’s. Filipinos had to endure power shortages, military coups, and an economy that seemed to only get worse. The fact that the Philippine government managed to find a pragmatic and humane solution to the refugee crisis is all the more remarkable considering these difficulties. Vietnamese refugees in the United States expressed their gratitude in November 2013, collecting  nearly 2 million dollars in disaster relief after Typhoon Yolanda devastated the Visayas. It is a high compliment to a nation’s warmth and hospitality when even its refugee camps are remembered fondly. Today, the Philippines and Vietnam work together in resolving territorial disputes in the South China Sea against Chinese expansion. The saga of the boat people proved that despite great hardship of its own, the Philippines could be a safe haven for those most in need.

About the author

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Cristobal Zarco was born in the Philippines and grew up in New York, specifically Long Island. He graduated with a degree in political science from Adelphi University. He enjoys tracking down books about Philippine history and exploring lesser known parts of New York City.

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