An In Depth End Hence of Independence

Summer: Best season ever. You’ve got awesome weather, weddings galore, block parties, summer Fridays (summer Alldays?), and the love/hate relationship you have with food/drinking and the gym is at its peak.

For Pilipino-Americans, you’ve also got Independence Days: June 12th and July 4th.

Personally, I don’t really think of myself as much of a flag waver for either country that I call home. In my younger years, I repped the Philippines hardcore while also trying to assimilate into a new culture when my family immigrated to this country. Now in my late- (ouch) twenties, I’ve realized some interesting things about how these two holidays are celebrated here in the States.

When I think of Philippine Independence Day, I think of the following: a jam-packed parade along Madison Avenue lined with kiosks of ulam and halo-halo; the smell of barbeque wafting from the ihawan; titos and titas marching in matching shirts and facetowel capes that unintentionally make them look like union workers on strike; young beauty pageant queens with their make-up melting on their face as they sashay in their ternos and tiaras; and a bunch of teenagers strolling around in packs.

When I think of Fourth of July, I think of red, white, and blue tank-tops and cut-offs patterned with stars and stripes. I think of beach barbecues, backyard beer pong games, and fireworks. I think of popsicle sticks, ice cream, and swimming pools. It’s truly a holiday - so much so that it gives you a great conversation piece to kill time at work for a full week when you return to the office: “Hey Joe. How was your Fourth?”

Pilipinos see Independence Day as a day to celebrate their heritage and Pilipino pride. They bring out their barongs, go to church and attend masses said in Tagalog, and eat. They eat. Did I already say they eat? I do think there might be a little bit of confusion as to what exactly is being celebrated. Technically, it’s independence from Spain - yet, on a day when we’re supposed to be celebrating what is truly Pilipino, what is truly Pilipino anyway? Much of what we regard as cultural staples either are or have been influenced by other nations. On this day, we all of a sudden revere a nation that many of its people have left and continue to leave in order to pursue a better life. It almost makes one wonder if we here in the States might actually be celebrating independence from the Philippines - a reminder that we can still be Pilipino albeit without the figurative cage of what it is to actually live in the Philippines.

On the flipside, the Fourth of July is exactly just that: the Fourth of July. It’s a date on a calendar. Yes - it’s the day that the Declaration of Independence was adopted which granted independence from Great Britain, but since the very first Fourth of July I ever celebrated, it has always been a social event - never a commemorative one. I get it though - it’s difficult to celebrate independence of a nation that instills a spirit of power and pride among its people. A nation so independent that it utilizes its servicemen to ensure that other countries maintain their own independence and peace. America is certainly seen by many throughout the world as the best and most powerful country, no? So when you’re the “biggest and the best” (emphasis on the quotes) and you’ve never really felt the burn of being anything other than that, there’s really no independence to be celebrated. And so we plan our road trips and weekends at the Jersey shore, we fire up the grill, and drink to our hearts’ contentment and our livers’ capacity ... all in the name of celebrating our country’s independence.

Times change and maybe instead of calling these days “Independence Days,” they should just be “Philippine Day” or “America Day.” I think it’s not so much independence that should be celebrated, but rather what reminds you that you are a Pilipino; what reminds you that you are an American.

With that said, moving forward, I will now be celebrating these two days at the gym with my non-existent gym membership. Because all the drinking and eating I’m doing around these holidays are ultimately what remind me that I am a Pilipino-American.

Photo credits: NYC <3 NYC, Day-images

“They did their mission, we should do ours…for our lolos.”

“I want to be buried with that.” That’s what a Filipino-American World War II veteran shared with General Taguba in hopes that the sacrifices that he and thousands of his colleagues made during the conflict will finally receive the same recognition that Native American codetalkers and Japanese-American veterans have received: the Congressional Gold Medal.

It’s almost seven decades since the end of WWII. For the past few years, we’ve seen 70^th anniversary commemorations for events such as the Attack on Pearl Harbor, the Battle of Stalingrad, and the D-Day landings. In less than a couple years, we’ll see another one of those 70^th anniversaries, this time not for a battle but for a law: the Rescission Act of 1946. The words that opened the legislation was itself damning:

Service before July 1, 1946, in the organized military forces of the Government of the Commonwealth of the Philippines, while such forces were in the service of the Armed Forces of the United States pursuant to the military order of the President dated July 26, 1941, including among such military forces organized guerrilla forces under commanders appointed, designated, or subsequently recognized by the Commander in Chief, Southwest Pacific Area, or other competent authority in the Army of the United States, shall not be deemed to have been active military, naval, or air service for the purposes of any law of the United States conferring rights, privileges, or benefits upon any person by reason of the service of such person or the service of any other person in the Armed Forces.

The oath that a quarter million Pilipino recruits made years earlier by joining the United States Armed Forces Far East (USAFFE)—that pledge of "faith and allegiance...to the United States of America" and to "obey the orders...of the president of the United States"—seemed to have meant nothing in the eyes of the Rescission Act.

Thus began the decades-long fight for recognition, a battle that continued long after the war’s end. We’ve heard of the Fil-Am veterans who chained themselves in a park named after Douglas MacArthur, the USAFFE commander who led the initial defense and eventually the liberation of the Philippines. We’ve seen bills submitted to Congress over the years to bring such recognition only to end up not gaining traction.

Eventually some progress was made. The Naturalization Act of 1990 allowed veterans to become US citizens and one-time payments were delivered to them in the Filipino Veterans Equity Compensation Fund, which was embedded into American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009.

But even then such compensation ($9,000 to non-US citizens and $15,000 for US citizens) seems miniscule compared to what American veterans have received since the end of the war, with benefits ranging from medical to the GI Bill. And by then, thousands of Fil-Am vets have already passed away, thus reducing the number that needed to be compensated while 42% that are still alive and have applied have since been rejected.

As their numbers dwindle by the day, the imperative to act is immediate. Recently Hawaii representative Colleen Hayabusa introduced the Filipino Veterans of World War II Congressional Gold Medal Act. The latest attempt has spawned a grassroots movement called the Filipino American World War II Soldiers Recognition Project and is led none other than General Antonio Taguba, the closing speaker at this year’s UniPro Summit. Within that speech was a quote that struck a chord deep within, emotions that reminded me of my own grandfather who passed away shortly after the war…

“They did their mission, we should do ours… for our lolos.”

I recall ten years ago, when I’d envision General Taguba’s face every time I heard something about the Abu Gharib scandal. I was inspired to see a Fil-Am in the upper echelons of the Armed Forces. Now he’s leading the fight for another injustice, one that after seven decades is finally seeing progress -- but only after thousands of veterans have already passed away. Writing to members of our congress seems painless compared to the literal and symbolic battles that these individuals faced, but it’s powerful enough as a final gesture of gratitude before they pass on.

Fellow minority veteran groups received their recognition after years of constant lobbying. Now it’s time for our Filipino-American World War II veterans, our lolos, to receive theirs.

For updates on this important initiative, check out and like the Filipino American World War II Soldiers Recognition Project Facebook page.

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Photo credit: Filipino American World War II Soldiers Recognition Project

And As Long As I've Got My Suit and Tie

Bongga! Tell a Pilipino crowd to get dressed up for a party, and you’ll find us doing just that... and some. 

I had the pleasure of attending this year’s An Evening In Manila, a black tie affair hosted by Maharlika Filipino Moderno and Jeepney Filipino Gastropub that celebrated Philippine independence and benefitted one of my absolute favorite organizations, ARK (Advancement for Rural Kids). For one night in late May, a mansion on the Upper East Side in New York City was the setting for a showcase of amazing Pilipino-inspired hors d’oeuvres, networking with the who’s who among advocates and social do-gooders within the Pilipino community, and some “get outta my way, that DJ is playing my sooooongggg”-type of dancing.

The crowd was not only raising money to fund feeding programs in rural communities in the Philippines, but also raising the bar when it came to fashion and style. There was a competition for best dressed male and female of the night, and that might have influenced some outfits but I must say, that was one handsome room. See for yourself.

At the last minute, I ditched the bow tie I was planning to wear that night for a piece that was buried within all my other ties. I remembered I had this one neck piece that I bought to wear with the barong I wore to my high school senior prom (yup, that happened). I really don’t remember the last time I had worn it, mostly because it’s an odd-looking piece that doesn’t really go with anything. I always thought it was simple yet loud, classy yet eccentric, bold yet endearing. A single white pearl sat in the middle of it, almost acting as the period in the fashion statement that the neckpiece itself was.

I truly believe that fashion and style have the power to tell stories, and there is always thought, whether conscious or subconscious, that goes into the clothes one picks to wear on any given day. On that night, I suppose that neck piece was a cool thing to wear to a Pilipino-themed event. I mean, the Philippines is the “pearl of the orient” after all, right? Yet, thinking about it more after, I’d like to think that it was a bit more than that.

Just as the neckpiece was buried underneath all the other ties I have, sometimes our Pilipino-ness gets buried too. I know for me, it often times does. It’s always there, yet over time, our environments and situations cover it up. We adapt, we assimilate, we fit in. That’s not a bad thing at all - in fact, I think these are totally essential to growing as a person, but I think the part that gets lost most times is: we remember. In the words of Philippine National Hero, Jose Rizal:

Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makararating sa paroroonan.

or:

"He who does not look back from where he came will never reach his destination."

We don’t need to be waving Philippine flags, but I think that getting in touch with our Pilipino-ness every now and then is always good. It’s not all of who we are, but certainly a part of who we are, and it’s something that we should remember and celebrate. Whether it’s making a quick stop to Maharlika or Jeepney for a reminder of what your lola’s cooking tastes like, watching a documentary or reading an essay on immigration legislation, or even trying to incorporate cool Pinoy fashion elements into your style, it’s a way to remember.

Maybe hold off on the Ifugao loincloths for Casual Friday at the office though. No one's trying to remember seeing you in that.

(Suit and Tie by author)

General Antonio M. Taguba on vision, fear and failure

Our fourth annual UniPro Summit took place this past Saturday, May 31st. Ryan Letada, Chief Builder of NextDayBetter and the moderator of our Typhoon Response Panel at Summit, had the opportunity to speak to retired Major General Antonio M. Taguba, our Closing Keynote Speaker. I saw Ryan's original social media post about the encounter and knew I had to share his story here.

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By Ryan Letada, guest contributor

I absolutely admire Major General Antonio M. Taguba, US Army Retired. You can probably notice how nervous I was in this conversation. I don't usually write confessionals but I thought this was worth it.

At the Pilipino American Unity for Progress (UniPro) Summit, I pulled General Taguba aside and asked him a question:

"You commanded army battalions - thousands of men and women. Your leadership decisions are matters of life and death. I think it takes strong commitment to VISION to lead in such circumstance. Do you ever get scared of your vision?"

He was incredibly vulnerable in his response. Without hesitation, he talked about being scared. He talked about the six (6) people that died under his leadership. He talked about the importance of failing and accepting our own humanity. He started to talk about persistence and clarity in vision... but our conversation was interrupted by the throngs of people waiting to speak to him. Too bad.

Major General Taguba is an elder. I've been told that many adults don't graduate to "elderhood" - a concept not simply linked to age. Elderhood is about reaching a stage in life when you have absorbed and applied wisdom, and learned that your role is to "give it forward" as gifts. 

My vision for my life or NextDayBetter scares me a lot. I'm not perfect. In fact, this weekend I made mistakes and failed. General Taguba's words was a reminder to accept our human imperfections, and aspire to learn and grow so that we may eventually reach - if we're lucky enough - the stage of elderhood.

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Ryan Letada is CEO and Chief Builder of NextDayBetter - a culture platform that builds and activates diaspora communities to create a better future. He is also a foodie, Fulbright Fellow, and social innovation junkie.

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Photo credit: Lambert Parong

The "Know Thyself" Challenge

"Those who do not know how to look back at where they came from will never get to their destination."

The past can reveal a lot, and those who do not know their own are doomed to either repeat the mistakes of those before them or go against the momentum given to them.

I believe another important element absent from Rizal’s quote is “be aware of where you are now.” Awareness of one’s past and present puts more control and direction toward the future. The uncertainties of the future are mitigated, the immediate path becomes clearer and from that we become more decisive as an individual.

What about as a community? As Fil-Ams, what sort of look-back in history do we need to get to where we are headed? Where are we headed to begin with? Then there is the more present oriented question of “Where are we now?”

These are questions I want answered so we may understand our past, present, and future as individuals of the Fil-Am community. Though the sum of the parts don’t necessarily equate to the whole, we might at least see trends in our individual pasts and presents, as well as motivation for the future. All three will give us an idea of how we are moving as a community.

When we think about these three parts -- past, present, and future -- we can immediately see how intricately tied we are to the Philippines and its natives. Our culture, our family and our friends all branch out from the same tree as the Pilipino people. The branches have spread across the globe with overseas foreign workers (OFWs), nth generation immigrants, and those who have always remained native to the mother islands. Their story is ours as much as ours is theirs.

I’d like us to attack this endeavor strategically as a series over the next year. Each post will deal with a set of questions about the past, the present, or the future from the perspective of individuals; and will be presented as a challenge. I want us to discover our stories together and share them with each other in the comments, or simply bring it up in conversation with friends and family.

I’ll also concurrently interview Pilipino natives, OFWs, and various Pilipino-Americans and feature their stories side-by-side. How interesting would it be, for example, to see three nurses -- a second-generation Fil-Am, an OFW in the Middle East, and one in a rural hospital in the Philippines -- and compare and contrast their stories?

I would love to know why they are where they are, what they do similar and different from each other, and why they do what they do. How different are their motivations and dreams for their future? How similar are their pasts?

If you or any Pilipino/Fil-Am you know has a story you would like featured, here is the pre-interview questionnaire!

For the first challenge, let's take a look at the immediate past: 

Engage your parents and hear their story. Specifically how did they, as Pilipinos or Fil-Ams, believe they got to where they are from where they started? Where are they from exactly? Then share their story with the rest of the community!

I look forward to your answers. When we understand how we got here and where we really are right now, we will help each other get to our destination. Know thyself.

Photo credit: www.stephenlabit.com/travel