Adventures in Interracial Dating: Visiting Granny for Christmas

My grandma is the best person in the world.  Let me gush about her for a little bit before I tell you about how I sometimes make fun of her.  It will soothe my conscience.  She is hands down the most loving and forgiving person on this earth.  I crashed my mom's car when I was a license-less fifteen-year-old, and though she shamed me to no end, she still stuck up for me when I'm compared with my “no-good, lazy cousins.”  When I went to Korea earlier this year to teach English, she was so proud of me but then promptly dropped that act when everything went down with the DPRK. She cried for a week straight so I would come home (not going to lie though, kinda glad I can blame my grandma for that one.)  My grandma is seriously THE BEST.

That said, she has a little bit of a Pilipino accent.  It has become customary for me to poke fun at this accent occasionally when the mood strikes. A couple of months ago, I inadvertently shared this accent with my boyfriend, Michael. He had not really spent much time with my grandma yet, and assumed I was over-exaggerating. He realized differently when we went over for a family dinner, and my grandma took to spilling all our family secrets.  You know, gossip about the aunties and who’s pregnant... normal stuff. Michael couldn’t really understand her, as she kept code-switching between Ilocano, Tagalog and English. But, as a granddaughter introducing my new boyfriend I was really excited about this. This excitement translated to me speaking like my Grandma the entire way home. We conversed like this for a good thirty minutes before Michael switched over to answering me in his own grandmother’s accent. I should add, Michael’s grandma is from the United States’s South - she's spent her life largely in Mississippi, Florida, and South Carolina. I haven’t met her yet, but apparently she is very similar to my grandma, except she is white, and goes by the name Granny. This is when it dawned on me: getting my grandma to like my boyfriend was the easy part.  Now, I have to get Granny to like me.

This Christmas, I’m going to South Carolina to spend the holidays with Michael’s family. I’m most nervous to meet Granny, mainly because I don’t know how she will react to her grandson dating a non-white girl. Michael is my first white boyfriend. This isn’t really an issue, or even a source of uniqueness in our home in San Diego, California. However, it was not very far in the past where interracial marriage was illegal in South Carolina, and frowned upon in the upper-class white suburb in which he grew up.

Coming from a family that already crossed the interracial dating bridge a generation before, it never really occurred to me the cultural implications involved with dating a white guy. Aside from the pressure of coming across as nice, accommodating, self-sufficient, pretty, intelligent, and strong when I am invited into their home, I am anxious to prove myself as far more than simply the model minority. This brings me to the article that Ryann Tanap, fellow UniPro writer and editor, wrote recently regarding interracial dating and familial/cultural expectations.  I never considered being labeled as an “other,” but now that my boyfriend is white, the apprehension is different.

Now let me note, Michael and his family have been nothing but welcoming, supportive, and inclusive towards me. But the fear of rejection is still there.  And in my eyes, rejection from the matriarch of the family is something that is pretty hard to overcome. Ryann's article addressed that race relations are changing for current generations, but past generations still impact our current dating practices and attitudes.

I thought about how this is especially applicable to my experience, and how histories of hurt, discrimination, abuse, imperialism, and racism melt into today’s attitudes and fears, no matter how far removed. I mean... interracial marriages were legalized almost 50 years ago. Shouldn’t these concerns be completely irrelevant by now?

FAHM: The Delano Manong, Pete Velasco, and the Farm Workers’ Movement

Note from the Editor: In addition to being a staff writer, Kathryn Jan Estavillo, is also one of UniPro’s interns for the fall. As part of Fil-Am History Month, interns explored California’s new law to include history on Fil-Am farm workers and their efforts in the state’s education curriculum. Read on to see Kathryn's thoughts on labor leader, Pete Velasco.

Little to almost nothing can be found about his past. The names of his parents or any siblings he may have had remain unaddressed, unexcavated by both print and online sources. However, the amount of information that can be gleaned about his childhood, scant and insignificant, is a deceitful indicator of the great impact he left on the Fil-Am community. Peter G. Velasco, more commonly known as Pete Velasco, was born in 1910 in Asingan, Philippines. Having migrated to Los Angeles in 1931, Pete Velasco was a manong. Awarded to older male family members, manong is a term of endearment and respect familiar to many Pilipinos. Possibly an older brother, probably an older cousin, Velasco may have very well been given this title from birth. However, in between the 1930s and 1940s, the word adapted a new meaning, referring to the thousands of Pilipino immigrants, Velasco among them, driven by hopes of education and advancement to the United States.

While in the United States, Velasco worked in area restaurants for ten years, a challenging feat considering the American backlash directed towards immigrants, specifically Pilipinos. Despite America’s anti-immigrant mentality, Velasco stood as a representation of patriotism, fighting for the United States on European fronts during World War II and becoming an American citizen shortly after. Although his wartime service and citizenship are notable strides for Pilipino immigrants, it was his time as a farm worker that solidified his footprint in both Pilipino and American history. During the twenty years after the war, Pete Velasco worked on small farms in the Coachella Valley and Delano, California. There he, alongside thousands of Pilipino and Mexican migrant workers, faced horrendous treatment. They endured long hours of hard labor, unsuitable living conditions and meager earnings; these subhuman conditions continued even after their service expired. No longer needed and thus unemployed, former workers received no insurance. Their former employers for whom these immigrant workers toiled, exploited and maltreated, gave no help and showed no mercy. Velasco, along with fellow Pilipino farm workers Larry Itliong and Philip Vera Cruz, noticed this injustice and, together, they founded the Agricultural Farm Workers Association Committee (AFWOC) in order to address it.

The three leaders unified the Pilipino migrant workers under a common sense of rage and disempowerment and, on September 8, 1965 they initiated the Delano Grape Strike. This was a series of peaceful protests against California grape growers that lasted five years. Not long after the strike began, in 1966, the objectives of the Pilipino farm workers gained notoriety in the eyes of Hispanic civil rights leader Cesar Chavez as goals both the Pilipinos and Mexicans had in common. This led to the collaboration of Pilipino and Chicano farmworkers in the United Farm Workers of America. Aside from organizing the strike with Vera Cruz and Itliong, Velasco raised the money needed to launch the strike effort. By passing out pamphlets in front of supermarkets and other areas of congregation, he introduced the plight of migrant farm workers into public conversation. He was also more directly involved, arranging food caravans and establishing food banks for the strikers. He would later become a member of the union’s executive board and was elected as secretary-treasurer in 1980. Not only a supporter, Pete Velasco was familiar with the grit and grim, the suffering and sacrifice of the labor movement. As a member of this generation of Pilipino immigrant farm workers campaigning for justice, won his title as a Delano Manong.

There are many reasons why learning about Pete Velasco is important for Americans. Velasco was a piece of a larger puzzle, a representation of the effort to rectify the unforgivable conditions immigrant workers faced. By learning about Velasco, we acknowledge not only his role in the movement but we realize there may have been others whose efforts may have gone unnoticed. Additionally, Velasco is a canvas depicting American error. Velasco was one of many who traveled to the United States in pursuit of the American dream: education, opportunity, a better standard of living for himself, his family and the family he had yet to start. Velasco saw all these possibilities promised to him in the vibrant hues of the American flag. But what did he meet with? What did he and immigrants like him face when they set foot onto the shores of America? Unfortunately, this wave of immigrants, like many others, had  racial slurs and undesirable jobs to look forward to. America boasts itself to be the land of opportunity, a country who begs for “your tired, your hungry and your poor,” a nation whose diversity is its most valuable asset. Still, this gross injustice in our history shows us what mentalities to avoid in order to maintain the true meaning of the United States, a lesson that needs, desperately, to be relearned today.

Undoubtedly, Velasco is an important figure in American history but, more so, in Fil-Am history. The Agricultural Workers’ Movement, the momentous step towards improving American labor, is recognized primarily as a Mexican or Chicano movement. However, Pilipinos played an enormous role. They began the movement but because Cesar Chavez was appointed director and Larry Itliong assistant director. However, Pilipino migrant workers received less attention than those of Mexican descent. The Pilipino leader of this major civil rights labor movement accepted a secondary role and the union organizing efforts of the Pilipinos in the US have been virtually forgotten. When researching the United Farm Workers of America or the Delano Grape Strike, the majority of articles one finds highlights the Mexican-American struggle with only a slight mention, a small blurb about the Pilipino role. Pilipinos have left footprints on the sands of American history and they are often unacknowledged. As Fil-Ams, it is our responsibility to ourselves if not to the general public to point out these footprints.

Photo Credit: Walter P. Reuther Library Website

"Tagalogue" and the Filipino Arts Renaissance

The second showing of "Tagalogue Vol 3: Within Us A Tribute to Our Ancestors" had attendees walking up a narrow staircase into a dimly lit, small white room packed with people shoulder to shoulder, and barely any distance between the performers and the front row. It was intimate. As the night commenced I soon realized the proximity mimicked the material. With every personal story of history, struggle, and identity, heads from the audience nodded in recognition like a silent chorus of "me too"s. There was no question: "Tagalogue" was going to hit home, and whether you knew it or not, sitting there made you a partner of its prose.

History certainly loomed overhead with each story. But, even if the performers were years removed from their tale their words felt immediate, stinging like fresh wounds. There was loss: Larry Tantay wrote "Mary Lou Tantay," a beautiful piece on the last days with his mother, played impeccably by Renee Rises, who succumbed to cancer. There was connection: Jana-Lynne Umipig's excerpt from her original work "Journey of a Brown Girl" summoned women of Philippine past to the present. There was conflict: J. Gabriel Tungol's "Another One of These Type Dudes" raised questions of authenticity in Fil-Am identity. There was even humor: RJ Mendoza's "My Main Man" had everyone guffawing over his endearing relationship with his lolo. In every performance, there was love. There was the 14-person cast's love for their craft, love for each other, and from every corner of the room–a love for our culture's past.

After the show there was a talk-back with the cast and directors, Andre Ignacio Dimapilis and Precious Sipin, and they took questions from the audience about their piece. In the same space, there were experienced Broadway performers, and others were first-time actors. At one point, Andre announced:

"We are experiencing a Filipino arts renaissance!" and I immediately wrote the phrase down. The words resonated in the room: Filipino. Arts. Renaissance. Up to now, it's nothing new that the Pilipino population is abundantly blessed with singers, dancers, and writers, but seeing a Pilipino artist in the performing arts was always an exception (think of the national worship over Lea Salonga). "Tagalogue" introduced a time for change, and now I'm looking forward to seeing a rise of productions for and by our community.

The Pilipino/Fil-Am experience has yet to be in the public spotlight, but if that small white room was any indication of what's to come... we're definitely getting closer.

Photo: Kristina Rodulfo

Fondue and the Future of Fil-Ams

By Sherina Ong, guest contributor A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a Korean restaurant with my boyfriend’s family. As I eagerly waited for the bulgogi beef to finish searing on the grill in front of us, I glanced around at the six of us and suddenly noticed the rainbow of ethnic representation sitting there at our table. First, there was my boyfriend’s father, a Pilipino immigrant, seated next to his part French-Algerian and Nicaraguan wife. That interesting genetic combination produced my boyfriend and his brother; the two are no stranger to frequently selecting “Other” on box-checking race surveys. Then, there were the added on members of the already eclectic clan: his brother’s half white and half Korean girlfriend and my Pilipino-Chinese hybrid self.

Even though I was struck by how exceptionally diverse our little family unit was, I don’t believe that having such an ethnic medley within one family will be atypical for very long.  Looking around that dinner table was like looking at the picture of the new America - a country filled with Wasians, Blasians, Blaxicans, and all sorts of mash ups that defy current racial and ethnic categories.  In the melting pot that is the United States, the color profile will no longer be black and white, but probably orange or something of the sort.

But if so many different cultures are slowly diluting into one big American fondue, what does that mean for the future of Fil-Ams? Even though I grew up with the abundant smells of adobo in my home kitchen and the sounds of TFC in my living room, I was born and raised in suburban Virginia. When I envision the daily life of my future family there is no Tagalog spoken in the house because I was never taught the language. My children might not call each other Kuya or Ate because I rarely used those names as an only child. Yes, I will try and learn to cook the occasional sinigang, but there will also be many Korean barbecue and taco nights.

Identity is anchored down by our everyday habits, the food we eat, the words we speak, and the choices we make based on the values we hold.  What will happen to my family’s identity if the customs my parents brought over from the Philippines trickle away generation after generation?

The reality is that the Pilipino traditions of my parents won’t stick around unchanged, especially in America. The nature of culture is dynamic. I do believe, however, that Fil-Ams are the agents of their own distinctive culture. We listen to the rhythms of both the Philippines and the United States and put our own idiosyncratic spin on them. It’s the culture that has both turkey and lumpia at Thanksgiving, and likes to mash hip-hop with Tinikling at college culture night performances. It’s the culture that endeavors to find its own voice by uniting passionate and conscientious members of the community through organizations like UniPro.

Twenty or fifty years from now, I can’t say in what different shapes the Fil-Am identity will take form, but I do know that we have the power to sculpt that identity here and now. I intend to educate myself more about the Philippines and weave the cherished traditions of my parents into my life in the United States.  That way, I can proudly pass on to the next generation a cultural palette in which both the flavors of America and the Philippines pop.

Photo credit: Joanne Tanap

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Sherina Ong is a 23-year-old trying to figure out how she is supposed to appropriately define herself in the limbo between college and hopefully attending graduate school. She has a BA in Anthropology from the College of William and Mary and is currently working as a substitute teacher in Charlottesville, VA. Her interests include education, Asian Pacific American issues, playing guitar, and singing very loudly.

Family vs. Interracial Dating

“Why do you like blacks?” a relative asked me.

I was in elementary school at the time. I didn’t realize that the students that I had crushes on were from a different race than I mine. The question didn’t bother me, though. The fact was I just liked whomever I liked, and that was that.

I started dating shortly after middle school. My first boyfriend was black; he was smart and a stellar athlete. We even took advanced and gifted classes together. Now, I’m not sure if the tone was joking or not, but after learning that I was dating him, the same relative asked me a question that changed my perception of race and interracial dating.

“You’re going to marry a Filipino or white guy, right?”

I was confused. Was my relationship a disgrace? Was it not good enough? Why was I being shamed for something that was making me happy? I questioned my feelings and emotions toward this guy, and others thereafter. Subconsciously, I only allowed myself to be interested in boys who were Filipino or white. Whenever I had feelings for a black classmate of mine, and things didn’t work out, I blamed it on the fact that our races didn’t mix. I had conditioned myself into believing that people from our two races weren’t supposed to be together.

Cultural expectations

In the Fil-Am community, there seems to be a common understanding that Pilipinos are not to marry outside of their race (or ethnicity for that matter), unless of course, it’s to a white partner. Was this the reality of a Fil-Am household in so-called “post-racist” America? I was positive that one could love someone, regardless of his or her race, gender, sexual orientation and faith. So how could my own family, who had raised me to be an open and accepting individual, have an exception when it came to dating someone who was black?

While racism and hate crimes affect Fil-Ams and Pilipinos in the US, I wonder if we are even aware of the racist stereotypes that our own culture has adopted. With an issue such as interracial dating, we are able to see just how family expectations continue to create generational gaps within the Fil-Am community.

For example, the act of marrying within one’s own race or ethnicity is simply part of the norm. To our elders, it may ensure that we’re preserving our family traditions, ideals and faith.

In addition, dating or marrying a white person is also culturally acceptable. This stems from the Philippines’ history of colonization. Throughout Asia, if a young lady finds a partner from a Western country, she may instantly be considered successful and wealthy. Furthermore, Asian cultures yearn to have light skin, as some people resort to using whitening creams and bleaches. Sadly, the Filipino culture, isn’t any different.

Race relations in America

But what about the fact that we are in America? Anti-miscegenation laws were recognized as unconstitutional in 1967 with the Supreme Court’s ruling in Loving v. Virginia. Our country then saw a rise in interracial marriages. According to the 2010 Census, the number of interracial marriages continues to grow, thus making our nation increasingly multiracial.

Today, however, interracial relationships are still seen as taboo. Recently, Cheerios released a commercial that showcased an interracial couple and their biracial daughter. Unfortunately, Cheerios received some negative attacks. Inspired by the commercial, Michael Murphy and Alyson West, a couple from Atlanta, released a crowd-sourced blog, which celebrates interracial American families.

Our relatives have moved from the Philippines to the US, and the same types of traditional values and expectations historically embedded in our culture continue to exist within some Fil-Am families. While younger generations of Fil-Ams may be accepting of interracial dating and relationships, some older generations are not. It is up to us to help our families understand that we are truly part of diverse country, comprised of individuals who accept others. America is in fact a melting pot. We shouldn’t be afraid to continue mixing that pot and embrace love for what it is.

Photo credit: Loving Day