Reflections of Tagalogue: Remembering Lola Encar

By Nicole Maxali, guest contributor About one year ago, I moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to New York City in order to pursue my passion of acting, writing and producing.  In my first month of living in NYC, I had a stark realization: the Pilipino community on the East Coast is very spread out.  It’s not like in the Bay Area, where you can run into a Pilipino at every corner or every fifteen minutes.

So, it was refreshing to meet Leslie Espinosa - the creator of Tagalogue - through a mutual friend in October 2012.  She invited me to check out her show Tagalogue which was a collection of Fil-Am stories by Pilipino artists.  I came out to support and was instantly drawn in by the eclectic collection of voices, stories and artists.  I told Leslie that I would love to be part of Tagalogue the following year.

Fast forward to September 2013:  I received an email from UniPro that an open audition is happening for Tagalogue Volume 3.  This year’s theme was “Celebrating our Ancestors."  The stars not only aligned for me to audition, but it also allowed me to perform and share a piece that is very close to my heart.  The piece I performed was a snippet of my full length one woman show, “Forgetting the Details."

“Forgetting the Details” pays tribute to my lola, Encar.  During the mid 1950s, Lola Encar was part of a surge of Manangs finally able to come over and join their husbands in America. My lola was always the most stylish, as she always stood out from the rest. Growing up at Lola’s house, I remember her having seven closets full of clothes, shoes, jackets, purses, jewelry and accessories! I once found a closet full of shoes she had kept from the 70’s and 80’s. I still wear them to this day. Women are always commenting, “Oh, I love your shoes!” Lola Encar also taught me the importance of hard work, education, sticking by your family, how to be resourceful and to have faith in yourself and God. It’s because of her I am the strong woman I am today. I am so thankful for her influence and love.

“Forgetting the Details” also began as a way to cope with my lola's struggle with Alzheimer’s. Incorporating true-life stories, things she’s said over the years while raising me as a little Fil-Am kid in San Francisco, and giving my view on the situations while also adding some much comedic relief to a struggling time.  But as I continued to write, to take solo classes, and share twenty-minute snippets of the show with audiences, I soon realized that my art was beginning to be a form of healing not only for me but for those that were going through similar situations. All types of people began approaching me after my shows, sharing their stories of a mom, grandma or uncle with Alzheimer’s. Some would even share their own frustrations being a caretaker. Other young Fil-Ams were coming up to me, saying how inspiring it was to see a character that reminded them of their own family or grandmother.

So to be able to perform a snippet of my show with the Tagalogue cast/crew was such an honor and blessing.  I am so thankful for the opportunity to do what I do.  Here is a link of family pictures taken from my one woman show, “Forgetting the Details." -- Nicole Maxali is a New New Yorker. Native to San Francisco, she began performing at Bindlestiff Studio, the only Filipino-American Theater in the nation. In 2008, Nicole Maxali wrote and performed her very first solo show under the tutelage of W. Kamau Bell (FX’s Totally Biased). Under the direction of Paul Stein at Comedy Central Theater, Nicole developed her original twenty minute piece titled “I Heart Lola” into her full length show, "Forgetting the Details". Described by legendary comic Dave Chappelle as "funny, heartwarming and funny again", Nicole Maxali’s 75 minute solo performance piece explores the familial and cultural-related challenges a young adult faces when losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s. She has performed her solo show at the famous Joe's Pub at The Public Theater in New York City, The FIND Conference at Harvard University and the Minnesota Fringe Festival. You can also see Nicole on the big screen as a surgical nurse in the independent film, Fruitvale Station, produced by Forest Whitaker & directed by Ryan Coogler.

Let Me Guess, Nursing?: Addressing the Pilipino Stereotype through the Eyes of an English Major

"Let me guess. Nursing?"

Whether from the lips of family friends or relatives, I have heard this question and every variation of it. I bear the question with no scorn. My face does not flare up in offense, my voice does not become needles ready to deflate their hopes. In fact, with playful amusement, I expect the question. But, I can’t say they exactly expect my answer.

“Actually, I’m an English major.”

A few listeners accept it, embracing the potential of this unfamiliar path. The vast majority, though, cannot understand. Some try to hide their confusion. Others are not so delicate. The wide eyes brimmed with concern, the smirks laced with disapproval and – my personal favorite – the blunt, slightly outraged “But, WHY?”s. There are moments when conversations like these make me upset, but on most occasions I know where they are coming from.

I am twenty years old. I’m in college, working towards a degree to secure myself a future. These descriptions can be applied to anyone. They don’t indicate a pressure to enter any specific profession, that is, until I add one detail: I'm Pilipino. And immediately, the hues of the words change and my destiny becomes predetermined. My mother is a nurse manager, my father a hospital lab technologist. Both have dedicated their careers to medicine. And most of my titas and titos? Many of my older cousins? A majority of my Pilipino friends? They have chosen the same path. I know what expectations my race affords me, the footsteps each of my family members longs for me to follow in. So when I reveal that I am not pursuing medicine, I cannot blame the on-lookers and eavesdroppers for their puzzled glances.

Pilipino Nurses in the United States

If my experience as a Pilipina English major is not proof enough that most Pilipinos become nurses, I pose to you a challenge. Walk into any hospital, emergency room or medical lab and tell me that a handful or two of the staff is not from the Philippines or of Pilipino descent. It will be a challenge, I can almost assure you. But why is this? Why do Pilipinos seem to dominate the world of medicine in America? This trend is nothing new, actually. It dates back to 1903, when the Pensionado Act sent Pilipino nurses to the U.S. as government-funded scholars to remedy the deficit of healthcare professionals in the States. Four decades later, the Exchange Visitors Program of 1948 welcomed another wave of nurses from the Philippines. And only 17 years later, the liberalization of U.S. immigration laws allowed nurses to travel from the motherland to the States on tourist visas and adjust their status upon arrival. For the Pilipino, then, nursing has been more than just a noteworthy profession but a chance to come to the United States, to start anew while providing for their families back home.

The Road Less Traveled By

Because of this history, nursing, for many Pilipinos, is synonymous with the sweet aromas of opportunity, familial prosperity and a passion to help others. So, it is no wonder why lab coats hang from our laundry lines and stethoscopes hide in our parents’ closets. Nursing is a road that a century’s worth of Pilipino men and women have walked and whose descendants continue to walk today. So where does that leave me? Where does that leave others like me whose ragged edges do not fit into the precut spaces of this “become a nurse” plan?

It is a common misconception among older Pilipinos to think that success can only be achieved in the medical field, while most other pursuits lack security. They don’t realize that an English degree is the leading degree in communications, business and international affairs. They tend to ignore that most liberal arts degree-holders possess skills in critical thinking, creativity, problem solving, and written and oral communication, abilities employers hunger for. Not to mention, those who have made strides in the Pilipino community using a pen and not a syringe - names such as Luis Francia, author of Eye of the Fish: A Personal Archipelago, Jose Vargas, journalist, filmmaker and founder of Define America, and Sarah Gambito, a published poet and winner of the Barnes & Nobles Writer for Writer Award. The options are endless, yet many traditional Pilipinos forget this. Therefore, it is the mission of Pilipino non-nurses to rebut the sneers and smirks of this skeptical older generation. Not with snide remarks or rolling eyes, but with passion and triumph. And as the amount of Pilipinos pursuing other interests grow, our predecessors will learn that we do not have be in a hospital to know the meaning of success, that “the road less traveled by” is one worthy of exploration and respect.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two road diverged in a wood and I- I took the road less traveled by And that has made all the difference"

The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Photo Credit: Yahoo Philippines News

This Is How You Sing In Kapampangan: Pilipino Identity In American Context

Carrying itself over car horns and rowdy high schoolers was a voice singing an old Pilipino love song in the middle of 5th Ave. I slowed down my hurried steps to meet an elderly Pilipina woman with pink drawn on eyebrows, sitting on the side walk and holding a sign that said, “Homeless, anything helps. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The song ended abruptly and I heard her call out, “Ai!! Pilipina!”

I’d been caught staring.

I smiled and walked over, eager to hear my kababayan’s story.

I learned that Pilipina, in her early sixties, was diagnosed with breast cancer nearly a decade ago, with no family in the States except for a friend who took care of her through the duration of her illness. The cancer not only forced her to stay in America - isolating her from her family in the Philippines - but it also depleted her bank accounts entirely.

Now homeless, she waits on the street corners with a coin cup and rosary in hand, hoping to collect enough money for international calling cards and motel stay fees. She refuses to stay at homeless shelters where she had previously been robbed while she slept.

She told me this all very casually. Despite what happened to her, she insisted that God’s blessings outweighed whatever setback she had and all she needed was the friendship she kept for over 30 years. There was no doubt in her strength or her realness.  And after we exchanged names and parted ways, I heard her sing my favorite Kundiman.

I felt blessed to have met this woman who dropped tea, truth and perspective on my busy mind.

We are animals of context – if we have no one to compare one context to another, we have no idea who we are. I didn’t realize the gravity of keeping out of one singular context (be it singular in setting, type of people, location, etc) until I met this woman and was confronted with the stark contrast between Pilipino and American perspectives.

It’s not uncommon to meet a Pilipino with such humble positivity. Whenever I go to the Philippines, I’m both touched and envious when I see my family and their friends together. The feeling and atmosphere is distinctive and their approach to life’s daily troubles is one that I wish that my fellow Americans and I could adapt. More often than not, I see my peers react with nervous breakdowns, endless sub-tweets, burned bridges and bad decision after bad decision.

For now, I’m not going to look at their specific difficulties and just look at the way my family in the Philippines handles everything. For one thing, they are constantly aware that an excellent life is happening whether they are present for it or not – and every time they choose to be involved in it, to actively participate in an excellent life. If they feel like singing, they call everyone in the neighborhood to come over and sing with them over San Miguels and Marlboros. If they want to learn how to dance, again, they call every single person they know to come over and watch Mariel Martin's YouTube channel for hours until they get her "Heartbeat" choreo down pat.

And part of this decision to participate is being fully aware of what their problems are. They don’t try to intellectualize or find an existential meaning behind daily stresses. They all have a “I know what I know and that’s all there is to know” attitude, a branch of the controversial “Bahala Na” mentality - and it seems to be working for my family.

Truth of the matter is, we’re surrounded by people going through the same problems we are. The difference between Americans and Pilipinos, though, is that Pilipinos (at least the ones that I've met - I know this can't be said for everyone) are open about it—a family is getting through these troubles as oppose to an isolated individual. Friends are turned into family, and aren’t used as distractions from problems but instead they help get through them.

So with that, I implore you all to take a lesson from our kababayan and stop worrying about what’s polite. Stop keeping your ambitions, talents and troubles to yourself. Stop treating your friends and family as excuses for your unhappiness, unproductiveness, and inability to attain your goals. Stop wasting your time creating distances that aren’t there. Because an excellent life is happening, and a family is there waiting for you.

Photo credit: Josh Cole

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?

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.