The Words That Bind Us

I sometimes wonder about the words that come into people’s minds when they look in the mirror. As a former student of literature and journalism, words affect me deeply - words are never just words to me. They create boundaries and definitions. Words are capable of shattering and undoing, but also of rebuilding and morphing. And perhaps it’s this preoccupation with semantics that troubles me when it comes to selecting the words I use to define me. When I look into the mirror, I don’t see an Asian, and never have, despite the fact that this is might be the first thing most people first see about me. I feel uncomfortable marking in Asian for anything that asks for my race. To me, Asian is just as loaded a label as “Oriental.” “Asian Pride” is something I’ve never felt close to. I don’t know how many times I’ve been told things like “You’re Asian, right? So you must be good at math.” Or, “So you’re studying to be a nurse?” a question that has long irritated me with its double assumptions: Asian girls study nursing, Asian boys study engineering. All of these absurd presumptions that I couldn’t relate to have made me resistant to adopting the word “Asian” as part of my identity.

What baffles me the most is when these presumptions come from the Asian community. If I announce that I don’t identify as an Asian, it has sometimes been taken as derogatory or offensive. I understand the lens by which I view the term has been shaped by stereotypes imposed by society, and that doesn’t necessarily make it the correct definition of the word. But that raises the question of whether or not labels HAVE to be defined by stereotypes in order to relate to them.

I am more intrigued than I am disturbed that I don’t see an Asian in the mirror. I would rather be confused by the name, space and place that I take up in the world, than be bound to the limits of race and origin that others may impose on me. I write this with absolutely no answers, only questions. I’m not trying to say anyone who does identify with the term "Asian" is wrong or fitting of any stereotypes by virtue of simply using a word to define themselves. The problems of defining oneself are ongoing, fluid and changeable, and highly unique to an individual.

I am always curious to know what others identify with, or reject. I’m beginning to understand the value of questions, because that opens up a dialogue. So, I ask: will we ever be able to disassociate words with their stereotypes? Can the label "Asian" ever hold within it, the complex identities of all the individuals it qualifies?

My Fil-Am Identity Abroad: "You Look Like Thai People"

When I introduce myself to my students, teachers, administrators and important guests here at the school where I'm teaching in Thailand, the conversation, without fail, proceeds in the following manner:

“Chan chuu Ryann. Pen khon American,” I say. Translation: My name is Ryann. I’m American.

I am usually faced by blank stares of confusion.

“Meh ka Paw maa jaak prathet Philippine, ” I add, just to clarify why I have black hair and dark skin. Translation: My mother and father come from the Philippines.

“You look like Thai people,” they offer.

I have mixed feelings when I hear this response. I am flattered to know that I have been able to blend into the northwest Thai/hill tribe culture I’ve been thrust into. However, I am certainly not “Thai people.” I’m Pilipino American. Thus, I am also internally disappointed that my heritage and nationality aren’t as obvious to those around me.

As Fil-Ams, we are at an interesting identity crossroads. We are too American to be Pilipino. We are too Pilipino to be American. We moved from the Philippines. We grew up in the States. Or, we were born in the States, and have yet to dig our feet into Philippine soil.

What does it even mean to be “Pilipino”? How can we understand our Fil-Am identity, especially while abroad? Sometimes, I despise this question. I hate the cliché answers that I come up with. Yes, I do love pan de sal, Kodakan, and a victorious round of mahjong. But there are other facts surrounding my identity that percolate in my mind. I am guilty that I never learned to speak Tagalog. I am ashamed that I’ve only been to the Philippines on two occasions, both of which were not long enough to feel like I belonged there. Am I truly Pilipino?

On some occasions, I’ve even found myself too afraid to introduce myself as an American. Overseas, Americans are perceived as ignorant, lazy and obnoxious individuals. And being in Northwest Thailand over the past six months, I’ve been criticized simply based on the fact that I’m American. I’ve heard the excuse that I don’t understand Thai culture enough to appreciate and value it, as I come from the States. I’m offended by this assumption, because I come from a Pilipino household and culture that certainly values family and religious faith, just like here in Thailand. I’ve been told that my reactions and comments are attributed to me being from the Land of the Free; the fact that I’m a college graduate with an array of experience under my belt is not even considered. All of these insensitive assumptions are unfair, but to take another persons’ criticism to heart would only prove that I’m accepting their claims.

Whether or not this is an identity crisis, I know one thing to be certain: I am a resilient and driven Fil-Am in the global society. Fil-Ams are unique, and crucial, to the larger Pilipino community. We should embrace the various facets that make up who we are, not fear them.

Pilipino Music by Pilipinos

If you're tired of hearing Mom's old Sharon Cuneta and Gary V records, or if you're thoroughly embarrassed that the only song you know in Tagalog is “Ocho Ocho,” this post is your saving grace from the typical barrage of pop OPM (Original Pilipino Music). There's a huge range of Pilipino artists out there making meaningful and different music, but it’s not exactly easy to come by. So, let me do the hard work for you!

Check out these artists and songs to get an idea of some Pilipino artists besides apl.de.ap.

Deep Foundation are a Fil-Am hip-hop group based in New York City. Hailing from Bacolod, Taguig and Ilocos (as stated in an interview they did with GMA), the members do not rap in Tagalog, but share their life experiences as Pilipino immigrants through their music. One particular track, “Children of The Sun,” samples “Tayo’y Mga Pinoy” by Heber Bertolome, a classic rallying song for Pilipinos throughout our history. For me, “Children of The Sun” is one of the most moving modern songs that incorporates some of our history and pride in a way that younger generations can access.

I am a huge metalhead, so the next track I wanted to hunt down had to be loud enough to make Nanay mad. I was really disappointed to find that there aren’t many very mainstream Pinoy metal bands out there (anyone want to start one?). But what I did find was impressive: Death by Stereo, a group that was really big during the 90s, are sill going strong. Their sound is really technical, and REALLY heavy. I also appreciate that they rock out in Tagalog. Way to represent in the metal community!

Taking it way, way down in tempo and volume, is Up Dharma Down. Often referred to as the Pilipino version of Portishead, they don’t follow the formula of typical OPM pop music, though they are fairly popular in the Philippines. Their sound borrows elements from jazz and trip-hop, and is always soothing to the ears.

The last song I’ll leave you with is by Asin. Formerly named “Salt of The Earth” but later shortened to the Tagalog word for salt, this band formed in the late 1970s, and may be one of the most important music groups in relation to Filipino history. One could argue that their music was influential for setting the political mood during the EDSA revolution of 1986, which overthrew the Marcos regime. Their song, “Balita,” was one I remembered hearing often as a child on my grandmother’s Tagalog radio, only years after the EDSA revolution.

Sinigang for the Soul

Tonight, I find myself in northwest Thailand, in the remote and mountainous province of Mae Hong Son. I’ve been here for six months, as I’m completing a teaching fellowship for Global Playground. I teach English at a middle and high school, which serves 1,200 students from this district and nearby villages. As a proud Pilipina, I am faced with a predicament. The closest Pilipino restaurant is in Chiang Mai (about six hours away from my village), and it is only open for part of the year. Last July, Tita Ann (the owner) and I, shared a brief conversation over the phone, as I was trying to satiate my Pilipino food cravings. Her Chiang Mai restaurant was closed, and she had relocated to Bangkok to run her other restaurant. Naturally, this would happen to a young lady deprived of all Pilipino dishes and dessert. During times like these (hunger, severe stress, intense homesickness and the like), I find myself craving "Sinigang sa sampalok." This delicious and savory soup, flavored by tamarind, onion and kamatis (tomato), is my personal comfort food. Unfortunately, Thai cuisine is known for its chili peppers, sugar, palm sugar, peanuts and fish sauce. Here in the village, my meals consist of noodles, rice, eggs, vegetables, tofu, chicken and pork. Not much variety, since I cannot tolerate spicy dishes.

It was about a month after I had moved to the village that homesickness began to take its toll. I missed my family; before my fellowship, I never went more than two months without seeing them. One day, another teacher at my school flat-out asked me.

“Are you homesick?”, she said bluntly.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

“I’m going to Mae Sariang this weekend to visit my daughter. Do you want to come?” she asked.

I kindly accepted, and that weekend, we drove to her mother-in-law’s home to visit her one-year-old daughter. We went around the neighborhood (i.e. homes scattered among the rice fields), lounged to the sound of the rainfall (it was rainy season at the time), and ate northern Thai food. It is said that northern Thai food is not as spicy as the dishes found throughout the rest of Thailand, though I have to disagree on that. Everything is too spicy for this foreigner.

After one of my naps on the padded mat set up by the TV, I stumbled over to the table. The family had prepared a variety of dishes, and I spotted one that seemed almost too familiar. It was a soup with supple chunks of pork, leafy greens and onions. I doubted it for a mere second, before taking a spoonful and slowly tasting it. It had a sour tinge to it, and in an instant, I smiled. It tasted just like sinigang. I learned that it was called "Pha kaa jaaw," a dish from Chinese influence, also made with tamarind. Now, I can order the dish at restaurants; the cook here at the school also prepares it every now and then, after she learned it was my favorite.

I accepted the teacher’s invitation, and every invitation to join other teachers and staff after that. One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard was, “Always accept an offer.” I’d like to add that you should, at the minimum, consider every offer before you decline it. It may lead you to the "sinigang" you're craving.

Behind Closed Doors: Fil-Am Mental Health

Mental health and safety aren’t regularly discussed in our society. Our culture as a whole has stigmatized mental illness, as if it were an infectious disease. In a recent report, the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) notes that the US mental health system is far from sufficient. Health services and laws vary across states, further deterring individuals from seeking help. However, in light of recent mass shootings, discussion on mental health in America is becoming more prevalent. But why must it take a tragedy to discuss something so important? The Fil-Am community, which has more easily assimilated into American society in comparison to other Asian communities, rejects the help-seeking mentality. In a study, E.J.R. David says that “cultural mistrust” plays a major role among the Fil-Am community. Mistreatment and oppression throughout Pilipino and Fil-Am history has certainly influenced this mistrust. However, one of the findings was that younger generations are more inclined to seek psychological help, as they don’t have the same concerns as first generation Pilipinos. Those more assimilated and familiar with American culture were more willing to seek help. Furthermore, the study found that those with a higher economic status have more opportunities to seek help.

Like in other Asian communities, loss of face and shame are feared among Pilipinos. As a young Fil-Am, I unknowingly lived with this mentality. I used to be afraid to open up and ask for help when I needed it. Sharing my most difficult struggles wasn't originally part of my personality, nor my identity. For me, admitting that I needed help required a lot of courage and a loving support network. It wasn't until my second year of college that I realized seeking help was even an option. After a referral from one of my advisors, I visited the William & Mary Counseling Center. I was afraid; I felt like I was admitting defeat, and that I wasn't strong enough to face my problems. I eventually realized that I was wrong. I ended up returning to the Counseling Center throughout the rest of my time at William & Mary. I attended meditation sessions, individual therapy, and, in my opinion the most helpful, group therapy. Being able to speak my mind, without fear of judgment or having to follow through with explicit advice, was reinvigorating. I knew I was being heard, and in turn, got as much out of it as I put into it.

After such a positive experience at the Counseling Center, I was proud of my newly-acquired love for seeking help. I found myself encouraging others to also take time out of their day to explore new outlets, be it exercise, lost hobbies, or seeing a therapist. I even got involved with student government and organizations on campus in order to spread mental health awareness.

I only hope that the younger generations can embrace this mentality, and encourage their peers and the larger Fil-Am community to do the same. We can only benefit from confronting Fil-Am mental health. Regardless of cultural expectations, it is important to be selfish when it comes to your personal well-being. Speaking from personal experience, I assure you: there is absolutely nothing wrong with asking for help.

Photo credit: Counselor.org