‘Since it’s Americanized…’
It only takes a few scrolls on my Facebook feed before I’m confronted again with the Filipino woman who was featured on a video on the Condé Nast Traveler’s Facebook page “Many People, Many Places.” The now-viral video shows people of different nationalities being asked questions about their language and culture, such as “How do you count from one to 10?” And “How do you sing ‘Happy Birthday?’”
The Filipino woman featured incurred a lot of Pinoy hate after she answered the questions not just incorrectly, but in a distinctly Americanized way. “There’s really no ‘cheers’ in the Philippines,” she says casually. “But, since it’s Americanized—cheers!”
We’re quick to claim the achievements of Filipino-Americans as part of Pinoy pride, but quick to turn on those who may favor their American heritage. Maybe those behind the video should have chosen a different representative who could have cheerfully counted “Isa, dalawa, tatlo!” or stumbled over Tagalog tongue-twisters. But I’m almost sure the lady in the video didn’t give this a moment’s thought; she just answered the way she knew how.
The fact that people may not fit into tidy boxes—not quite Filipino enough, and
not quite American or other nationality enough, either—is difficult to digest. One might claim that identity is in the blood, that no matter their attire or their accents, Filipinos are betrayed by the brownness of their skin, and that no matter their citizenship we can always claim them for our own.
But it also becomes important to recognize and defend their otherness and citizenship. For those born Filipino and living in America, to lose their citizenship in the Trump age would be to lose their home.
Some figures seem comfortable moving in both spheres, unbothered by questions of identity: There’s Lea Salonga, your token internationally famous Filipino celebrity. To take a less conventional example, there’s Bretman Rock, a popular YouTuber and beauty guru, born to Philippine parents and raised in Hawaii; he speaks with an American accent but still references “sinigang” on Twitter.
This also brings to mind Fil-Am author Elaine Castillo with her debut novel, “America is not the Heart,” about a Filipino-born woman who starts a new life in the United States in the 1980s. The book doesn’t make itself palatable to the conventional understanding or tastes of either its Filipino or American readers. It is as unapologetic as its author is about being the product of two different cultures. Who gets to dictate, after all, which country—or culture—takes pride of place in someone’s heart? Is that something we get to impose?
Many millennials’ concern about “cultural appropriation” is a sign of how some have become more cognizant and protective of their heritage. However, we also live in an age where racial lines have become more blurred than ever—when a person of color sits near the British throne and must behave in ways distinctly British, and yet still be wholly American.
What makes us angry about the Fil-Am woman in the video is how she presumes to be Filipino, or to represent something distinctly Filipino, but we see her American ways as a rejection of ours. That judgment is fair, but it would also be fair to ask what part we play in furthering, wittingly or unwittingly, our colonial mindset.
A society magazine, for instance, recently published a list of young achievers. What they had in common was that they all made it to universities abroad, as though making it to our own national universities was somehow less competitive.
We value content manufactured in Western countries to the extent of not feeling the pressure to make our own: a local channel, claiming to be inspired by Norse mythology, is launching a weird adaptation of Marvel’s “Thor.” Another channel’s fantasy series has lead characters with lighter skin and more Caucasian features than your average Filipino.
And we, in the privacy of our own homes, also count with one-two-three, or say “cheers!” instead of “Tagay!” We sing “Happy Birthday” instead of “Maligayang Bati.”
Maybe we can do with a little less outrage and a little more self-examination.
