In a previous post of mine I talked briefly about the history of the Philippines and how it was marked by long periods of colonialism and military occupation, and followed by decades of corrupt government administration (which still remain in power today).

To be honest, I couldn't blame Filipino Americans for feeling somewhat confused in regards to cultural loyalties: are we Western because we were colonized by Spain and by the United States? Do we reject those Western influences because of the degradation and mistreatment that we suffered? Or am I nationalist, standing behind the country of the Philippines despite their unfaithful government officials? 

As an immigrant, am I to separate the image of the U.S. as "world police" from their image of "the land of opportunity"? My parents, both of them coming from the Philippines during the 1970s, have all but dashed any memories of what it was like "back home." While they don't necessarily refuse to ever talk about what it was like growing up there, they don't voluntarily ever bring up much of their past homeland. It's old news to them.

But for me, I don't get the vibe that "they are too good" now that they are here in America. It's not an "I'm better than that now" attitude that keeps them from remembering. A part of me feels like they are over that time in their lives, where they walked miles on dirt paths in dilapidated sandals just to get to school, and ate nothing but rice and salt for weeks. After all, what's so great about mulling over those days? 

However, a part of me feels as though there's a little more to it. It's one thing to remember humid afternoons spent hungry and without fresh water. But it's another thing to admit to a history of oppression and struggle. I don't know how much Philippine history they were taught; maybe not much at all. Hell, even here in the U.S., you barely hear ANYTHING about the Philippines. And when you do, it's about how great America freed the country from the grasps of Spain, the big bad wolf. Lo and behold, the history stops there: you don't hear of how the U.S. dipped their greedy hands into the cookie jar.

I can't say that I'm surprised. For a very long time I've felt sort of like two different people in one body. I felt so disconnected from my Filipino heritage, almost to the point that I could up and leave it and never look back. It was a sort of sad and empty feeling. But ever since I opened my eyes to where I came from, where my family and my people came from, I have never wanted to lose sight of it.

Although it's a rather tragic history to acknowledge, it informs me in more ways than one. Of course, I am not a different person altogether, but I know things and I am aware of things that have not only changed my perspective on what it means to be Filipino, but also what it means to be American. 

In a way it's true that ignorance is bliss. But when it comes down to it, all that's part of the void is sorely missed.  

(And while this may be a tad random, I wanted to draw attention to the release of a brand new book and the first of its kind: a book entitled Filipino American Psychology: A Handbook of Theory, Research and Clinical Practice. It examines the psyche of Filipino Americans as well as the reasons for their virtual "invisibility" in social sciences.)

Michelle Geslani