I was inspired to write this post after reading Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay. Never have I ever read a book that spoke through me and that I could easily relate to. I laughed with it, cried with it, snapped my fingers, responded with a, "YAS" every so often. It's a beautiful book that I highly recommend. Before you start the book, there's a specific page with just one line, "for the hyphenated." And after reading that quote, I felt something stir inside me, yearning for me to write this. As a quote-on-quote, Filipino-American, the hyphen in between always seems to distinguished who I am as a person. This letter goes out to those who carry a hyphen.
Dear you,
That hyphen always meant that you lived in two different worlds. Two different cultures.
I know what it's like to feel like you don't know where you belong.
I know what it's like to measure your own identity, trying to figure out if you are, Filipino enough or American enough. Whatever that means.
I know what's it like to be born from a third world country then growing up in Western society and feel like a part of yourself was missing. I never knew what home meant to me. My life has been a constant struggle of trying to understand my roots while growing up in Western society.
I know what it's like to wrestle both individualistic and collectivistic ideals interwoven in you. Encounter situations where your values are always being questioned. Sometimes I don't know where I fall into. Like it's a never ending tug of war on where I should be.
I know that experience of wild prejudice, unfortunately coming from your family members who distilled in you that dark skin is ugly. Who would gift you papaya soap and/or whitening products, displaying a non-verbal way to tell you that your skin is not enough. Your brown skin is beautiful. PERIOD.
Growing up you were poked fun at by your classmates during lunch because of the strong smells that came from your packed lunch. They could never understand the hard work your mother went through to cook that delicious garlic rice and pork longanisa
perfectly packaged in reusable tupperware. Upset, I would beg my mom to pack my lunch with Lunchables, Go-gurt tubes, Uncrustables, Capri-Suns, just so I can fit in with my school peers.
Growing up bilingual, you carried the burden of being the translator for the family. Using multiple tongues, you realize that you had a hard time speaking each language you know. I understand the feeling of always being tongue-tied. The constant switching between languages always confused my brain and my peers when Tagalog accidentally leaves my mouth instead of the colonized language. I couldn't easily find the words to express what I am trying to say.
I understand that experience of judgement from your family members, who question you when you don't follow the only three careers laid out for you: medicine, engineering, or law. A silent judgement carries you in conversation. I hope that you find ways to find your passions. It may take time but follow your interests, develop your strengths, try new things. Especially if you've spent your entire life so far doing what others wanted you to do.
I understand what it means to work even harder to prove to others your worth. The sacrifices we had to make and the hardships that we went through.
I understand that the imposter syndrome runs deeply through your veins. You may feel like you don't deserve to be where you are at right now. That you don't deserve that blessings and success that are pouring onto you. Well, you do my friend.
I understand the many family members you have. The extensive list of cousins, aunts, uncles, lolas, lolos, that you have. Many which you've probably haven't met.
I understand the constant urge to seek your past. To understand the part of your life where you grew up and wondering what your life might have been like. To seek those pieces only to find that your puzzle is not fully complete.
I understand that feeling of pure exhilaration the moment you come to the motherland. And the excitement it brings when you know you get to discover more things about yourself. Every time I come home, I always leave this place learning new things about myself, my past, and my family and I always yearn to go back.
That phrase, "for the hyphenated," sunk deep into my soul. It was like a barricade of validation swept over me and told me that you are part of this world.
But I gotta say, I am so proud to be hyphenated.
It means that I don't just carry one culture, but multiple within me.
It means that I carry stories that can resonate with both my Filipino side and American side.
It means that I carry multiple tongues; speaking both my mother-tongue and a universal language we call English.
It means living each day with gratitude, that you have more than what your parents could ever ask for when they were your age.
It means living my life not just for myself, but for the people around me. I carry the hard work and sacrifices my family and ancestors went through to get to where I am today.
It means the fun family reunions and the small ways you get to know more of your culture. It could be through cooking with your Mama or Lola or even watching a teleserye with them on TFC.
It means getting to travel; to explore outside where I live and constantly seeking the puzzle pieces of my past.
It means getting to share with others my culture. To exchange our similarities and what makes us unique.
So the hyphenated: we need more of you to share your stories.
I hope that this letter rings true to you and validates you as an incredible human being.
Keep learning, keep growing, keep seeking, keep discovering. Mabuhay.
Happy Asian-American and Pacific Islander Month! Cheers to you!
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