Closing Statements about My Overall Understanding of My Cultural Experience

For my final blog entry, I thought I would close with a few statements about my overall understanding about my cultural experience. From the beginning, I was trying to understand why Filipino-Americans tend to gravitate towards those of similar heritage and why my white skin always overshadowed my own Filipino heritage. However along the way, I learned about Filipino family structure and its importance, the relationship between the United States and the Philippines both past and present, and the arguments for same-race matching and cross-race matching. All such things thus contributed to answering my question in some way or another about Filipino-Americans, while I also gained insight into the lives of indigenous Filipino people as well. The past relationship between the U.S. and the Philippines may very well have put a bad taste in the mouths of Filipino people, therefore contributing the reactions I met in the Filipino village. In terms of Filipino-Americans, their tendency to gravitate towards those of similar appearance and background may be a result of their desire to form a sense of community in a new country in which they can share and maintain certain traditions and ideologies, such as their focus and great respect for the family unit. Furthermore, I think it also important to state that it is not only Filipino-Americans that tend to gravitate towards those of similar appearance and background but also it is all people in general who do this, whether they are members of a minority group or they consider themselves Caucasian. While suspending judgment during this blog was difficult for me at first, I am glad I did because in doing so, I gained a greater understanding and appreciation not only for an outside tradition and heritage but for my own tradition and heritage as well.

Same-Race Matching vs. Cross-Race Matching and the Connection to my Past Experiences

Arguments for same-race matching held that there was no way an adult who is not of minority background could possibly help minority youth cope with the issues they may face in society. Also, it is believed that those of white background may feel guilt at some point in their mentoring because of past white oppression of such minorities. Finally, minority youths may feel that their mentors are judging them for being of such a minority background. Also, pairing minority youth with someone of white background may suggest that the youth should try to model their lives and beliefs based on the mentor, who in this case would be a white person. Therefore, minority mentees should be matched with minority mentors to promote a sense of community, heritage, and solidarity. However, cross-race matching arguments state that it is not race that matters most when matching a mentor with a mentee. The mentors abilities and skills are what matter most, and if anything, socioeconomic status should be taken into consideration rather than race. Furthermore, cross-race matching will support and encourage both mentor and mentee to explore each other’s cultures and break down societal barriers, promoting a sense of community no longer based on race.
After reading these arguments and particularly focusing on the arguments for same-race matching, I began to understand why even I sometimes tend to gravitate towards people who look like me, whether they are in similar clothing or of similar skin color. It’s a matter of feeling comfortable with those you think will share similar interests, beliefs, or feelings on issues. Most people assume that by surrounding themselves with people who are just like them, usually in terms of race, will help a person avoid judgment and will further encourage a sense of community. In terms of Filipino-Americans, maybe they further seek this sense of community because of the fact that they are a minority in a predominantly “white” nation. Such a community of similar minority background thus becomes a member of their family unit, which is something they pride over all other things because of their heritage and background.

PPV 2002 Technical Assistance Packet #7, Electronic Document,

http://www.ppv.org/ppv/publications/assets/26_publication.pdf, accessed April 15, 2008

So Now I Understand About My Experiences in the Philippines...But What About My Experiences at Home?

So after researching the past relationship between the Philippines and United States, I understood why the people I met in the Filipino village were weary of my presence. I am, after all, an American, and the American government was, after all, the government they believed was oppressing them and trying to deny them their history and traditions. My questions, however, about Filipino-Americans were still unanswered. After talking to some of the parents of my friends who immigrated, I found an overwhelming sense of pride of being American. They love their Filipino heritage and background, yet they classify themselves as Americans. One person in particular found he was especially proud because he had been raised in one of the villages I had visited, or rather one of similar demographics, and had come to America to attend university. He had come from a relatively lower class background and was now happily, financially comfortable with a loving Filipina wife, who had also immigrated, and their two boys. However after talking with him, I still didn’t really understand what had happened to me years ago with the all-Asian basketball league. If they were all proud to consider themselves Americans, then why did they only like to associate, or rather feel comfortable becoming extremely personally close, with those of the same background? Why didn’t they want to completely interact and accept into their “groups” the Americans they said they were proud to be considered as well? Then I realized that maybe this specific point wasn’t singular to the Asian races. Looking at the demographics from my high school and Wheaton as well, the kids that were considered minorities always felt more comfortable with each other, while the white kids always tended to gravitate towards the other white kids. I googled, “Why people are more comfortable with people of the same race,” and came across a research project that focused on mentor programs where minorities, but primarily African American people of all ages, were the mentees and white people were the mentors. The entire point of the program was to teach and learn about cultural understanding, so essentially the mentors would be the mentees in some situations and vice versa. One section of the packet I came across online was subtitled “The Questions of Race” and presented arguments for same-race matching, or matching a mentor with a mentee of the same race, or cross-race matching, or matching a mentor with a mentee of a differing race.

The Philippine-American Relationship from a Historical Point of View

In the case of my own family, blood is not the only thing that binds. We have taken in many friends into the family and refer to them as “auntie” or “uncle”. So if the reason I wasn’t accepted at first in the village wasn’t because of my skin color, what was it? I further researched this online by reacquainting myself with the Philippines-United States relationship. The Philippines had been sold to the United States by Spain in 1898 for $20,000,000.00. Initially, the Philippines saw this relationship with the U.S. as an alliance of two nations joined in the struggle against Spanish rule. Filipinos began providing American forces with intelligence and military support, yet over time, the U.S. began distancing itself from the interests of the Filipinos. The Philippine-American War broke out in 1899 after two American privates killed three Filipino soldiers in a Manila suburb. Of course, the U.S. had much more fire power than the Filipinos, but the Filipinos were known for their very effective guerrilla warfare. The war proved to be more costly and took many more lives than the Spanish-American War. While the Philippines had technically declared themselves independent in 1898 from Spain, the Untied States never fully recognized them as independent until 1946 when a Treaty of General Relations had been signed between the two governments. Up to that point, the United States had taken on a project to help the Philippines gain “eventual independence”. In 1899, President William McKinley had said, “The Philippines are ours, not to exploit, but to develop, to civilize, to educate, to train in the science of self-government.” The policy of “the Philippines for the Filipinos” was thus put into place. However, it became increasingly clearer that United States was ignoring Filipino history before that point and was only interested in “Americanizing” the country. After such research, I began to understand why the Filipinos I had met in the village, especially those of the older generations, were weary of my presence. The Filipino resentment of America lasted for years and is arguably still present today. After visiting the Philippines at an older age, and taking into consideration their history with Americans and American rule, I really do see how much their specific culture, faith, and way of life means to them. They pride themselves on the traditions they have maintained throughout the centuries even after being a territory of someone else’s nation for so long.


JSTOR 1952 “The Philippine-American Experiment: A Filipino View,” Electronic

Document, http://www.jstor.org/stable/view/2752800?seq=1, accessed April

Family Ideals vs. the Individual

There’s an article I read that discusses Filipino American’s view on family vs. the individual. Filipino Americans are the 2nd largest Asian group in America and boast a cultural feature of strong interdependence and togetherness. The family structure is very relational, hierarchical, and communal. Elders are greatly respected, and it is expected that the younger generations care for the older generations to the best of their ability. I see this in my own family as my grandmother lived with us for a while and then lived with my uncle for years after her series of strokes. Also, my two great aunts both live with their daughters and their daughter’s family to help raise the children and support that idea of a multigenerational, interdependent family structure. The article also discusses that when counseling a Filipino American, it is very important to hold great respect for the core value of kapwa, or shared identity or interacting on an equal basis with a fellow human being. In terms of health conditions, most Filipino Americans will turn to their family members for care before going to a hospital or therapist and will only do so after the situation becomes dire. This is also very apparent in my family. When my aunt was struggling with depression, my mom and her cousins went over everyday to take care of her kids, clean the house, feed everyone, and talk to her about everything that was going on. Everyone in my family knows everyone’s business, and I honestly can say that no one in my family has ever been to a psychiatrist because the family usually deals with it as a whole without professional help. So this answers all the questions about how Filipino Americans truly view the family structure and how their cultural views on it come with them once they immigrate, but what makes you part of the family? Is it just simply a blood relationship?


Screwed-up Medical Misfortunes 2003 “Filipino Americans: Family vs. Individual”,

Electronic document, http://freednerd.wordpress.com/2006/09/01/filipino-americans-family-vs-individual/ accessed April 9, 2007

My Second Trip to the Philippines

My second trip to the Philippines was even more eye opening than the first. I was 13 this time, and my dad made the trip with me once again. Nothing had really changed too much since I had left. One of the domestic workers had been assigned to be my “nanny”, as they called, during my stay, and Pia and I had become close during my first visit. This time, however, I started asking her about her family. It was a sad story, and for personal reasons, I won’t give details, but she said she wanted me to meet her niece. She had one of the drivers drive us to her village about 40 minutes away from the compound, and I was so surprised to see these beat up old shacks made of wood, tin, and in some cases, what looked like leaves or maybe straw. I hadn’t known that when said “village” she meant…village. I got out, and immediately everybody began to look at me. I could tell they didn’t trust me, and I quickly became self-conscious. Pia, however, began reassuring people in Tagalog, and she turned to me and said, “Don’t worry. They will welcome you. I told them your mother is from here, so you are family.” And just like that, women came up to me and started offering me food and water and touching my hair. I met Pia’s niece, and she walked us to the shack where she and Pia had lived while she was growing up. The entire experience was very warm once I got past all of the stares and the people in the village had accepted me as family. This trip was the trip that really began to explain a lot of things for me.

So Now You Want Me?

After that experience, I began noticing how all of the Asian and Pacific Islander kids at my middle school only hung out with and dated each other. Sure, they talked to me because I had some of their blood in me, but I realized we weren’t really that close. After all, I was only part Asian, if I was Asian at all. Why had the people I had met in the Philippines embraced me, while the Asian Americans I knew at home refused to accept me as one of their own? I truly resented the all-Asian league from that point on. I just didn’t understand why they couldn’t look past my white father. Ironically enough, the following year my club team played the same team I had tried out for in a tournament. We beat them by 7 points, and afterwards, the coaches came up to me and offered me a spot on the team; I didn’t even have to try out. I said I’d consider it, and just as I walked away, 2 parents I had met at tryouts the year before approached me. I had remembered meeting them and I also remembered noting how cold they had been towards my parents and me. They were all smiles at this tournament and told me how much they hoped I’d join the team. They could really use a player like me to help them get over the hump. I just smiled and said I was considering it just as I had told the coach. My mind, however, was already made up, and the second I got home, I called the coach and told him I was sorry but I couldn’t play on his team.After I declined, I couldn’t help but wondering why all of a sudden they could now look past the color of my skin. Why couldn’t they do it before?

Back at Home and Nothing's the Same

Once I returned home from my first trip to Davao, I began noticing characteristics about my own family that were very familiar to the family I had stayed with for three weeks. I realized how close I was with my aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc. Every afternoon after school was spent playing with my 5 cousins and eating a dinner my aunt had prepared. Every holiday was spent at an aunt’s house or an uncle’s apartment, and every time someone was sick, upset, or sad about something, the entire family banded together to try to work it out. I had learned how important family was in the Philippines, but I had never completely realized how important MY family was to ME. I had been raised in that exact same tradition and had just always considered it “normal”.
After returning home, I found myself becoming very comfortable talking about my experiences with all of my Filipino friends. I started talking about how my mom was Filipina and I was proud to say it. However, there was one experience that I had the first 3 months after I got back that completely knocked the wind out of me. At the time, I was a very competitive basketball player. My parents wanted me to join this elite all-Asian league that was based out of San Jose. However, if you weren’t at least ¼ Asian, whether Pacific Islander, Chinese, Indian, etc., you couldn’t play on one of the teams. I met the bloodline requirement, so I went to try out. The second I walked into the gym, I felt fourty-some-odd eyes staring at me. I picked up a ball and started playing, and of course, I became increasingly uncomfortable once I realized all of the parents and players were looking at me because, well, I looked white and not Asian. The team was made up of 5 Chinese girls, 2 Japanese girls, 1 Tongan girl, and 2 Indian girls…and well…me, for the time being. Their parents had all chosen to marry a partner of the same racial background, so none of the girls were “mixed”. I practiced with them once, and that was the end of it. I remember the night the coaches called my parents and told them they couldn’t offer me a position on the team. When my dad asked why, the coach proceeded to tell him how all of the players’ parents had complained and didn’t believe I was Asian at all and said my mom didn’t even LOOK Filipina but Spanish. My dad threw the phone across the room, and my mom began to cry. That was the first time I ever really questioned whether or not I was truly Asian. Apparently, being “mixed” just wasn’t okay.

The Compound and the Emphasis on Family

I came to find out after my trip that the area in Davao our friends lived in had a high crime rate. While our friends were wealthy, they were surrounded by a lot of poverty and felt it necessary to protect their personal space from the dangerous public space. There were two houses on the compound. My dad’s friend, Fe, owned the biggest house. She and her husband owned one of the largest banana company’s in the Philippines at the time and had built such a huge compound to house their entire immediate family. Fe’s daughter, her husband, and her two small sons lived in the big house with Fe and her own husband, along with the couples two adopted children. Fe’s biological son lived in the second house on the compound with his two daughters, his girlfriend, and his best friend. There were 6 dogs, all of which were pets, a pond with 20 fish, and a turtle. The compound was landscaped magnificently with a large outdoor eating area, two pools, a tennis court, a basketball court, and a field to play soccer on for Fe’s grandsons.
The first thing I found similar to my own life at home was the emphasis on family. The entire family lived together, dined together, went out together, etc. They were each other’s best friends, just as my cousins had been my best friends growing up. 30 people sat at the dinner table each night, you had to go around and kiss all of your elders before you could seat yourself: it’s the respectful thing to do. First lesson: Family is the most important thing in the world

Silly Little White Girl

I never realized I didn’t look like my cousins. I always just assumed everyone knew we were related because, well, I did. It never occurred to me my features weren’t as prominently Filipino as theirs were. The first time my nationality was questioned was when I was 7. It was the first time I had ever been to the Philippines, and the second I stepped off the plane, I was escorted with my father to a car with dark tinted windows and a bodyguard standing outside with a gun slung over his shoulder. The air was so sticky it was almost suffocating, but the second I sat in the car, the air conditioning broke the moisture and I felt more comfortable. I still can’t explain it to this day, but the Philippines have this distinct smell that I’ve never forgotten. It must be a mixture of the humidity and some kind of tropical smell, but whatever it is it’s stuck in my senses. After we were picked up, we drove in traffic for about an hour or so and that’s when I had my first experience talking to a native Filipino boy my age.
My window was down because I was getting cold in the air-conditioned car. I was looking at the McDonalds across the street and realized it looked different than the ones at home. Then, this boy who had obviously been in the sun way too much that day rode up on a bicycle carrying popcorn necklaces. He asked me in broken English if I wanted to buy one for a peso. I took a quarter I had in my pocket and went to hand it to him, but as I did, the bodyguard in the front seat screamed, “Hey!” and reached into the back, snatched my penny, and screamed something in Tagalog at the young boy. He screamed back angrily, glanced at me, and rode away. The bodyguard glared at me, since I had obviously done something wrong, and called me a silly little white girl. My dad leaned over and told me not to listen to him; he was just nervous because he got scared that I had put myself in a dangerous situation. The bodyguard was there to keep us safe. I didn’t understand and sat there feeling insecure the rest of the day until we came to the compound our friends owned in Davao. Why did he call me a white girl in that tone? Didn’t he know my mom was Filipina? Why was buying a popcorn necklace dangerous? And why did our friends live in a compound with huge concrete walls around it and bodyguards with guns at every entrance?

What the heck is my blog about?

Growing up as an Asian American for me was very different than one might think. My maternal grandmother was Filipina and my grandfather was Filipino and Irish. One may guess that my phenotype would suggest some trace of Filipina blood, but in fact, I look completely Caucasian due to my father’s mix of Italian and German blood. My sister and I are usually categorized at first glance as white, but after we tell people we meet about our mother’s Filipina blood, they start to notice the subtle undertones. I, for example, have my mother’s skin tone, and in the summer I become very dark. I also have the thick, nearly black hair that many women on my mother’s side of the family have as well. Interestingly enough, I broke my nose in 5th grade, and after it was fixed, my nose developed a bridge, but up until that point, I had my grandmother’s button nose. However, now my nose appears much more Italian, according to my mother. My sister on the other hand, while much fairer than myself in skin tone and hair color, actually has the shape of my grandmother’s Filipina eyes.
However, while my sister and I may appear white, we by no means ignore our Filipina background. We consider ourselves very culturally Filipina and were semi-raised in what my great aunts like to refer to as “Filipino tradition”. In this blog, I will be recounting my stories of growing up in a large Filipino family, my trips to the Manila and Davao, and my encounters with other Asian Americans beginning in middle school all the way up until my time here at Wheaton. I will be trying to understand why those of an Asian background tend to gravitate towards others of similar phenotype and why my white appearance has always overshadowed my great fondness and attachment to my Asian culture and has never fully allowed me to be completely accepted by other Asian Americans I have encountered.