Filipino-Americans, Whiteness and White Privilege.

Continuing on my previous post, it’s been pretty hard growing up Filipino/Hawaiian/American. (For the most part, I mean no offense to the Hawaiian ethnicity nor my Hawaiian background, but I’ll focus mainly on being a Filipino-American.)


Reading Yen Le Espiritu’s Home Bound, I found it amazing to have so much to relate to, and to know that so many people experienced nearly the same things as I did or am doing. I feel that the book is essential to every Filipino-American. It focuses on their various lives across cultures, communities and countries, containing short interviews of Filipino-Americans and Filipinos, giving them a voice to be heard when they have been subjected to the concepts of whiteness and white privilege in the American culture.

In the eyes of a Filipino-American, the concepts of whiteness and white privilege are blurry as the memories they seek to forget after so much oppression, racism and subjugation. Filipino-Americans seek acceptance and will go through any means to obtain it. Living in America, Filipino-Americans were socially unaccepted, being racially different from the Caucasian-Americans.

In Espiritu’s Home Bound, Espiritu describes that to overcome these bounds, Filipino-Americans attempted to become like the average American teenagers, who spoke only English, dated and associated primarily with the whites and to snub their native Filipino culture (Espirit

Growing Up Filipino-Hawaiian-American.

When I first came to America on August 27, 1999 as a 9-year old, I felt incredibly lost. Jetlagged-wise, I felt lost in that I left the Philippines on August 28, but because of the time difference, it seemed that in a way, I traveled through time. Arriving in America as a 1.5 generation, I had very little knowledge about the American culture and society, with racism, ethnicity and the whiteness concept not in my vocabulary nor my in mind at all—I didn’t know what any of those were and anything about it. But now, having lived here for almost 11 years (and haven’t been back since then…), I’ve come to develop an understanding of it.


It wasn’t until taking the Filipino-American History class here in Shoreline Community College that I became more aware of my own ethnic background as a part Filipino, American and Hawaiian and the world around me. I don’t mean to advertise the class, but I found the latter half of that quarter to be one of the most interesting because it was about our own self-proclaimed self-identities.

I usually describe myself as Filipino, paying lesser attention to my Hawaiian and American backgrounds, because of the color of my skin and where I was born. Filipinos are akin to having tanner skin than Americans, but lighter than Hawaiians, as early Hawaiians (Polynesians) migrated along with many other ethnicities to the Philippines. These days, it’s common to see a Filipino, especially because of the rich Filipino history here in Seattle.

Even if I describe myself as a Filipino, typically others don’t. I’ve been asked plenty of times if I was Indonesian, Thai, Cambodian and even Indian or Taiwanese. I find it intriguing at how people view/mistake me for those ethnicities, since I’ve never experienced that at all prior to coming to America.

It just makes you wonder what are the certain features people look for in stereotyping or picturing the average look for a certain ethnicity.

Did I look Thai because of my darker skin, dark eyes and jet-black hair? But even if I did, don’t Cambodians exhibit the same features of a dark skin, dark eyes and jet-black hair too? And what about an Indian?—Or Taiwanese? It is questions like these that often have an impact on the self-identity of an individual, radically changing them to accepting or disputing/racist extremes. As for me, with the knowledge I learned in that class about self-identity and ethnicities, my own self-identity changed to one that I believe is to be an accepting one, integrating into the American culture and become bi-cultural.

Using these various models (Racism) , I’ve proclaimed myself to be in the integration stage in minority identity development. I feel like I’ve experienced a lot, but still not enough, to have gained a good understanding of other cultures besides my own. Moreover, I feel that I have accepted the American culture, yet still retained a good portion of my own Filipino culture, such as still referring to older Filipino women as “tita” or “ate” (Filipino for “aunt” and “older sister”) to show respect (and also to recognize the knowledge they have gained at such an age) and taking off my shoes when entering a home. I have a strong sense of my own self-identity as a male, 19-year old heterosexual Filipino/Hawaiian/American. I appreciate other cultural groups, their cultures, traditions and customs, developing an interest in them, such as attending and celebrating a Cambodian New Year while being the sole Filipino in the entire proximity and eating with chopsticks with proper etiquette and manners (as a Filipino, I ate with my hands).


But you know… Growing up Filipino hasn’t always been that easy… Especially with the concept of whiteness…

Cambodian New Year.

Flag of Cambodia.  (SkynetUSAdvertising Corp. World Map Center)

Last Sunday, I went to a Cambodian New Year celebration with two of my non-religious Buddhist Cambodian friends/co-workers (one girl, one guy, both of the same age as me). It was being celebrated in one of the few Cambodian temples surrounding the metropolitan cities of Seattle, Tacoma and Bellevue, with the temple that we went to being far south of Seattle and halfway to Tacoma.

One of my two friends lived in this area, calling it the “ghetto” because of all the stereotypical ghetto-like things there she has experienced and seen from the media—the gunshots frequently audible at night, the numerous congregations and communities of minorities of African-Americans, Native-Americans and Southeast Asians, and weather-worn, low-rising two-story graffiti-marked buildings abundant in the area. This neighborhood of Seattle was called “White Center”, with surprisingly 51% of the census data consisting of Caucasians, according to a Seattle Post Intelligencer article on the neighborhood. (Seattle Post Intelligencer) Makes me wonder what the place would be called if only 49% of its population was Caucasians.

At any rate, the temple that we went to, with no offense to the Cambodian people, was small and dainty, the opposite of what I had imagined after seeing magnificent Southeast Asian films of Cambodian and Thai background. I would have thought of finding a stupa here, one of the most sacred monuments in Buddhism, but I didn’t see one at all (Peacestupa.org). Their temple consisted of a big traditional American living room but without the furniture, multiple and overlapping semi-ornate rugs invoking flower or lotus patterns and the prominent masterpiece of any Buddhist temple—a statue of Buddha—enthroned upon tiers and tiers of gifts, flowers and food, all housed under a small house-like shed of white tarp. Apparently, the temple is under major reconstruction and all donations and funds generated from the celebration were to be used for its reconstruction.

Yet despite the temple’s simplicity, it evoked respect and reverence. The Cambodians slipped off their shoes and slippers prior to entering, eating while facing towards the Buddha statue and quieting at the sermon of Buddha’s teachings. Besides the presence of the Buddha’s statue, the only other thing that garnered similar awe and respect were the traditional Cambodian dances, which were a sight to see.

The traditional Cambodian dances were spectacular in every way and as such, were in every Cambodian celebration, according to my friends and their numerous family members, whom I introduced myself to and inquired about the dances. The dances were a symbol of Cambodian tradition and pride, as they brought to life their folklore, reminding them of their native homeland of Cambodia, thousands and thousands of miles away from White Center. Their dances, based on their folklores, reminded them of lessons learned in the past by their ancestors, which they attributed to the current time.

One of the sermons of the host talked about how they disliked being familiarized to the Thai people, which, my friend added, to be called as one was considered an insult.  With the physical and linguistic similarities to the Thai and the Thai people's rise to fame in media, (with movies such as Chocolate and Ong Bak with actors like Tony Jaa and Yanin Jeeja Vismistananda), Cambodians were becoming stereotyped to be like them, as the host said in his sermon (without describing specific Thai actors/actresses and media). He said that nonetheless, they will "never be like the Thai", as they "have Angkor Wat", the most prominent symbol of Cambodia and their national pride, as displayed on their flag. (CIA Factbook on Cambodia)  It surprised me at how "hurt" they felt by being identified as and like the Thai--I didn't know it offended their nationalistic pride.

A painting of an apsara.  Courtesy of ksilks.com.

Coming back to the main topic on the celebration, one of the most widely pictured dancers in Cambodian dances were the apsara.  Apsaras are "celestial dancers" who grace the commonfolk with their elegant movements of highly arched hands and feet, and heavenly attire of silk white and golden crowns and adornments.  (Cambodia Travel Guide)

Here's a video of apsaras in a Cambodian dance.  Pay attention to their slow by graceful movements and how they use their body language.

When I watched the apsaras dancing at the celebration, I noticed how fixated everyone in the audience was at their performance.  No one moved. No one talked.  Everyone focused on them, perhaps captivated by their performance, especially the males, as I saw how less fixated some of the women in the audience were compared to the men.  And speaking of which...

I met two male Americans at the celebration, who taught me much about what they’ve learned about the Cambodian culture in the 3 hours I spent at the celebration, having experienced Cambodian culture firsthand with their Cambodian wives and families. The girls are taught to personify the traditional feminist qualities—grace, elegance, concern for beauty, nature, and spiritualism, such as fostering bonds in relationships and family. One of the dances performed at the celebration I went to was the Robam Phuong Neari, Cambodian for a dance of the beauty of flowers and maidens, which represented much of those qualities, especially in this dance.



The Cambodian women/girls, especially in dancing and in dances, were very powerful figures.  Like the others in the audience, I was mesmerized by their performance.  I just found it amazing at their captivation of the audience--I don't think I can accomplish the same, or even come close to it, if I were to dance like that.  That being said, I highly recommend attending a Cambodian New Year, or at least watching a traditional Cambodian dance!

Metrosexuality, Bromance & Sismance.

Reading Hagood's article on Brunos and Bromances, the idea of metrosexuality came up, reminding me of my very first week in my current job when I started March 2009. One of my close friends--a buddy--told me that my co-workers thought that I was homosexual because I always told my friends—guy or girl—that I "loved" them (and other similar renditions of it—“bromance”!) instead of saying the proper "thank you" whenever they helped me in some way. Apparently, even some of my female co-workers of my age even thought I dressed up way too nice as a guy and as a result, a "bakla".

(Okay... I'm not gay, and as for being a metrosexual, I honestly could care less. I don't just explode my money on clothes--I love video games and food just as much!)

Initially, I was surprised but I realized later that I have to keep my job professional about everything. Over time, they grew closer with me and I came to find out that it was the older women at work who had those initial thoughts of me being a homosexual and a metrosexual.

They were first-generation Filipino immigrant women.

In the Filipino culture, being heavily grounded on Catholicism, homosexuality is deemed as a sin, shunned upon by society. Metrosexuals (in this case, males with feministic traits such as caring too much about looks and being not as aggressive or daredevil as the stereotyped male) are viewed similarly. There were also female metrosexuals or “tomboys”. Basically, any human being acting outside of their sex is to be ostracized or unfairly treated in some way. This was the thought process of those women.

(Note that I am writing this all from experience, as I lived there for the first ten years of my life.)

Female homosexuals were uncommon in Filipino society, while male homosexuals were prominent. You were able to find at least one male homosexual per block in the city, while female homosexuals were harder to find. The Filipino definition of a homosexual overlapped with their definitions of a metrosexual to the point where both are traditionally just classified as homosexuals, or "bakla" in Filipino society. Because of the male homosexuality prominence, the word "bakla" was used to refer to any male homosexual and/or metrosexual, giving rise to another word "bakling", meaning "acting similar to a girl". “Lesbiyana”, a word similar to the English “lesbian” just recently came about, due to the common use of mixing Filipino and English words together, while the word “tomboy” has been around longer.

I guess the women thought I was a “bakla” and a “bakling”. However, now, because they know me more, they apparently don’t think so. I just found their way of thinking surprising since I had never before experienced it in any other environment such as this—a kitchen/dining room of a decades-old retirement home in suburban Seattle, as prior to living in Seattle, I lived in Olympia, where the topic of homosexuality/metrosexuality was less common.

But as for the Hagood’s “bromance”, I would like to add that bromance also comes about because of the male’s innate instinct to protect his peers—especially the ones most similar to him. In our society, there are males who seek to protect their fellow males from others, such as the environment or the opposite gender—the females. These males have adopted a motto, which is (pardon my language!) “bro’s before hoes”. I’ll admit I do tend to be more overprotective of my guy friends compared to my girl friends, and so, have adapted that motto.

Similarly, the females have developed a similar sisterly-romance, though what to call it, I’m not quite sure of. I have a close friend—a girl—whom I’ve known since I was in 7th grade. She also has a bestfriend—a girl—whom she befriended not too long before me. They call each other “girlie”, similar to how I call some of my guy friends “bros”. Also, she’s adopted a similar motto, but it might be too explicit/R-rated to say here, as this is a school-related blog after all. I’ve seen and recognized other similar instances of sisterly romance (Charlie’s Angels!)

It’s just interesting how both males and females are and act so similar and yet so different.

And Back to Feeling Good.

I hate excuses, but basically, I'm just happy to be finally feeling better after over a week hiatus from school.  Man, did I miss a lot...