My Experience with Navigating the Complexities of Pilipinx Identity
Pilipinx people come in all shapes, colors and from various walks of life — and so, too, do our stories.
Terminology note: I have chosen to use the term “Pilipinx” while speaking about the group as a whole, and “Filipinx/o/a” in reference to either myself or specific folks/titles/organizations mentioned in this piece. This is in regards to my own understanding and application of the terminology and does not reflect the beliefs of the entire Pilipinx community. Background on this usage can be found here.
October 1st is finally here, marking the start of Filipino American History Month in the United States as well as an overlapping with Latinx Heritage Month, which is observed on September 15th through October 15th. During this time of the year you can find a plethora of events happening across the country — from community centers to college campuses to big city streets — commemorating the month-long celebration of Pilipinx heritage and history. Social media feeds may begin to flood with Philippines-related “did you know” or “on this day” factoids, and hashtags like #PinoyPride or #FAHM will trend on Twitter.
But even for a brown and proud Filipina American woman like myself, amid all the celebration, the month of October still calls for some critical thought and personal reflection.
I didn’t always have the understanding I do now of what it means to be Filipina in the larger context of our world; in the larger context of post-colonialism; in the larger context of white supremacy, militarization, and greed. Navigating identities is never an easy thing, but I’m hoping that I can lay out some of my thoughts in this literary space to encourage reflection among my fellow kababayans as well.
BUT FIRST, COLONIALISM
Now, we can’t just jump into conversation around the Pilipinx experience without acknowledging the far reaches and grasps of colonialism that the history and culture of our people are left scarred by today.
From the 1560s-1890s the Philippines was under the control of the Spanish Empire (and prior to this, other south/southeast Asian nations had left their marks on the Pacific chain of islands as well). The Spanish colonial era without a doubt had an influential role in shaping much of the country’s history, cultural traditions, and language as we know it today. In fact, it was the Spanish who declared us the name “Filipino” to begin with. But even when Spanish colonialism in the Philippines ended after more than 300 years with Spain’s defeat in the Spanish-American war, the islands would eventually find itself under a new colonial regime for the following 50 years: the United States of America.
U.S. imperialism was no better for the people of the Philippines. The U.S. effort to “save” the Pilipinx people and uplift the country from the shambles of Spanish colonialism is directly connected to the dictatorship and corrupt government system that would follow after the U.S. “left” Philippines shores in 1946. And while one of the biggest waves of Pilipinx migration to the West occurred during this time, it came at the cost of the livelihood of the Pilipinx people. People would become the island’s biggest export, as a growing need for cheap labor demanded the shipment of thousands upon thousands of Pilipinx people to the States, treated as a grocery list for Uncle Sam. As a result, today Pilipinx people in the U.S. make up the third largest Asian American ethnic group in the country with over 4 million people — and that doesn’t even include the over 300,000 undocumented Pilipinx people estimated to have made the U.S. their home as well.
Colonialism, as I picture it in my head, stems long arms. These arms reach far and wide, across oceans, over borders, and throughout generations. And the impacts made are much greater than just Spanish surnames, racial ambiguity, and loanwords in our language. The long arms of colonialism leaves scars, which can show up as internalized racism or trauma, and even surface feelings of an identity crisis among the Pilipinx diaspora youth.
There has been an ongoing conversation within the Pilipinx community surrounding our “ethnic authenticity.” Are we Asians? Pacific Islanders? Latinx? It’s a question that has been thrown around and debated on since long before even I came into this world. In his book The Latinos of Asia: How Filipino Americans Break the Rules of Race, Dr. Anthony Christian Ocampo writes:
“Filipinos know they are considered Asian, but the cultural residuals of their Spanish colonial past — their surnames, their foods, their strict Catholicism — cannot be ignored either.”
For me, the experience Dr. Ocampo explains is something I was easily able to connect to my own life growing up. As a kid I always knew that my ethnic background was Filipino. I knew my family came from the Philippines, what the Philippines flag looks like, that my parents speak Tagalog, and that Manny Pacquiao is some sort of national treasure to our people. I knew exactly what to check off when filling out forms for school or how to respond when curious [white] folks walked up to me interested in knowing “where I came from.” I knew I was Filipino, but I didn’t really understand what it meant to unpack that piece of my identity, until much later in my life (shout out to Ethnic Studies classes).
And whether it was struggling through an identity crisis, lacking access to learning about my own people’s history, or having to face issues of colorism and anti-blackness within my family and community, colonialism truly left its scars on me, and surely many others.
“REAL FILIPINOS” — WHO GETS TO TELL OUR STORY?
Simply put, Pilipinx people are and will always be the writers of their own story, yet there is still a problematic pattern of behavior within our community of labeling others as “real Filipinos,” or not.
We can look at the case of Miss Universe 2018, Catriona Gray, as one of many examples of this toxic social practice. Ms. Gray represented the Philippines in the globally acclaimed pageant, where she won the coveted crown. And while it was a triumphant moment for both Gray and her Pilipinx people, many were quick to call her out for choosing to represent the country while being biracial, Australian-born, and not possessing a “true Filipina beauty” — whatever that is supposed to mean, because, again, colonialism. In fact, when I think about this notion of someone being a “real Filipino” or not being “Filipino enough,” the words of actor and poet Dante Basco comes to mind. Basco, to me, laid out the basis of these blurred identity lines best in an excerpt from one of his poetry pieces:
“…an island where the natives run around nearly naked, named negritos / Translation: little black men, black as their shadows in the glorious sun / But then came a China man / Or maybe it was Japan / Who mixed in the Asiatic blood / Drip-Drop-Drip-Ripped my tribal / Now here comes the bible / Of a man from Spain who left me with a Spanish name / From a little conquered islands from where I came…”
You see, when you start to break down the history, it isn’t rocket science to find that there’s no such thing as a “real Filipino” anyway.
With that being said, like Catriona Gray, many Pilipinx people living in the diaspora (myself included) still find themselves in similar situations of having their cultural authenticity tested. Either a family member or some random troll online bashes on an individual for not having grown up on the motherland or not being able to speak their regional language, and therefore their insights or opinion on matters related to the Philippines and Pilipinx people (ie. their own cultural identity) is dismissed and invalidated.
But in reality, whether they were born on the motherland or not, grew up in a military base on foreign land, adopted by a non-Pilipinx family, or just living a beautiful biracial or multiracial life, Pilipinx people are Pilipinx people wherever in the world they may be, whatever language they speak and however they choose to present themselves to those around them. And yes, there’s no way that one Pilipinx person could speak on the behalf of all their kababayans, but that’s the point I am trying to drive home: The Pilipinx experience is not a singular narrative, but rather a collective anthology of different pieces and chapters penned by different individuals. Who are we to question one’s identity or determine the legitimacy of one’s lived experience? Pilipinx people come in all shapes, colors and from various walks of life — and so, too, do our stories.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE FILIPINX/A/O?
This is a question that comes up often during the month of FAHM, and each time it does I try to make a mental note of how I would answer it.
To me, being Filipina just means being my genuine self and speaking my truth, with the understanding that I carry with me a hundred generations of spirits burning and yearning to prosper. I am the embodiment of my ancestors, with all of their pain, sorrows, dreams, and ambitions — and no matter where I am in the world, that fact will never change.
And while that is how I am choosing to answer the question, that does not mean I expect every other Pilipinx person to answer in the same way. The perspectives that we bring to the collective Pilipinx voice are unique, and no one knows their story better than themselves.
As I mentioned earlier, navigating our identities is never an easy thing. For Pilipinx people living in the diaspora, it’s especially messy, a little confusing, and a whole lot of complicated. I didn’t always have the understanding I do now of what it means to be Filipina in the larger context of our world. It was a process to get here; an ongoing process of challenging yourself and what you think you know, unlearning and relearning history, decolonizing your mind and reclaiming roots, sharing perspectives and eventually coming to form a deeper understanding of your heritage and place in the world in a way that makes sense to you.
After all, the pride and soul of the Pilipinx people are much greater than lumpia, karaoke, and Manny Pacquiao.
Happy Filipino American History Month!
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FURTHER READING AND LEARNING
“No history, no self. Know history, know self.” — José Rizal
It’s impossible for me to condense an entire cultural curriculum on the Pilipinx experience into one article, nor do I consider myself an expert in this field (just a curious mind who’s done a lot of research and questioning of the status quo). There is so much more to unpack than what I have mentioned so far. For those interested in beginning (or furthering) their own self-journey into the layers of their Pilipinx identity, I invite you to check out some some of the articles, scholars, and resources below.
- Database of Pilipinx/Diasporic Literature
- Grapes Of Wrath: The Forgotten Filipinos Who Led A Farmworker Movement
- Filipino American National Historical Society
- National Federation of Filipino American Associations
- KABATAAN ALLIANCE — The National Alliance for Filipino Youth
- America Is in the Heart by Carlos Bulosan
- Little Manila Is in the Heart by Dr. Dawn Mabalon
- How I Learned What It Means To Be A Filipino-American by Dr. Kevin Nadal
- The Latinos of Asia: How Filipino Americans Break the Rules of Race by Dr. Anthony Christian Ocampo
- Strangers From a Different Shore: A History of Asian Americans by Ronald Takaki
- This Is for the Mostless by Dr. Jason Magabo Perez
- Brown Skin, White Minds: Filipino-American Postcolonial Psychology by Dr. E.J.R. David
This is by no means an exhaustive list, but hopefully it can be a starting point!
