The Fil-Am Canadian Cowboys
A Submission to Kapwa-Co, by Mark Sampelo
The woes for me growing up as a Filipino American immigrant came from the fact that all my family was back home and none of them came with us to Texas when I was 5. This was a drastic change for me as both sides watched over me and raised me from when I was an infant. My parents were OFWs, or Overseas Filipino Workers, in Saudi Arabia saving money prior to moving to the states and left me with our family members. So, when we did move to the US, I grew up missing my cousins, uncles, aunties, and grandparents. I would only see them every four years, and even then, there would be a few family members that I wouldn’t be able to see during each visit to the Philippines.
After a year in the states, my dad made a friend and slowly our family was brought into his friend’s circle. This would be our second family, our American cousins, Titas, and Titos, (aunties and uncles). We weren’t blood-related, but we did share the same experiences of being new to the states while originating from the Philippines. Back then, to me, they were just friends I would see at the parties every week and the same people that we would celebrate holidays with. But in the time we were disconnected from our family back home, we became connected to our newly found family here.
We as kids would experience the same subtle microaggressions mainly for being Asian or the food we would bring to lunch. I remember at a party overhearing one of my Titas say she stopped packing traditional ulam (Filipino dishes) and replaced them with sandwiches and snacks for my friend. As for me, I couldn’t give up my dad’s Kaldereta (traditional goat-meat dish) or fried plantains. Regardless, I understood why my friend wanted Tita to pack her sandwiches instead of Bangus (milk fish) was because she didn’t want her classmates questioning what she ate for lunch and why it smelled weird to them. Her means of survival was through cultural adaptation and blending in with her peers. Whereas I would face the questions and answer with pride, because my dad’s cooking was delicious. Even though we reacted differently, both of us understood what the other had to go through at school.
“Her means of survival was through cultural adaptation and blending in with her peers.”
Our experiences in the US weren’t all bad, we would always look forward to holiday celebrations. For each one, our parents would rent out a clubhouse and fill the space with decorations. I distinctly remember one year we had a Cowboy Christmas. All our moms were dressed in red with their cowboy boots and hats to match. The parents called themselves the FACC or the Fil-Am Canadian Cowboys; most of the families lived in Canada for a bit. They would play line dance music and try to get all of us kids to dance. (They would especially go nuts and rush the dance floor when a two-step dance would come on.) The potluck would be waiting for us after and the wide selection of homemade dishes were kept warm throughout the night with the burners underneath. After a very filling meal, the kids would take turns telling our Tito Santa what we wanted for Christmas. Be it Christmas, New Year’s or Thanksgiving, each holiday was special and over the years drew us closer together.
Our celebrations were a source of refuge for us from the unfamiliarity that was Texas. As Filipino American immigrants, my parents still sought a certain familiarity that came with the camaraderie of all our family friends. For me, I took these experiences alongside our Texan influence to help shape my identity. For whatever reason our parents really honed on being Filipino, American/Canadian, and “Cowboys”. If anything were to describe my experiences as a child it would be Fil-Am Cowboy. My longing for home was Fil, the new world I was in was Am, and where I grew up was Cowboy. Together, Fil-Am Cowboy would describe my upbringing and the new world that I was in. I could not have been any more proud to be who I was because that was what made me different. It was the other Fil-Am Canadian Cowboys, our pamilya here, that taught me that.
Growing up, I spent more time being thankful and starting each new year with my American family than my family back home. And come to think of it, my American family allowed me to find a home here in the US. I was longing to see my cousins, Titas, and Titos of blood growing up, but in retrospect, I realized the need I had for familial acceptance was met through the ones we made here in America. They have become part of our family by choice and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Us kids have grown up now, but we continue to celebrate together, even going to each other’s college graduations. Our parents still have their wacky themed parties to this day. In the rare moments that we’re all back together though, we get taken back to when we were young, as if time hasn’t passed.
Mark Sampelo is based in Frisco, Texas, just outside of Dallas. A deeply motivated Filipino-American professional and leader with a very wide skill set, he utilizes those skills both professionally and when serving the Filipino-American community.
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