“Here We Go Again…lol (as the Americans
say here)”
So here I am once again suffering the brunt end of the status of my gender. My parents have made it clear that I am being overprotected because “I’m a girl.” Honestly, I am starting to resent this apparent disadvantage to my own aspirations. Seriously, the fact that I cannot stay at another person’s house just because “I’m a girl” does not compute very well with me. I am usually blamed and insulted for making excuses such as that, so why should their reasoning be the final say for anything? My automatic response is to simply turn off and denounce over and over again my Filipino heritage. I hate it even more and more each day because it rubs against the grain of what I have grown up to be.
Once again I ask you: if you’re raised your whole life as an American in a Filipino household, what do you become? I do not share all of the same values or the same cultural points of view. I do not believe that the parent is always right. I do not believe that a family is based on pure authority of the eldest figure. And most importantly, I do not believe in adhering to traditional rules of how particular genders should act. As my neighbor (also a Filipino) once said, “Women can get raped and pregnant; men can just get raped (and laughed at).”
When my “mother!” said that she trusted me and yet I could not even sleep over at Raksmey’s house, a person whom I have known for years, I could do nothing but laugh. As of now, I am glad to say that I have been sober, non-experimental, and watchful of what I do. Why is it that my other Asian friends are allowed to go places, leave the state for college, get drunk because they don’t know any better (as a Trojan on Greek Row, I probably have been exposed to more alcohol than the whole bunch combined – and the closet thing to non-Mass wine that I’ve had was sniffing a new bottle of gin because someone asked me for a second opinion on it) and learn more about the world while I am stuck here, the bird able to fly with great majesty but held back by the chain of tradition? Bullshit…and that is to say it very lightly.
Why does everything I do to improve myself have to be considered as defiant or subject to some sort of discipline? I have taken all avenues to be someone who researches before jumping to anything new. Once again, my plans to get a student credit card to build credit has been thwarted…only because my parents have decided to intercept my mail, just as they had for my MIT rejection letter…because they did not want me to “get hurt.” I can still hear my dad’s arrogant remark ringing through my ears.
“Shut up. I don’t care what you think.”
I would prefer to react, “Shut up. I will show you what I know about the world, and it is more than you think.”
I wonder if they are aware that they are slowly raping my mind…
over and over again.
Obviously,
if I can bake my cake and eat it too, I have surpassed the point in which “I
told you so” was true. I was manipulated
by the naïveté of my youth, a time when I had no choice but to listen because
outside forces were not allowed to penetrate and influence my apparently
innocent mind. What makes this whole
“anti-exposure movement” even more ironic is that my mind is probably dirtier
than anyone else in my group. When your only
outlet is your own choices, the need to escape, and the talent to manipulate
technology to do almost anything you wish it to do, of course you will use it
to your advantage. I must lie to get
where I have to be. I have to be
everything that my parents feared that I could be, only because that the
definition of “being good” requires me to act “like a girl.” This deems me not creative, but
manipulative. I am a
When my “mother!” did one of her Filipino comparisons of the 20-something daughter of the Filipino family that lives across the driveway, she mentioned that this poor girl “is overprotected…not allowed to go out, stays close to parents, etc.” I felt so sorry for her. I bet that somewhere in that tough, voiceless exterior is a mind that is screaming for some sort of stimulation. When I said that I truly did feel sorry for her, I was immediately scoffed for such an “arrogant” remark. At this point in time, I am not in the position to have any remorse for the actions toward my eventual liberation that I am about to take. It is even clearer now that they are set out to stunt my growth and eventually, fully prevent me from becoming the multitalented, worldly, well-traveled person that I long to be. They believe that the “American” way is equivalent to being a prostitute. If prostitution was considered to be a positive thing, I am glad to be part of this ring. I often wish that I would not be addressed so condescendingly when I have an opinion that is contrary to beliefs. My “mother!” had fully expressed to me that she trusted me, and all I could do was laugh because it was trust with reservations. If you truly trust someone, you would see the positive aspects of a person’s wishes and warn of the negative, leaving the final decision to the person being trusted. She does not trust me. I bet she believes that I am a complete moron for trying to become independent. I believe she is a complete moron for adhering to guidelines rather than making intelligent choices. And so the great ram and the aging bull lock horns once again.
Positive or negative, you earn the names that
you are labeled.
I do not want to hate my heritage, but if it comes to it, I may have to take that route. The following article has explained everything that I couldn’t say in this blurb and more. It’s funny when I am asked if my parents know about my sentiments. Simply put, they can’t know. I do not want to suffer any further than I already have to. It truly sucks to be of Filipino heritage while living in an American world.
There are some days when I wish I was a white, middle-class American. After many observations of the communication practices of this particular ethnicity, I noticed that children were corrected, not condemned, taught to explore and learn for themselves, not dictated and prevented from making mistakes. Of course this type of child-rearing can potentially come with a price, but so can the Filipino style of parenting. God forbid that I would end up the same as the typical Filipino-American girl who does nothing but pointless vagabonding with different boys (without the knowledge of the parents, of course), does well in school for the sake of her family, and gets married with no idea of what the hell to do because she is naïve to life’s trials and tribulations. I have been given the gift of the ability to critically observe and form conclusions about the world around me. I only hope to apply it in my travels here and abroad.
|
Raising Filipino Youths |
|
Recently, I was at my
cousin’s 19th birthday party which was held at their house in one of As someone who grew up
here, I remember I once was in their place. I understand the sheer excitement
of being that young and hanging out with friends. The gradual expansion of
freedom and testing new grounds can be heady stuff. At times it did not seem
fair, the youth of immigrant families would have the added burden of being
mindful of their heritage when there are enough challenges going on as
naturally brought on by hormonal changes. However, as a parent
of two young boys, I feel some trepidation. The actual burden of making the
young people of tomorrow aware of their background befalls on the shoulders of
parents. Who else will make them appreciate the values and traditions of our
Filipino culture? Who else but us will have firsthand knowledge? That is the
crux of the matter. How to make them listen. The Challenges of
Bringing Up Baby Our job will be easily
accomplished only if the communication line is open. Oftentimes, we see
young families start out so hopeful. The babies are well-cared for. The
toddlers are reasonably well-behaved. Then comes the shady years between 9 or
10, up to the teen years when the kids will undergo transformation.
Mother nature dictates it to be so no matter what nationality we are. Here is a scenario. A
Filipino family migrates to make a new life in the There are factors we
have to understand as to how we react to our kids. For instance, how we were
brought up plays a major factor. Were we raised by overly cautious parents,
by “old school” methods, or by “strict” parents? Did their methods work for
us, especially for those who were growing up here in the Where Do Most Filipino
Parents Go Wrong? Filipino parents also
have a propensity to want to control our children. What we say goes and our
children cannot contradict that. How many parents will actually consider in
the moment of argument that perhaps their child does make sense? How many
will consider the possibility they could be wrong? Too few. At this point, when
the child feels their parents do not listen to him or her, the communication
line breaks down. Study after study, shows that the teenager will sometimes
try to talk to their parents only to receive negative response in forms of
anger or scolding. The tendency for the teenager is to feel frustration and
will likely not try again. The fact is, as
revealed in the study of Diane Wolf on Filipino families (1997, Sociological
Perspectives, v40 no3), there is a high incidence rate of suicidal thoughts
or attempts among Filipino youth, than any of their counterparts,
particularly among teenage girls. Given to the analysis as to why would
these young people be in such a state of desperation, they often profess to
feelings of loneliness and are under the strong impression it was useless to
confide in their parents. Filipino parents also
have a strong fear of their children being too ”Americanized.” There is no way around that. After all, they
are growing up in Rising Up to the
Challenge It is easier said than
done as is ever the case. When parents get caught up in the cycle of
attending to work, endless rounds of appointments and activities, where in
these moments can you insert the process of Filipinization? After all, we are
Filipino, do we not do this naturally and subconsciously? Is that not enough?
Maybe. However, if we ask ourselves these questions? Do they know enough of
their family history, or Philippine history? Do they even understand enough
of their native dialect? Can these kids answer without a doubt the question:
What does it mean to be Filipino? Obviously, if any of the answers are no,
they are not Filipinized enough. A practical suggestion
would be no other than through talking to them. If they are young kids,
include those Filipino myths and legends during story time alongside the
stories of Dr. Seuss and Junie B. Jones. If they are in the teenage years, do
not estimate the power of oral history. We can always tell stories that begin
with “When I was your age…” without sounding condescending.
Speaking from personal
experience, I know what saved me from being a rebel teenager in the city of Now, as a parent, I
hope I can pass it on to my boys. Growing up Filipino American can be
confusing business compounded by the other business of being adolescent. We
hope the youth will turn out all right and there is bright future ahead. We
just have to realize we have to do more than just feed them rice and Adobo.
|
