So it’s been over a week now and other than close friends, I haven’t really expressed how I felt about the results of the Presidential Elections. Without a doubt, I am disappointed. It’s disheartening to know that a little more than half the country believe that a man found to be convicted of 34 felonies will once again be our President. This is a person that has bribed, manipulated, and lied (not to mention throw tantrums) to get his way. And it seems he has done it again. But I digress.
“The light of America’s promise will always burn bright as long as we never give up and as long as we keep fighting”
Kamala Harris November 6, 2024
If the Darkness is to Keep Us Apart
8 yrs ago this week I felt sad, nauseous, and anxious. This quickly lead to anger and resentment. I remember about a week after the election sitting in my shared office commiserating with my officemates when our good friend sat down to join in the conversation.
What she had said that day stuck with me. She said, “You know what? I’ve decided that I’m done being upset and angry.” I can recall myself looking at her dumbstruck. She went on to say, “We can’t change the outcome of the results, but I can change the way I respond to it.” When pushing her further, she added, “I just think I could either use all my energy being sad and angry and despondent. Or I could use it to do other things to change what I don’t like with our country.”
What she meant that it was better to focus on moving forward and, instead of being angry and resentful, find a way to use that energy and turn it into something positive. What she meant that it was better to focus on moving forward and, instead of being angry and resentful, find a way to use that energy and turn it into something positive.
If the Daylight Feels like It’s a Long Way Off
It’s taken me 8 years and an additional presidential election to fully appreciate what my good friend said that day. After the 2020 election, and the anger / resentment / hatred that resulted from the “Stop the Steal” movement, I understood the need to let go of resentfulness and anger. I understood the importance to move on instead of focusing on what “should have been.” That’s because 4 years prior to that was how I felt. It’s unfortunate that the other side never understood the concept of knowing when to accept the results and had a leader that continued to fan those flames.
And here we are now, 8 years later … feeling like we’re back to Square One. Some may even venture to say Square Negative One Hundred.
If Your Glass Heart Should Crack
Am I angry? Yes. I live in a country so divided that after elections, families and friends no longer talk to one another. A country where in public spaces, if you look, act, speak, have a bumper sticker on your car that offends another person you’ll get a major stare down from them. Sometimes a rude comment or an infantile gesture. Worse are the trolls on social media that feel the need to denigrate a person or community behind a smart phone or laptop. A country where the word “Patriot” gets thrown around so much, it starts to sound like a dirty word.
Am I sad? Well, yeah, but I’m not despondent. Not like last time where I seriously thought the end of days were near (though, if the Lions win the Super Bowl this season … ).
And For a Second You Turn Back
It will take time for everyone who voted for Kamala to heal from this loss, because it was such a big emotional loss for those of us with hope. Her campaign brought out something in the US that half the country (if not more) were searching for.
In an environment where everything felt consumed in darkness, Kamala lit the candle. She gave us reason to believe that there was still good to come from our country. That there were more people around us that were like-minded about civil rights and policies than we thought. She brought hope. She urged us to keep moving forward.
Yet even though she lost, I will fight to keep moving forward. I will not give up hope that there is more good in our country if we look hard enough and if we work together.
Oh No, Be Strong
So with that, I decided that this time around, I will be doing what my friend said she was going to do. I’m going to focus on staying positive and not be dragged down by the negativity and falsehoods of this Presidency. I spent more time during those years being exhausted and anxious. (Oh, don’t worry — not all of it from that poop head. He doesn’t deserve that much real estate in my brain.)
And then I’m also going to use all that positive energy to keep fighting for what I believe is just and right. I may be wearing rose-colored glasses, I know.
But it’s better than squinting to see half-truths and conspiracy theories; Better than wearing blinders and continue on with the status quo. Better than denying any wrongdoing at all.
Walk On, Walk On
“You have the capacity to do extraordinary good in the world.” … … “This is not a time to throw up our hands. This is a time to roll up our sleeves. This is a time to organize, to mobilize, and to stay engaged for the sake of freedom and justice and the future that we all know we can build together.”
That’s a silly term, don’t you think? The English language being the English language never fails to confuse even the those who use English as their primary language. Obviously, an “anchor” is something that is used to keep an object in place. And “aweigh” is derived from the Dutch word “wegan,” which translates as “to weigh.” Put the two words together and you think it would mean to weigh a person down. But nope. It’s an English nautical term that basically means, “Lift up that dead weight and let’s get movin’!”
Except that’s not exactly what I’m doing these days. In fact, I’m doing the literal (or maybe not so literal?) opposite.
Batten Down The Hatches!
I can’t explain my roller coaster moods lately. For the most part, I feel like I’m doing fantastic. Things are looking good on the horizon. Work is improving (getting off the graveyard shift soon — woohoo!). I’m working on my health; trying to get my body working properly. I’m overall happy where I am in life
I admit, moving into the 5th decade of life for me was difficult. It wasn’t just the thought of being old. It was the physical aspect of being old. Like, when did it get so hard to get off the floor after bending down to pick up a paperclip? Or how come my knees crack after crossing my legs for so long?
I could have gone down the rabbit hole about other “getting old” worries such as, “I’ll need hip surgery,” or “I hope I have good health insurance,” or “What about my retirement fund?”
But I didn’t. I figured, I can only deal with the here and now. And the here and now consisted of Hubby & me and our small postage-stamp house on a postage-stamp yard with our two adorable dogs. Apparently we are what they call DINKWADs — “Dual Income No Kids With A Dog” (or in our case, two).1
And then this past weekend, I stumbled onto an Instagram post that said:
Being overly independent is a defense mechanism from being constantly let down.
For some reason, that quote struck me hard. Being the couple we are, I shared the post with Hubby in the next room and texted that I had just realized that this was the reason I felt I had to take on (in this case) planning my mom’s 80th birthday2 party on my own because I didn’t want to feel let down NOR did I want HIM to feel let down with me.
At face value, I pretty much took it on myself to believe that it was because I always felt I could never measure up to what I felt my parents thought I could be. That I always felt I let them down. I mean … I *am* Filipino. And I *am* Catholic, aren’t I?
Thar She Blows!
But then I brought this up to someone else. Someone I felt I could talk to without fear or judgement. Someone that had no vested interest with my circle of family / peers. Someone who is my therapist. And she brought up something else.
She said, “Yeah! And don’t you think that you are that way because of constantly being let down from going through infertility treatments?”
BOOM
Just like that, I’m back to feeling like I’m 28 years old again and frustrated that I can’t get pregnant. Then in my head, 25 years goes by in a flash along with all the frustration, sadness, anger, and heartbreak. It feels like every single tear I shed in that moment was a memory I kept from those years.
It’s as I’m mourning my loss once again. This time it’s piece by piece. Bit by bit. Not just just the fact I could get pregnant, but the other losses too. The years I lost is being so focused on everything fertility-related. The stress and lack-of-control I had during that time period. Oh gosh, the time and money spent trying to get pregnant.
Then there’s the loss of all the milestones or “firsts.” First smile, step, word. First day of school (for every year until they graduate). First job, first car, first house. Graduation Day. Wedding Day. Grandchildren.
There was just so much loss.
However, there is one loss I feel greater than the others, especially now that I’m growing older in age. You’d think it would be the one about aging without having physical support around when it’s need. Yes, that is a concern; but for now, Hubby and I maintain that we plan to go down together with the Titanic.
Walking The Plank
No … The loss I feel most at my age now is friendship. Which was something my therapist and I talked about a lot during that last session.
I have always said to people that I am an introvert. Yes, I smile and talk a lot. Yes I can be bubbly and animated in public. Yes I’m good at public speaking. But once the mic is turned off and the lights go down, I am most comfortable in the corner at the back of the room. If given a choice to go out for a night around town on vacation or sit on the beach and watch the moon rise, I’d choose the latter.
With that in mind, it’s always been hard for me as an adult to make new friends. The friends I keep now are few and we often don’t see each other. But when we do, it’s like nothing has changed. We know each others’ nuances and are comfortable with each other. THOSE friends are once in a lifetime friends.
Hornswaggled & Marooned
In my 30’s & 40’s, I kinda chalked my lack of new friends to my introvertedness. And I also knew it was because most of them were now married with kids, leaving them little time or energy to hang out at night with someone without. PLUS, who would want to be friends with someone who needed a friend to vent about her inability to get pregnant while she either wants to vent about or praise the virtues of motherhood? I would be a horribly disappointing friend, wouldn’t I?
That would be the self-deprecating defense mechanism talking, as my therapist rightly pointed out. Truth is, I lost many high school and college friends around that period of time. Not due to any ill-fated reason, of course. It was simply because our lives took different paths. We simply lost touch with one another or became Facebook Friends where I could see their kids grow up before my own eyes. Our lives just didn’t seem to mesh with our lifestyles.
I always thought that it would be easier to make friendships at my age because there would be the potential for more empty nesters. Except, most people around my age had children later in life. Plus conversation would eventually turn to kids and grandkids — which, for the record, I have NO problem talking about 3 — and for most new acquaintances, it still seems like an awkward talking point to them when I tell them that we tried to have kids but it wasn’t meant to be.
At this point, my therapist asked if I had ever looked to see if their were any online support groups for those who were child-free and were feeling the same losses I was. And that’s when I had to chuckle.
Shiver Me Timbers
You see, 20+ years ago when I started searching for any type of support for women going through infertility, I wasn’t able to find anything. Keep in mind, there wasn’t any websites like Resolve at the time. Reddit was not even born yet. Facebook was still a baby. It was difficult to find anything. Any resources I found were from doctors offices.
I admittedly tried going to a live support group meeting, but the introvert in me was so embarrassed about crying in front of strangers, so I just never went back.4 So I just googled. And I stumbled on Mel’s website. And I found blogs and started to read. And in March of 2007, Apron Strings for Emily was born.
Over the past week, I have once again googled to see what kind of support is out there for me. I am happy to report there are many resources available depending on what I might be interested. Introverted as I am, I’ll likely try an online support group.
I am 100% grateful for this space. It has allowed me a place to bear my soul for the world to see. While many people in real life (IRL) know about this little corner of my world, I like to think this is my safe space where I can just be me.
Sometimes I forget I still have this space to do this. Sometimes I feel exhausted and lack the energy to write down all the crappy emotions I have in swirling in this head of mine. But I know I have to find a way to manage all get these negative, self-deprecating thoughts out of my head. And while I may not feel that I have the support of those who could completely understand the same fears and losses I have gone through (YET, working on that support group research), at least I have this space to talk about it. And not have to worry about letting anyone else — even myself — down.
Only the BEST 80’s childhood movie EVER
What do the Millenials say? I was THIS many years old when I found this out (too old, I guess). ↩︎
If I haven’t said this enough … I cannot speak or understand Tagalog. Though there are obvious words that every Fil-Am kid knows; malamig (cold), masarap (delicious), mabaho (stinky), tubig (water), kumustaka (how are you?), bakit (why?). Some phrases just get picked-up in conversation; like nagtatrabaho ka ba (are you working tonight?) or pupunta tayo sa misa (we’re going to mass).
I may not understand it word for word, but I do get the context of what they are talking about, especially when they speak in Tag-lish. 1 That said, I love being around and listening to my family and friends when they speak Tagalog. It’s a comfort to me. It reminds me that I’m surrounded by loved ones, even if I don’t fully understand what they are saying.
It’s funny. Even though I don’t speak the language, apparently, I’ve picked up some habits from listening to Tagalog and Taglish my entire life. Truth be told, I hadn’t even noticed it until a couple years into working full time after getting my RN license. And I didn’t even know WHY. In fact, when growing up it was something that many of us kids used to make fun of our parents, and Titas & Titos. 2
It was the use of pronouns. You know (say it with pride, SVF 3rd Grade Sr Barbara students!), Me – You – He – She – It – They – Them. Emphasis on the SHE and the IT … and said rapidly, as one word. 3
Difficulty with pronouns occur with most of my family & family friends that grew up speaking Tagalog as their primary language. They often get their He/She or Him/Her confused. Many times they resort to saying They/Them, or just referring to a person simply as one run-on word “He-She.” In return, I find myself doing the same thing. Getting my pronouns mixed up. Which seems awfully strange, but I’ve been it’s not unusual that this happens if you are brought up in a two-language household. It had been no big deal for the most part … until it wasn’t.
When I first started working full time, my co-workers found my mix-up of pronouns endearing. After the gazillionth time it became annoying. It became embarrassing to me whenever it happened, especially while talking with a patient or physician. “He-She” became a staple word in my vocabulary. It was that or, “He – <pause & blink> I mean, She” (or vice versa) every time I used a pronoun. There were times where patients or family members would look at me as if I couldn’t tell the difference between a cat and a dog. And believe me, there were many times I was told to “get glasses” or asked if I was blind and “can’t you see I’m obviously a <insert gender>.”
Getting to Sesame Street
The last time I was in the Philippines was in 2014. Before that was when I was 9 years old. I have lots of fond memories from that trip in the ‘80’s and to this day, my cousins tease me about the time I lost my balance and fell into the sewer. “Mabaho ka na!” (You stink!)
Going back as an adult, I was more aware of my surroundings and tried my best to be present with any interaction I had with everyone. To be honest, I did that for three reasons. Number 1): I didn’t want to get lost, since I didn’t know my way around. Number 2): I didn’t speak or understand fluent Taglish. And Number 3): I didn’t want to get kidnapped. I’m only half-kidding about that last one, but that’s what every Fil-Am kid who doesn’t speak Tagalog is told when they go to Manila.
Believe me, any Filipino in the Philippines can spot a Fil-Am kid right on the spot. We may physically look the same, but we stand out in the crowd by our clothes, the volume of our voice, even the tone of our skin (the darker you are, the more American you are). So yes, when I’m approached at a store at one of the gazillion super malls in Manila or am seated at a restaurant and are asked what I’d like to order … they know to speak English to me. 4 And this is what I’m always greeted with:
“Good morning (or afternoon), Ma’am, Sir”
Recent purchases from C2E2 which is the Midwest’s version of San Diego’s Comicon
Have you ever called a Customer Service line for any major business and *actually* got to speak with a live person on the phone? Did the person happen to address you as “Ma’am, Sir” at any point during the conversation? Chances are you have a Customer Service Rep answering your call from the Philippines. So please be patient with them. 5
Let me tell you the reason why Filipinos get their pronouns mixed up. It’s not that we don’t know the difference. (Like I mentioned above, I’ve gotten that line more times than you think.) Or that we’re fumbling to determine your gender identity. It’s because Tagalog is a Gender-Neutral language.
A Gender-Neutral language is one that avoids references towards a particular sex or gender. For example, gender-neutral words in English would be “Postal Worker” or “Flight Attendant,” whereas gender-specific counterparts are “Mailman” or “Stewardess.” In Tagalog, when referencing a person, the word “siya” is used for both “he” and “she” as well as “it.”
That’s not to say that Tagalog doesn’t have any gender specific words, especially after over 3 centuries of Spanish influence. Those gender specific pronouns, just like Spanish, can be identified by their suffix: -o (Tito, Lolo, Pinoy) for masculine; -a (Tita, Lola, Pinay) for feminine. There are other gender differentiating pairs such as Ate (pronounced ah-teh) and Kuya for eldest sister/brother that are influences from China. But for the most part, when referring to a person there *is* no male or female counterpart.
Gender Fender Bender
Today, using the correct pronouns is important more than ever. Addressing a person in the way they wish to be addressed is paramount and should have NOTHING to do with gender identity in the first place.
I think back to BEFORE using the correct pronouns were, well – more pronounced. And how I would constantly get the “evil eye” from family members or be told by other health care professionals that I “needed to get my pronouns straight.” I remember how offended people would get when I goofed up simply because the language my culture speaks doesn’t have a specific pronoun for gender. And how I constantly make an effort to pause before using pronouns because of this.
And then I wonder HOW HARD it is for people to make the effort to do the same today.
Lame, I know, but us Catholic school kids had to find a way to swear back then!↩︎
Most Filipinos are bilingual as, during the 50 years of US occupation of the Philippine Islands, many elementary schools taught in English and required students to only speak English during class ↩︎
Not only because it’s not their fault that you’ve been on hold for so long, but it’s just outright rude.↩︎
Can you believe it’s already June? As a kid, I remember loving this month. It always signaled the end of school and the beginning of summer vacation. The never-ending days of bike rides to swim classes twice a week and to the library on other days. To staying out late with friends until the streetlights went on and you knew it was time to come back home. And for many Gen X-ers, it entailed eating a lot of cereal or Eggos for breakfast and figuring out how to make mac & cheese or hot dogs or pizza bagels for lunch.
But we survived our middle school, early 80’s years. And we thrived. Without video games (until Atari was readily available for us) or cable (until MTV was in every household). And God knows there was nothing close to internet social media at that time … unless you had a pen pal from another state or country.
One Man Come In the Name of Love
Maybe I was just a naïve 10–12-year-old Filipino American Catholic school girl (there was no such thing as “pre-teen” back in my day), but I feel like everything was just so innocent back then. Sure, there was crime (McGruff the Crime Dog anyone?) and kidnapping (“It’s 10pm, do you know where your children are?”), but it doesn’t seem as pronounced as it is today. It could be from the 24-hour news cycle. Or the internet. Or social media. But geez, I feel that if I was at that age today, I’d be overwhelmed with too much stimuli.
So yeah. It’s JUNE. And what does the month of June mean today, in modern times. Pride Month … or as I’ve seen multiple people post on FB: The most uncomfortable month of the year for homophobes.
Do you know why June was chosen as the nationally recognized month? It’s in reference to the Stonewall Riots that started in the early hours on June 28, 1969. The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village NYC was a popular restaurant and bar for gay men and those on the fringe in the late 60’s. In that early morning in June, a series of spontaneous and violent protests against the NYC police who raided the Stonewall Inn erupted. This was not the first uprising among the homosexual community and the NYC police in the past, though this one lasted for several days.
One Man He Resist
Today the Stonewall Inn has been named at as the defining moment of the Gay Rights Movement in the US and around the world.In 1999, Clinton initially declared June as Gay & Lesbian Pride Month. Twelve years later in 2011, Obama amended Pride Month to include the whole LGBTQ+ community.
On June 24, 2016, Obama also designated Stonewall Inn, Christopher Park, and the surrounding streets as Stonewall National Monument, making it the first US National Monument dedicated to LGBTQ+ rights.
And so now is the time I start to reflect on why this month is special to me …
We try to get down to Ferndale, MI during the first weekend of June every year for Ferndale Pride, Michigan’s Largest Pride Festival. Unfortunately this year I had to work, so excuse Kira for being in “fake” Pride gear
One Boy (Girl?) Washed Up On An Empty Beach
It’s amazing how far along this naïve Fil-Am Catholic school girl has come along from her sheltered life since those middle school and high school days. Especially when it comes to diversity in the rainbow sense of the word. I mean, I knew what “bakla” meant (feminine male, gay in Tagalog), but to talk about sexual preference was always (still is for many first gen Fil-Am kids with their parents) a taboo subject. (More on this in a separate post.) There was no such talk about “coming out of the closet.” It wasn’t until living up at Oakland University that I became more comfortable talking about sexual orientation and identity. I mean, that’s what college is for, right? Expanding your horizons and learning more about life?
One of my best friends from Nursing School came out to me a year after we graduated. When he did, I was incredibly happy for him, but I was not at all surprised. I had a strong suspicion he was gay, but I figured he’d tell me when he was ready. In fact, I think he was more surprised at my reaction than I was with his announcement. I remember telling him that I had a feeling all along, but really thought nothing of it, which was the honest-to-God truth.
One Boy (Not) Betrayed By A Kiss
To me it had nothing to do with what his sexual orientation was, but rather what his character was like. And he was that kind, funny, neurotic, immensely smart and sharp-witted type of guy that was THE best type of friend and “war buddy” you’d want to survive Nursing school. This is the type of lab / study partner that went deep in the trenches of clinicals, care plans and bedpans. He went headfirst alongside you and picked you up or dragged you when you needed it … and you would do the same when he needed the swift kick in the butt. He’s also the same guy that would drive in a blizzard to pick me up for clinicals only to find out that our university had called a “Snow Day” for the first time in decades. And the same guy who would NEVER ask questions when my roommate and I asked him to drive us somewhere in his VW Golf. He’s also the same guy who I’d drop anything I was doing if he needed my help. Even if it has been 20+ years since we’ve seen each other.
In The Name Of Love
Being in Nursing, I’ve had the privilege of working, meeting, and caring for people from all walks of life: of all different ethnic / social / economic backgrounds, of any gender identity or sexual preference, whether someone is homeless or an immigrant or even both. The point here being is that none of this matter when it comes down to the individual. In Health Care, that makes sense – it’s a whole team of people working TOWARDS a person’s health goal, whether it’s to improve, to maintain, or even to accept.
Except, why doesn’t everyone’s individuality matter when it comes to things even more important than health? Let’s say … like marriage, housing, religion, or any type of services otherwise provided to cisgender heterosexual people? What if these same issues were happening to your loved one; your child, for instance? Would your religion – or rather your FEAR – keep you from being present for them?
Would YOUR pride stand in the way of accepting YOUR loved one just the way they are?
THAT is the point of Pride Month. It is NOT – and I say this because I hear this EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR. – meant to throw one’s “gayness” or “queerness” into the rest of the world’s face. It’s to celebrate the fact that every person, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation is allowed to freely express their individuality with PRIDE.
What More In The Name of Love?
We had nosebleed seats, but was able to catch U2 during the The Joshua Tree 20th Anniversary Tour
Here. Hold my Asian American Teacup Part Five: Last post in my ongoing series about Asian Americans (Part One begins here)
If there is anything “good” to come from Asian stereotypes, it’s that most Asian ethnicities practice (for the most part) patience and respect for others; they believe that family is important above all else (with maybe the exception of religion). Perhaps it has to do with China being one of the oldest civilizations in the world that this trait had passed on to each ethnicity, but there is no doubt that certain mindfulness techniques (meditation, yoga, tai chi, for example) have derived from these Asian practices. [i]
I find it ironic that Western culture has latched onto these techniques; with gusto over the past several years, may I add. Yoga studios everywhere. Tai Chi being offered at Community Centers. Mindfulness techniques through meditation (think Headspace, Insight Timer, Calm). Which I think is a good thing; we all have to find a way to cope with anxiety and stress.
Then you have movies & TV shows, where they make (or in some cases remake) movies without using the appropriate actors. Hollywood has been notorious for “white-washing” many characters that should be Asian.
The release of the movie version [ii]of “Crazy Rich Asians” in 2018 was the first movie since the All-Asian, English-speaking cast of 1993’s “The Joy Luck Club.” That’s a 25-year difference and should give anyone an idea of how much Asian disparity there is in Hollywood-produced films.
Marvel Studios faced criticism from Asian Americans when Tilda Swinton was cast as The Ancient One in “Dr. Strange.” Whereas in the Marvel Comics, The Ancient One is a Tibetan man living in a hidden village on the Himalayan mountains. Swinton’s portrayal; however, is believed to be an androgynous Celtic woman.
There’s the casting of Scarlett Johansson as the main character in the Japanese manga & movie, 2017’s “Ghost in The Shell.” David Carradine’s “Kung Fu” series that ran from 1972 to 1975.[iii] Or the 2015 movies “Aloha” which stars Emma Stone as Allison Ng in “Aloha.” And “The Great Wall” where Matt Damon is depicted as the “white savior.”
As for the OG “Karate Kid” movies, I must say that – as 80’s as it was – at least they got the ethnicity correct (Japanese) with Mr. Miyagi. But the same can’t be said for the remake. That movie was based in China, when Karate is Japanese. Although, these days English-speaking individuals tend to use Karate for any or all Asian martial arts.
The most reviled “yellow face” in movies is Mickey Rooney in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Mr. Rooney was cast as Mr. Yunioshi, the bumbling “oriental” (there’s that word again!) of Japanese descent. Time period or not, there are still recent movies utilize something called “Orientalism“(a whole litany of that word!).
By definition, Orientalism is the way the Western world perceives Asia; where the concept of one’s ideas of an Asian person both exaggerates and distorts the Asian culture to define the differences between their white culture. It’s seen as a means to reinforce the positive image that non-Asians have of themselves while – at the same time – portraying Asians as odd, baffling, and sometimes barbaric. It’s a notion that the Western world is the epitome of humanity and that their morality, progress, power is superior to no one else. They see the Eastern world as a direct opposite of their “New World” ideals.
That said, patience and respect is something that all Asian & Asian Americans are taught at an early age. We are taught to respect our elders and recognize “hard work” as a way of success. We are taught in a subtle way to practice empathy; though it usually is disguised as being called “selfish.” [iv]
High School Graduation (with honors, of course)
Most first-generation Asian Americans are taught that we should assimilate to American culture. Many of which were never taught their native language (<waves hand>) for fear that it would confuse (in my case) Tagalog with American English. In the case of many half-generation Asian Americans, they may be old enough to understand and/or speak in their native tongue. However, many are taught to only speak English at home; to practice the language to sound less like a foreigner with an accent. [v]
In particular, first-generation Asian Americans are taught to not “make waves.” That we shouldn’t cause a scene or make an issue about actions or behaviors that would ostracize their family and/or their culture. Meanwhile, in American culture, making waves is something more like making progress and/or change. [vi]
For those reasons (and many more), Asians & Asian Americans are seen and referred to as the“Silent Minority.” By definition, silent minority is a small number of people within a demographic group, or even the entire group (in this case, Asian & Asian Americans) who do – or rather will not – express their opinions publicly.
By doing this, the Silent Minority individual(s) choose to disassociate themselves from other groups (other ethnicities including Caucasians) on any hotly debated issue such as political or religious discussions, for example. They choose to be an inactive bystander by remaining neutral and not siding with either end of any particular topic.
In other words, it’s seen as a reason not to “rock the boat” while simultaneously showing that they are willing to assimilate to the American culture in order to be accepted.
There is another term that coexists with Silent Minority; one that likely encompasses what their silence is hoping to achieve. “Model Minority“ is defined as a minority group whose members (let’s say in this case, Asian Americans) wish to achieve a higher degree of socioeconomic or professional success in order to prove they are willing and able to be part of mainstream society.
For example, they strive for higher education believing that this will result in a prominent profession in which they can be a respected leader. They try to assimilate to remain neutral on hot topics (Silent Minority). They aim for a higher place in the socioeconomic ladder of the Western world so that they’d no longer feel judged by who (their ethnicity) and what (values, cultural practices, for instance) they are.
Still the dutiful daughter; always studying even at University despite the ongoing distractions
It’s these reasons that White America identify Asian Americans as a “model” for other ethnicities. This stem from their perception that Asian Americans we are less of a “threat” to their society by remaining neutral. They assume that Asian Americans do not want to share their thought on topics like racism, politics, and religion. They expect that Asian Americans will NOT speak up or participate in certain events. For example, the #MeToo organization. The #HumanRights, #LGBTQ, and #LoveIsLove campaigns. The #BlackLivesMatter and #SocialJustice movement.[vii]
Though white America believes that it’s a compliment to be labeled as a “model minority,” most Asian Americans (even if they remain silent) do not.
Asian Americans, especially GenX (and beyond), see this as an excuse to justify the exclusion of minoritiesas well as marginalize any individual success within a minority group (Prime example: “Asians are ALL smart”). Furthermore, this concept of being a Model Minority ultimately results in other marginalized groups pitting themselves against each other; where one groups believes they are able to assimilate and/or or be accepted into the American mainstream than the other group(s).
To me, this illustrates the reason why many of our immigrant parents (and other families & friends), remain neutral / side with popular white America. And why, despite being minorities themselves, they perceive all other ethnicities (Asian-, African- Americans and Latinos, for example) as being inferior to them. Much like how white America deems everyone inferior to them.
Personally, I find it pitiful that white America feels they need to set other minority groups against each other. This shameful behavior belongs in the middle school playground; not in the adult world. [viii]
What’s that term? “Divide and conquer”?
Look back at history, specifically the periods of civil unrest, the increase in hate crimes, and the onset of excessive verbal abuse from white America happened at a time of fear. Specifically, the fear that non-white Americans are a threat to their way of life. Fear of unemployment; of having their jobs “replaced” with a person who does not look like them. Fear of being “taken over” by other minorities.
Just like they feared the Filipino farm workers in Stockton were taking their jobs (and their women) from them. Or how during WWII, Japanese Americans were considered a threat to national security. Or how Vincent Chin died because two laid-off white autoworkers felt that any Asian (regardless of ethnicity) was responsible for the economic downfall of the Big Three.
Just like the 91-yo Filipino American in Oakland, CA seen by circuit TV was thrown to the ground. And the Asian American New Yorkers who have been spit on and verbally abused on the subways and streets of NYC.
Or the 83-yo Chinese woman in San Francisco who was punched without provocation and fought back. [ix] Additionally, she insisted that the remaining donations (around $900K) on GoFundMe given back to the AAPI community to combat racism and hate crimes. How’s that for a gesture of good will?
Just like the 8 people (six of them Asian) that were fatally shot at two different Asian spas by a 21-yo male with a supposed porn addiction. And the subsequent statement from the Chief of Police who marginalized those deaths by saying that he was just having a “really bad day.”
Again, all these incidents stem from fear and are perpetuated by stereotypes. All of these activities continue to occur because of anger. This anger ultimately surfaces with hate and hate crimes.
This is the moment where I state my favorite quote. This quote, IMHO, is a perfect analogy [x]on how hate crimes begin and its resulting outcomes. And yes, it’s from the very wise, 990-year-old Grand-master Jedi, Yoda.
“Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to Anger. Anger leads to Hate. Hate leads to suffering.”
This is why I choose to speak up about Asian-American Hate Crimes, especially its part in US history. I feel it’s important for every resident in US to realize that Asians (and other non-white Americans), have always been seen as inferior to white person. That even though over the last 6 years, there has been a 150% increase in Asian Hate Crimes, these sentiments, behaviors, and actions have existed here in the US as far back as 1587 when Filipinos took those first steps in present-day Morro Bay, CA — 33 years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. And most definitely occurred before 1776, when the Declaration of Independence, which states that “All men are created equal“ was signed.[xi]
I’m speaking up about Model Minority because it pits Asian Americans and other ethnic groups against each other. Because it marginalizes any success that we achieve. Because it no longer pays to “assimilate” or strive to be better than other ethnicities. Because White America will always see us as inferior to them.
Because even though we’re acceptable, we are not accepted.
I’m speaking up because I no longer want to be a Silent Minority. I want it known that white America’s ethnically related behaviors and actions cause suffering. That this suffering not only affects Asian Americans but the United States as a whole [xii]And like many 1st & 2nd generations of Asian Americans, we want our voices to be heard.
We want to talk and debate about the disparities and inequities in OUR country. We want to discuss how Asian Americans and all other minority groups want social justice, equity, and equality for everyone in the US, regardless of race, religion, economic status, sex, gender, marriage, identity, etc
I’m speaking up because I want to help #StopAsianHate
I hope you take all that I’ve written to heart. My wish is that you pass on this knowledge to the next person and the next person and the next person. Because, if we don’t TALK ABOUT IT, nothing will ever change. And history, once again, would be doomed to repeated.
<Drops mic and walks off Soapbox>
[i]Now before you say that yoga derived from India and meditation had its beginnings as an Islam practice, both are rooted in Asian culture, as India and Saudi Arabia (where Islam began) are part of the Asian continent.
[ii] IMHO the movie, though very entertaining, does not compare to reading the book. (Although the mahjong scene at the end was a great addition.)
[iii]Though syndication of “Kung Fu” had even us 80’s kids watching it
[iv] Who am I kidding? Not only are we taught that we’re selfish as kids, but that thought of “being selfish” extends to our adult lives.
[v]Never mind that the parents still speak their language to you, you still had to respond in English
[vi]Does the whole “feeling I’m split in two make more sense now?
[viii]NEWSFLASH: They will continue to do this unless something CHANGES. Which means talking about it.
[ix] Don’t mess with any Asian-American woman. We may look docile and agreeable, but – if pushed hard enough (both literally AND figuratively) – we strike back!
[x]Then again, this quote can be used in any situation
[xi] It also said that we have the right to vote. Thomas Jefferson when writing & signing the Declaration of Independence wrote, “Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed.” Just saying …
[xii]Think of why America was called “The Melting Pot” and why our Statue of Liberty reads:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
