I never meant to stay here.
My plan was to finish college -- just as my older sisters had done before me -- and go home armed with a diploma and maybe even a year or two of work experience. I had broken up with my boyfriend before coming over because I didn't see the point of maintaining a long-distance relationship, but we had remained good friends and communicated regularly and often. I thought maybe we'd get back together, get married and start a family, and I'd find a job in the media as I'd always planned. I had a nice life waiting for me; I really believed that.
So when Atty. Michael Eng , whom I met with in order to fix my student visa papers, explained the steps I needed to take once I had received my degree and decided to stay -- I cut him short and said I had no intentions of remaining in the US after I was done. He looked at me and paused; very softly he said, "I've heard that so many times before, but they all later decided to stay and wanted to know how to do it." The audacity of this guy, I thought: not everyone wanted to leave the Philippines and live here instead. But I didn't argue, content with knowing I'd be the exception and prove him wrong.
Fifteen years later I was finally ready to go back home. My marriage was over and my job prospects were frightening. I didn't want to go back to the retail grind; my heart had always been in journalism after all. Just a year before, my professor -- a Los Angeles Times veteran who was highly-respected in the industry -- told me she'd be more than happy to give me a reference. She thought I had the talent and the drive to succeed; this was all the encouragement I needed. The problem was I'd have to start over, from the bottom along with thousands of other new grads -- and I no longer knew how to survive on that kind of a salary. I had decided -- against my lawyer's persistent objections -- I was not going to ask for half the money and property I was entitled to according to CA law ("At least get him to replace your crappy car!" she yelled). I was going to start over on my own even if it killed me.
I struck a deal with mom: if I didn't receive a job offer by September 1st, I was going home that month. All my bags were packed and the only thing left to do was arrange to bring my cat with me. So it was the first day of September, and I was sitting at my desk staring at the computer monitor and the phone, mulling over options and prospects. I was going to call mom and tell her I was coming home; it was time to reclaim my old room (which was now storage space). And then the phone rang.
DKNY was opening its second store, at the Beverly Center, and they wanted me. They were also willing to pay me what I had asked for. If I accepted, I would fly to Las Vegas in two days and train at the store inside Caesar's Palace. Everything would be arranged and paid for. I had interviewed for the position despite my (apparently weak) resolve to stay far away from retail. But this was DKNY; Donna Karan had been my fashion hero since before my fashion school days. It was the only retail position I had applied and interviewed for.
I called my mom. I wasn't going home; not yet.
There were several times in the past when I was barely a breath away from going home. Just before I got married, I had my heart set on doing so after Bingo -- who had just returned to Manila to join the family business -- told me about all the exciting opportunities he found back home and convinced me it was time for me to finally go back. But somehow there was always a reason I couldn't -- not yet, not then.
Lara commented not too long ago that I was the only Filipino immigrant she knew here who still had one foot solidly planted in the Philippines. My friends are always amazed how I keep up with Philippine news and current affairs (including juicy showbiz gossip). Obviously a large chunk of why half my heart still beats strongly there is because of my family and best friends, who call the Philippines home -- by choice. The other reason is simply because I was born and raised there.
Not too long ago I wholeheartedly accepted my home was now here; it was the first time I'd made this decision without feeling guilty. Since I came here I felt that choosing to stay would be betraying my country. But I've now been here for longer than I lived there and -- although I fought the feeling for years -- this is now where I belong. I was a child in the Philippines; I became an adult here. It was here I learned to find my way on, around, and through the tricky paths of adulthood, find the will to survive, and thrive. It was here I got knocked down repeatedly and learned to stand up again and again. I've also realized I now know my way around here much better, and here is where it's comfortable and familiar.
I've finally accepted I could be Filipino in America. I've learned about the struggles and contributions of generations of Filipinos before me (starting from centuries back when seafaring men jumped off the galleons and ended up in Louisiana), who endured gut-wrenching humiliation and discrimination. Their experiences and accomplishments are tightly woven into the tapestry of American life and history; you can't possibly try to remove them without causing irreperable damage. I respect and honor all those who came before and learned to call this place home; without them my journey would have been more treacherous, perhaps even fatal.
It's my turn now to weave in my own experiences and accomplishments into this multicolored fabric; without people like me there would be no tapestry; just bleached linen. I came here, found myself and my future. There's a Filipino heart that thumps inside me -- wherever I find myself in the world, that won't change. But while it beats, this new home of mine will be much better for it.
I love this. I can relate as I'm set to call another country home this year, and it took me a long time to come to terms with myself and convince myself that I was not selling out.
Thanks for writing it.
Posted by: Mik | January 09, 2005 at 01:44 PM
hi gigi.
this is a great post and a joy to read.
ingat,
jay
Posted by: BatJay, Ang Elvis ng Quiapo | January 17, 2005 at 12:18 AM
Jay,
Thanks for making me laugh everyday. And belated happy birthday to Jet!
Posted by: Gigi | January 17, 2005 at 12:59 AM
Mik,
Best of luck to you on your new adventure! I don't know where you're headed, but I hope you find happiness and success in your new home.
Posted by: Gigi | January 17, 2005 at 01:05 AM
I can definitely identify with you. Sometimes I curse at myself for knowing so much about the goings on of the Philippines.
have you ever thought of writting a novel regarding the Filipino American. I see a universal quality in your writing that every fil-am can identify with and non-fil-ams can comprehend just the same.
I hope you do... we need our stories to be told just like lisa see, amy tan, etc have done for the chinese-americans.
Posted by: mell ditangco | February 06, 2005 at 03:15 PM
Hi Mell,
Thank you for all your wonderful comments today -- my heart's just full to bursting right now. :)
I read your blog and I'll never forget the first time I realized you live in Torrance (I had to look twice!). I really thought you were Philippine-based because of the extent of your knowledge/information.
I used to depend solely on inq.net and philstar.com for my news on the Phils., but nowadays I get more information (and insight) from folks like you, Sassy, Torn, etc. Thank you for making me feel closer to home somehow.
Posted by: Gigi | February 06, 2005 at 07:40 PM