Patriotic Filipinos and the Impositions of the Americans

We started our second week driving north to Banaue and Baguio City. The car ride was uncomfortable with more bodies than seats to hold them which reminded me of stories from my mom. She has nine brothers and sisters so traveling together was rarely an occurrence, but when it did happen, everyone would pile into my grandpa’s little 5-seater car. Vising relatives in the mountain provinces was one such occasion. Curled in a ball on the floor, I gave up the battle for sleep and sat up to watch the scenes as we drove up the mountain. We passed several semi-trucks and although shacks and tin houses lined the side of the road, I knew this was obviously the main route for transportation.  Alcantara and Bose both commented on the importance of these mountain roads for access to Baguio as the “summer capital” and R&R spot for US forces. Seeing the roofs of these tiny houses littered with Coke-a-cola advertisement billboards is a reminder today of the true selfish motives of the US in the Baguio gold mines.

From family and friends who knew Baguio growing up, I’ve always heard that they don’t like going there anymore. They say it’s dirty, crowded, and not as nice as it used to be, but never any comments on how it came to be that way. Bose attributes this change to the post-Camp John Hay growing desire of Baguio to be a “world-class” tourist center; an expensive lifestyle that could not be supported by the people who lived there, and so areas of tin houses popped up around the city. It is a frustrating case of unidentified (by most) systemic oppression. Half the city struggles for necessities of life while the lawns of John Hay golf course and the mansion continued to be watered and maintained daily.

The President's Mansion

Part of the Rizal Exhibit (teamManila.com)

When we returned to Manila, we visited Ayala museum. They were celebrating the 150^th year anniversary of Jose Rizal’s birth and had several exhibits on his life, but I found the exhibit on the Aquinos to be very interesting as well. I knew a little about Ninoy Aquino as a national hero who was the frontrunner to bring an end to the Martial Law of Marcos, but the exhibit was surprising. It showed some pictures from his wedding to Corazon and early childhood in the Philippines, but most of the memorabilia were from the time he spent in the States. Pictures of him and the kids, a paper weight from Harvard, a pocket watch – all from the States that it made me think of him as a modern day Magsaysay who created “the illusion that the Filipino could remain a patriot even as he continued to cater to the political and economic impositions of the Americans” (Lumbera). The Philippines is a proud nation, here and abroad – I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen a Filipino Flag hanging from the driver’s mirror in Seattle. I wonder if these patriotic Filipinos are able to stay proud and not do anything about the poverty and problems Philippines knowing that the country is working towards becoming more like the United States and Western countries, when really trying to be like the US is what perpetuates many of the problems here.

One of the few groups in the upper class of the Philippines is the national bourgeoisie. One of the families from my church is part of this group and I spent one day in their life this week. After the morning church service, I went to eat lunch at one of their restaurants. In the past 3 years they have be able to open up 5 successful chains of their store around Metro Manila. After a short siesta at their beautiful house in Quezon City, we went to the grand opening of their fifth store in a new mall. The grand opening was a VIP event, ticket-only entry, with a long buffet tables for all three stories of the mall. It started with a blessing from a priest and was followed by a parade of three people dressed in traditional Chinese costume and masks and three colorful dragons (the colors of the flag red, blue, and yellow). At first I was wondering why the hosts were dressed in traditional Chinese attire and why that was the theme of this opening of a mall in the Philippines. Then I remembered Dr. Jose discussing how many of the business owners here are actually Chinese foreigners just here for business. My family friends were one of a just a few local businesses in the mall, right next to its big-name, international competitor, Red Ribbon.

After the priest had blessed every store, they did a candy and coin toss. Each dragon had a large basket full of gold coins (5peso and 25centavo pieces) and candy to toss into the audience of children. When the adults caught on that there were 5peso coins being tossed out, they scrambled out onto the floors and tables to catch as much as they could also. As I watched from the second story balcony, I could only think of the small children outside of SM begging and selling small trinkets to foreigners, some of those children the same age as the ones here. It reminds me how much weight of who you are and what you’ll have is determined by your family name and how much harder it is to change economic classes here.

The Coin Toss
stereotypical Chinese characters - bottom center, dragons - bottom right

We visited the Commission on Filipinos Overseas and received a really good overview of some of the issues that are concerning the country today including human trafficking and the cost and system of education (set up by the Americans, but not honored on the same level as schools in the US). We were also given the chance to speak to parents and children who were about to move to the United States as permanent residents. It was an emotional day for everyone, trying to give advice and encouragement to those future immigrants when we knew the truth that was awaiting them – a horrible economy and society ruled by white supremacy. This was also the first time I ever thought of myself as a first generation Filipino, a classification that half-White Filipinos are excluded from. I began to analyze my unique situation, always referring to myself as Filipino American in the States, but only being recognized as American here. I met a professor from UP who was in the congregation on Sunday. It was the first time that someone was introduced to me (in English) and then walked away when they discovered that I didn’t speak the native language. Also during the Sunday school, I joined the group of high school and college students. A few of them asked everyone to speak English because I didn’t understand Tagalog. It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences so far, but I can only imagine it was worse for them. The lesson took longer than planned because each student was determined to speak English, or rather determined to not speak Tagalog.

I think the meeting with the CFO was very inspiring and put a whole new dimension on how FASA can help Filipinos abroad and those incoming to Seattle. From learning Tagalog to raising money to send students to college in the PI, I look forward to sharing my experiences here for the purpose of helping the people and organizations that I’ve met here.

America Is In The Heart: Channeling The Spirit Of Malcolm X...

Upon Macarthur’s return on October 20, 1944, he announced over the radio, “People of the Philippines, I have returned!” and in dramatic fashion the Filipinos rejoiced in celebration.  In their mind, they were finally being rescued from the ruthless treatment administered by the imperialistic Japanese during their occupation of the archipelago.  Interestingly enough, the Filipinos did not see it as a return to colonial captivity but rather only liberation from the “three years without God.”

Prior to WWII, during the time the U.S. had complete colonial responsibility of the Philippines; the Filipinos were inundated with American popular culture. Through American movies, magazines, comic books, music records, and candy bars Filipinos were given a misleading glimpse to what life was like in the States. Santiago Bose, a Filipino writer from Baguio, recalls memories from his childhood of going on the U.S. base that was constructed within the city as, “...our first taste of ‘America’ via chocolate and bubble gum. It was to John Hay we went to play mini golf or to take our ugly blind dates and enjoy the live music, or to have a real steak at Main Club. It was in the library that I read all of the Hardy Boys mystery books and books about art and painting...”

And that’s just historically speaking. If we press fast forward on our time machines, what we will come to notice is that these same themes follow us to the present in a steadfast and unwavering manner.

Earlier this week, we went to watch an indie film about the Philippine American War. I was excited and interested in seeing how the movie would represent America, the Philippines and the “special relationship” held between the two countries. Being that this was in the Philippines and it was labeled an indie film, I assumed that this would be an unfiltered depiction of what really happened during this forgotten war. In my mind’s eye, I imagined scenes of Admiral Dewey and General Aguinaldo speaking aboard the flagship Olympia with Dewey reassuring Aguinaldo that the U.S. had no need for colonies and that America would only assist the Philippines in gaining their independence from Spain, similar to Cuba. Then through dramatic music and shrewd editing, the deception and dishonesty by the U.S. government would become more obvious than Kool-Aid stains on white dress shirts. Oh how I was wrong.

The movie was a generic-wack-water down-came in the plastic bag at the bottom of the shelf and not the real cereal box- version of anything resembling the Philippine American War. Ok, maybe I went too far. My mom did buy that cereal for my family, so I won’t diss that. But everything else, I stand behind.  100 percent.

To say the movie had a bias would be an understatement (I’m not even going to get into the fact that the Director/Writer was a white man from Schenectday, New York). Americans were shown as friendly amicable soldiers that over time developed a bond with the Filipinos within the barrio they were occupying.  Only Filipinos and Chinese cadavers appeared on the movie screen. The closest an American soldier came to getting injured was when one was shot in the hip. Now granted, the commanding officer was depicted as a douche bag but that was one out of a handful.

Now I’m far from advocating violence committed against anyone, that’s not my style. I am all for some peace. I didn’t need the movie to show American soldiers getting cutting up Julienne by Filipino soldiers wielding bolos with menacing facial expressions.  I wasn’t expecting the film to cover the entire war or the events that led up to it. However, what I was hoping for was the Philippine American War be represented, as it should be—sans Pro-American filter. But instead, I was privy to a far less than accurate portrayal of an atrocity that brought about rape, concentration camps, and unwarranted deaths of unarmed civilians—by the thousands.

I believe this movie only perpetuated stereotypes of Americans and Filipinos alike, as well as skimming over the surface about a period in history not taught properly in the textbooks or classrooms. I lower my head in disappointment at the missed opportunity of revealing enlightenment and truth to the world.

Now ladies and gentlemen, lets adjust the lens on our microscope and analyze what happens when such images and attitudes are inculcated into a group of people over the span of 100+ years.

Simply put, in my most plain and basic and perhaps inappropriate relaxed vernacular I can formulate at the moment-- the result of having over a century of American indoctrination imposed upon Filipino people has psychologically fucked them up.

An inferiority complex has been formed. The belief of anything American being better than anything Filipino has infiltrated deep into the depths of the collective sub-conscious of the country.

During the late 1940’s and 1950’s, the choice of music for many Filipinos came from America. These pop songs were placed on a pedestal due to the fact that they were English, which gave them prestige.

Around this same time period, in Manilla, moviehouses that showed American films were the best in comfort and luxury. Filipinos idolized John Wayne, Doris Day, James Dean, and Audrey Hepburn. Movies that were shown in Tagalog were seen as lower class and made for ignorant and gullible audiences.

This Americanization of the Philippines through education and popular culture created a desire within the Filipino to be American. They emulated Bob Dylan in style and dress. They memorized rock’n’roll songs. They grew their hair long and bought American products for the status. But as Santiago Bose put it, “... No matter how many American appliances we owned, and how well we could mimic the songs broadcast on American airwaves and how closely we mimicked the postures and phrases of the Americans, we would always be little brown interlopers, never anything than second-class.”

Now let’s keep in mind that prior to America colonizing the Philippines, Spain did, for almost 400 years. Then let’s take into account the appearance of both the majority of Spaniards and Americans that came to the Philippines were white. THEN add into the equation the proliferation of the erroneous image of Jesus being also the same complexion. And what do we have here? A self-hatred the brown man has held in his heart for half a millennia because everything that has controlled him (physically, mentally, and spiritually) has resembled something outside of himself. So it would only be logical for the brown man to want and to strive to become more like the person that is in control. By doing so, perhaps he can become governor of his own sovereignty. Which leads us to the predicament we have on our hands today, with brown folks wishing they were white because they have the status in this world.

If we return once again to the present, we can find giant billboards with white actresses parading all over them, smiling and enjoying the spoils of wealth and success (that image can be quite alluring to a young child begging for pesos, growing up in poverty). There’s whitening cream being sold at the grocery store right on campus. Whenever I add a contact into my local cell phone, I am presented with the option of adding a small-computerized picture that will pop up whenever that person contacts me. Coincidentally enough, every pre-programmed picture is a person being ambiguous in ethnicity but having either brown or blonde hair. And the glaring similarity amongst them all is that they all have blue eyes (with the exception of one but he is wearing sunglasses).

But let’s pull back. Perhaps that’s too much.

Let’s say that not all Filipinos abide by this notion of sub-consciously striving to be white Americans. That’s a grand generalization that I don’t want to be responsible for defending. Let’s instead say that for many, this self-hatred is more allusive to detect. It hibernates far beneath the surface and is repressed deeper and deeper as time goes on. And what manifests is sentiments and attitudes of not being good enough, believing in self-imposed limitations, and a victim consciousness that believes in some twisted and warped way that all of these heinous acts committed against them throughout the years is deserved. This manifestation becomes habits that over time evolve into character traits. These traits are then passed down to the subsequent generation. This subsequent generation follows suite and passes similar characteristics to their children and so forth. Before we know it, this becomes part of the overall cultural ideology. Thus further perpetuating the self-hatred. Not only do Filipinos get constantly bombarded with new confirmations for the self-hate (refer to the previous paragraph) they have it embedded within their cultural identity. And if self-hatred is too rated R for you then you can easily substitute the word with its interchangeable cousin-- internal colonization.

So where do we go from here?

I don’t want to come off as cynical or a downer in any way shape or form. But the truth as I see it, must be told.

I’ll be honest, perhaps I am writing so passionately about this topic because I recognize the self-hatred within myself. For so many years, I went unaware of it, let alone the detrimental side effects that rendered me depressed and angry.

But all of that will be reserved for another blog at another time.  Bearing my soul right after I gave the critical analysis of my life would be excessive.

And so I’ll end it here with my hypothesis as to how to resolve a dilemma of this magnitude. The only way to cure self-hatred and internal colonization is through unadulterated, uninhibited, genuine love for one self. Yea I know, probably the most cliché idea I could of come up with, but regardless, its more true than you may care to admit.

I’ll be with you through it all even if saving you sends me to Heaven,

John Eklof

Hold Up, Am I in the States Right Now?

         “Hold up, am I in the States right now?" That was running through my head when we took a day trip to Baguio City. Visiting the city can feel like going back to the United States; the weather, the houses, the restaurants and the name of places can make it seem like the United States.  Even though the stay was less than a day, it was enough to notice ongoing Americanizatio, globalization and modernization in the city.  Baguio city was different from the other places that we had visited such as Batad, Cavite and Manila.  We see American influences around the country but Baguio City is different, it was a created by Americans therefore the influence had to be present.  In this blog I will inform you about my experience in Baguio in comparison to other cities, the creation of Baguio city, the advantage that America had on Baguio and finally how Americanization and globalization is present in the cities.

            Baguio City reflected the United States, which is predictable by learning about the city’s creation.   The city was built for the convenience of the United States; Baguio was, literally, a breath of fresh air: like a balm, the cool, pine-scented breezes soothed weary Americans unaccustomed to Manila’s tropical heat (Alcantra, 210).  From my experience, the weather is amongst the differences from Seattle, it is so hot and humid and when it rains here the rain is so much different than the rain in Seattle. Seattle is known for its crazy weather of always raining but here it pours for a few minutes then it goes away.  I could see why Americans were not used to the weather and a place in the highlands would allow them to get away from Manila and go to a place that would have the weather like home.

 The creation of the city allowed the American government to save money because within twelve hours soldiers were in a place that would take away the necessity for long vacations spent in America; reduce the number who go invalided home, and lengthen the period of the American soldiers that were stationed. It reduced the number of soldiers returning home therefore decreasing the expense of transportation of troops between the island and the United States (Alcantra, 210).  Not only did the creation of Baguio City benefit Americans but it also provided job opportunities, for example, the construction of the Benguet Road offered a steady income to all the unemployed of the Philippines (Bose, 262).  The creation of the city involved the construction of Benguet Road and other roads which created job opportunities.

Americanization, modernization and globalization are present in all countries and the Philippines are no exception.  Baguio City is one city that we have visited and read about that we can see these factors present. It was very interesting to see that within one country we can see the traditional way of life, like in Banaue. On our trip to the Banaue Rice Terraces we saw how people lived with poor water supply, electricity and sanitation.  People live so far away from town that children have to walk for half an hour or even more to get to school. Professor Jose commented on our trip to the Banaue Rice Terraces by saying that globalization and Americanization does not exist there. That is true since we did not see much Americanization except in the Americanized pizza that I had for dinner. I would say that Americanization and globalization is not as present like in other parts of the country but it does have its presence there. The younger generations are taught English which I noticed from the notebook of the girl whom I bought water from. Kids do not want to continue their family tradition of farm workers which results into a shortage of farm workers.  Professor Jose added that farm working is hard labor which is why younger generations do not want to become farm workers.  They aspire being in other work forces rather than farming. From Anakbayan member, R.G’s presentation we learned that farm workers are part of the peasant category which is seventy five percent of the Filipino population. Farmers are the ones feeding the country; they grow the rice, fruits and vegetables that people eat but yet they cannot feed themselves. 

            Apart from the traditional way of living we saw in Banaue, we can also see modernization, globalization and Americanization in the country like in Baguio city, Makati and Global City.  We can see restaurants like Starbucks, hotels and nicer roads. We can also see it in the way the younger generations are dressing, wearing brand names that were established in the U.S such as Michael Jordan’s shoes and clothing.

            The trip to Baguio City allowed me to further see how America has influenced the Philippines. The initial creation of Baugio City was for the advantage of the American soldiers stationed in Manila and the American government.  The U.S built a city that they could call their home in the Philippines which shows me how the creators felt they were superior to the Filipinos even in their own country, they felt the freedom and superiority to design a city of their own that  would remind them of home.  

How do you feel about the creation of Baguio City? Do you think its creation was only for the advantage of the United States?

Make It Personal, Not Just Busniness

There is a simple equation to a fruitful and thriving country.

People + education = prosperity.

The original design of the Philippine public education system is a result of America’s forceful implementation of their democratic practices to “eventually allow the majority to participate in political exercises,” (Apilado). In the short article, “A History of Paradox: Some Notes on Philippine Public Education in the 20^th Century,” Digna Apilado informs that the oligarchy wanted to replicate the American system mostly to have prestige but above all, they would be the “primary beneficiaries.” How, exactly?

It dawned on me one day that the entire purpose of education is to serve the government. And we thought it was for our own benefits. Think about it. We are only educated so that we can get high paying jobs, so that we can pay more taxes, which is then only spent by government officials for their own profits.

The whole system is a conspiracy.

Apilado later expands that the education system in 1925 was “inimical” because it actually took talented boy and girls away from manual labor and industrial work. Apparently, it also gave false hopes to the youth for non-manual jobs. As a result, the Monroe Commission proposed to limit the amount of secondary schools and to create four types of high schools. The results of the the public school system brought on positive outcomes—high literacy rates, better living standards, public health, and more political participation than expected. I guess we did great, but apparently to their benefit.

The movie, “Amigo,” directed by John Sayles reminded me of how the Americans slowly influenced the Filipino government system by forcing the barrio to vote for their next captain. Democracy itself is not the problem; it is the way that the Americans introduced it to the Filipinos that disturbs me. To this day, our government mirrors the government system of the United States. This echoes my point of how Filipinos strive to be Americans beyond the color of their skin. Santiago Bose’s childhood memory article, “Baguio Graffiti,” tells of the time when all he did as a child and growing up as a teenager is look like the American stars he always read and heard about. However, that all came crashing down when American MPs and guard dogs harassed them for keeping their car fog lights on. It was then that they realized how Americans never thought of them as their equal—they were outsiders, always the “little brown interlopers, never anything more than second class.”

During my “U.S. Policy in the Philippines” class, Professor Jose told us that only four schools in the Philippines are recognized in America: University of the Philippines, Ateneo de Manila, University of Santo Tomas and De la Salle. The fact is, if you’re not from one these four universities, your degree or abilities are considered incompetent. My director pointed out that the Americans themselves were the ones that designed our education system, so why are most of our schools considered incompetent? The professor said that they are trying to change the system now so that it can be accepted in the states. I’m sure that this is only one of the many ways that the American government made sure they would always end up on top, and we on the bottom.

Sadly, the Philippines can never know the sweet taste of prosperity. Once educated, most seek to go abroad instead of using their talents to serve their own country. The Commission of Filipinos Abroad manager informed us that up to 80 thousand Filipinos go abroad every year; one million go abroad for labor purposes in the states but mostly in Saudi Arabia. The educated are making educated decisions to find better life outside their own homeland. I don’t blame them. I, myself, am one of the few who made it to the states in pursuit of a better life. But this is exactly the reason why my country, the Philippines, will never be successful— always corrupt and dependent on another power. It is because everyone leaves the first chance they get. Bienvenido Lumbera, author of, “From Colonizer to Liberator: How U.S. Colonialism Succeeded in Reinventing Itself After the Pacific War,” wrote: After I graduated as a literature major from University of Santo Tomas, my one consuming dream was to go to the U.S. for further studies.

Why don’t we stay instead and further our studies here? Why don’t we use our awesome skills to innovate our own country? Why don’t we use our naturally hard-working personalities to help lift this “2^nd class” nation and make it one of first class people?

It’s been exactly 3 weeks since I’ve stayed here in the Philippines but everyday brings me different experiences and different people to learn from. Speaking to the locals is when I get to really hear the impact of the lack of education here.

Alcile, a beautiful girl, only 17 years of age, is already supporting her family back in the province of Bohol by taking care of an infant here in Manila and running errands for an entire family. The time I found myself alone with her, I told her that there was something better out there but that she had to further her education first. She didn’t even believe in the potential that she had within herself. It crushed my heart when I heard her say that she never even thought beyond what she was doing now. It’s because no one ever told her that she can do better, that she can be better. Everyone decided that she had no hope just because she came from a small town.

What’s worse is that American kids take for granted the very thing that most children treasure from other countries outside the U.S. I think I’ve always known the value of education even before I came to America. When I was in high school, my mom would ground me from school for days, even up to a week, depending on the severity of the situation. She learned over the years that taking my phone or television away would not be enough to correct my action; she would have to take away the very thing that I valued most in order for me to stay on course again. It worked. My classmates were jealous of my punishment but there I was, trying to catch up on a week’s worth of missed assignments while everyone moved on to the next topic.

The underlying issue is how education has become business-minded instead of people-minded. Let’s stop the shallow reasons why we put ourselves to school and start thinking about the bigger picture. And for those who still haven’t figured out what that is, it’s simply this: educating each and every child in all corners of the world and later, utilize their abilities to make their own country thrive. It will seem hopeless in the beginning but just as a caterpillar will one day turn into a butterfly, so will the Philippines turn into a prosperous country.

It starts with changing one person’s life. For only $100.00 per year, we can take this child off the streets and send him to school—give him a chance in life like you and I have. When I think about the things I spent my last $100.00 on, I’m ashamed of how much farther it could have gone. It’s too easy to get caught up in the moment, always converting from Peso to Dollar when in reality there are many who struggle to get by with under $1.00 a day.

The change starts with a choice. Let's make education personal for each children who deserves it.

The New & Improved Baguio?

Two weekends ago we visited a foreign city honoring more American soldiers than any city I’ve visited in America. That is to say, more than Seattle and the surrounding cities at least. Being in Southeast Asia specifically Philippines, the place of my birth, I had certain memories about daily life that have always been facts to me. First, the sheer magnitude of the population is overwhelming, especially pedestrian traffic. If you need to walk across the street like from SM North to Trinoma Mall, you’ll literally pass by the entire population of Seattle, WA before finally reaching the entrance to Trinoma. Second, the homeless population, the amount of people living in poverty, and the very real image of what poverty looks like in the Philippines is and always has been a rude awakening for me, being accustomed to life in my mom’s house. Lastly the vibrant culture here from what I remember as a child, is filled with street vendors selling everything from food to printers. (Just yesterday our group was in Chinatown and there was a man selling an HP printer right on the street) The point of my reflection this week is American influence on the Philippines.

Almost a hundred years has passed since the first plan of creating Baguio into “an example of civilized perfection in the middle of a savage overseas outpost”, was conjured up by the American architect Daniel Burnham. Presently a park is named after the man behind the plan “Burnham Park”. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see it up close. Being in Baguio even for a short amount of time I experienced the great change in climate, and scenery, but the overall feel remains the same as any metro area in the Philippines, crowded.

There are American style homes built of wood and logs infesting the wealthy areas of Baguio acting as remnants of the time of American colonialism. A spot I very much enjoyed was Camp John Hay. Once a strong military outpost reserved for American military officers, high ranking officials, and the few elite (wealthy) Filipinos, it has been reduced to a tourist attraction where you can pay 800 pesos to go zip lining through the pine forests of Camp John Hay.

Reading “Baguio Graffiti” and seeing the places Santiago Bose wrote about in this article was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The only remaining structures he spoke about are Camp John Hay and the markets where his mom sold local trinkets to tourists. The market surely has changed since then but I’m wondering if the atmosphere remains the same.

A Portion of the Baguio Market that sells small tourist items (2011)

Santiago Bose wrote that when he was a kid living in Baguio his mom owned a small shop where indigenous tribes would provide the goods to sell to tourists. Everything sold in local markets during that time period was made either by the indigenous people or the locals that owned the shops.

Hand-carved sculpture of an Ibaloy woman (2011)

Nowadays I can’t say with certainty where those little trinkets are made. Some of my group gave insightful possibilities such as China, which is so easy to believe because virtually everything is made in China these days.

Inside Camp John Hay there stood a miniature statue of liberty. There was also a Starbucks, wooden houses that have been there since the second construction of the camp, and the best attraction was the “Tree Top Adventures” where they throw you back and forth 80-120 feet above the ground.

Aside from Camp John Hay we also visited Mines View, the local shopping central for all your tourist needs. For about 10 pesos a person we were able to wear Ibaloy traditional clothing and pose for pictures. It was awesome. It was also an exploitation of a culture that we as tourists participate in.

(2011)

(2011)

One of the most unfortunate tragedies to come from the colonization of the Philippines is the desecration and complete elimination of a people’s traditional culture and lifestyle. The imposition of American policies on traditional Ibaloy systems was the catalyst for the gradual decline and later complete abolition of the way things were for the people indigenous to Baguio.

Until recently I have never heard of Ibaloy, but when we were offered to wear the clothing and pose for pictures that’s when I remembered the article by Alcantra “Baguio Between Two Wars”. In it Alcantra makes connections between the rise of U.S. Imperialistic policies and the decline of the Ibaloy lifestyle. For example, land ownership, which was set in a complex system by the Ibaloy people, suddenly required land registration according to American policies. When this was enacted very few Ibaloy people registered, and in turn lost their right to their lands.

This is beginning to sound a lot more like a paper than an actual blog so I’ll make one last comment on American influence in the Philippines. It has eroded away distinct cultures belonging to the Ibaloy, Igurot, Ifugao, etc. etc. Such distinct cultures only remain in bits and pieces and can never be fully retrieved. The world has changed and continues to change. American influence and those that have followed in its footsteps will continue to alter the culture of the Philippines for generations to come. Baguio is a prime example of a people that once was a thriving community turned to nothing more than an attraction.

Dreaming the American Dream All the Way From the Philippines

Though perhaps not as hazardous as our jeepney ride on half-carved roads precariously plastered on the hillsides of Ifugao province two weeks ago, our taxi cab rides around smoggy metro Manila lately have proven to be a whole lot more exciting than necessary. Multiple times, our cab has been on the verge of hitting a tricycle, a pedestrian, or a stray dog as the driver dangerously weaves in and out of traffic, impatiently taking over sidewalks, and extra-legally speeding through the lane of the opposing traffic – all in order to get us to our destination.

One of the rooms inside the CFO building 

One such destination was the office of the Commission on Filipinos Overseas (CFO), a Philippine government agency, which we visited last Wednesday. We sat in an air-conditioned room, eating empanada and drinking iced tea, while three CFO agents acquainted us with the agency’s commitment to strengthening ties with Filipinos overseas and promoting their interests in the Philippines and abroad, as well as introducing us to the various programs the agency champions. These include relief efforts for natural disasters, anti-human-trafficking, school building, and counseling services for those who are about to embark on a new life abroad.  

I was surprised to learn that there exist a plethora of resources available to Filipinos overseas and could only contemplate in silent amazement upon the ingenuous ways that have been laid out to enable us to help our countrymen.

My personal isolation and family’s disconnection from any sort of Filipino community in the US have, for years, predisposed me to think that my struggles were unique, that we had to go through and solve things on our own, and that nobody else could possibly have gone through or be going through the same situations or difficulties as our family. The feeling of being isolated and disconnected (or cut off) is something that I have recently just started to pinpoint. Many times, I have been frustrated and oppressed with a heavy feeling  in my chest in my inability to name my condition or know what it is that recurrently ails me. The fact that I can now identify these feelings and counter them with the knowledge that I am, in fact, not alone, and we are, in reality, in this together, bears great significance in the way I understand my growth as an individual relative to those who have come before me, and my perception of Philippine history relative to other nations that are still reeling from the blow of an oppressor’s heavy hand.

Philippine flags dotting portions of the globe where Filipinos reside

On a personal level, I can see how years of estrangement from my father and his side of the family have long left me unaware of certain tendencies I have, and, once aware, uninformed of why such tendencies within me exist. My recent reunion with him here in Manila has been akin to viewing myself – and, for the first time, my full self – in a mirror that has long only revealed half of my person’s image.

In one of the counseling rooms filled with teens and young adults, we are asked to give a piece of advice as someone who has “been there, done that.”

“Read often,” I tell many pairs of young and apprehensive eyes, “Your education is very important.”

As a first-generation immigrant and first-generation college student raised by a single mother, I think I have an idea of a couple of things that these young people might encounter in their life abroad. Education will be a weapon that they can wield even when their eyes begin to smart from seeing the realities of life, and their voices grow hoarse from shouting against the political, social and cultural injustices and inequalities that pervade the system.

Despite numerous challenges, I have persevered in my studies in order that, in attaining a good education, I might also use it as a tool to help elevate my family’s station in life. Since I attribute my family’s fall to poverty to my father’s early abandonment, part of my motivation and a portion of the fuel that keeps me going – keeps me awake studying at nights has been a desire to attain a level of success that even he would hear about and want to celebrate, but can’t. Because, having contributed nada to my upbringing, and much less my education, he would have no right to any feelings of pride that might begin to take root in his heart.

“I am proud of you,” he says to me. “You are like me in many ways.”

I squint my eyes and cast them downwards, afraid to look at the mirror, yet curious to see what my reflection looked like complete.

He continues: “When my father left, I said to myself, ‘I will beat him up the next time he comes around.’ So I learned some martial arts. So I could beat him’.”

In no time, he had a black belt in judo and, in college, was also trained in military combat. He could have beaten the shit out of his father, but he didn’t.

“After years of waiting and training,” he says, “my father came back and told me his side of the story. After that, I couldn’t beat him up.”

What?! What was this mysterious story? Where is the sweet revenge? How the f-

Baguio

I am silent and very agitated, not only because the story’s ending was highly unsuitable to my taste, but also because I realized that we were, in fact, similar –  if only by way of wounds.

My back and wrists ache from the initial conditioning my body received today in a Philippine martial arts called Arnis. We practiced basic moves with our sticks for seven hours and I have the hand blisters to show for it. I don’t know how much time my father spent earning his black belt, but he must have worked hard only to receive a story at the end that, for some reason or other, was enough to soothe all his aching muscles and smooth out the contorted landscape of his heart.

Our similarities are such that I can’t possibly continue to resent him. Like his father’s narratives, his stories have a disarming effect on me. Our similarities tie me to him and I recognize, with a twinge of annoyance, that I am relieved that he sees me, and knows me, and acknowledges that part of me that my mother and her side of the family have long chosen to let perish.

I rejoice because I am still here, and I am still whole!

Back in the counseling room and in front of the apprehensive eyes, a recurring advice given by the others was “Connect. Find a Filipino community in your area, and connect!”

Disconnection will lead you to ways of thinking that will poison even your motivations and further alienate you from your roots. At the same time that I am learning about my similarities with my father through his stories, I am also picking up on some similarities between the Filipino’s story of oppression under the US, and other people groups who have likewise experienced current and historical trauma at the hand of this superpower.

Japanese-Americans. Like Japanese-Americans, many noncombatant Filipinos were placed in concentration camps (“protected zones”) during a war the US waged against the revolutionary government of the Philippines.

African-Americans. Like many African-Americans, the dark complexion of Filipino natives earned them the derisive title of “niggers” in the lips of white American soldiers (Ileto). And, as if skin-deep offenses weren’t enough, in the years surrounding wartime, many Filipina women were sexually abused by white Americans who had taken over their provinces, and their land (Ileto). The image this calls to mind is the sexual exploitation of African-American women in the hands of their white plantation-owning masters.

Native-Americans. Like Native-Americans, Filipinos decried the loss of their land as Americans came and took it away from them, exploiting it and dividing it amongst themselves without any regard for its previous owners. In an essay by Erlyn Alcantara, “Baguio Between Two Wars: The Creation and Destruction of a Summer Capital,” we clearly see how Baguio was strategically chosen to become a hill station and health resort for US soldiers in the Philippines due to its close proximity to the Benguet mountains. These mountains contain a “vast field of gold-producing ore” that cradles a large amount of riches that, for generations, natives have left untouched and unexploited.

This is a statue of Col. Kennon, the man who made the building of the road possible

This pristine state of this northern Luzon city (now considered the summer capital of the Philippines) did not persist for long, especially when, on top of the money, the Americans discovered Baguio’s temperate climate, (20 degrees Fahrenheit lower than Manila). In Santiago Bose’s essay “Baguio Graffiti,” we learn how representatives from over 46 nations (including Native Americans, Mexicans, Russians, Germans and Swedes) were put to work in paving the 28-mile Benguet Road, or the American path to sure profit and bearable weather.

Last week, on the fourth floor of the Ayala Museum, my eyes feasted on gold, gold that Filipinos in pre-colonial times owned and fashioned and used in their daily dealings amongst themselves and foreigners. Carefully preserved within lit glass cubicles were bangles, earrings, diadems, and anklets dating as far back as 10^th-13^th century. What riches!

And, like the Japanese-Americans, the African-Americans, the Native-Americans, what thievery we’ve endured over the years in terms of lost lands, labor and lives at the hands of those who have shackled us under imperialism!

 “Education,” I tell them, “Your education is very important.”

And others in our group say, “Connection. This is what’s most important!” 

I knew the importance of one but not the other. I have been disconnected for far too long and didn’t even know it. My well-cultivated interest in ethnic studies has long shaped the types of classes I have chosen to take in school, and the kinds of topics I find myself engaging in and writing about. However, I have honestly never connected my sympathetic feelings towards the oppressed histories of different ethnic groups with what might be my own internalized reaction towards the plight of my own home country, the Philippines

Balikbayan Boxes outside the Ayala Museum

My people’s sufferings are part of a larger story of oppression, much like my own motivations are tied up with my father’s – apparently.

Education and conversation, through these means, you learn that nothing is an isolated event, and people don’t exist in a vacuum. If I had only been connected, known the great need to be connected, I would have been well-versed in these stories, and not have to currently wait for each word to emerge from my professor’s lips, for each piece of the puzzle to fall out of my father’s mouth.

There are others like me.

There are African-Americans, Japanese-Americans, and Native-Americans who, like me have experienced difficulties, and have wondered about the latter part of their hyphenated name: American.

If half of who we are consists of that portion of our history that has oppressed the heart and continually affects the present, how can we go about looking at ourselves in the mirror? How do you learn to love the image that reflects back at you? How do you become free?

 Education.

In “A History of Paradox: Some Notes on Philippine Public Education in the 20^th Century,” author Digna Apilado writes that the national hero Jose “Rizal believed in the importance of formal education as the way to economic progress and political liberation.” I am not alone in saying:

Education! 

Malls and Manila

We've culminated our second week here in Manila and it has been an eye opening experience to say the least. What is really getting to me as well as others in our group is the presence of malls, Starbucks and McDonald's. However it is what is happening within these businesses and how they got here that is so troubling to me. I can't remember exactly what the numbers were, but a member of our group told me that a Filipino working at McDonald's earns just around enough money in a day to buy a cheese burger. Learning this definitely made me feel, not literally but in a sense, guilty when I ordered a heaping meal of food at Jollibee's. Even more shocking was learning that in some circumstances workers at fast food restaurants are required to have a college degree. This put some things into perspective for me because I get a little bitter sometimes when thinking about what my college degree will get me. Even if I did end up working at a fast food restaurant after college my relative wages would be much more than the equivalent of a cheese burger a day. That's what bothers me. It has to be a result of corporatism and as we have learned in class as well as vested interests in the development and exchange between the United States and Filipino politicians. We learned today that every Filipino President has been a puppet of the United States and I imagine that the master of puppets allowed for and gave way for corporations to come in and hire people for such low wages. If people were paid just enough to eat each day in the United States there would be outrage!

I have also noticed, again and again, the perversion of the American Dream. For me the American Dream is the chance to have a good house and be able to live a comfortable life. The dream has become an image, an ideal, an icon of a correlation between wealth and appearance. This is seen in all the advertisements here in Manila as well as the malls and to me it seems that the Filipinos going to the malls and not buying anything ties into appearing American/wealthy. I feel that this isn't simply a Filipino phenomenon but a world wide cultural phenomenon but fortunately we are able to analyze and interpret how this has come to be by staying here in Manila and studying the history of American colonialism here. How is it that there are so many malls here? Some of the largest malls in the world that are surrounded with children begging for change. It makes me wonder about how the Filipino government is trying to portray the Philippines. Is it in some way correlated with the way that the American Dream is portrayed in an iconic manner as image of ideal living that the Filipino government allows for the building of such mega malls? I feel that United States imperialism throughout history has caused this "paradox". I've read before that often times developing countries attempt to portray progress to the outside world by building structures and this makes me wonder about why there are so many malls here. The United States has directly contributed to this and now due to marketing driven consumerism the Philippines and its people seems to be trying to emulate the U.S.

In his article, "From Colonizer to Liberator: How U.S. Colonialism Succeeded in Reinventing Itself After the Pacific War", Bienvinido Lumbrera writes that for the forty years of initial American colonialism the Philippines were swamped with American culture in the form of imported movies, candy bars and other items. When the Japanese took over the Philippines during World War II, the harsh treatment that the Filipinos had to endure was meshed with a cease in the flow of American goods. When the Americans returned, the Japanese were in a sense moved out as American goods moved in. Not surprisingly, General MacArthur who was the face of the American return to the Philippines arranged for Roxas to be President. All at once you can see how the combination of a President who would talk up the United States, being rescued from foreign incarceration and the return of consumer goods set up not only the allowance for these goods to enter the country but also for these goods to bring with them a feeling of improvement. I think that this translates into the way that Filipinos seem to attempt to show their economic status by buying American goods and this whole perception, if expanded explains the plethora of malls here that supply American/American like goods. This then also factors into what I was saying earlier about the true purpose of the malls here - malls symoblize improvement. Even tons of the ads have white people, likely American, on them!

We went to Baguio City the other weekend and its interesting to think that what originally was designed by Americans, for Americans to get out of the sweltering Philippine heat, now is vacation destination for Filipinos. In the midst of it all I noticed that many of the buildings and houses there that had American design were of higher quality than those that were not. This again would add to the perception of American products as being superior, especially when it is seen in a house which Filipinos living in dilapidated houses have to look at daily. Better housing and a better life essentially becomes synonymous with America, going past point the point of it just being on T.V., in the malls and in magazines - it is present on street corners and in neighborhoods. The streets named after American War heroes are decorated with objects commemorating them. With this external American superiority the education system which is influenced and in part designed by Americans creates an internal recognition of American superiority which creates a two way reciprocation that makes the idea of America teem with golden prosperity. The internal struggles with identity that Santiago Bose writes about in "Baguio Graffiti" by trying to appear American but being rejected because of being a Filipino become all the more understandable when seeing how Filipinos aspire to be American but are prevented by obstacles in education and wealth from doing so.

I don't really know how to feel about it, other than that it is a messed up system. In general it all revolves around exploitation and we are subject to it. However, the subjectivity seems to be variable depending on where you are. If you're in a country like the Philippines it is obviously worse. Since I can't really take this in from a Filipino-American perspective I'm trying to understand the big picture and assess who contributes to this. Do we all contribute to it indirectly? Or is the situation simply in the hands of the few? I guess anyone who eats at restaurants such as the ones mentioned above contributes, but even in the United States tons of people eat there because its all that they can afford. People are hired in other countries for dirt cheap and then People are hired by companies in other countries for dirt cheap and then people in the United States have to take relatively low paying jobs and buy from the very same companies that are barely paying people enough to live over seas! What this means to me is that people are trapped and forced to contribute to and be part of this system, regardless of where they are, if they don't have wealth to get out of it.

We went to a benefit concert for Ericson Acosta, a political prisoner here in the Philippines, and it was a moving experience because it revealed how real the challenge of trying to change the state of things in the Philippines is and it definitely raises the notion that there must be help from the outside to supplement what is happening on the inside. Its obvious that many citizens here feel this way and I see it not only from the conversations but also from hearing about The New People's Army as well as other efforts that are happening to start a revolution. I wish everyone here trying to make a change because they have so many things to address from political corruption to poverty to education. All these things tie together and I feel that education and awareness is the best issue to tackle first because after that people can understand how to solve these issues legally and then uphold that legality; which as we all know is the ultimate challenge. I will definitely pay attention to, show support for and depending on where things take me in life, attempt to contribute to change in the Philippines after this trip is over.

Our second week of our time in the Philippines has come to a close and I am finally staring to feel comfortable here. Everyday is still a new and intense experience but I am starting to know what to expect. I can almost ignore the longer than usual glances I get when in public and stop trying to evaluate what the locals think of when they see me. Initially I was not sure what to make of it but I realize now that even when I see a foreigner I definitely notice. It is strange to go from a place like the US and specifically Seattle which is a huge melting pot, to a place that contains almost solely people that are native to this country.

With this week has come more eye opening articles pertaining to the complicated history of the "special relations" between the Philippines and the US. Two articles touched on the subject of the forty months of Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Something in Alcantara's article that I did not know was that only five hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor the Japanese flew over and bombed the Philippines as well. I never realized that they were doing an all out attack on the Pacific. I do not know how much of this was related to the American colonizer's presence but i would guess it was no coincidence.

I found Lumbera's article From Colonizer to Liberator especially interesting. The US, while colonizing the Philippines, inevitably created a feed of Americana into this country conditioning some Filipinos into the same false ideas of necessity to consume that Americans had already found themselves blindly content with. With the arrival of the Japanese, the mainlining of American goods and entertainment ran dry. As Lumbera said, "The war cut off the flow of culture items from America and the resulting deprivation intensified the fervor of waiting for the return of the Americans". Because of this deprivation the return of the Americans after the defeat of the Japanese seemed liberating to some Filipinos. Compared to the openly hostile Japanese, the Americans I suppose were the seemingly lesser of the two evils at the time (debatable), and their return meant the return of American goods. The article goes on to say, " 'liberation' later would always include Babe Ruth chewing gum and cigarettes made from aromatic Virginia tobacco". This is one area of America's influence that is still obvious and perhaps one of the most lasting effects the US has had on the Philippines, it's commercial influence. If you were blindly led to certain areas in Manila and asked where you were you may even guess a town somewhere in the states. It's impossible to ignore America's lasting influence when there is a McDonalds on every other corner and a Starbuck's in every mall.

In my blog post last week I had talked about our trip to Batad and how it seems that American's tend to except to be welcomed wherever we go. In this same article by Lumbera he touched on the same subject. He recalls that when the Japanese were finally defeated in the Philippines and the Americans had returned he saw American G.I.s bathing nude in the town stream noticing that, "if the adults among the onlookers did not feel violated by such a blatant disregard for the townspeople's sense of modesty, that was a measure of their readiness to overlook any cultural slight by soldiers…" which is a perfect though more extreme example of what I was talking about. Because of the circumstances these soldiers were not questioned, further reaffirming their "welcomeness".

There was one more thing I wanted to brush over from the Lumbera article, as it relates to this week. I just thought it was ridiculous that as Lumbera remembers there were only two first run theaters for Tagalog movies when he was a kid though there were of course plenty of American movie theaters. Earlier this week we went to the theatre to see an independent Filipino movie called Amigo which is a glimpse into one of the many barrios during the Philippine-American war. As a typical American I had not really considered that

maybe the movie would not have any subtitles for the parts that were in Tagalog (I would have been appalled if the movie was entirely in English). But as it turned out that was exactly the case. Since there were Americans in the film there was naturally some English but a majority of the movie was in Tagalog without subtitles. Even though the American movie industry is still obviously dominate here (Transformers and Harry Potter are heavily advertised), it was almost refreshing to not be catered to. I still thoroughly enjoyed the movie, watching from the perspective of the Americans in the movie who did not know Tagalog either. I would definitely like to re watch it with subtitles now. If you do not really know much about the Phil-American war, or even if you do, this movie is a really good place to start. Its pretty atrocious but it is an honest, blunt depiction, I think.

This week getting out into the city more and more is creating a more and more lasting effect on me. The things we see everyday get to me sometimes. I would have to say that the kids on the street are the big one for me. Some actually seem happy but when we got off the light rail the other day there was a kid that could not have been more than four sleeping alone in the train station. That one really got to me and although no one said a thing I could feel our helpless silent response. These sort of things in conjunction with other observations and things we have learned about in class and from our meeting with Anakbayan have really got me thinking. These things are starting to add up to the point that if I go home and let my conscience go back to sleep it would be almost inexcusable. I have not gotten as far as deciding what I would I like to but I am starting to feel like I should really do something. There is no question that the people here are being oppressed and as my classmate John and I were talking about, countering white supremacy has to start with white people realizing what is going on as well. I would like to think that I have always been fairly conscious in general but I am realizing I perhaps have not been seeing as much as I should and I would like to become a positive influence in some way back home.