Just the beginning...

I am in the Philippines. The first email I received from my Pinay mother opened with “I can’t believe you’re in my country” – I can’t either. Having never left the continent, all my life I’ve dreamed of coming here and seeing all the moments from my mother’s childhood. Now that I’m here, few things are as I expected them to be and I am in a whole new world trying to make sense of it all within the context of myself.

We are here to study and have been sitting in on two graduate courses at UP Diliman taught by Dr. Jose. During our first lecture in KAS 205 (Commonwealth of the Philippines), he gave some background history of the time leading up to the period of the Commonwealth, from 1896 to the 1934 Tydings-Mcduffie Act. The lecture was almost embarrassing at times because the UP students knew more about the US history and Presidents than I did. From my high school AP US History class, I had heard of Tydings-McDuffie and the Hare-Hawes-Cutting Act before but never any specifics of the Philippine-American War. I remember asking my teacher about war in the Philippines, but it was answered with “Have you heard of the Bataan death march?” – like this subconscious switch to point fingers at other countries who have done worse than us.

When Dr. Jose explained the timing of these acts to the American Great Depression, everything just clicked for me. Listening to Dr. Jose put events into historical context I remember being so angry at my history teachers for only teaching us this closed Disney version of our own history. Gardner describes part of this problem in education perfectly in the Suarez-Orozco article as “new tension between the global pace of institutional change in ministries of education and schools and the rapid social, economic, and cultural transformations brought about by the forces of globalization”. Just a few hours in Manila will bring so much light to holes in just how much Americans have impacted this country – there might be 1 Filipino model in an advertisement for every 20 white people plastered on the walls of the largest malls in the world right next to these makeshift houses and slums. If an Americans were to experience Manila and become more aware of the influence we’re had here it might put more importance on teaching about the Philippine-American War, but despite globalization we still live in a world of white supremacy and major events like the war with brown people will continue to be unknown.

In a country where formal education is valued more than almost anything, it upset me so much to read that Filipinos were taught that the war was caused by “a misguided, even stupid, rejection of a gift of further enlightenment” by the Filipinos from the Americans (Ileto). The saying Know History, Know Self // No History, No Self comes to mind here where this view of the America as this wise and superior parent is still prevalent today.

The war is just the beginning of this trend, it continues today with Americans and other tourists. We visited the Batad rice terraces and it was definitely the most beautiful and breathtaking thing I have ever experienced. Walking to the village and waterfall was literally a near death experience but definitely worth it. Tourism is one of the only sources of income for the people of Batad.  As we were returning from the waterfall, our tour guide took us on a shortcut through the yards of the local people. There is a point where tourism turns into exploitation. It made me think of the 1909 Alaska Yukon Pacific Exposition that happened at the now UW campus and the Igorot Village. I’m so thankful that the journey to Batad and waterfall is so treacherous that it keeps out overwhelming Western influence out for as long as possible.

the intrusive walk back to the hotel through the yards of Batad

Back in Manila, the only request for presents from the States were from my younger cousins to bring Barbies and now I look at what they see, what they learn. The light skinned Filipino Barbie could stand alone, but the brown one married a white guy in a barong. This American influence really penetrates EVERY aspect of life here.

While we were in Baguio, we spoke with some of the workers who helped secure us in the Tree Top Adventure at Camp John Hay (where my Grandfather used to work). One of them asked us if we knew Tagalog and a girl from our group said she spoke Spanish. He responded, in English, with “Oh I hate Spanish! The Spanish colonized the Philippines for hundreds of years!”. I was so surprised to hear him respond with such anger, and yet to me – the half white American – nothing. Nothing about how we promised friendship then backstabbed a nation. Nothing about how we slaughtered and tortured human beings for some paper and land. This trip is a constant emotional rollercoaster.

I got lost in Narita International Airport trying to find my way to the connection flight (hey, it’s my first time traveling international…) along with another Filipino who was looking for the same flight. He asked me what I was doing in Manila and I told him I was studying US imperialism at UP Diliman. His immediate response was “Oh so you’re an activist! I used to be an activist.” That word had such a negative connotation, but here I get excited when I see “SMASH U.S. IMPERIALISM – anakbayan” spraypainted onto the walls of the campus mini market we frequent.  It is evidence of the proper education.

Knowledge is power. Corny, but one -hundred-percent the truth. The way I’m starting to see it is if you’re not an activist, you’re a perpetuator of this system of hegemony we call the norm. I’m loving it here, but I can’t wait to get back – I hope FASA’s ready cause I plan to shake things up. 

no history, no self. know history, know self. (pnoyapparel.com)

There are things I’ve seen here but I haven’t talked about that I’m still trying to deconstruct, from the number of unfinished and abandoned high-rises all around the city, to the attempt of separation of church and state. I’m excited and anxious to see what the next month has for our group of eager-to-be-consciences Seattleites.