FILIPINO VS AMERICAN
PART 1
by Alicia lalicon
Hiya (Shame)
This will be a series of four articles about my experiences as a Filipino American. Each article will focus on a certain core value believed to characterize Filipinos. The inspiration for this series comes from Filipino American Psychology by Kevin L. Nadal, an influential professor, psychologist, activist, and author. Nadal has brought attention to the lack of representation and academic research on the Filipino community.
On a daily basis, I struggle with balancing my pride and identity as a Filipino (or Asian, in general), with my individuality and sense of independence as an American. I was born in America. My parents immigrated from the Philippines in their late 20s. They had my older sister, then I was born thirteen months later, and finally my younger brother six years later. Now at 20 years old, I’m able to see how my siblings, fellow Filipino American peers, and I have succeeded (or failed) to come to terms with our dual identities.
Hiya (shame): “governed by the notion that the goal of the individual is to represent oneself or one’s family in the most honorable way.”
I’ve noticed a big difference between the Western and Eastern mentality of obligation. My non-Asian peers emphasize and yearn for their individuality and independence: “I can’t wait to move out on my own. I don’t want to live near my parents. I want to start a family of my own. When I get a job, I’m going to buy myself __.” While I could understand the needs of those peers, only about 10% of me could simply nod along with their wishes.
The other 90% was angry and disgusted. Why would you want to leave the people that built you? How can you leave them alone? How can you want to separate them from their grandchildren? They built you and you choose to spend the money only on yourself? I’m pained when I hear such adamant demands for independence. I feel it in my heart as an act of defiance against family.
The aspirations of my Asian/Filipino peers feels more ‘right’ in my heart: “I’m worried about moving out on my own. I want to stay near my parents. I want them to be close to my own family. When I get a job, I’m going to help my parents so they can stop working.” We share the same principles and goals. I want to tell my independence-driven peers to value their families more. I feel they’re bringing shame on their families by being so proud of wanting to distance themselves from home. But my desire is selfish and I recognize that. No family is the same and there is no single, right way to honor your family. Some family situations don’t warrant a sense of obligation to parents.
At times, I’ve lost respect for my parents. They have insulted my intelligence, shamed my personality, and minimized my first promising relationship. Of course, I’ve cried and yelled to defend myself. But I understand the reasoning for their criticism: A C+ in high school history class is unacceptable. Outright refusing to visit extended family is rude. It is dangerous to invest so much of myself in a new relationship. Whenever we fight or disagree on aspects of my life, I try to see the situation from their point of view: We know she’s capable of straight A’s. We want her to appreciate her entire family. We’re scared of her getting hurt again. And what parents want a child with mediocre grades? A cold demeanor? A pattern of destructive relationships? It would reflect badly on their parenting. It’s not that I perceive they only care about my well-being so they can save face as parents, but I recognize it’s a secondary factor.