Native Son?
Growing up, I didn’t know I wasn’t Filipino.
As the child of Christian missionaries in the Philippines, my parents regularly reminded me that I was American and we were from “The States.” They didn’t remind me about the Philippines because they didn’t have to. That’s where I lived and that’s what I knew.
But I also knew I was different. There was a heavy American presence in the Philippines in the early ‘70s due to the Vietnam War, and on the streets Filipinos often called me “Joe” (as in G.I. Joe) – as they did to almost every male they thought to be American. Strangers would sometimes pinch my cheeks or touch my arms because my skin was a pale novelty. But at my school, thankfully, I wasn’t anything special. It was an international school and I learned in English among a hodgepodge of nationalities including Filipino, Dutch, Nigerian, New Zealander, and even American, to name the few I remember. (Curious side note: for me, the most exotic creature in second grade was a girl from Ohio who had curly hair and a strange accent.)
Our school in Antipolo
But I never felt more different than when we left the Philippines and arrived in Los Angeles. I tried gamely to fit in, but stumbles were inevitable. One painful memory was the day my teacher exploded in laughter when, during a school meal, I ate a hot dog in a manner I would soon find out was unconventional – I took tiny bites going left to right along the front of the hot dog, like I was nibbling an ear of corn, rather than eating it end to end. What did I know? What was a hot dog? If someone had told me to eat the hot dog the same way as lumpia, I would have been set.
Combination of the old and the new
But, as conventional wisdom tells us, children adapt. And I adapted. As I got older, the Philippines never seemed very far from me, as my family visited various Filipino friends in the area and my mother regularly cooked pancit and adobo. After high school and a few false starts, I attended Loyola Marymount University, a Jesuit university in Los Angeles that happens to feature one of the most prominent Filipino college clubs in the nation. I toyed with the idea of joining the club – crashing it, actually, since I wasn’t Filipino and I expected to meet resistance from the members – but I was hustling to graduate and didn’t have much spare time. Plus, I knew from experience that many Fil-Am kids in Southern California hadn’t even been to the Philippines. Maybe I was having a self-indulgent identity crisis. I disapproved of the group’s members, who I felt didn’t know enough or care enough about the Philippines (I’m sure I was wrong about that). At the same time that I passed judgment, I was also intimidated by them. They were “real” Filipinos. What was I?
Place where I was born
And, years later, that question hasn’t fully gone away. Maybe writing this column will allow me to flesh the subject out a bit. Either way, there is one thing that isn’t the least bit ambiguous: I am very proud of my bond with the Philippines. I love the country, the people, and the culture, and am eternally grateful that I was born and spent the early part of my youth there. And it will always be part of me, even if you can’t see it on my pale face.
Looking at the ruins at Corregidor
Malinta Tunnel was built by the US Army Corp of Engineers on Corregidor Island, Philippines
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48 Comments
Awesome story!
heartwarming Paul…truly, being a "filipino" or other else is not about color—it's about your heart…salamat and mabuhay ka…
Great article Paul and I too am a missionary kid. I felt like I was born in 1980 in America (instead of 1968). My American life and American memories began in 1980. I truly feel like I fit in both places – Manila and US. I too will treasure my young years in the PI.
Your memories of a unique childhood are worth sharing. Glad u were able to visit ur birth place and find a knew respect for ur younger thoughts and ideas. Great story!
I admire you Paul.
Im so proud of you Paul..
Im so proud of you Paul..
you will always have a heart of a filipino Paul!
you will always have a heart of a filipino Paul!
Excellent!!!!!!
go back to Philippines 🙂
it is the heart that makes you Filipino, not the color of your skin.
Nice story, "kabayang" Paul.
Its a great story with heartwarming Paul…..mabuhay ka…
Nice one Paul !!! mabuhay !!!
Sayo Ka Poldo….
Sayo Ka Poldo….
Mabuhay ka paul.
Mabuhay ka paul.
Thank you Paul…..color doesn't matter ..you will always be our Pilipino brother from other country
We love you Paul…You're a Pilipino
Salamat Kuya Paul.
thanks Paul…mabuhay ka…
Nice article.
In contrast to Filipinos who go to America and forget their native land, this is a refreshing story. You're a Filipino at heart. Come home soon.
In contrast to Filipinos who go to America and forget their native land, this is a refreshing story. You're a Filipino at heart. Come home soon.
This part struck me most. . . ."They were “real” Filipinos. What was I?" You are a real Filipino within.
I worked in Manila Doctors were you where born…thanks for sharing your wonderful story!
I worked in Manila Doctors were you where born…thanks for sharing your wonderful story!
excuse me? pleeease, speak for youself…
excuse me? pleeease, speak for youself…
excuse me? pleeease, speak for youself…
excuse me? pleeease, speak for youself…
Paul, I can feel a sense of nostalgia or homesickness, the fact that you wrote this. Paul, here's what you do. Pack your bags and the family's, go back and apply to the TV networks celebrity divisions. With your looks (and being white on the outside) you're a sure bet to land some parts in the showbiz department or even a movie role.
Paul, I can feel a sense of nostalgia or homesickness, the fact that you wrote this. Paul, here's what you do. Pack your bags and the family's, go back and apply to the TV networks celebrity divisions. With your looks (and being white on the outside) you're a sure bet to land some parts in the showbiz department or even a movie role.
Paul, I can feel a sense of nostalgia or homesickness, the fact that you wrote this. Paul, here's what you do. Pack your bags and the family's, go back and apply to the TV networks celebrity divisions. With your looks (and being white on the outside) you're a sure bet to land some parts in the showbiz department or even a movie role.
Paul, I can feel a sense of nostalgia or homesickness, the fact that you wrote this. Paul, here's what you do. Pack your bags and the family's, go back and apply to the TV networks celebrity divisions. With your looks (and being white on the outside) you're a sure bet to land some parts in the showbiz department or even a movie role.
You are always welcome to visit your beloved birthplace, Paul. I admire you!
You are always welcome to visit your beloved birthplace, Paul. I admire you!
You are always welcome to visit your beloved birthplace, Paul. I admire you!
You are always welcome to visit your beloved birthplace, Paul. I admire you!
I admire and proud of you Paul. PI always welcoming your visit anytime. Thank you very much for sharing your great story.
Very touching and poignant…..
Maybe not by blood but by heart! Saludo kami sayo Paul
Something refreshing. 🙂 Foreigners who love Philippines will always inspire me to love my country more. And more.And more. :))))))
Heartwarming!
Heartwarming!
thanks for sharing Paul !! you may not be a pinoy by blood, but your heart is fully a filipino!!! I maraming salamat at mabuhay !!!
thanks for sharing Paul !! you may not be a pinoy by blood, but your heart is fully a filipino!!! I maraming salamat at mabuhay !!!
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