Tuesday, April 15, 2008 Speak out: GSIS’ mission By Joseph M. Dabon
ON a flight from Japan, I fell into a conversation with a Filipino returning to the country for a visit after a very long absence. Although born in the Philippines, he was already holding a US passport, and considered himself an “American.” Expectedly, he went through the “foreigner” lane as we cleared the entry formalities.
A second-degree cousin of mine, born, raised and educated in Canada came to the country for a visit. The first chance we had for a conversation, my first question was, “so what brought you to the country?” Without hesitation she said, “I am a Filipino but I don’t know anything about the country so I am here to learn my roots.”
I passed up several opportunities in the past to uproot myself from my country and refused an offer for reassignment to the corporate office for reasons those who did could never understand (neither could I, at times).
Suffice it is to say that I preferred, and still do, to be a part of the root solidly anchored in home soil. Therefore, from above situations, it is easy to see what strikes the chord of fervor in my heart.
Ever hungry for more votes, our politicians enacted into law the Dual Citizenship Bill. Although touted to have made a lot of expatriate Filipinos happy, it is doubtful that the “lot” covered all those in the diaspora. But bill or no bill, nothing can fill the little gaps when my cousin said, “In Canada, I’m a Filipino, but in the Philippines, I am a Canadian. Sometimes I don’t know which I am.”
A long time ago, a Mexican pheasant migrated to the US. After several years in his adopted country, he returned to his village for a visit. When asked how he considers himself now, he said, “I was once a Mexican pheasant with poor English. Now I am an American with good Spanish.”
Two points from this story are: first, that citizenships, no matter how many, could never erase one’s identity because it is labeled upon us by others; and, second, the “village,” will always be in one’s psyche and soul because it is etched upon us by our culture.
My cousin is trying to understand what “identity crisis” really is aside from just being a phrase, because, rightly or wrongly, it deals with how people look at us on either side of the spectrum.
My rough treatment happened when identified as a Filipino through my passport. My cousin experienced male chauvinism from native Canadians, in Canada, when she told them of her Filipino roots. I refused to be affected by the insults because I believe that I don’t belong to the Filipino typecast. She got pissed off because she believes that there’s more to being a Filipina than just being “friendly” to foreigners.
I have, long ago, avoided aspects in our culture that bring us down, put us in bad light. I’m still at it. My cousin wants to bring out the good in us to make us shine. It is uncertain where this road we are taking leads us. What is certain is that it is a lonely road, laden with misunderstanding, animosity and disagreements with friends and family. But it is one damn interesting road.
