The Filipino Divide (8/17/06)

Ako ay Pilipina, indeed.

That is the stinging concluding remark from a letter to the editor in response to my proud self-statement (a reference to the song Magdaragat introduced me to which eventually connected me to my heritage) in my FJ article on Folklorama when I first moved to Winnipeg in 2003. Ar-ouch. To this day, during Folklorama 3 years later, I can feel my blood pressure rise and my heart sink when I recall the experience. The writer was not happy with my use of the word “Flip” to refer to Filipinos, apparently considered derogatory by some. I was shocked at the strong negative reaction and attack at not only my character but also my definition of myself as a Filipina—ang bilis bilis, too!--because all my life, that word was a special term, almost of entitlement—like my “peeps”, my “homies.” This was the term my barcadas, a handful of Saskatchewan Filipino-Canadian teens—The Filipinas Youth Group, used to call ourselves—we were cool because we had something no one else did. Like a mini-gang minus the drugs and guns and scare factor. We wore bandannas and break-danced like no other. Heck, we dominated in the dance realm. I don’t know where Bagets (form of dance Magdaragat taught us) originally came from, but it became ours. We serenaded and pen-pal’ed like it was going out of style. We kicked butt in basketball and sikaran. No one could touch us. Looking back, it was par for the course; identity issues--what all teens go through.

Now 20 years later, that letter triggered another mini identity crisis—I was seeking any reassurance I could get from my parents and the FJ editors. Did I just offend the entire Filipino community with my words?? Was I any less Filipino because that word was power where I came from but here—not so much? And why didn’t anyone teach me this in Coconut School??! What about my lack of Tagalog? Or my Chinese blood and Chinese name? What do I do to fix this?? Dare I ask the question--who’s “more Filipino” here: someone who tries to build up the Filipino spirit in all its different forms despite glaring un-Filipino-ness, or someone with the privilege of breeding & birthright who tries to break it? I think I’d take 10 puti in barongg tagalogs singing our anthem off-key over 1 purebred Pinoy holding a gun to another. But that’s just “You’re-not-Filipino…No-you’re-not”–me. I still ask random Pinoys I meet about that word, because I do not want to give up that word; I refuse to give up that pride I’ve associated with it.

I recently went to see Filipino-Canadian comic Ron Josol at Rumour’s Comedy club, and absolutely loved the show. I couldn’t help but laugh along with the largely Filipino crowd at his hilarious jokes about such “Pinoy-isms” as Philippine phonetics (“what’s his pahkking frovlem??”) and the Filipino propensity for choosing nursing as a career. What about the Philippine nanny? Who can deny this stereotype? And is it wrong to laugh at its existence and ourselves as a result? When does laughing at ourselves become harmful and the perpetuation of damaging prejudices? Conversely, when does racial sensitivity and political correctness stunt individual interpretation and expression of culture? Call a spade a spade…but then we’ve gotta look at the definition of excavation implements, the national standards of yard care tools, and if it heard the tree falling in the forest. Naman.

Living here in Winnipeg, I see Filipinos excelling in all sorts of careers, occupations, and work-settings. Certainly, in my medical training and practice, I get to work with a good number of Filipino nurses/health care workers in a variety of settings, both as patients and colleagues. Having just finished my Occupational Medicine rotation for my Community Medicine residency, I’ve gotten the chance to witness Filipinos and their health in the workplace at many different levels—a scope of the Filipino-Canadian experience…from Immigrant to Canadian-born, from caregiver to patient, from teacher to student. We are a vast and varied bunch, a spectrum: brown Filipinos, yellow Filipinos, white Filipinos, Filipino-whites, mestizas/zos, blue, orange, green, and purple Filipinos…you name it. I’ve had in-depth discussions with many Filipinos from all over this rainbow of backgrounds on this collective experience, what I call the Filipino Divide. The “ignorant coconut youth disconnected from their roots” vs the “old guards enmeshed in obsolete thinking” and everything in between. Yes, the words are there on purpose; they’re there to inflame. Why? Because if we don’t acknowledge their existence, we can’t get on top of these problems to work on the root cause. Sometimes the words have to slap us upside the head to get us to see what message lies beneath.

According to the HRSDC website, in 2001:
Filipinos in Canada represented the fourth largest visible minority subgroup (7.7% of total visible minority population; 1% of the total population). Toronto, Vancouver and Winnipeg accounted for 72% of the Filipino population…Filipinos were a very young group. Only 6% of their total population was 65 and over (compared with 13% of the non-visible minority population; 7% of the overall visible minority population). Close to 50% of the total Filipino population were of prime working age (25-54)…Filipinos had a high level of education. Among all visible minority subgroups, they ranked second in terms of the proportion of the population 15 years and over having earned a bachelor’s degree or higher and ranked first in terms of the percentage of the population with more than grade 13…Approximately 31% of Filipinos 15 years and over had a bachelor’s degree or higher compared to only 14% of the non-visible minority population and 24% of the overall visible minority population. In contrast to most of the other visible minority subgroups, a larger percentage of Filipino women than men had earned a university degree (33% vs. 27%)…The most popular fields of study were Commerce Management & Business Administration (27%), Health Professions Sciences & Technologies (22%), Engineering & Applied Sciences Technologies & Trades (13%) and Engineering & Applied Sciences (10%). These four fields made up 72% of the Filipino population that went beyond secondary school education to achieve a degree, certificate or diploma. They represented 1.2% of the total workforce and 9.1% of the overall visible minority workforce…Filipinos were most frequently working in the following Employment Equity Occupational Groups (EEOGs): Intermediate Sales & Service Personnel (19%), Other Sales & Service Personnel (14%), Clerical Personnel (13%) and Semi Skilled Manual Workers (13%)… Filipinos had the highest participation rate and the lowest unemployment rate among all visible minority subgroups. Their participation rate (76%) was considerably higher than that of the non-visible minority population (66.5%). Their unemployment rate was exceptionally low (5.6%) compared to that of the non-visible minority population (7.1%).
This is all good, right? But…
…In spite of their high level of education, the proportion of Filipinos in Professional occupations (12%) was below that observed for both the nonvisible minority population (15%) and the overall visible minority population (17%)…In 2000, Filipinos had the second lowest average income among all visible minority subgroups for full-time, full-year employment. Their income, at $32,748, was equivalent to only 74% of what the non-visible minority population earned ($43,989) and 86% of what total visible minorities earned ($37,957). Filipino women earned 81% of what Filipino men earned.

Okay. I have a huge problem with this. This bothers me to no end. In fact, it sucks big fat greasy lechon. But I am not at all surprised.

I have heard horror stories about the hell Filipino nannies have gone through—not just in Canada but world-wide. They have been abused and raped. The egregious acts done to them in Canada--inconceivable. But true. This is a problem.

I know of a Canadian nurse who worked in the Middle East along-side nurses from all over the world. There was a pay differential among these nurses depending on the country of origin—Filipino nurses being almost at the bottom, North American nurses at the top of the pay scale. So this “top-level” nurse would take the shifts, and if she wanted to take a day off, would get a Filipino nurse or one lower in pay level to take the shift, and she would pocket the difference. Pretty smart Canadian, eh? Of course she was. I wouldn’t blame her. Sure, there was discussion about the lower paid nurses’ countries getting larger grants for their nurses at the government level, and somehow this ‘makes up for the inequity.’ Either way, to me, this is a problem.

I know how dirt-cheap things are in the Philippines—from wares to people and services. $15 for a luxury treatment at a spa vs $80 and up for the same thing here. Don’t think I didn’t take advantage of this—shopping maven that I am. But is this a problem? You bet your shiny new sapatos I just gave you ($3; 2 for $5!) it is.

I have heard accusations and terms such as “corruption” (a touchy buzzword to our kababayyan) in reference to Filipinos who have benefited financially or otherwise in their work—be it facilitation of new immigrants into our community, leading and representing us on a political front, in health care, religious circles, volunteering for the community functions, etc, etc, etc. To the point where some work almost ragged for way less than is fair just to uphold that perception of giving. I come from a family that ascribes to this, so I know. I bet we all do. There is great satisfaction giving something for nothing. But that doesn’t put rice on the table. Again, this is a real big problem.

This divide is in our thinking and in our belief structure. I witness it all the time. What strikes me is this impressive work ethic that transcends all the fields we work in—we take pride in what we do, and we care. Deeply. We are brought up to give and give and give. Give more. Care more. Do and be more. There is nothing to be ashamed about that. Our journals applaud these acts and rightly so. I think we don’t even do this enough. But we are also brought up to be humble and modest, painfully so. If we take in return, this is considered rude and bad--bastos. Somewhere along the line giving all and accepting so little in return became the Philippine way. But this translates into the lowest paid workers, despite definite measurable contribution and awards of excellence in our work. This translates into burnout and loss of the very people trying to make a positive difference. This translates into poorer health in our people and the community as a whole. This translates into Pinoy tearing down Pinoy because of the harmful misguided mentality that one has to lose if another wins rather than a Win/Win or No Deal approach. This divide breaks my heart and my spirit, more than words can ever capture. This must be addressed. We need to build.

When I hear the accent and see the familiar mannerisms I grew up with, I always get a nostalgic twinge of what I call “home”: a deep sense of kinship, belonging, and identity. The pointing with the lips, the wordless eyebrow greetings. The expectation of any stranger for a full plate of food at a Filipino BBQ, and the chastising of any Filipino host who doesn’t represent our hospitality. The respectful greeting of elders with hand to forehead, kneeling. All of it. For some trying to assimilate into North American culture, these things are embarrassing and funny. For me, these things strike an emotional chord—I can relate to these “quirks”, their irrational rationale, their oddness to an on-looker, but there is this intense pride mixed with a sadness in what they represent: the unsurpassable good in our hearts mixed with this dooming self-perception of inferiority and submissiveness. This chord and the divide it represents are rooted deep in my being, and I am only now beginning to understand it. It’s mine.

So I will say it again, and this time with a vengeance: Ako ay Pilipina. Ako ay Flip. I am Pyllifinah. Whatever way I say it, you cannot take that away from me. You can call me a “dirty Flip” any day, and, frankly, I’d love you that much more for it.