Where I Belong

“When you’re a mixed race, you get the best of both worlds,” they said. They said that and they meant it. I’m not going to waste a second trying to imply that that isn’t true, either. There’s so much beauty and difference that is so worth embracing, so much to be proud of, and it would be a mistake to let the building blocks to our identity slip through our fingers. The problem is every good thing comes with a catch, I’m sure everyone has learned that by now someway or another, and for this situation it’s that you get the worst of both worlds too.

Yes, being mixed race means you experience the best and the worst of how it entwines with daily living, each artifact being far beyond our control. For me, the biggest trouble that I’ve had to face is figuring out that just like people tend to judge books for their covers as much as they hate to admit it, they also tend to judge people by the looks on the surface; the face, the body, the color of the skin, the curliness of their hair or lack thereof. Things that shouldn’t matter are so exaggerated and irritatingly emphasized, as if people like me aren’t meant to have a chance.

Life is unfair, but we knew that already. What people also know but pretend not to is that “unfair” means that there are a few of us out there getting privileges and statuses that other people don’t. There’s judgement no matter how hard you work, and there’s deprivation no matter how much someone deserves to have earned it. This, we learn early on, is how the world spins for us.

Tell me, globe, why must it be this way? Why must we be looked at with the wrath in your eyes? Why can’t you tell me where exactly I’m supposed to go? What direction am I supposed to head? Why, earth, do you let me be lost? Do you have fun watching me stumble and fall? Oh, but how will you react when I boldly rise above it all? When I’m proud of who I am?

I’m a Filipina-American, and I am proud of it. Not because I feel superior to anybody else. It’s actually almost the opposite. I’m proud to be who I am because it’s the only person I know how to be. I couldn’t be anyone else if I tried and that’s the way it is. The way it’s supposed to be, in fact. If we were capable of switching from one person to another and living their life at the snap of our fingers, we couldn’t feel as special as we should be feeling. Now, that also means diving into hardships headfirst, and yet on the other side of it, the fearless victories.

In America, I’ve experienced almost everything solely because of my nationality, most of which my sister doesn’t experience because she has the features of a pure American. We come from the same family and of the same blood, but I’m the one who is told to “go back to my country” or whatever, especially in the area that I live in. Little do these people know that I was born and raised in the USA, and that this is “my country” as much as it is “theirs” and on top of it, that Mexico has almost no connection to me at all. On the other hand, there are quite a few people who will flaunt over my semi-tan skin, wishing that it was natural to them. This feels good, growing up in a household where Filipino values and whitewashing were the stronger ‘spoken out loud’ standard. However, all this truly brought me is confusion -- because this clear “beauty is in the beauty of the beholder” meant not pleasing everyone I walked by, which freaks about the people-pleaser in me, especially as a little girl.

In the Philippines, I actually fit in rather nicely for the most part. That is, if I didn’t have to do anything but stand there and “look pretty”. (As for my sister, once she breathed on Manila soil, first step out of the plane she instantly had trouble) The moment someone wanted to talk to me and they’d catch onto my accent, or the moment someone figured out that I’m not Philippine-born, I swear to God I have many suddenly attached to my hip, trying to establish friendships and relationships that are based nothing on who I am as a person, but because of their automatic conviction that I’m rich and have money on me at all times ready for spending, which is just plain untrue. I’m broke as can be to be honest, and it doesn’t help to have an introverted personality when people want to treat you like a so-called celebrity. The thing is, there are some genuine ones wrapped up in the bunch, and I tend to have an easier time connecting with people when I’m there than when I’m in America. Those few friends are for life!

Either or, there’s pros and cons, but the one thing I can’t list as a positive or a negative is not knowing where I belong. I never really feel at home anywhere I go, not entirely, and a lot of the time it’s one of the most outcast-ed things to experience. As many explain it, we tend not to be “Filipino enough” for the Philippines, nor “American enough” for America. I do enjoy being able to consider two places semi-homes, and I do have pride in simply existing in lands 8000 miles apart from each other through my blood-connections. I’m happy to know that I have a big, big family of relatives and amazing cousins who are thriving on the other side of the earth, and I’m also happy to know that I have a drastically smaller one one state-line over.

The point is, I'm finally starting to get it. I’m starting to feel content in having my home be “everywhere”. I needed constant reminders to get to this point, but in my heart I am certain that I am both Filipino enough and American enough. It’s actually a lot more spectacular than that, because there’s tons of people in the world with a similar life to me, maybe also Fil-Am’s, but even more of the many, many backgrounds in this world that so wonderfully collide.

We are all so fricking gorgeous, aren’t we? We're so worth celebrating.