October is Filipino American History Month (as well as LGBTQ+ History Month, Clergy Appreciation Month, World Hunger Awareness Month, and more). In the past, I have written about many of the different groups that make up America, but other than a few mentions of my family's connection to the Philippines, I have never devoted an article to the Philippines or to Filipino Americans. One of the reasons is that until recently, there have been very few books published in the United States about the Philippines or Filipino Americans or by Filipino or Filipino American authors. This really hit me when I was a school librarian. The school where I worked had a significant Filipino American population. Of course, I wanted to have books that reflected my students' heritage, and what could I find? No fiction, no folktales, a few books with some basic information on the Philippines. That was it.
Why, although Filipino Americans are the second largest group among Asian Americans, have some people described them as "invisible", claiming that the group is virtually unknown to the American public? I don't have an answer. As of 2019, there were 4.2 million Filipinos, or Americans with Filipino ancestry, in the United States. In 2010, these were the top four states:
California with 1,651,933 Filipinos, or Americans with Filipino ancestry
Hawaii - 367,364
Texas - 194,427
Washington - 178,300
Filipino Americans, or Pinoys, were not invisible in my Junior and Senior High Schools. Filipino American students thrilled us as they danced the Filipino bamboo dance, Tinikling, the girls in their Maria Clara dresses and the boys in Barong Tagalog shirts. (I attached a photo of my mother in her Maria Clara dress to today's email which most of you got. My mother was neither Filipino nor Filipino American, but she did grow up in the Commonwealth of the Philippines as it was then known.) In Uncle Rico's encore : mostly true stories of Filipino Seattle,
author Peter Bacho mentions that Franklin High School had many Pinoy students and he proceeded to list last names, most of which were familiar to me. What wasn't familiar was the term "Pinoy". Doing some research, I discovered that the earliest appearance of the term Pinoy in print was in 1926. People think that the term Pinoy was coined by Filipinos who came to the United States to distinguish themselves from Filipinos living in the Philippines.
Reading that list of names in Uncle Rico's encore led to me think about the names in the Filipino branch of my family such as Whitaker, Ansaldo, Trinidad, Estrada, Tambunting, Chan, and Parpan. These names represent the blend of Eastern and Western cultures that resulted from Spanish and American rule and contact with merchants and traders from China and India.
Explorer Ferdinand Magellan came to the Philippine Islands in 1521 and claimed them as a colony for Spain. Spain ruled the islands until the Philippine Revolution in 1898 when the Philippines was ceded from Spain to the United States. The United States granted the Philippines their independence on July 4, 1946. Mass migration to the United States did not begin until after the end of the Spanish–American War. During the 1920s, many Filipinos immigrated to the United States as unskilled labor, to provide better opportunities for their families back at home. Many went to Alaska to work in the canneries. You can read more about that in Peter Bacho's book. After independence, Filipino American numbers continued to grow. Immigration had been reduced significantly during the 1930s, except for those who served in the United States Navy, and increased following immigration reform in the 1960s. Prior to 1946, Filipinos were taught that they were Americans. They had official status as United States nationals, but it won't surprise you that they were discriminated against and faced much racism.
One of the things that I find the most intolerable is the treatment received by anywhere from 250,000 to 400,000 Filipinos who served in the United States Military during World War II. The U.S. government promised these soldiers all of the benefits afforded to other veterans. However, in 1946, the United States Congress passed the Rescission Act of 1946 which stripped Filipino veterans of the promised benefits. Of the sixty-six countries allied with the United States during the war, the Philippines is the only country that did not receive military benefits from the United States. My friend, Betty Sumaoang Ragudos, wrote this:
"My Dad, Federico Sumaoang who was a Staff Sergeant and my step Dad, Urbano Quijance who was a Major, both in the U.S. Army, were POWs and survivors of the WWII, Bataan Corregidor Death March. It was a horrific time. They rarely talked about the experience. My Dad carried a bullet in his leg until he died in 1980. My step Dad passed at the age of 95. Throughout their lives they continued the legacy by creating their own organization and finally documenting their experiences. The children, grand and great grandchildren now have some history of knowing what our 1st generation Filipino American and American military went through."
Since 1993, numerous bills have been introduced in Congress to pay the benefits, but all died in committee. However, in 2017, a Congressional Gold Medal was approved to be awarded to Filipino Veterans of World War II, most of whom were dead by then. Betty and her family received the medals on behalf of her father and step-father.
These books illuminate different aspects of the Pinoy experience:
Uncle Rico's encore : mostly true stories of Filipino Seattle / Bacho, Peter, B BAC. From the 1950s through the 1970s, blue-collar Filipino Americans, or Pinoys, lived a hardscrabble existence. Immigrant parents endured blatant racism, sporadic violence, and poverty while their US-born children faced more subtle forms of racism, such as the low expectations of teachers and counselors in the public school system. In this collection of autobiographical essays, acclaimed novelist and short-story writer Peter Bacho centers the experiences of the Pinoy generation that grew up in Seattle's multiethnic neighborhoods, from the Central Area to Beacon Hill to Rainier Valley. He recounts intimate moments of everyday life: fishing with marshmallows at Madison Beach, playing bruising games of basketball at Madrona Park, and celebrating with his uncles in Chinatown as hundreds of workers returned from Alaska canneries in the fall. He also relates vivid stories of defiance and activism, including resistance to the union-busting efforts of the federal government in the 1950s and organizing for decent housing and services for elders in the 1970s. Sharing a life inextricably connected to his community and the generation that came before him, this memoir is a tribute to Filipino Seattle. - from the publisher
America is not the heart / Castillo, Elaine, F CAS Named one of the best books of 2018 by NPR, Real Simple, Lit Hub, The Boston Globe, San Francisco Chronicle, The New York Post, Kirkus Reviews, and The New York Public Library: An increasingly relevant story told with startling lucidity, humor, and an uncanny ear for the intimacies and shorthand of family ritual, America Is Not the Heart is a sprawling, soulful debut about three generations of women in one family struggling to balance the promise of the American dream and the unshakable grip of history. - from the publisher
I was their American dream : a graphic memoir / Gharib, Malaka, B GHA I Was Their American Dream is at once a coming-of-age story and a reminder of the thousands of immigrants who come to America in search for a better life for themselves and their children. The daughter of parents with unfulfilled dreams themselves, Malaka navigated her childhood chasing her parents' ideals, learning to code-switch between her family's Filipino and Egyptian customs, adapting to white culture to fit in, crushing on skater boys, and trying to understand the tension between holding onto cultural values and trying to be an all-American kid. - from the publisher
In the country : stories / Alvar, Mia, F ALV In these nine globe-trotting tales, Mia Alvar gives voice to the women and men of the Philippines and its diaspora. From teachers to housemaids, from mothers to sons, Alvar’s stories explore the universal experiences of loss, displacement, and the longing to connect across borders both real and imagined. In the Country speaks to the heart of everyone who has ever searched for a place to call home—and marks the arrival of a formidable new voice in literature. - from the publisher
Patron saints of nothing / Ribay, Randy, F RIB A powerful coming-of-age story about grief, guilt, and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin's murder. Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte's war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story. As gripping as it is lyrical, Patron Saints of Nothing is a page-turning portrayal of the struggle to reconcile faith, family, and immigrant identity. - from the publisher
The photo I chose for this article was taken when one of my cousins (third, maybe?) and her family visited us in June. I am fudging a bit, using this picture since they aren't actually Filipino Americans. However, she did spend eleven years growing up in New York, and her two youngest siblings were born there so they have U.S. citizenship.
My family's connection with the Philippines goes back to 1901-1904 when my grandfather's older brother, James, was secretary to William Howard Taft while Taft was serving as Civil Governor of the Commonwealth of the Philippines. About that same time, another brother, Phil, moved to the Philippines to seek his fortune, which he did. Then Jock and his wife went to the Philippines where their four children were born and where Jock worked for Phil in the sugar industry. So now my grandfather decided to pack up my grandmother, my mother and my aunt (who was still an infant) and sail to Manila where he became a manufacturer's representative. That was in September, 1930. In 1939, my grandmother, mother, and aunt returned to Seattle so that my mother could take her senior year of high school in the States. Letters from Grandpa express his concern that the Japanese would invade the Philippines. Everyone waited in Seattle to see what would happen. Unfortunately, Grandpa waited in Manila - too long. He and Jock and Jock's family were interned at Santo Tomas in Manila. Later, Grandpa was sent to Los Banos with other men to build shelters for more internees. And then more and more came, including Jock and his family. This story has been building up to my last book recommendation:
Rescue at Los Baños : the most daring prison camp raid of World War II / Henderson, Bruce B., 940.53 HEN. My mother's cousin, Margaret Whitaker, is featured in that book (and my grandfather, Septimus Whitaker, is listed in the back with about a thousand others who were interned at Los Banos). Phil stayed in the Philippines after the war, but some of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren are now Filipino Americans.
I finished writing this article yesterday, October 11, and today I found something more to share with you on a book site I follow:
Oct 11, 2022
Aside from the cozy vibes it brings, I love that the Tita Rosie’s Kitchen Mystery series prominently features a Filipino American family. Filipino-centered novels are few and far between, and upon reading Arsenic and Adobo, I realized that I’ve never seen myself in literature like that before. The lighthearted Filipino culture, the close-knit family bonds, the gossipy titas, the quarrelling cousins… all of them feel so accurate. As a Filipino, I feel at home between the pages of Arsenic and Adobo; it warms my heart that my culture and traditions take center stage in this series.
And ah, don’t forget about the food. The breakfast meals, the merienda, and the desserts mentioned are all part of my childhood. Just reading the descriptions of the dishes makes me hungry. So it’s really a boon that the author put the recipes at the back of each book. Speaking of which, Blackmail and Bibingka, the third from the series, came out last week, and as usual, there are recipes included there. - by Arvyn Cerézo
If you would like to try Arsenic and Adobo (it's fun, but a little frantic), the author is Mia Manansala.