Bill Clinton named Honorary Asian of the Year

I would just like to take this opportunity to congratulate the husband of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton on a job well done in North Korea.  Seriously, most Asians (or Asian Americans, for that matter), wouldn’t go to North Korea if Kim Jong Il himself was holding a gun to their heads.  But you, sir, are a class act.

Ok, so maybe the Dear Leader just wanted some legitimacy.  What with the “nuclear missile tests” (as I write this phrase I’m actually making the quote-unquote gesture with my fingers) that would earn him a C+ in 8th grade science, from the dramatic turns in the American media from Team America: World Police to the Daily Show, I could see how a grip and grin with Bubba might bump him up a rung.  But then again, Kim really had nowhere to go but up.

What concerns me is the precedent.  Next thing we know, off-the-res dictators will be pushing down old ladies and demanding an autographed picture of Kathy Griffin.  Where do we draw the line, America?

F.O.B. vs E.O.P.

This year was the first Christmas in America for one of my cousins.  She’s a nurse (go figure) and moved from the PI to Minneapolis in November.  Tough break, kid.  I don’t think she’s taken her winter coat off since she got here.

We’ve been around each other for the usual family holiday get-togethers and our conversations usually go like this:

“Hi Manang Noemi!  How are you?”

“Good.”

“What have you been up to lately?”

[shrugs shoulders]

“It’s, um, pretty cold here… how are you adjusting?”

“yeah, it’s cold.”

It didn’t hit me until Christmas eve, when my parents told me that she is really intimidated by my sister and me because she feels insecure about her English.  She could speak to us in Tagalog and we’d understand, but more likely than not we’d respond in English.  Ya see, we’re E.O.P.  [English Only Pilipinos].  That would be the technical term since we’re not fluent.  We grew up here and our parents didn’t want us to have accents or a language barrier so they didn’t instill in us a strong sense of speaking Tagalog.  We’re around it enough to understand it conversationally, but I never really developed a facility for speaking it.  Most of the time, I can’t tell the difference between when my family is speaking English or Tagalog, but I always respond in English either way.

Apparently, Manang Noemi has been avoiding me.

Filipinos like to tease each other.  That can make it hard to learn anything new.  But it’s a sign of endearment.  We tease because we love.  So yesterday at a restaurant, this happened:

Server: And what can I get for you?

Manang Noemi: I’ll have the chicken sandwich.

Server: Fries?

Manang Noemi: Oo*

*And now for the Wily Filipino Tagalog lesson for the day: “Oo” means yes (it’s pronounced like “oh-oh”).

The whole table erupted in laughter and when she realized what she did she laughed, too.  She’s getting the hang of it.  Her English is much better than my Tagalog (As it turns out, people tell me I sound like a drunk white guy when I speak Tagalog so she’s in good company).  But sooner or later, she’s gonna be thrust into situations where she’ll be forced to bust out the English skills and I’m sure she’ll do great.  A couple of my other cousins had the whole Minestrone fiasco when they first moved here, not to mention needing to ask me the correct pronunciation of “Bowl” (Bow-el means something entirely different, especially when you’re a nurse talking to a patient).  So it’s the little things.

It’s easier, language-wise, to be a FOB in the States versus an EOP in the Philippines.  The last time I was there, I had told some people that I really wanted to get comfortable speaking Tagalog, and they said, “Why?  you won’t use it unless you’re speaking to another Filipino.  It’s better that you speak English.”  Yeah, they didn’t quite get what I was going for, but that’s culture for ya.

On the other hand, several of my cousins have married white folks.  My cousin Pop married Debbie a couple years ago.  When they showed up at Thanksgiving, my mom noticed that she would just stand off by herself.  I guess I just took it for granted, but when my cousins get together everybody is speaking either Tagalog or one of their hometown dialects.  My mom took it upon herself to give Debbie a little nudge, saying, “Just sit down with them.  They’ll switch to English.”  My mom explained that when you’ve been here for a while you get used to switching back and forth, especially in the presence of an “American,” it becomes second nature.

So I guess Manang Noemi just needs to find where that line is.  And maybe I’ll get one of those Rosetta Stone language tapes and really freak my family out in a few months.  Either way, I bet Manang Noemi will still be wearing her winter coat.

Let the straddling continue

I got my hands on the In The Heights Original Broadway Cast Soundtrack and haven’t stopped listening to it in my car.  Couple that with this being The Year of the Mexican, based on the roles I have played this year (previous years have been dubbed The Naked Year, and The Year of The Vietnam War), and I’m starting to get that confused feeling.

ALRIGHTY, first a little geography lesson.  The Philippines is closest to the Asian continent.  Filipinos are decended from the Malay race, which is pretty much the ethnic group that is considered indigenous to all of the Pacific Islands.  I remember being in an elevator at the Dayton’s in Downtown Minneapolis with my dad one day when someone decided to ask, “what are you?”  You know… that ol’ chestnut.

“What do you mean?”  Dad responded.

“Where are you from?”  The lady asked.

At this point I’d like to say that my dad, being smarter than most people, could have said something like, “Minneapolis.”  But I honestly don’t remember.

Anyhoo, the lightning flash of a conversation rested on the fact that this old lady started arguing with my dad as to whether Filipinos were “Yellow” or “Brown.”  White people can be so charming sometimes.  This is the first time I’d heard my dad refer to Filipinos as Brown.  What interested me at first was the fact that the colors yellow and brown are both colors I associated with the potty.  But hey, I was like 8 or something.

“Who else is brown?” I started to wonder.  Then it hit me like Homey D Clown’s sock: “Mexicans!  Mexicans are brown, and so are people from other South American countries!”  Again… 8 years old.

The truth of the matter is that when I watch the Joy Luck Club, I don’t really think about my family… except for the whole Ma Jiang thing.  But just hearing the Latin music from In The Heights made me think of palm trees, the sounds of the surf, and Barrio Fiestas.

People chuckle when I tell them that I play Latino roles.  “I thought you were Filipino,” they say.  I never realized until recently that most people don’t know that the PI was a Spanish Colony.  In fact, Filipino American history is more closely tied to Latino American history than Asian American history in  a lot of ways.  We’re like the cousin that the other Hispanic Countries don’t talk about.

Filipino Americans, along with a lot of other immigrant communities, talk about having one foot on the US and another back “home.”  So yeah, there’s that… even though some of our closest relatives, culturally, are still half a world away, no matter how you look at it.  It’s like geographical Twister.

So give me some Spanish guitar and a beat I can shake my hips to.  Serve up the empanadas and the adobo.  Yeah, we’ll have rice too, maybe with some SPAM and eggs.  Mabuhay the Year of the Mexican!

Mana Sa Tatay

My latest escape from reality is America’s Best Dance Crew.  I caught on to this show while I was in Cali and I gotta say it’s up there, especially in the guilty pleasure department.  One of the things I like about this show is that it highlights a lot of talented Filipino Americans out there doing what we do best–performing.

A couple of the stories hit me on a personal level because they have to do with the dichotomy that is the Filipino parent.  On one hand my parents have been very supportive of my career as an actor, while I’m doing shows or on TV.

“Mana Sa Tatay” is my dad’s catch phrase when we’re around other Filipinos.  Basically it means, “He takes after his dad.”  Both he and my mom are proud to brag that I’ve worked at the Guthrie, The Ordway, Chanhassen Dinner Theater, and any of the other major theaters in Minneapolis.  They wouldn’t necessarily put the smaller theaters on top of that list, even if I’m proud of my work in those productions…

On the other hand, my parents are the first to criticize me for not choosing a career where I could be making more money on a regular basis.  I’ve endured the arguments, the not-so-subtle nudges, the Five Year Plan (that my dad put me on without telling me), and the myriad moments of disapproval and worry about my future.  They used to tell me that they came here so I could have more opportunities and be happy, i.e. make money, and that I could always do community theater or act “on the side.”  But, recently, I’ve argued that if I had grown up in the Philippines I wouldn’t necessarily have the opportunity to live my dream and that I’m much happier doing that than making six-figures sitting in some cubicle.

Joesar Alva, a member of the Boogie Bots from Season 2 of ABDC, has a pretty unique story in that his father, who taught him to dance when he was little, went into a coma a few months before the show aired.  Below is a clip that hit me pretty hard when I saw it:

The other story that really nailed a familiar Filipino experience is the story that Ailyn Isidro of SoRealCru brought to the table.  In the first episode, she describes that her parents don’t approve of her wanting to be a dancer, and it becomes a theme for their crew throughout the season.  In the 6th episode, her parents decide to fly in from Houston to see her dance for the first time… EVER.  They smiled and appeared really proud of their daughter, but coming from that experience I’m skeptical that they’ve turned over a new leaf 100%.  I know this isn’t a story that’s strictly a Filipino experience, but I also know what can happen when the cameras and the spotlights turn off.  She’s still their daughter and if she doesn’t land something huge after this show, it could degrade back into the same disapproving discussions.

I love my parents.  They took time off work to come to watch me ride the pine at my basketball games in junior high; they’d come to high school plays, and even some of the really obscure things I’ve done in my career.  They’re my biggest fans and my worst critics.  I know that I could have it much, much worse, but it’s always good to see other Filipinos out there doing what they do and knowing that we, as artists, have similar struggles.

American Journalism at its finest!

Got this off Angry Asian Man…

Get it?  Her name is Lee!

21 Revisited

Click here for an article on the “whiteout” that is 21.

Have you hugged a Pacific Islander today?

Well… HAVE YOU? Don’t make me come over there.

Asian/Pacific American Heritage Month starts today. Break out the rice-based alcohol of your cultural preference and let’s play some Ma Jiang! Then we can all go get tattoos!

Just imagine how many schools are cracking open their history books and studying about great Asian Americans like… well…

Ok, the reality is that most schools probably aren’t studying about Gary Locke or Ellison Onizuka today. Most of the students can smell what the Rock is cookin’ but have no idea the cultural significance of his tattoo. And yes, I did catch the end of The Karate Kid on cable the other night, but I think that had more to do with the fact that it was 3am than anything else.

But hey, we’ve got a whole month, and we’re gonna party. I’m strappin’ on my Filipino Flag belt buckle and we’re gonna show this town a good time. Tip our coolie hats to the Mexicanos on the 5th, but the other 30 days are ALL PI All THE TIME!

WHO’S WITH ME????

Filipino Men are Lazy

One of the more comfortable things about California is that there are a lot of Asians here.  It’s really diverse.  In Rancho Penasquitos (or PQ as the kids call it), where I’m staying, there are a lot of Filipinos in particular.  A lot of Vietnamese and Koreans also from what I can see.  It’s nice to go to Target or the Asian Grocery and hear people speaking Tagalog.

I took my car in to get looked at.  My uncle, a former car dealer, suggested that I go to his guy, so I went and saw his mechanic, who is this vietnamese guy in Mira Mesa (the next neighborhood over).  My uncle told me to go there and ask for “Kuya” (older brother in Tagalog).  I thought to myself, “isn’t this guy vietnamese?”  And yes, he is.  Apparently after knowing each other for a decade or so, they’ve become friends.  He was a really nice guy, and he didn’t charge me for taking a look at my car and dealing with the Check Engine light that had recently lit up.  One of the other mechanics just explained to me the importance to tightening the cap to the gas tank.

I couldn’t help but think that it’s a little odd that there is a peaceful coexistence between the Vietnamese and the Filipinos here in PQ/Mira Mesa.  After all, my recent experience with Vietnamese men has not been a good one, especially if you’re dating their daughter.

Filipino men are lazy.  I found this article, which I think is interesting because I’m doing a show right now that explores interracial dating, racism, and personal preferences. http://asiancemagazine.com/oct_2007/legends_of_the_white_guy

When I was growing up I was, let’s say, misunderstood.  I was called all kinds of things, but mostly by uneducated idiots who couldn’t tell the difference between a Chinese, Filipino, and a Black person.  So I always found it funny that people didn’t even know enough to insult me using a stereotype of my own race.

Fast forward 20 years and here I am, face to face with a real Filipino stereotype.  Filipino men are lazy???  Immigrant Filipino moms are telling this to their daughters in the hopes that they’ll end up with a white guy.  My X’s dad told her not to date a Filipino because he had heard it too… and a Filipina friend of my X’s confirmed it for my X’s father.  He already didn’t like Filipinos cuz we eat with our hands (I’d like to take him to McDonalds and see him eat a burger and fries with chopsticks and a spoon).

This is the first I’d heard of this.  I didn’t know that when my dad came to the US with $500 and a few suitcases full of clothes that he was “lazy.”  And now that I’ve sat with my parents and discussed their retirement with their financial planner, and after I’ve learned that they can live comfortably for probably the next 50 years or so, I’m surprised at what such a lazy man can accomplish.  Imagine what he could have done for my family if he actually applied himself.

I can’t say that my X-future-father-in-law was all wrong, there are lazy Filipinos. But there are also lazy chinese, lazy koreans, lazy white folks, lazy black folks, lazy latinos…and, yes, even lazy vietnamese.  It’s just nice to know that here in the northern suburbs of San Diego they’ve all learned to get along.