Visions of the Creole Bastard: Film and the postcolonial body

Davis, played by Jose Saenz, is determined to dunk in The Flip Side (2001).

On Saturday the 27th Annual Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival presented the 10-year anniversary screening of the pioneering narrative film The Flip Side. An official selection of the Sundance Film Festival in 2001, the LAAPFF screening marked a historic moment in Filipino American film and raised questions about the future of the genre. At ten years old, is The Flip Side a film that a younger generation can relate to? What cultural changes have occurred between the Fil Am generation of the late 90s and early 2000s, and the generation coming-to-age around 2010?

In 2001, a troupe of California-based Filipino American artists and advocates stormed the Sundance venue in Utah with the intent to make clamor for The Flip Side and DJ Qbert's Wave Twisters that premiered at the same time. These Fil Am pilgrims were surprised to be greeted by a small community of Utah Fil Am residents who showed a tremendous amount of love for the artists.

At the time, the Fil Ams' experience in Utah reflected a bigger phenomenon of Filipino (mis/under)representation in the larger public imaginary. Many times during Sundance meetings and press events, according to The Flip Side director Rod Pulido, he and other Filipinos were the only people of color around. Also to note, the film was interestingly programmed into the Native Forum portion of the festival, which is perhaps reflective of Utah's demographic imaginary and Filipinos' strange ethnic placement in the United States. "The Native Forum director felt that Filipinos' issues were similar to those of Native Americans, such as dealing with assimilation," Pulido mentioned during the Q&A portion of the LAAPFF event.

Filipinos similar to Native Americans? Hold up. This is getting confusing. I think this cross-racial resonance speaks to the indeterminacy that best describes Filipino people whose culture is mixed, creolized, and transformed by what Filipina art critic Sarita See calls a "wild heterogeneity."

But the film speaks for itself when it comes to Filipino American anxiety (from outside and from within) over their complex membership in the U.S.'s (and the world's) racial and cultural landscape. Likely to resonate with Fil Ams of all ages, as a satirical drama, The Flip Side engages questions about racial and cultural authenticity. Characters in the movie perform a series of "Fil Am caricatures" (some more painfully disturbing than others): the bahag-wearing Darius who awkwardly preaches facile Philippine nationalism, the brother Davis who speaks as if he were African American, the sister Marievic who hopelessly wishes she looked more white, the bagoong craving father, the gossiping mother, and the lotto addicted lolo.

The film opens with Darius returning home in suburban California (the film was shot in Cerritos) after his first year at college where he joined the Filipino student group Kababayan. Emboldened by his knew knowledge of Filipinoness, Darius deals with his dysfunctional family members while preaching the gospel of (his version of) Filipino culture. Darius's curmudgeon lolo stays cramped in an upstairs room, where Darius visits bearing food in hopes of connecting with the old man who for Darius becomes a proxy for an "authentic" Filipinoness. Giving away his hip hop records to Davis, Darius exchanges his default hip hop identity--an identity that Rod Pulido said he most identified with--for minstrel-like Filipino indigeneity.

Darius, played by Verwin Gatpandan, drags in indigeneity with his bahag.

A testament to the identity-formation process many college-educated Fil Ams go through, The Flip Side is both a hyperbolic critique of Filipino American culture and also a comedic meditation on the otherwise complicated circulation of racial and cultural referents dealt to Filipino Americans. For the Fil Am males in the movie, the ethnic journey is a journey to recuperate a Filipino masculinity, with Darius's bahag representing a phallic symbol of his Filipinoness and Davis's desire for the supposed African "extra bone" in his foot together with an obsession with gaining height representing his own longing for a black manhood. In addition, the heroicizing of lolo with his Battle of Bataan medals stand in for an aspirant Filipino (militant) masculinity gone flaccid, of which the two generations--Darius and lolo--resolve by tricking their quirky family members and starting a journey of their own.

Marievic is proud to be "Hawaiian."

The seeking for a more stable sense of self for Darius's siblings ultimately meet tragic disfigurement: Davis breaks a bone in his foot after trying to dunk on his modified basketball rim and Marievic's nose becomes infected after a botched cosmetic operation to "fix" her Filipina nose. But the sad idea of "fixing" a Filipino identity is perhaps the most heartbreaking lesson offered by The Flip Side, performed poignantly by Ronalee Par who as Marievic trashes her vanity mirror arrangement after her boyfriend dumps her. Her boyfriend, who is drawn to Marievic when they first meet, tries to guess her ethnic background of which Marievic agrees is "Hawaiian". "In Hawai'i I was born, that's why I'm Hawaiian," she tells him. Hawaiian, therefore, according to Marievic, is a more legible and intelligible (and exotic) ethnicity compared to the disarticulated and ambiguous Filipino. Ultimately, Marievic's desire to "fix" her "flawed" identity meets with failure and loss.

The message, then, that The Flip Side promotes is that a Filipino and Filipino American culture does not need "fixing" like that exemplified by Davis and Marievic's penchant for bodily modification. Maybe the film is telling us we should embrace our ambiguity and "wild heterogeity" and find agency in being able to play with borders. Or maybe the film is suggesting that young Filipino Americans should seek knowledge about their history, especially our history of resistance as shown by Darius's teaching Davis about Philippine "heroes."

Whatever the case, I think the tortuous racial negotiations visualized in The Flip Side work as a critique of the way Filipinos are seen as weak. I think the film performs a subtle commentary on the conceit of "purer civilizations" positioned "above" the creolized* Filipina/o and her/his aborted/injured Philippine national identity molded by Spanish (three centuries), U.S. (all of the 20th century as a colony/neocolony), and even Japanese (for three years during WWII) colonization. Filipino American engagement with whiteness, blackness, and (according to Sundance programming) Native Americanness provides a window to this mixed history. This in-betweenness references a complex Filipino racial position in the world that differs from the classical U.S. immigrant narrative that only identifies racialization originating upon arrival in the U.S. In other words, unlike many other immigrant nations, a creolized Philippines offers a grammar of racialization prior to migration. Yes, The Flip Side is a commentary on immigrant assimilation, but its also more by virtue of its envisioned "wild heterogeneity"--its characters' creolized identities.

Ryan Greer as Ralsto in One Kine Day (2010).

Another movie that speaks to the creolization featured at this year's LAAPFF is the beautifully-shot One Kind Day, a film about the trials of young skater Ralsto who encounters a series of money problems--including tense encounters with a haole drug trafficker named Vegas Mike--after he finds out his teenage girlfriend is pregnant. Director Chuck Mistui described during the Q&A that his movie addresses the problem of teen pregnancy in Hawai'i, visualizing what he called the the grittier, non-touristy side of Hawai'i.

Under the auspices of Haolewood Productions (a gesture to white people, or haoles as they are called by locals), One Kine Day foregrounds the multiracial landscape of Hawai'i with its cast of whites, hapa haoles (part white Hawaiians), Asians, and Islanders. The film, however, is surprisingly absent of Filipino presence especially given the large concentration of Ilocanos in Hawai'i. Nonetheless, the process of creolization--the colonial transforming of racial order, culture, language, and so on--parallels that of the Philippines. Both were colonies of the United States, but Hawai'i attained U.S. statehood in 1959 whereas the Philippines (for multiple reasons) remained a U.S. neocolony (which means the U.S. arbitrated uneven economic control and military authority in the archipelago). One Kine Day, with its subtle references to Hawai'i's peripheral yet incorporated status such as the recurring imagery of the U.S. Post Office, bears witness to the cultural and racial "othering" that describes Hawai'i's exotic status compared to the other 49 states. Perhaps Hawai'i's "other" yet somehow "familiar" status is why Marievic privileges Hawaiian over Filipino.

Even though during the Q&A Mitsui did not really mention the racial critique offered by his film, the multiracial cast and the tensions that emerge among its members suggest an embedded racial discord. For example, race and class tensions emerges when racially-mixed (Japanese and white) Ralsto hitches a ride with his two "brown," pidgin-speaking neighbors who recycle bottles and cans as part of their work. Ralsto blurts out he would rather have a baby than collect trash with the two men, prompting one of the men to retort: "You think you better than us?!" This scene unpacks bigger racial issues in the Pacific state, where the racial order can be described as whites above Japanese, Japanese above other Asians, Filipinos as the lowest Asians, and Native Hawaiians and African Americans at the bottom of the caste.

One Kine Day illustrates this racial hierarchy. When the story revolves around pregnancy and the anxieties of reproduction, the racial narrative becomes even more compelling. Given that discourses around race and native genocide in Hawai'i often follow a complex logic of bloodlines that mark native membership, reproduction becomes a site of the future of Hawai'i. One Kine Day, with Ralsto and his pregnant white girlfriend Alea, therefore, depicts a mixture of anxieties and hopes about the reproduction of a white future in Hawai'i. The "browner" residents embody sexual excess, risky behavior, and "improper" language (pidgin as Hawaiian creole) while whiteness (through Alea) signifies life and hope. The movie, I think, if read unconventionally offers a tragic criticism of these representations rather than their blind replication (you have to see the ending).

In many ways I agree with Mitsui. His film depicts a Hawai'i not seen by tourists. His vision of Hawai'i (whether intentional or not) reminds us of the "impurity" of the state's history, language, and residents. Like The Flip Side, One Kine Day reverses the colonial gaze by allowing the colonized people to speak back--in the "wild heterogeneity" of their creole language. The "dysfunctions" of the characters are not one-to-one representations of a bastard people. Rather, we can envision the characters as resilient survivors of postcolonial violence--"flaws" and all--who through their performance (satiric and/or tragic) will travel forward and reproduce (in life and knowledge). Yet, their flourishing--the pleasure and beauty of their creole culture--will always embody a memory of colonial transgressions.

The Flip Side and One Kine Day provide creative evidence of the racial position of creolized people in the world. Perhaps this archive can give knowledge to possible cultural alliances with other creolized people around the world, such as those flourishing in Latin America, the Caribbean, and the continental United States. Maybe such collaborations can create more creative productions that help disrupt the myths of a "weak" postcolonial people who need "fixing." Maybe one day a congregation of this alliance can gather (together with the local community) and celebrate their achievements like the hopeful group of Filipino Americans did at Sundance just ten years ago.

*I realize I'm taking great liberties in my use of the word "creole." For now, it is the most proximate word I have to describe colonial cultural and racial mixture.
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References:
Asian American Invisibility: You don't see us, but we see you!
Questioning Kapuso: Re-Thinking Fil Am Culture
You don't see us, but we see you: Filipinos under the veil

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Throwback Thursday: Celebrating Black History Month: Filipino American X blackness

Fictional depiction of Filipino "insurrectos" fighting U.S. colonizers. This screen shot is from found footage featured in the film Bontoc Eulogy. The Filipinos are played by African American actors.

In this edition of Throwback Thursday we celebrate Black History Month, which was founded by Carter G. Woodson whose connection to the Philippines as supervisor of schools during the early days of U.S. colonization makes the linkages of this blog to Black history so significant.

In my entry from April 2008, I discuss Filipino American participation in hip hop and the community's relationship to Black people and blackness. I've since refined my approach (for example, I've abandoned the term "mestizaje"), but my attempt to center Black history and positionality within a Filipino racial discourse is stronger than ever. Anyways, thanks for all the support and enjoy:

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I just got done presenting a very short synopsis of some of my research questions at this year's Association of Asian American Studies Conference in Chicago.

I showed "Hip Hop Mestizaje" and did an 8 minute discussion on what the hell its supposed to be about. Thanks to everyone who liked the film and appreciated my research on the intersections of Filipinoness and Blackness. For those folks exploring similar topics, keep on keepin on, it's an emerging topic (I hope!). Can't wait for the Filipino Soul conference that is in discussion.

Here is the paper I shared at the conference:

"Right now I want to thank god for being me
My soul won't rest until the colony is free
1896 Revolution incomplete
Silence is defeat, my solution is to speak
Resurrect the legacy of martyrs I beseech
Time to choose a side: It's the mighty verse the meek
My big brother Free brought the word from the East
We're the bullet in the middle of the belly of the beast."

These are the lyrics of Geologic, the Pinoy emcee of the Seattle hip hop duo Blue Scholars. When decoding the meaning behind the lyrics, such as “I want to thank god for being me,” we can see that his references of Filipino nationalism are curiously reinforced by Five Percenter Nation of Islam rhetoric, which is a pedagogical and spiritual discipline rooted in sects of African American Muslim tradition. In this verse, “god” refers to Geologic himself. For those who are not familiar, in the Five Percenter tradition, “god” refers the original Black man, or the god on Earth. So the question we ask is, “why is a Filipino emcee uttering a clearly Afro-centric phrase?” In my thesis, I interrogate the uses of Blackness by Filipino American hip hop practitioners. I contend that for many Filipino Americans, Blackness is both a resource and referent in their process of racial identification, and complements an existing racialized and hybridized Filipino subjectivity. Hip hop serves as an appropriate case study to demonstrate the emergence of Blackness among Filipino Americans’ racialized expressions. The recent JabbaWockeez triumph are a prime example of Filipinos’ dedication and loyalty to hip hop cultural production.

By evoking the often-neglected role of the Afro-Americanization of Filipinos, it is my intention to bring into focus the formation of race-consciousness among young Pinoys and Pinays—an effort that is built from the interventions made by scholars who have documented the process of deracialization among Fil Ams involved in hip hop. While we may be well-aware of young Pinoy and Pinays’ efforts to deracialize themselves (i.e. becoming the real “invisible” in the Invisbl Skratch Piklz), what is happening when they attempt to bring race consciousness unabashed? What does a post-1980s, hip hop generation, race-conscious Filipino American identification look like?

As seen from the video, Filipino Americans have been immersed in certain realms of hip hop forms since the late 1970s, but their participation in the broader forms of Black performance traditions dates back to contact made by Black Buffalo Soldiers who arrived in the islands during the Philippine-American War. The Americanization of the islands through music, education, and culture certainly contributed to Filipino familiarity with their White colonizers, but with the Americanization of Filipinos was the simultaneous Afro-Americanization of Filipinos. Therefore, the identification with Blackness among Filipinos has precedence, a precedence that is essentially rooted in U.S. Empire and the concomitant resistance partnered by Black Buffalo Soldier and Filipino insurgents during the war. At the turn of the 20th century when the Jim Crow South was solidified and U.S. Empire reached the Philippines, Blacks and Filipinos were rapping to a different beat, one underpinned by colonial domination and racist ideology.

Filipino Americans’ hybridity (or the “mestizaje” that I use) mediates their identification with Blackness in both its aesthetics and cultural origins. Elizabeth Pisares writes of Filipino American artists’ “invisibility” and lack of racial discourse, which allows for a flexible identity formation, moving in-between Asian-ness, Latinidad, Whiteness and Blackness. Many young Pinoy/Pinay brothers and sisters have been making visible a constructed notion of their Filipinoness through hip hop. The Pilipino Culture Nights, whose organizers were once skeptical of the “modern” hip hop sections of the theatrical shows (as Filipino hip hoppers were accused of “acting Black”), are now almost incomplete without them; hip hop has become staple for many PCN troupes. In another example, at a recent “Filipino Hip Hop Renaissance” showcase organized by the Kababayan Pilipino and “The Dark Boys” Pinoy brotherhood at University of California, Irvine, a graffiti-style artwork displayed on one panel the Philippine star rising above the Manila skyline and the word “Lost,” and on the opposite panel were displayed blaring boombox speakers along with the word “Found” (artwork by Pia Banez and Rommel Dimacali). As if evoking the Five Percenter “Lost-Found” lesson, young Filipinos continue to process racial and ethnic identification in the context of Filipino cultural recuperation. Here, hip hop is the recuperator.

Hip hop’s rise in popularity in the 80s among a generation of youth of all colors gave its resonance mass appeal, and for young Pinoys and Pinays, this resonance interwove with their existing racialized story here in the States and a broader story informed by Spanish and U.S. Empire. Commenting on hip hop’s appearance in the lives of young Filipinos in the early 80s, Geologic said in an interview “we had to respond to [hip hop] in some way. We had to either be a part of it or resist it. And why would we resist it? It’s something that we can kind of relate to.”

Even though Latinidad and Asian-ness can be powerful sources of racial affiliation among Filipinos (with Whiteness as the neocolonial racial default), my interest is the Blackness that is left unregistered, unrecognized, and even denigrated. As Geologic puts it, “I think a lot of ways when people down talk hip hop in the Filipino community, I think they do it with a tinge of racism to it. Because like a Filipino hip hop artist isn’t as legitimate as Filipino musical playwright. You know. Or a Filipino novelist. When in fact those three—first of all if they are all writing in English, then they’re writing in a language that’s not theirs. You know, so then who’s to say what is Filipino and what’s not?”

Filipino hybridity not only provides rich analysis for comparative race studies, even more, it presents the intersectionality of racialized groups and deconstructs the built borders surrounding ethnic studies disciplines. While addressing the fictiveness of essentialized Filipino identity, investigations of Filipino American performance of Blackness demonstrates the possibilities and promises of unpacking interracial subjectivities—indeed putting Blackness at the center of analysis—while never abandoning the critique of Whiteness as forming the broader structure of power relationships.

So it is worth asking, “what does a post-1980s, hip hop generation, race-conscious Filipino American identification look like?” It can look like many things, and rocking the dance floor to funk breaks and dominating the DJ scene illustrates an un-ignorable cultural dimension, like a bright colored graff piece written on a painted and repainted road sign.

In closing, it is important to acknowledge that Filipino American performance of Blackness is not free of deserved criticism. As Joel Tan writes in “Homothugdragsterism,” “it didn’t bother me that Filipino Americans we re affecting and talking Black. What vexed me was the ways this adopted Blackness went unquestioned…” Uncritical Blackness as drag should be scrutinized, especially when affiliation with Blackness does not necessarily mean a respect for Black people. In addition, Blackness in its constructed hypermasculine dimensions and its gendered role imbedded in racial significance should be taken into consideration. So in an attempt to re-imagine greater dimensions of Filipino racial discourse, a gesture towards the Afro-Americanization of Filipinoness is worth generous attention, especially for a people whose prism of difference is molded from every direction. Geologic best summarizes this re-envisioning:

“Rewriting what it is to what it ought to be.
I be the emcee in the place not to be.
Under constant revision is the poem that I be.”


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Thursday Throwback: On race and the Filipino boxing body

Throwback post in light of the upcoming Pacquiao-Mosley fight. Will race talk appear in the bout between the two boxers?

Manny Pacquiao and Joshua Clottey prepare for their March 2010 bout

This Saturday is the big (not really) bout between Manny Pacquiao and Joshua Clottey at Texas Stadium. A big disappointment because I'm sure we were all hoping for a Pacquiao-Mayweather fight. Perhaps some of you witnessed occasions of racially-tinged smack-talk when the Pacquiao-Mayweather match was in negotiations. And even though you may be the most critical person when it comes to assumptions of racial categorization, the Asian body of Pacquiao and the Black body of Mayweather still lingered in your mind as to the impact of physicality in this historic match. If you are in denial, you probably heard it from others.

In the Times Magazine yesterday, the question was posed whether the Pacquiao-Clottey and Mayweather-Mosley fights were simply precursors to a bigger Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. "Pacquiao and Mayweather: One More Until the Big One?" the author asks. The author writes:

"Pacquiao's camp says the boxer refused the blood testing because he is superstitious and doesn't want to give blood so close to fight time. He was blood-tested a couple of days before his fight with Erik Morales, and lost. "It made me weak," says Pacquiao, who is suing Mayweather for sullying his reputation. There is speculation in some boxing gyms that Mayweather knew about Pacquiao's aversion to pre-fight blood testing and used it as a tactic to duck him."

What's with all the slander and courtroom drama? Enough of the soap opera. But then again, the more drama, the more dollas. I say this "bad" publicity makes for great boxing, at least within the marketplace of entertainment.

So for now, we send good vibes to Manny this Saturday. Clottey, who is from Ghana, may help dampen the racially-tinged flames that inform the skepticism of the physical capacities of either Manny or Mayweather. If Manny wins against Clottey, perhaps Clottey will be seen as a "buffer" to the racial skepticism and prepare the way for a bigger and more measured Pacquiao-Mayweather match. It sucks that we have to always see boxers in terms of race, but that's the way it has always been in boxing (and all of sports) history...especially when boxing focuses so much on the fighter's height, weight, arm-length, muscular build...in boxing, the male body is a spectacle. Even Clottey's was described as having a "muscled body of a boa constrictor" by the Times writer. (On second thought, that metaphor doesn't make sense because snakes don't have defined muscle-groups like mammals, do they? Or does Clottey have a tube-like, snake-like physique?)

I was interviewed by Inquirer reporter Benjamin Pimentel about the race-talk happening when the Pacquiao-Mayweather negotiations were under way a few months ago, especially when Manny's mom utterance of a variation of the "N-word," which is layered with translation problems. Here is a snippet below. I think the article demonstrates the precariousness of Filipino and Black concord, but also mentions the possibilities of community-building between the two groups.


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Pacquiao versus Mayweather in black & brown

11/22/09
by Benjamin Pimentel

CALIFORNIA, United States—It’s unclear if the showdown between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather Jr. will ever happen. But there are signs that what could be boxing’s biggest bout in recent history could highlight tensions around an important issue: race. A preview came in the form of controversy over Dionisia Pacquiao’s remarks after Manny’s victory over Miguel Cotto.

Mommy Dionisia clearly did not mean any harm when, in thanking her son’s fans, she referred to “mga Amerikano at mga Negro,” which according to columnist Recah Trinidad and other reports, somehow got translated as “Americans and niggers.”

The translator got it wrong, obviously, although it’s not clear if it was intentional, or was an honest error.

Clearly, the stakes would be high in a Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. It would pit a well-known, undefeated African American fighter against arguably the greatest Asian boxer in history, who is also now being ranked among the best in the world...

Mark Villegas, a Filipino American academic and filmmaker based in southern California, who is working on a documentary on the Filipino and Filipino American hip-hop scene, sees the potential for trouble...
CONTINUE READING...

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Hip hop over homework: Filipino Americans "failing"?

Filipino children recite "Jingle Bells" in the classic

Philippine film Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos (1976).

Getting “Stuck”

In a November issue of the Asian Journal, an article entitled “Why Are Fil-Ams Doing Poorly in School?” compares the “poor” academic performance of Filipino American students with the stellar achievements of other Asian American groups. Among other startling statistics, the data gathered by the National Federation of Filipino-American Associations (NaFFAA) reports that “Filipino-American public high school students in the city of San Francisco had the highest dropout rate among other Asians. Those who stayed in school barely passed.” It continues,

“In San Francisco public schools, the report revealed, the California Standardized Test scores of Filipino-Americans in 6th to 8th grades were “Below Basic” in both English-language arts and mathematics. In the 9th to 11th grades, 42 percent of Filipino students were in the “Basic” and “Below Basic” levels in the Star Math test. California schools have five performance levels: Advanced, Proficient, Basic, Below Basic and Far Below Basic.

In Los Angeles, the dropout numbers for Filipino-American students represented 56 percent of all dropouts in the county.”

The last statement, Fil Ams representing 56 percent of all dropouts in LA county, is probably an error. The article’s author, Dennis Clemente, likely (hopefully!) meant Fil Ams represented 56 percent of dropouts among Asian Americans in the county, or he likely meant Fil Ams dropped out at a 56 percent rate within the ethnic group. Whatever the case, the data is troubling.

Furthermore, when it comes to science and math, Clemente notes,

“A 2006 Seattle School District study also found that in the 10th grade WASL test, 73 percent of Filipino-American students failed the science component and 55 percent failed the math component. Both are subjects required for graduation.”

In a December article, the Asian Journal continued the theme of Filipino American student academic underperformance, but this time it addressed their low-rate of enrollment in higher education (four-year or higher academic institutions). Melany De La Cruz-Viesca, a friend of FilAm Funk as well as a former member of the legendary L.A. poetry troupe Balagtasan Collective and current assistant director of the Asian American Studies Center at the University of California, Los Angeles, iterates the crisis young Fil Ams are in when it comes to higher education:

"'We’re not going on to graduate programs or doctorate programs. I think in a way Filipinos are getting stuck and I’m curious to try and find out why that is. Are more Filipino students going to community colleges first before transferring, or are they being tracked into these high school programs that do allow them to go to a four-year university? More and more, I think we’re getting stuck at community colleges or they just finish with an AA degree before getting a job.'

'It’s really telling because if you see Koreans and Taiwanese, they are going on and receiving their graduate and doctorate degrees,' added De La Cruz-Viesca."

Why Are We Running the “Race“?

One question I would like to raise is the comparative value of the (phantom) category of race (here, we are talking about “Asian American”) and its uncritical usage in the two articles. The articles essentially ask, “Why are Fil Ams underperforming in academics when other Asian Americans are doing better (or overachieving)?” I would like to ask, “Why compare Fil Ams to other Asian Americans in the first place?” In the same vein, why compare Koreans and Taiwanese together? Essentially, what “glue” holds these groups together—what characteristics give them comparative value? Is this a biological issue? If so, how is this different from the practices of biological racial taxonomy used to justify racial segregation and differential treatment at the turn of the 19th century? Or maybe this is an immigration issue? If so, for the sake of analysis, why can’t Fil Ams be compared to Mexicans, Haitians, or Brazilians? Why are we concerned with how more “successful” Asian Americans are doing? Why does it matter? The second article's criticism of the state's lumping of all Asians together is a step into the right direction, as the state's determining of racial membership holds a certain aura of authority. We must be self-critical when we redeploy the state's same logic.

A second set of questions I have concerns the meaning of “success”. What does it mean to be “stuck” with an AA or community college degree? Why is receiving a graduate degree at a high rate (especially when compared to Asian American groups) a marker of ethnic achievement? When and why has “success” become a foot race?

Yes, a foot race can be the appropriate analogy if academic “underachievement” of Filipino Americans can be attributed to social ills impacting the Fil Am community. Certainly, there are social ills. But also, there might be (and this is where further research is needed) a hyperbolic sense of crisis imbedded in these articles. Just how detrimental is it to the Fil Am community to receive an AA degree at a higher rate than other groups (as the second article demonstrates), rather than a PhD degree? And, what kind of job market are Fil Ams saturating? Is it lower-paid or middle-class? Is a working-class income (or near working-class income… I understand the arbitrariness of these class designations) such a disavowed concept? Or are Fil Ams really at risk of slipping into the abyss of poverty as the articles strongly suggest? Simply put, is there a sense that Fil Ams somehow deserve to align with the upper strata?

What is interesting about Clemente’s article is that in his inquiry about Fil Am’s “underachievement," he does not interrogate so much the impacts of this phenomenon as much as he offers reasons why young Fil Ams are doing poorly in school. He even questions the role of Filipino genetics, a gesture to the practices of turn of the 19th century biological racial classification mentioned above. Clemente asks, is it genetics or environment? His section, “Hiphop over homework” spells out the environmental threat hip hop plays in poor academics.

Hip Hop Pathology and Alternative Knowledge

Perhaps not as dangerous as the genetics card, the environmental argument of “hip hop pathology” poses a sinister blame game nonetheless.

Not being very specific on what he means by hip hop, Clemente paints a (and I say this crudely) “ghetto fabulous” Fil Am way of life, and apparently it has something to do with “Hiphop over homework.” He states,

“The [NaFFAA] study reported that Filipino students focused their energies more on working so as to be able to buy expensive clothes and cars. Also, they were much more into dancing and singing than studying and earning academic awards.”

Clemente goes on to tell a “success story” of Miguel Cutiongco who attends Harvard as a model of a Fil Am who “made it.” Troubling Clemente’s own genetics proposition, the author points out that Cutiangco’s parents are highly educated, having graduated from the University of the Philippines and Northwestern University. Not many young Fil Ams will relate to Cutiongco, even the most academically-talented students who dot the many community colleges, state colleges, and universities around the nation. Cutiongco’s story is just simply not relevant to most Fil Ams.

What many young Fil Ams will relate to is the hip hop story, which many of us know is not antagonistic to academic “achievement.” Especially on college campuses with Filipino student organizations, hip hop has been extremely central in day-to-day life, with dancing in particular forming a well-known social life among Fil Ams in college. At times this social life gets in the way of academics (this we know for sure), but just the same, this social life also helps us survive and thrive. This social life, as many of us can attest to, has given us a sense of meaning, passion, and wisdom. In some of us, it has even sparked a sense of social justice. For example, in a recent interview, Kimmy Maniquis, a choreographer of Kaba Modern in the mid-1990s, notes that Kaba Modern has been a positive space for community development and organizing. Today, Kimmy is a successful community organizer in Long Beach. Kimmy’s is just one of many stories of Fil Am organizers, educators, artists, performers, and even politicians who gained experience and wisdom within hip hop spaces.

Hip hop has been so central to young Fil Am life—to pathologize it would be to disown the rich texture of our community. This disowning would be a fruitless attempt to exorcise the collective soul of Fil Am youth (and for older Fil Ams who have been immersed in hip hop for some time now). Geologic speaks of our community's rich texture in “Commencement Day”,

“Up in assemblies nobody would listen

Instead rock the mixtape and Walkman

Discrete with the headphones

Threaded through the pockets and the sleeve.

You received education through the music you heard.

Cafeteria tables enable beats to occur.”

As the song goes, sometimes school sucks. The blatant historical lies and the irrelevant lessons just don’t interest young people. Geo continues,

“History repeated you repeat it to regurgitate

Slave-owning dead white men.

Folks, you know they make curriculum

Designed to make obedient drones.”

It is important to be clear that Geo is not criticizing the abstract concept of education itself, but rather the politrickin educational institution that fails students, an institution that is directly linked to the “Benevolent Assimilation” (a code for cultural extermination and colonial social engineering) of Filipinos by white Americans during U.S. colonization. The images of Filipino students reciting "Jingle Bells" included in this entry visualizes the absurdity of U.S. education, where white teachers taught songs about snow, Christmas trees, and white American heroes.

Given this history of U.S. educational duplicity, the notion of “knowledge” is already a fraught concept: “knowledge” for whom and for what ends?

And if hip hop is the story we can relate to, can hip hop offer mental "intelligence"? Can our hip hop performances express our corporeal “genius”? Can our “achievements” be gauged by our knowledge as artists, archivists, dancers, emcees, and poets? Rather than “Hiphop over homework” can hip hop be our homework?

In “Commencement Day,” a song that issues a reality-check to new graduates, Geo educates his listeners about material history, a history deliberately obscured for Filipinos, a history that many young Fil Ams seek and usually fail to find in the classroom. Referencing the Colt 45 pistol used to kill Filipinos during the Philippine-American War in the early 1900s, Geo’s lessons address “us” as Fil Ams rooted in history: we are the here today because some of us survived the Colt 45—our bodies are the proof of our survival. And today, alive in the U.S., we are negotiating the idea of “success.”

“Ay yo we made it

45 caliber proof

And your teachers ain’t believe

That you can handle the truth…

As you recognize

The thresholds of negative stress

The crossroads between

Complete failure and success…”

A Filipino student recites "Jingle Bells" as documentary

footage of WWII atrocities overlap her image.

Hip Hop as Culture to Work With, Not Against

Unlike Clemente, I want to be transparent when I use the term “hip hop.” As demonstrated by the Fil Am student organizations, hip hop is not simply a dance style or musical genre but it is also (more importantly) a cultural and social space which is historically-rooted (rather than a pastiche of aesthetic expressions). Hip hop as a space mobilizes community. This vision of hip hop, rather than pathologizing it, offers a productive opportunity to work with Fil Am youth rather than talk down to them.

Instead of demonizing hip hop and disavowing this central form of expression so dear to young Filipino Americans, perhaps we can view it as a legitimate and valuable resource for alternative knowledge. How can the already-existing elements within our culture enhance our “success” and “achievement”, both in academic life and in the “real” world?

It is important to do well in school, and it is my hope that the dismal data in the NaFFAA study improve. There is no doubt about that. But at the same time, I believe that “success“ is not only limited to classroom learning and higher education statistics. Other sources of knowledge, forms of intelligence, and “success” texture the lives of Fil Ams.

"Success" can also be re-visioned as the gaining of knowledge relevant to our own bodies and history--in other words we can successfully "win" back knowledge that has been buried. Unfortunately, "knowledge of self," which is so central to the theme of this blog, usually does not come from the classroom. For some time now, for Fil Ams, “knowledge of self” has come from hip hop.

In the classic track “Blue School,” Geo spits about the rich “wisdom” outside the traditional classroom and in the hip hop space. Hip hop has figuratively become a part of Geo, and his questions are answered on the dance floor:

“In the Blue School, class is in session,

Ask a question, cuz class is in session…

…And now my arteries connect to the amplifier wire

The music make the flames in my inner fire higher

I reinvent the language in the image of a dancer

Contorting where the floor becomes an answer.

“Primitive” Bodies, “Primitive” Knowledge, and the “Blackening” of Fil Ams

Recent journalism touching on Filipino American embodied (as opposed to cerebral) intelligence is not limited to the Asian Journal article. In the controversial 2007 L.A. Weekly article “The Fil-Am Invasion”, which portrays Fil Ams as somehow “taking over” the Hollywood hip hop club scene, paints a picture of Fil Am corporeal excessiveness, an image not too far from Clemente’s “singing and dancing” depiction of Fil Ams. In the piece, Sam Slovick writes,

“These Fil-Am kids are serious about having a good time, and that’s about it. It’s cultural. It came from the islands. The celebratory communal music and dance go way back to tribal roots. The DJ is spinning hip-hop, of course.”

As I tackled in a prior entry, Slovick’s fixation with Fil Am “tribal” bodies is connected to white historical fascination with Filipino primitive “otherness.” The Philippine Reservation at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair stands as the paradigmatic example of white “gazing” upon “tribal” Filipino bodies. The Philippine Reservation was about biological racial taxonomy: the marking of Filipinos as “less than” whites and certain Asians (see Robert Rydell's All the World's a Fair: Visions of Empire at American International Expositions, 1876-1916). Slovick’s depiction of Fil Am kids’ “tribal” “dancing around” astonishingly resonates with the historical consumption of Filipino bodies. The only difference is that instead of communing with tribal drums, we are now communing with hip hop.

Slovick and Clemente have effectively replaced a Filipino primitivism with a black primitivism, although the two primitivisms have traveled with each other since the turn of the 19th century‘s practice of racial taxonomy (see Cedric Robinson's Forgeries of Memory and Meaning). For Slovick and Clemente, hip hop has become code for a blackened racial position. It’s something that young Fil Ams “naturally” gravitate towards, distracting them from the important things in life, like school (over)achieving.

A friend to FilAm Funk, sociology scholar Valerie Francisco spells out the “blackening” of Filipinos that Clemente deploys. Her citation of Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s acknowledgment of this “blackening” is useful here:

“Eduardo Bonilla-Silva wrote a book called Racism Without Racists where he effectively argues that Filipinos belong to the “collective black” in the US racial order and, I would argue, the US social imagination…

We can’t ignore that Filipinos as well as other Asian Americans who are, in a sense, “blackened” (either by US foreign intervention in their countries–Vietnam, Burma, Laos, hella other Southeast Asian countries) aren’t also doing as well as the poster-child (East) Asian groups…”

The True, the Good, and the Beautiful

Fil Ams’ supposed “deviance” from Asian American academic overachievement illuminates how racial categories position Filipinos in curious ways within the landscape of U.S. racial membership.

The task, therefore, may not be about pinning down Fil Am racial membership, either to lament their shortcomings to a model minority Asian Americanism or to demonize their “primitive” black cultural participation. Perhaps it would behoove us to see what is happening “at the bottom”, to understand the intelligence and genius of what is already there. The alternative classroom of hip hop has at many times been the pathway to Fil Am “success”, even if that “success” may not look like a PhD or MD degree.

During martial law, Imelda Marcos funneled billions of pesos to beautification projects to superficially “cover-up” the slums and construct prestigious cultural centers to impress foreign visitors in the Philippines. Imelda’s beautification initiatives ultimately failed, making no long term impact on Philippine society. To this day, she retorts that she only wants to promote the true, the good, and the beautiful. But in reality, Imelda has not been able to face the truth.

Contrasting Imelda’s maxim, hip hop often tells the startling, the bad, and the ugly. In other words, it tells the real truth—raw and naked.

The startling, the bad, and the ugly can be a transformative thing, alarming us to the work that needs to be done. It does not conceal or pretend. It awakens and demands. Hip hop’s alternative knowledge has been a staple of Fil Am life for decades now. How much value is a college degree if one graduates without “knowledge of self”? How many of us are still singing "Jingle Bells"? Geo‘s “Commencement Day” suggests the ongoing education of “knowledge of self”, one that continues even after you toss your graduation cap into the air:

“Now you stand at the summit

Future facing the wind.

Now it’s time to let your true education begin.”

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Sunday Cipher: Love the Game

Coach Spoelstra gets inspired by his roots: "Lebron, gusto ko ng isang championship ring."

Photo taken by me. Cavite athletes got soles for the game.

Basketball in the Philippines? The Philippine Basketball Association is the second-oldest professional league, next to the NBA? Rafe Bartholomew lays it all out in this brand new, entertaining, and well-informed book.

Benito Vergara, the "Wily Filipino," despite his b-ball maladroitness, testifies to the broad significance of Bartholomew's writings. The book goes beyond basketball and seeps into the most intimate Filipino ways of living-- whether shown in politrickin loyalties, cultural idiosyncracies, or otherwise.

Here is an excerpt from Pacific Rims on one way Filipinos mastered the sport in their own way:

"Well, Filipinos have turned the circus layup into an art form. While many Filipino players are graceful leapers with hang time to spare, when they're five-foot-six, even great hops aren't enough to dunk. So the body-twisting, triple-clutching, no-look, seemingly impossible layup has replaced the dunk as the measuring stick of basketball artistry. Even in semipro and professional games, players will execute these tricky moves when there are no defenders around, just to please the crowd."

The NBA is probably the most visible pronouncement of Black life (masculine at that) for Filipinos, with hip hop being a second popular site. In a region where skin-lightening is an unquestioned practice (even for men), the rabid love for the (very Black) NBA comes at a curious intersection. (Hey, the Philippines and U.S. don't seem to be too different after all!) The veteran Philippine hip hop group the Legit Misfitz combine the two cultural resources of b-ball and hip hop in their famous song "Air Tsinelas." Rock dem flip-flops and pull off dem trick shots!

Speaking of basketball and hip hop in the Philippines, here's a clip of Masta Plann's fashionable influence on the PBA, which I've shown you before. Shaved heads not just for the ex-cons no mo!

Masta Plann on shaved heads from Mark V on Vimeo.

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Questioning Kapuso: Re-Thinking Fil Am Culture

For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV

Last week, WBO super bantamweight champion Ana "The Hurricane" Julaton made a trip to Manila. In the video above she says that this is her first trip to the Philippines. After watching her eat balut, attempt to utter certain Filipino language tongue twisters, and conscientiously use "po" in her interviews with GMA, I felt an affinity for Julaton, a Fil Am visiting the Philippines. Her U.S.-style speech (perhaps even a Bay Area speech) sounded "off" on a Philippine TV station like GMA. And the attempts to "authenticate" her Pinayness (in an earlier GMA interview she is classified as an "Overseas Filipino") goes to show the initial cultural distancing audiences may have from Julaton. But if she eats balut, calls herself "kapuso" (roughly, "of the same heart"), and recites a Tagalog tongue-twister, she is now "one of us", right?

After interacting with new friends, everyday workers, taxi drivers, and the bureaucracy in the Philippines, my impression is that too many Filipinos in the Philippines don't conceive of an existing Filipino American community. This is strange to me because we are one of the most diasporic people in the world (if not the most dispersed since the 1970s).

I would suggest that Filipinos pick up the book Positively No Filipinos Allowed, edited by my friend Antonio Tiongson. I was surprised to find the book available at Power Books here in the Philippines. The book contains revealing chapters on Fil Am community spaces that might not exist or not be as prominent in the Philippines. The chapter on Freestyle music and turntablism in the Bay Area by Liz Pisares comes to mind. And Lakandiwa De Leon's article on hip hop and gang culture in Los Angeles is also foundational.

Because Filipinos in the U.S. create culture, build community, form vernaculars, and mix with blacks, Latinos, and other Asians (and speak like them), does that make them less "acceptable" Filipinos? If we are seen as "jologs" because we speak and dress in a certain way and listen to a "darker" music, do we have to legitimize our Filipino aptitude? Do we gotta scarf down duck embryos to prove ourselves?

However, identifying a Fil Am community does not mean that the Filipino American community is separated from a Filipino experience. Dylan Rodriguez, whose chapter "A Million Deaths?" in the book mentioned above, disagrees with the term "Filipino American." Yes, "Filipino" and "American" implies a conflation where there really is a relation of genocide and death. I agree. But for now since we do not have a grammar of diaspora, perhaps Fil Am is a useful placeholder for the unique and perhaps disavowed cultural space in the U.S. created among Filipinos. Sometimes "U.S. Filipinos" is used instead of "Filipino American". Fair enough.

What is important is for Filipinos in the Philippines to view Fil Am culture as legitimate and historically rooted. Often, Fil Am culture is just as anchored to black or Chicano culture as it is to Filipino culture (note: America does not equal white). It may be that Fil Ams who "return" to the Philippines are so "different," we don't speak a Philippine language fluently, we carry an accent, among other things (including most of times financial privilege), but its because we affiliate with U.S. cities as much as or more than with locales in the Philippines; San Diego, San Francisco, Virginia Beach, Pensacola, Queens, or Austin sometimes have more symbolic meaning to us than Manila. Fil Ams have been forming community and culture in these areas for generations, and some who are well into their 80s have never been to "back" to the colony yet. Does that make us "less" Filipino?

Regardless of the reciprocated "distancing" Fil Ams may feel from the Philippines, I would recommend all Fil Ams to go to the Philippines and visit family and make new friends. This has been my motivation especially since last year experiencing a piece of the hip hop scene in Metro Manila. Fil Ams need to shed the stereotypes they have of Filipinos...their own kapuso. Fil Ams need to understand that the Philippines as a diverse and transforming nation, not as a "traditional" "culture" frozen in time (as many Pilipino Culture Nights and Barrio Fiestas would like you to believe).

But not all Fil Ams can travel to the Philippines. For one, it's extremely expensive. Coughing up two to three months worth of rent money for a round trip flight is a large commitment. We all wish we can have JabbaWockeez, Happy Slip, or Ana Julatan steez and get sponsored to travel to the Philippines. And, some Fil Ams might even be reluctant to visit. It can be emotionally taxing. To grow up all your life as a Filipino living in the U.S., and then immediately being surrounded by Filipinos in the Philippines sometimes takes a visceral, mental, and spiritual toll.

There are heeellllaa Filipinos in the U.S. who can't speak a Filipino language (majority?). It will be a joy when we can be seen as true kapuso regardless of a championship belt or MTV-approved dance moves.

Yes, we are kapuso. But our kinship embodies much more than a GMA TV marketing campaign. Perhaps we need to understand authenticity as a myth in order to accept the variations in the Filipino diasporic community. When "Filipino" is not simply equated with exotic food or funny Tagalog phrases but understood in broader dimensions will we not need to justify Filipino diasporic differences.

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Manny in the Lone Star: is this the last fight?

This Saturday is the big (not really) bout between Manny Pacquiao and Joshua Clottey at Texas Stadium. A big disappointment because I'm sure we were all hoping for a Pacquiao-Mayweather fight. Perhaps some of you witnessed occasions of racially-tinged smack-talk when the Pacquiao-Mayweather match was in negotiations. And even though you may be the most critical person when it comes to assumptions of racial categorization, the Asian body of Pacquiao and the Black body of Mayweather still lingered in your mind as to the impact of physicality in this historic match. If you are in denial, you probably heard it from others.

In the Times Magazine yesterday, the question was posed whether the Pacquiao-Clottey and Mayweather-Mosley fights were simply precursors to a bigger Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. "Pacquiao and Mayweather: One More Until the Big One?" the author asks. The author writes:

"Pacquiao's camp says the boxer refused the blood testing because he is superstitious and doesn't want to give blood so close to fight time. He was blood-tested a couple of days before his fight with Erik Morales, and lost. "It made me weak," says Pacquiao, who is suing Mayweather for sullying his reputation. There is speculation in some boxing gyms that Mayweather knew about Pacquiao's aversion to pre-fight blood testing and used it as a tactic to duck him."

What's with all the slander and courtroom drama? Enough of the soap opera. But then again, the more drama, the more dollas. I say this "bad" publicity makes for great boxing, at least within the marketplace of entertainment.

So for now, we send good vibes to Manny this Saturday. Clottey, who is from Ghana, may help dampen the racially-tinged flames that inform the skepticism of the physical capacities of either Manny or Mayweather. If Manny wins against Clottey, perhaps Clottey will be seen as a "buffer" to the racial skepticism and prepare the way for a bigger and more measured Pacquiao-Mayweather match. It sucks that we have to always see boxers in terms of race, but that's the way it has always been in boxing (and all of sports) history...especially when boxing focuses so much on the fighter's height, weight, arm-length, muscular build...in boxing, the male body is a spectacle. Even Clottey's was described as having a "muscled body of a boa constrictor" by the Times writer. (On second thought, that metaphor doesn't make sense because snakes don't have defined muscle-groups like mammals, do they? Or does Clottey have a tube-like, snake-like physique?)

I was interviewed by Inquirer reporter Benjamin Pimentel about the race-talk happening when the Pacquiao-Mayweather negotiations were under way a few months ago, especially when Manny's mom utterance of a variation of the "N-word," which is layered with translation problems. Here is a snippet below. I think the article demonstrates the precariousness of Filipino and Black concord, but also mentions the possibilities of community-building between the two groups.


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Pacquiao versus Mayweather in black & brown

11/22/09
by Benjamin Pimentel

CALIFORNIA, United States—It’s unclear if the showdown between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather Jr. will ever happen. But there are signs that what could be boxing’s biggest bout in recent history could highlight tensions around an important issue: race. A preview came in the form of controversy over Dionisia Pacquiao’s remarks after Manny’s victory over Miguel Cotto.

Mommy Dionisia clearly did not mean any harm when, in thanking her son’s fans, she referred to “mga Amerikano at mga Negro,” which according to columnist Recah Trinidad and other reports, somehow got translated as “Americans and niggers.”

The translator got it wrong, obviously, although it’s not clear if it was intentional, or was an honest error.

Clearly, the stakes would be high in a Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. It would pit a well-known, undefeated African American fighter against arguably the greatest Asian boxer in history, who is also now being ranked among the best in the world...

Mark Villegas, a Filipino American academic and filmmaker based in southern California, who is working on a documentary on the Filipino and Filipino American hip-hop scene, sees the potential for trouble...
CONTINUE READING...

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Post-racial in San Diego? No.

References:
UPDATE: "Students walkout of UC San Diego teach-in on 'Compton Cookout,'" LA Times

"Blanco: In Solidarity with 1.3% of UCSD," FOBBDeep
TV Show Incenses Black Students at UCSD
UCSD race tensions rise after ‘Compton Cookout,’ use of n-word

So this is the Obama generation? The demonstrated victory of a "post-racial" America? We "made it" right? Wrong!

In this genocidal and colonial nation, "winning" social equality--materially or symbolically--is not an easy task. DJ Kuttin Kandi, who works at The Women's Center at the University of California San Diego (UCSD) notified me of some tragic and infuriating events related to the campus last week. Kandi, like many of the staff, faculty, and students at UCSD, are put in a challenging predicament as they try to make sense, respond to, and create a long-term plan after a fraternity threw a "Compton Cookout"-themed party last weekend in order to mock Black History Month. Women attendees were told to speak loudly, wear gold teeth, have an attitude, wear their hair short and nappy. Fried chicken, watermelon, and purple drink were on the menu.

First of all, shit is fucked up and distasteful from the get go. There is no interpreting this as subversive or "boys just having fun." Secondly, the watered-down response by the university's chancellor ("this party is not in line with campus values") is sad. If black students are betrayed by the administration--when their less than 2% of the population--then why even attend a campus community that devalues their presence, dehumanizes their existence? Existence is at stake here...the value of black students' minds and presence. This is not only about the pitiful ignorance of frat boys, this also encompasses the bigger issue of the failures of campus climate.

A second "Compton Cookout" is said to be scheduled for March in defiance of the protests against the first--this after a number of protests and calls to action, and a campus TV show supporting the party and uttering that "niggers" are ungrateful and using the words "Compton Lynching."

Also, what is this, 1990? "Compton Cookout" really? Listen, I have fam that taught K-12 in Compton, and it's changed considerably and has a large, noticeable Latino presence. So the FUBU and NWA references in this party are wayyyy outdated. How white is this party??

Love and justice goes out to Kandi, Prof. Wayne Yang, Prof. Jody Blanco, all the student leaders, and everyone trying to create real meaningful changes as a result of these occurrences. Similar parties happened at my campus a few years ago, so I'm not surprised that racial caricature parties occur among fraternities. It's the actions that come after that need to be strategic and meaningful.

Where is this "post-racial" America? It's at the bbq, mocking you, grinning at you with gold teeth.

If you're Filipino, please read the letter posted on FOBBDeep's site. Jody Blanco shows that this is not just a black issue and the reciprocated relationships between blacks and Filipinos throughout history (including the Buffalo Soldiers resistance in the Philippines). This is a moment to demonstrate our solidarity. This is a social justice issue, but it's also a reflection of our times.

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You don't see us, but we see you: Filipinos under the veil

Sakun (Casualty) (1997) by Antipas Delotavo. Reprinted in Vestiges of War: The Philippine-American War and the Aftermath of an Imperial Dream, 1899-1999

Here at Fil Am Funk aka Hip Hop Lives, we love the classroom. After working as a teaching assistant for a class entitled "Asian American Popular Culture" (here is their final project...lovely), I have had time to reflect on the meaning of the term "Asian American Popular Culture." I guess one of the most illuminating things coming out of the class is students' tendencies to separate "Asian" from "American."

For example, when we talked about hip hop, some students remarked on how "Asian culture" is so different from hip hop, that Asian American rappers act like a bridge between Asian culture and (African) American culture. In other words, this can be read as Asian and Black functioning as polar opposites.

This binary is somewhat troubling. First of all, it assumes a pure origin of what is considered "Asian." That is a huge blunder, especially when colonized countries in Southeast Asia are thoroughly mixed culturally in language, art, religion, etc. and claims to a pure "Asian" culture are laughable. In fact, any claim to a true "Asian" culture (if one should be made) is kind of chauvinistic.

Dwelling on this topic, it was kind of a coincidence that I stumbled upon a question asked on Hyphen Magazine's "InterrogAsian" question and answer section. One questioner asks:

"Are Filipinos the 'black' Asians?"

Now, the meanings of this question can be taken a number of ways. Is the questioner referring to skin color? Social class? Global labor position? Cultural expressions of Filipinos and blacks?

You can read the answer Hyphen chose to give (it's kind of funny), but the question itself--one I'm sure many of us have asked or have heard asked--reveals a broader curiosity that seems to afflict the minds of more than the InterrogAsian questioner. Back to the class, then, I wonder how the topic of Asian American rappers would be looked at differently if someone also asked the question "Are Filipinos the 'black' Asians?" especially given that a silent consensus agreed Asian culture and (African) American culture were so different?

I'm sure this topic is eternally debatable. After looking at some visual art by Filipinos and Filipino Americans these past few weeks, I was pleasantly surprised to witness the creativity with which artists address the topic of Filipino and Filipino American identity.

The picture above, Sakuna (Casualty), is one example of how artists portray Filipino identity and its struggle with making sense with U.S. cultural influence in the Philippines. The painting reminds me of The Roots song "Don't See Us" where Black Thought raps with an imagery reminiscent of noted African American scholar W.E.B. DuBois's "veil" metaphor:

"You Don't See Us, but we see you
You stuck on sleep, get on your P's and Q's
Cuz you will get crept, wit no discrept
You know the rep, we keep the flows in check"

The legendary Roots crew and DuBois (image on left) suggest the "double consciousness" of blacks in the United States: they live under a "veil" in which they see and know (white) American culture and people, but yet because of the mainstream marginalization of black life, people on the outside get an obscured view of black people. DuBois argues that blacks in the U.S. know at least two lives: "mainstream" American life and black life, thus the double consciousness under the veil.

Sakuna (Casualty) paints the same metaphor for Filipinos with a literal veil covering two Filipino boys and an American flag-themed hat obscuring the face of another. You don't see them, but they see you. For the artist, the 1899 moment is one not to be forgotten.

When we look to Asia, just how "other" is Asia from the white (and black) West?

In the field of Asian culture, where do Filipinos position themselves? (We gotta go beyond lumpia shanghai and pancit canton!)

For Filipinos and Filipino Americans making music and culture, even under the veil they keep the "flows in check," hittin you with fluency in all kinds of P's and Q's. If you slept, guaranteed, you will get crept.

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That link to Juneteenth

Tomorrow many in the U.S. will be celebrating "Juneteenth." I just thought I'd throw some interesting notes about the holiday, which commemorates the emancipation of slaves in Texas in 1865...two and a half years after the official Emancipation Proclamation.

From Juneteenth.com:

"Juneteenth is the oldest known celebration commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States. Dating back to 1865, it was on June 19th that the Union soldiers, led by Major General Gordon Granger, landed at Galveston, Texas with news that the war had ended and that the enslaved were now free. Note that this was two and a half years after President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation - which had become official January 1, 1863."

It is worth mentioning that some folks are advocating for making Juneteenth a national holiday, with Congress passing a number of acts signifying the importance of the holiday.

The material, epistemological, and cultural connections between Filipino history and Black history is something that deserves more attention. So in honor of Juneteenth, I'm gonna throw around a few significant moments in Filipino/Black history, which weaves threads around emancipation and Juneteenth...
Plessy v. Ferguson (1896):
This U.S. Supreme Court ruling justified the separation of Blacks and Whites. This decision legally, morally, and culturally justified subsequent actions taken by Whites in their treatment of Blacks and other non-Whites. In short, Whites were thought to be set apart for a more glorious destiny...separate from Blacks, Mexicans, Asians, Natives, etc. (Thus anti-miscegination laws, "colored" schools, and anti-Asian immigration exclusion laws). By distinguishing the "other," subordinating of people of color would define meanings U.S. citizenship, white humanity, white labor, etc. Two years after the Plessy ruling, the U.S. would occupy the Philippines and wage war, genocide, and attempt to "domesticate" Filipinos, as they attempted with newly freed Black slaves in the U.S.

Philippine-American War (1899-1910ish...):
This began the U.S. colonial project in the Philippines. Along with Puerto Rico, Guam, Hawai'i, and Cuba, the U.S. tried to become a player in the world of imperial powers...at the expense of Brown lives. Ignore the 1902 ending date of the war as indicated in Wikipedia, cuz it lasted way longer than that (still occurring today?) The repercussions of U.S. occupation is apparent today, with many Filipino immigrants who work as nurses or navy servicemen, a diaspora phenomenon reflective of agreements between the U.S. and Philippine elite. Oh, not to mention the Visitors Forces Agreement.

Instruments of Empire. Buffalo Soldiers in the Philippines. From SFGate.

A Moment of Coalition: Black and Filipino Resistance during the Philippine-American War:
David Fagen was an African American Buffalo Soldier in the Philippines who defected from the U.S. army and fought on the side of the Filipino resistance (insurrectos) against the U.S. colonizers. A few hundred Black soldiers joined the Filipino freedom fighters, and here is a neat book describing the family of an Afro-Filipina descendent of a Buffalo Soldier.





Carter G. Woodson:
Noted as the "Father of Black History," Woodson actually served as the Supervisor of Schools in the Philippines. He describes some of his experiences in the Philippines, as similar tactics of "educating" Filipinos were used on African Americans. After his role in the Philippines, he wrote the book "The Miseducation fo the Negro" and inaugurated Black History Month (which started as Black History Week). Here is an excerpt of a bit of his biography from the Carter G. Woodson Institute for African-American and African Studies at the University of Virginia:

"Woodson described a similar phenomenon in the Philippines where U. S. teachers trained at Harvard, Yale, Columbia, and Chicago, failed repeatedly in their efforts to teach Filipino children, all because they did not take into account the alienating materials of instruction...It was pointless to concentrate “On the story of how George Washington always told the truth,” he continued, for teaching Filipino children to read from books based solely on American myths and heroes would never prove successful. Woodson readily complicated these positions by suggesting that no “people should ignore the record of the progress of other races … We say, hold on to the real facts of history as they are, but complete such knowledge by studying also the history of races and nations which have been purposely ignored.”"

I know I've written about these topics before. But today seemed appropriate to return to some hidden history. Filipino history not only intersects but can be seen as flowing within the same circuit of "non-Filipino" histories. Why do people insist on keeping history so bracketed and separate? Maybe yall can enlighten me on that. I'm sure the answer(s) are complicated and contested.

Rock-rock on.
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Good clarity on the Juneteenth myth. I agree:

"The Truth about Juneteenth" in the Grio
"...What Granger's proclamation mainly tells us is just how provisional freedom remained after the conclusion of the war. The promises of the Emancipation Proclamation were not only delayed in the state of Texas. Indeed, freedom was not guaranteed until the 13th Amendment passed, and even then, freedom proved to be provisional."