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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Filipino-Mexican showdown x kultura (x champorado)

Ready for the Pacquiao vs. Margarito fight this Saturday? Will the congressman defeat the Master Plaster? Patis or Tapatio?

The match this weekend is a good opportunity to explore the Filipino-Mexican connection, a growing scholarly topic, and a visual and cultural "common sense" among many Filipinos and Chicanos in Southern California. One scholar is doing interesting work on looking at Filipino and Chicano emcees and their political messages relating to homeland and diaspora.

The upcoming boxing performance echos the influence of "real" performance traditions between Mexico and the Philippines, with the latter as "New Spain" working as a colonial mediator to the far-off Spanish island colony. Here is an excerpt from Palabas: Essays on Philipine Theater History (1997) by Doreen Fernandez, a book that outlines various Philippine "performance" traditions, ranging from precolonial rituals to Philippine theater in the 1980s. (I suppose it is up to one of you to write a book on hip hop traditions in the Philippines.)

"During much of the colonial period, Spanish culture was introduced through Nueva España (Mexico), from where the Philippines was ruled by Spain through the Ministro de Ultramar. Soldiers of Adelantado Miguel López de Legazpi in the late sixteenth century are believed to have been the ones who brought over from Mexico the metrical romances of chivalry and of the lives of saints and martyrs, which were popular in their day and which, in indigenized form, became the native awit and corrido" (5).

Oh! This explains the whole champurrado/champorado thing! We all just one big chocolate mix. Well, of course Mexicans use the corn/masa, and the Filipinos, rice. And according to some recipes, the Mexican champurrado is served with alcohol.

Champurrado...

meet champorado.

Lambanog champorado for cold nights!


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Colonial Funk! Bruno Mars in this universe!

Bruno Mars as La Bomba 2.0 at MTV's Video Music Awards last week

B.o.B. cuts it up with Mars on "Nothing on You" video

The islands are erupting on the American continent again! And Bruno Mars is surfing forward on a wave of magma. This Pinoy/Puerto Rican brutha from Hawai'i is dominating the airwaves, his hooks on B.o.B.'s "Nothing on You", Travie McCoy's "Billionaire"(two songs that were BOMBING the airwaves in Manila over the summer), and his own hit "Just the Way You Are" are infecting the world's eardrums (two at a time...mostly).

As you know, here at Hip Hop Lives we are preoccupied with Puerto Rico (see here: perreo, cuchifritos, lumidee, freestyle, wild style). And, Bruno embodies all the trappings of an island peripheral subject who is taking center stage. As a Puerto Rican/Filipino who grew up in Hawai'i, his mestizaje symbolicalizes the "inside yet outside" positionality of the United States' colonies/island states (the "American Tropics" as Allan Isaac would have it).

And when those peripheries somehow become mainstream (as in the Justice Sotomayor debates or in Obama's Hawai'i birthplace controversies), the obscured history of American imperialism winks into the consciousness of popular discourse (if ever so gently). But the "forgetting" of American island-trysting wasn't always the case in U.S. history. During the early 20th century, the U.S. congress debated on making the Philippines a state, and of course, the debate on Puerto Rican statehood persists. We know Hawai'i succeeded in becoming the 50th state in 1959. The Insular Cases in the early 20th century, in which the U.S. Supreme Court tried to rationalize the legal status of its island colonial subjects, gesture to the difficulty in making sense of people who occupy an "inside yet outside" status (or, to put in the jargon of the court justices: "foreign in a domestic sense").

Now if Bruno Mars plays basketball, that would be some crazy shit, given the Filipinos' ravenous appetite for b-ball and 2004 Puerto Rican Olympic team's slaying of the "giant in the north." (wuddup Hawai'i! got game?)

Mars, aka Peter Hernandez, has really white teeth. I think I'mma catch a case of insular!

In addition to Bruno's symbolic indexing of U.S. island colonialism (to note: I wonder if his family is affiliated with the U.S. military?), his musical success as a mestizo comments on Asian American illegibility in U.S. popular music. Basically, it doesn't hurt to kind of look like Ritchie Valens and Lou Diamond Phillips in the industry game. And in a double-whammy, if a Filipino looks more East Asian, they must perform (however reluctantly or eagerly) as a Chinese or Japanese character (who are more identifiable).

Is the Filipino mestizo the gateway for Filipino legibility into mainstream popular cultural recognition? It's worked for Brooke Burke, Nicole Scherzinger, Lou Diamond Phillips, and Apl.de.ap, who each represent their Filipinoness in their own way. Once we get over this mestizo requirement then maybe someone can finally get the homegirl Happy Slip on SNL so the world can love her...just the way she are.


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Quasi-Native Informant aka Mestizo Colonial Subversive aka the Avatar is never blue

Jake Sully asks, "Did I pass?"

It's funny that Avatar should come out right after I read The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man (1912) by Jacksonville native James Weldon Johnson, a book that foregrounds the phenomenon of racial "passing" as white among blacks. Like Titus Kaphar's painting Mother's Solution (2009) in which the artist physically cuts out a figure to symbolize the narrative of a light-skinned black daughter being sent off to live among white people as a matter of survival and economic strategy, Johnson (who also wrote the Negro National Anthem) depicts the triumph, tragedy, pain, and loss for the protagonist who sheds his black identity in exchange for a comfortable, violence-free, economically mobile white lifestyle. The protagonist is kind of like a white avatar.

Avatar the movie, however, does not care much for the point of view of the non-white (I guess blue) humans/humanoids. In a flip version of a book like The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man, Avatar fantasizes "going native" from the uncritical point of view of the white male savior. A fun movie but hardly perfect (see here and here), Avatar speaks to a number of used (but not really useful) tropes that begs to paste Tom Cruise's face (a la The Last Samurai) onto Jake Sully's 10-foot blue, abbed-out physique.

If only the Na'vi really existed, maybe all the earth's multicolored people would really unite to colonize their ecosystem. But since they don't exist then blue will always signify the very real brown and black, non-Western Other. Buck naked beast riding beasts.

We learn from Avatar that with technology we can choose our identity and "live among the savages" if you wish, so below are a few samples of appropriate avatars for the fantasizer of the Fil Am Funk.

For the mestizo in you that knows both the lives of the savage and the civilized, the benighted and the enlightened, perhaps a Jose Risully will do. "Is it PCN season already?" Jose Risully asks, his abs ripped from pre-performance crunches. A Revolution deferred, until Filipinos ride atop flying dragons...

Or, to stay faithful to Avatar's great white male hero complex, maybe a more transparent MacArthur-esque embodiment will do. "Fight for me, and I will deny you your promised veterans' benefits!" Then they will build statues for you and name highways after you.

This one is for a post-racial America...reveling in its own veiled imperialism. Does Afghanistan have bulletproof hammerhead rhinos? Cold War-era U.S.-made weapons? Yes? Oh. "Philippines, we will penetrate the MILFs," JakeBama Sully, the global everyman, warns.

But, why ruin a pretty face? You're the master user, the supreme agent. "Plug me in!" says Jake USBully. For the internet, virtual network, wired/wireless generation, Jake's hair can freakishly copulate with your database. Plug and play...and ride your beast.

Yes, you can pass...but is it worth the loss? And more importantly, whose triumph is at stake?


Ewok: "Who wouldn't want a face like mine?"

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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Live and Direct from Manila: Part IV: Mestizaje Talaga!

"Fusion" banner for the "Looking for Juan Outdoor Banner Project" that addresses the complexity of Filipino identity displayed across the University of the Philippines, Diliman.

"Shoes ko po!" a playful corruption of "Dyos ko po," or "my God!" This sign succinctly illustrates the English, Spanish, and Filipino remixing in everyday Philippine language. (Dr. Seuss Maryosep!)

Throughout the Philippines, it is not hard to see the mixture of various languages ranging from Philippine varieties, American English, Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic. From the store names at the extravagant SM Malls, to the ever-popular spoof t-shirts, to the fuming jeepneys, language play and remixing is integral to everyday life in the Philippines. Simply talking to Filipinos, they like to invert and restyle not only Spanish/English words, but also Filipino words (like "astig" for "tigas" and "yosi" for "cigarillo"...there's much more, maybe you can think of some).

With language play such a central part of Philippine society, why is hip hop continually relegated to the margins? Language creativity in hip hop seems like a complimentary fit in this society. Why is it "jologs"-- I guess a rough translation would be "ghetto"?

So, maraming props para sa mga Filipino hip hop artists doin tha damn thang. Keep up the noble struggle!

Yo, global Filipino society is such a turntablists' psychodelic dream...diba?

Stuff Fil Am People Like

In the great tradition of the popular blog "Stuff White People Like" and its spawn "Stuff Educated Black People Like," and inspired by "Ask A Filipino", here is a critical, serious, and scientific list of stuff Fil Am people like (not in any particular order).


#1 Sushi
This satisfies the Asian part for Fil Ams. The rice and soy sauce are natural ingredients they are used to. Just add pork, grease, and vinegar and it'd be a barrio fiesta for them.

#2 Picture taking
Fil Ams love taking pictures of each other, even redundantly in the dance club. This custom dates back to when white people took pictures of them a century ago.

#3 Free sandwiches. Not this.
Fil Ams will gather around free food in general, so be cautious if your multicultural org's resources are limited.



#4 Latino Culture
This usually comes in the form of salsa dancing. Move out the way when "Esa Morena" is played at one of their debuts.


#5 Hawaii (Yes, that is Jasmine Trias)
This satisfies Fil Ams claim to be Pacific Islander (minus the whole genocide thing, of course).


#6 Afro-American culture
Fil Ams' fascination with Afro-American culture goes way back when David Fagen and African American Buffalo Soldiers helped Filipinos fight against American colonizers. They honor him through corn rows and sporadic copula absence.

#7 Sportin dark colors


#8 Rockin big shades (sorry Krish)


#9 Sportin bright colors

#10 Choreographed Dancing
These Fil Am dance troupes usually consist of an absurd amount of dancers, moving uniformly. Uncle Sam says: "You're easy to control. Yet, oh so funky."


#11 Pageants
Through consent or coercion, Fil Ams are socialized to participate in extravagant pageants. This relates to #2 and #14.


#12 New York
When you ask a Fil Am where they are going to vacation, they will usually tell you "I really want to go to New York" if Hawaii is not an option. This relates to #7 because of New York's connotation with hip hop culture. Coming largely from the suburbs, Fil Ams will grab any opportunity to be urban.


#13 Basketball (5'10" and under bringin the thunder)


#14 All-you-can eat buffets
Fil Ams tend to gravitate to all-you-can-eat buffets. This phenomenon relates to American consumer influence in the Philippines, like indulging in choice, variety, and extravagance (and endless cheddar-baked biscuits).

#15 Extended college life
But likely not this.

#16 Being late
Fil Ams are always late, even for job interviews. At some Filipino masses, you will notice church starts at fifteen after the hour. Too bad it doesn't end fifteen minutes early, when Fil Ams tend to leave after bread time.

#17 Head wraps and Kufi caps
This is a gesture to their Muslim and African roots. This kind of relates to #6.


#18 The idea of revolution
Fil Ams love proclaiming the need for revolution (while wearing dark or bright colors and a head wrap). Actual revolution, however, is kind of scary.

#19 The sound of vinyl scratching
Wicky wicky wicky. Got your attention (like a dog whistle)?

#20 Loitering in large groups
This is especially true after a Fil Am youth group or club meetin and usually takes place in parking lots. This phenomenon is related to #10, with less body movements.


#21 A Tribe Called Quest
When "Scenario" comes on in the club, you betta duck cuz Fil Ams will bug out. Why do Fil Ams like ATCQ? It might be Ali Shaheed Muhammad's fresh beats or the resonating, non-threatening Afrohumanist rhymes. Or maybe its because they are a "tribe."


Any more?

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A.I.: Un-Hiding the Pinay

Ramiele Malubay tearin' it up on American Idol

In contrast to our dear friend Jasmine Trias (3rd place in American Idol season 3) who on American Idol claimed Hawaiian, Spanish, and Chinese identifications over being a Pinay, Ramiele is boldly displaying her Pinay-ness from day one (Regine Velasquez, what?!). Much love to Ms. Trias for doin the thang and makin' it big especially (and ironically) with a large Filipino (in the Philippines) fan base; she paved the way.

Now, good luck to Ramiele. Prayfully she will be a constructive force to give the mainstream a face for Filipin@ performers, since many Filipin@s in the industry must racially "pass" as East Asian, Latin@, black, or white in order to get their foot in the door. What's up with that? No shame in the name.*


Cold? Pinay Emy Coligado as Native Alaskan (carrying a real heavy burden) on Malcolm in the Middle


Lea Salonga making the ultimate sacrifice in "Miss Saigon"


Put Filipin@s and Florida on that map, girl!
(BTW: Do you think Ramiele is one of those combined names?)

*Note: I'm not "blaming" these artists for disowning their Filipino-ness. Although I'm sure there are Filipino artists who are quick to embrace more recognizable ethnicities/races at the expense of their own. I think the bigger monster to tackle is the public's lack of understanding the dimensions of Filipin@ people (like you know how we are all short, poor, dog-eating prostitutes). This ignorance is compounded and enhanced when it comes to the entertainment biz.

Choking Amnesia
The colony disappears for imperial logic to work;
Ghosts that don't haunt fall beyond forgotten.
But it's beautiful how
The colony reemerges loudly
With intention or not
To mock the flawed project.
We're here. We shine. We're dangerous. Don't act confused.

Asian Pride on MTV! But, Where Did the Filipino Go?

Hit 'em! Kaba Modern represents hard on MTV's "America's Best Dance Crew"

Randy Jackson (from American Idol) brings a very interesting (and long overdue) reality competition show on MTV called "America's Best Dance Crew," and Kaba Modern (above) is representing lovely. As you can see from the video above, no one would be surprised if they made it all the way. Kaba Modern is known--especially in California, but also worldwide--for street dance supremacy. They always kill it! And I'm sure it'll be a massacre with Kaba Modern on this MTV show.

Undoubtedly, I give my full support to Kaba Modern in this amazing feat. But, what is concerning is the lack of Filipinos (on this show) for a group bearing the name "Kaba Modern." Kaba Modern, which is in its 16th year, comes out of the bigger Kababayan, which roughly translates to countryman/woman in Filipino. Kababayan is an organization at the University of California at Irvine and has roots to a consciously political movement at UCI dating back to the 1970s. However, Kaba Modern, which is distinct but has origins to the bigger Kababayan, is focused on dance excellence and less concerned with the political and cultural priorities of Kababayan. Here is a description of the troupe from their website:

"Kaba Modern is a street dance group established in 1992 by a group of Kababayans at the University of California in Irvine. Originally put together to perform as "The Modern Suite" at their Pilipino Culture Night, the group has evolved from being a PCN suite to becoming one of the most cutting-edge hip hop troupes in California. Since then, the group's legacy has lived on, first and foremost as a family, embracing different styles and aspects of dance, creating quite a name for themselves as one of Southern California's most cutting edge dance groups."

It's great that this organization is excelling in the choreographed street dance craft (I myself come out of that scene and miss it everyday!). Even more, it is well-known and celebrated that Kaba Modern comes out of the rich legacy of Filipino American dance tradition, and it's wonderful that they are now on MTV (finally some shine!). But, where are the Filipinos? Looking at the clip above and the Kaba Modern member bios on the show's website, the Filipino representation in the group is zero. What does this mean for an organization that proudly bears the name "Kaba"? Or, should it even matter at all?



To spur discussion on the questions above, I have pulled a few comments from the Youtube clip above to further probe the tensions:

"truth is only about half of our team is filipino...the other half is a combination of people from many other ethnicities...our choreographers are of many races as well. it is this diversity and respect for all people that allows us to innovate and display our love for dance =D"

"I'm filipino and it doesnt matter if there is no pinoy on the crew I'm still proud of them as asian and they carry the name kaba modern as the group. KABA mean kababayan right, group of asian country we can call them our kababayan because we are from asia"

"Like ppl said in previous comments majority of the crew is Pinoy but the ones reppin on the show are the not cause the whole crew is a lot bigger and the 2 pinoy that auditioned with them couldn't leave the rest of the crew hanging since their the coordinators for this year I hear."

Here are some analyses:
1. Of course everyone should applaud an organization for their eager efforts to diversify their members. But what does it mean to make a commitment to such diversity, when the origins and brand of the organization is unmistakenly Filipino? The second commenter who tries to justify the lack of Filipino representation by claiming that "Kababayan" is an inclusive term for all Asian countries (if I'm reading their grammar right) is diluting the concept of Filipino Kababayan, a particular concept alluding to the promise of national sovereignty that colonized Filipinos hold dear. And if the reason is to transform the word Kababayan to reference more to the concept of a generic "family" than to a specific Filipino comradeship, that is as problematic as adopting the Hawaiian word "ohana" by Filipinos (or any Asian) to brand their organization. Considering their history of colonization and cultural appropriation, Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders in general would deserve more than an utterance of a cute word.

2. What were the 2 Pinoy coordinators who auditioned for the show (but later bailed) thinking? Was it their firm commitment to the larger UCI Kaba Modern that won over MTV stardom? If so, big props! Community before fame, right? But, at what risk? Is it fine to rep Kaba Modern without its proper Filipino representation? Are there no coordinator replacements in the group?

3. If the issue of Filipino representation is moot (because it's about the dance not race!), then why not change the name of the MTV-competing Kaba Modern group to something that does not reference the Filipino organization? And on a bigger issue, why not change the name of Kaba Modern to another name altogether? What purpose is there in paying homage to Kababayan if it is more concerned with dance excellence and diversity, rather than Filipino representation and Filipino cultural production?

4. Even if there is internal homage to the Filipino roots of Kaba among the Kaba Modern folks on MTV (and I am confident there is), is there a more public acknowledgment of the organization's Filipino dance tradition/spaces, especially since the name of the group makes a public gesture to Filipinoness?



Other comments made on Youtube demonstrate the pride people have for Asians having so much rhythm and skill. The pride here is well-deserved, but the veiling of Filipino contribution for an overtly Filipino group is dangerous.

Here is why: The erasure of Filipinos within the broader Asian American community is reminiscent of Fred Cardova's book Filipinos: Forgotten Asian Americans. For an all-Asian American group to rep a Filipino name without a Filipino face is not helping with Filipino recognition, especially in the midst of multiethnic Asian American community-building; the idea of "Asian American" will continue to be represented without a Filipino face. The invisibility and problems of racial ambiguity of Filipinos is further reproduced in this case--meaning the veiling of Filipinoness for Kaba Modern isn't making it easier for Filipinos who want to break through the mainstream even though Filipino Americans have long been invested in the labor of mainstream artistic performance. Filipinos need more opportunities to represent themselves (and also need to go beyond passing as other races).

(As a note, I'm sure these discussions are old news to the good folks in Kababayan and Kaba Modern. It would be neat to continue these discussions, and I hope folks from these groups would comment or at least read this. I'm open to all perspectives. I'm sure we'll all learn a lot together.)

Thoughts?

Hella Hyphy: Making Sense of Filipin@s and Black Expressions

"My Blood Type is an 8-Bar Loop." Music video with rapper Nump dedicated to graf king Mike Dream

First of all, before we get into heavy discussion, I just want to acknowledge deep and profound respect for Mike "Dream" Francisco, a truly gifted and powerful graf king who continues to transform minds and art even after he left us in 2000. His saying "Dream, but don't sleep" speaks volumes to the inspiration he gives to artists, young people, and those who want to make genuine social change. Here is Dream's website: www.dreamtdk.com


Mural dedicated in remembrance to Mike Dream.


The music video above, whether you think it's good or not, includes some of Dream's most legendary artwork as well as a collection of veteran graf artists from Oakland, where Dream represented. You may know Nump from the hyphy hit "I Gott Grapes" and "Oooleee" from the Native Guns Straybullets 2 mixtape. Nump's not new to the music biz having worked as a sound engineer for heavy hitters such as E-40, Rick Rock, Mac Dre, Keak da Sneak, and Nate Dogg.

There are a lot of hyphy-haters out there. Many people who don't come from the West Coast may not be familiar with hyphy, which is a musical and cultural "movement" akin to crunk in the South. Some critics say that the movement has been dying out, but its highest points of popularity were probably between 2003-2006 (right? Sorry, I'm not too familiar with it as much as others). Hyphy is sometimes described as an extravagant form of black youth expression in the East Bay Area of California: gold fronts, big glasses, muscle cars , ghost ridin' (dancing outside of your car while it moves slowly without a driver), big dreds, thick slang, bright colors, hypnotizingly fast electronic-sounding music, etc.

And then we have Nump, who is Filipino. Nump Trump, as he calls himself, is gettin' his, gettin' paid, and havin' fun: all this in hella hyphy fashion! You don't have to hate hyphy to understand the tension here. Nump (and many other Filipinos hyphied-out) are sometimes called out because they are "trying to act black." This is interesting, because some will say that hyphy is as much a Bay Area thing as it is a black thing. So, being that Filipinos are sort of integral in Bay Area demographics--and definitely in Bay Area hip hop culture, which is celebrated by many blacks in the area (Mike Dream is legendary cross-racially)--what does it mean when Filipinos make videos like the one above? How far is too far when Filipinos indulge in black expression?

Here are a few examples of some comments about the Nump/Mike Dream video left by viewers on YouTube:

"Wow another stupid asian trying to rap! Vomits!!!!"

"As I was saying,
ATL AND SOUTH GEORGIA, WHERE THERE ARE ACTUALLY BLACK FOLKS, will destroy these retarded Asians and Hyphy fags."

"one more thing...
Atlanta and South Georgia, where there are actually black folks and not retarded Asian Motherfuckas, would kill this fairy."

"fuck asian american we flips dnt consider ourselves to be asian you fucker!"

"Hey whos that gurl wt the squinted eye? she not pinay.> they should remove her race in this video. Whose the director?!!!"

"fucc all u flip flops.. mix breed bitches!!!!!!! ya can never be like us!!"

"Flilpinos are the beaners of asia is true. 3/4 familes own a "bun muis" hahahahahahaa"

"Yeah,they do a lot of menial work. What's a bun muis?" [Editors note: Bun muis means Filipino maid in Hong Kong]

"good cause asians dont get walked over. dirty pacific islanders do though. look at ur raped country dripping cum from every fucking post-empire. choke on a lumpia"


(Sigh) Do you sense some tension here? I don't even know where to start. Although, most likely, these posts are from 15 year old kids with too much free time, I think they bring up some very serious debates. Here are a few points to discuss (aside from the Bay Area/South claim to the crunk/hyphy sound):

1. The black conflict with Asian representation in hip hop culture.
2. The emasculation/feminization of Asian men in this scene.
3. The debate on racial ownership of hip hop culture.
4. The tenuous placement of Filipinos in the Asian racial category, both internally by Filipinos themselves, and externally by other Asians and non-Asians.
5. The rejection of Pacific Islanders of Filipinos within the PI category (the other choice category by Filipinos aside from Asian)

So where do these points take us? Can there ever be a successful cultural collaboration among diverse racial and ethnic communities? And where do Filipino/as belong if some people from both black and Asian communities reject Filipino/a participation?

Whatever the case, even though it may not be the "best" video in terms of lyricism, I'm glad this video was made because more people outside of the Bay Area need to know about King Dream and his enduring impact culturally. R.I.P. King Dream and to all other cultural creators in the Bay who continue the legacy! Yeeee!