Dreaming A Nation To Be
School’s definitely back. I wrote this as a requirement
for a class. We were asked to think about "nation" - what it means, how
is formed, etc. I ended up writing this. I wasn’t bargaining on it
being this personal, but there you go.
I can’t wait to go back home.
* **
My family and I moved to Grand Rapids on 2001. I had just graduated from college and idealism was flowing quite healthily through my veins. I did not
want to move to the States – at the point when we moved, I had already
begun living on my own and I wanted to stay behind and do my own thing
in the Philippines. Kicking and screaming though, I joined my family.
I never shared my fellow Filipinos’ fascination with the US. I have tons of kababayans (Filipino for “countrymen.” Bayan means “country.” The prefix ka-
is the same as “co-" in “co-worker”) living illegally in this country
because it promises more money, more stability, and more opportunities
for growth. I, on the other hand, am afflicted with the haughtiness
that comes with the city-born and bred upper-middle class. Growing up,
I already had money, I already had stability, and I already had
opportunities for growth. Instead of viewing America
as a land of opportunity, I thought it was the land of excess. I
resented it because my country always saw itself as inferior in
relation to America.
When
9/11 happened, my heart went out to those who died and to those who
were left behind. To combat the growing hatred against foreigners that
came in its aftershock, I remember seeing an ad campaign airing over
and over again. A diverse bunch of individuals were saying the words,
“I am an American.” They managed to pick individuals that looked
nothing like each other, and their message was clear: stop picking on
the foreigners. Despite best efforts though, for the first time in my life, I felt horribly different. Suddenly, we were the enemy just because we were different. We live in Grand Rapids, and we couldn’t be more different than all the other Van Somethings and De Somethings.
I decided to go back home after just 6 months in the US.
When I got back home, I embraced my idealism with vim and vigor. I was
determined to make something of myself, and I tried to turn my back
away from my bourgeoisie background. What I ended up doing was a
compromise between my idealistic and pragmatic self: I became a
teacher, I helped shape the next generation…in an exclusive,
prestigious, and expensive Catholic all-boys high school. I was
teaching boys who had pretty much the same hoity-toity background I
have, but I wanted them to realize that they could and should go beyond
that. I still wonder how effectively I was able to do that.
Now that I live here in Grand Rapids
again, with my husband, and as a full time graduate student, I can’t
say I feel entirely different. I still harbor the same resentments I
had before, albeit now with a tinge of sadness. It was a sad day when I
grew old enough to realize that my parents were human and made mistakes
– it’s the same now that I see that America isn’t so great after all. I am more forgiving of the US and its citizens. Ignorance more than hatred fuels so many of its
people and while it is a constant struggle to remind myself to rise
above the situation, I know I need to; the scornful look, the hushed
voices, or worse, the quasi-benign, overly-saccharine smiles of
condescension notwithstanding.
The
concept of a nation is such a tricky idea to define because people are
no longer limited by borders. My being over and beyond the borders of
my country has made me think more about my nation and my nationality
more. I now look and think about my nationality in terms of how it is
shaped by my being here. It’s snowing again outside and I’ll probably
have another bowl of cold cereal for breakfast and that’s about as
un-Filipino as my morning can get (oh, to have the warmth of a muggy,
tropical sun, and the smell of roasting garlic and rice!) But I am
grateful to be here, to study, to be outside my comfort zone, so that I
could go back home and hopefully be a better teacher.
I
believe that a nation relies mostly on its people for its identity and
I struggle with this because I am trying my best to define who I am in
the context of my home country and the country that now educates me –
so that I may educate my own people. I am but one person, but I know I
help define my nation; in the same way I know that one racist (insert
swear word) does not define this nation.
I
am not a proper example of the majority of my people. Too many of us
are hungry for food, education, attention, and the chance to make a
better life. I listen to my classmates who teach in cushy districts and
they complain of inattentive students and I think about the children
back home who have to make do with the shade of a mango tree for a
classroom. And they have to compete with ants to sit on the muddy soil
underneath it. I think of the teacher who teaches 50-70 students at a
time for a pittance, who chooses to remain in the country to teach
despite the exodus of other teachers to become domestic helpers in
countries far and away. But we laugh, and boy how we laugh. And we
dream, and we have big dreams.
Though I hate to do it, I must: In relation to the US, the Philippines is a poor nation. It is small, it is easier to ignore its needs.
Someday though, I hope when we do become great, it won’t be a relative
greatness, we’ll be great just because we are. That is my big dream.
