Tags: #notes-app #filam [[0011. on singing your heart out]] | [[0013. on personal documentation and the case for custom software]] >I wrote this for a collection of essays a past college advisor of mine was putting together to provide a real-life perspective on Asian Americans from the Hudson Valley region. I also wanted it to live here. My grandmother, fondly known as Oma, was born in the Philippines in 1920. She is intrepid and enduringly faithful to her beliefs and family. My dad, her youngest son, once told me that Oma always had two solutions for every problem: 1) pray and 2) "go to America." Her four children each took meandering routes to follow her direction, but they immigrated to New York one by one, raised their children in the church, and prayed for long, prosperous lives for their families. Oma also fulfilled her dream. I was fortunate to live with her for over 20 years in our family home, and today she is 102. As a child, I was skeptical of prayer and saw it as a naive belief that life would work out if one just believed. As a young adult, I understood that prayer encouraged my family to cultivate a mindset of gratitude and abundance. It connected us to a kind, supportive community in the church, which provided me with a foundation in my formative years. Growing up in America, longing to understand my Filipino roots, I pursued community wherever I could. My dad and his siblings settled within a 5-mile radius of one another, spread out over Yonkers and NYC. I spent nearly every weekend at my uncle's house, surrounded by my rambunctious cousins. As the youngest, I was always on the outskirts. Some might call me the quiet one, but I preferred to listen to their adventures. Every Nochebuena spent together, my uncle's dining room table overflowed with a mix of Filipino and American cuisine to celebrate Christmas - baked ham, mashed potatoes, oxtail kare kare, and palabok, to name a few.    After school, I'd eagerly walk home from the bus stop to meet Oma and enjoy the meryenda she prepared for me to snack on. Thick as thieves, we often indulged in melodramatic Filipino teleseryes, leaving my unfinished homework for later. Every Sunday, we attended a predominantly Filipino church. I sang in the choir, bemoaned all-day potlucks, and shared these experiences with friends like me—other kids who acutely felt the weirdness of feeling such strong ties to a Filipino culture we couldn't fully call ours. We learned from and were frustrated by our elders in equal parts. At the University at Albany, I joined Liga Filipina, the Filipino student cultural organization, and was involved in the student community. I met people who I consider my best friends. I met the man who would one day be my fiancé. Through potlucks, workshops, performances, and conversation, we celebrated our heritage. We celebrated our parents' culture but learned to accept that our culture is different. Call it Filipino-American if you want. Our parents crossed oceans to provide us with better lives. We are of two places, and in this second place, we all found each other. Every day, I am grateful that we did. As my fiancé and I establish ourselves in our careers and look forward to building a life and family together, I struggle with each generation having a weaker connection to our Filipino heritage. My parents lived in the Philippines. My cousins and I fall across a spectrum. The oldest ones were born in the Philippines and speak Tagalog fluently. The middle ones were born there but grew up here. The youngest ones were born in the United States. We understand Tagalog, but our speaking is limited. To our parents, we are American through and through.  What connection will my future kids have with their Filipino heritage? They will grow up in the United States with loving parents who speak English and doting grandparents who speak Tagalog. They will likely eat Filipino food less often than I did growing up. They will definitely experience the joyous wonder of a Nochebuena spent with the entire family. But I wonder if they'll feel connected to a group like Liga. How will they one day teach and challenge me? I hope they will be even more confident and adept at navigating American life than their parents are today. Most of all, I hope they know they will always have us to support them along the way. --- Created: April 5, 2023 Last Modified: April 5, 2023