Back in My Day: Fighting to stay in my culture

While on my way to my first class of the morning, the buzz of my phone is a familiar and endearing feeling. Since high school, I always get the same message from my Mom, who usually works through the morning and leaves before I come back from class.

Ingat, mahal kita. This common phrase translates to “Stay safe, I love you,” but reading it in Tagalog makes it feel so much more special. 

However, I often fear that I may lose touch with such a beautiful language as I become more and more integrated into American culture. 

Tagalog and its many dialects are the cornerstone and pathway to understanding Filipino heritage and culture. With early Indigenous tribes using oral tradition as their main form of communication, the inability to simply understand Tagalog can be detrimental in exploring Filipino culture and coming to grips with traditions such as Simbang Gabi, also known as the “Night Mass.” 

Many words and phrases do not easily translate into English or other widely-known languages. For instance, everyday conversations between Filipinos include words such as kilig and pikon, words that only bring about more confusion in translation. 

For many second-generation Filipinos, however, it’s easy to garner an appreciation for the staples of a Filipino’s daily life, such as food, music and soap operas. But, dismissal from Filipino friends and family members is an unnecessary painful consequence of not knowing Tagalog. 

Language barriers should not prevent the new generation of Filipino-Americans — myself included — from retaining our culture because of certain barriers. Sure, language connects a person to their self-identity and allows them to participate in civic responsibilities, but it should not hinder us from exploring our family and heritage. 

For Filipinos, Tagalog symbolizes resilience and survival in the face of oppression and assimilation. For Filipino-Americans, this symbol of overcoming the odds could, in fact, be the odds themselves. Even beyond the Philippines, as many immigrant groups suffer through similar experiences as their language slowly fades away from assimilation and Westernization, a new generation of immigrant children experience an identity crisis. 

The growing population of Filipino Americans, like many immigrant groups who journey to the United States, struggle with balancing the two identities present in the name itself: Filipino heritage and Western culture. Tagalog’s popularity has certainly grown in American households — ranking third in foreign languages spoken in the U.S., which has the highest concentration of Filipinos in the world outside of the Philippines. 

Whether born in the Philippines or the U.S., Filipino Americans share a similar set of beliefs and attitudes toward their newfound home. But, an important differentiating factor between the two groups is American-born Filipinos’ curiosity to explore a missed-out-on culture.

This identity crisis divides the household based on familial values, the value of education and the appreciation of Philippine culture. Picture going to a family gathering or birthday party and not knowing anything happening — it’s your family, people that you know and respect speaking in a language beyond your knowledge. 

As mentioned before, one of the most heartbreaking losses accompanying Tagalog’s absence is alienation from older adults and family members. I remember experiences like this when I was younger and could not completely understand Tagalog, as many relatives would tease me for being “fake” or refer to me as “the American.” 

For many Filipino Americans, this confusion and stigma eventually distances younger generations from family altogether. Consequently, they assimilate with American culture, something within their grasp. 

Even those Filipino Americans who deliberately choose to investigate and understand their own culture encounter a new and increasingly relevant roadblock — the lack of education relating to Tagalog and Filipino culture in upper division American education. Even at the high school and middle school levels in the Philippines, the absence of educational resources is evident. We miss out on the true meaning of being Filipino by not learning Tagalog. This shared, yet misunderstood, sentiment can lead to the loss of Filipino tradition and culture, ironically enough in the U.S.’ “melting pot.” 

We even rationalize why these losses occur. For Filipinos who migrate and live in America, the American Dream must not be lost in vain, even at the expense of culture and tradition. In the business world, it’s uncommon for many companies to actively search for a candidate who speaks Tagalog, even with the demographic statistics provided above. It makes sense that Filipino parents would want their children to learn languages, such as German, French and Japanese, that would economically benefit family and personal income.

Filipino Americans continue to struggle with the balance of melding experiences and defying expectations, yet they created their own identity. Immigrants, on one hand, should encourage their children to familiarize themselves with their mother tongue; however, they should also welcome these children to their surrounding culture. The creation of “Taglesh” and the establishment of Filipino-American communities are testaments to the success of our community here in the U.S. for years to come. 

Immigrant communities in the U.S., sadly, constantly struggle with assimilation and accommodation, with their language and heritage sacrificed for success in the new world. But it simply does not have to be that way, so long as we make resources available to encourage intergenerational conversation. However, we cannot just rely on others to make these opportunities available for all. 

A few decades down the line when I’m celebrating Filipino American Heritage Month with a new generation of Filipino Americans, I’ll look back and say, “Back in my day…”

Lois Angelo is a junior writing about the timeless lessons learned from older adults. He is also an associate managing editor of the Daily Trojan. His column, “Back in My Day,” runs every other Friday.