"What does America stand for?"

Part I. The Quick Question of Identity

“Where are you from?”

Like most non-white people in America, I have been asked this question countless times since I was a young adult. The simple answer is: “I’m from Queens.” That is where I was born and raised, and typically people associate birthplace with their from-ness. But this apparently was the wrong answer.

“No. Where are you really from?”

“You mean, what neighborhood? I grew in Jamaica Estates.”

“No - are your Chinese or something?”

I quickly learned that when random people asked me that initial question, they wanted to know my ethnicity, what country I or are my parents are from. This made me realize that I seemed foreign to many people. I wasn’t seen as American because of my dark black hair and brown Asian eyes. Because of this reality, that non-whites in America, are not initially seen as American, I began to feel self-conscious in the place of my birth, my country of origin; this state of being has followed me into the middle age stage of my life.

Even though I grew up in an ethnically diverse neighborhood and have lived in the immigrant-built city of New York all my life, I have often found myself in states of collision and fission regarding my identity. With my family, there was a divide between my parents who emigrated from the Philippines and myself; their strict Catholic values collided with the American grunge ethos of the 90’s and my rebellious teen spirit. As I got older, I began to feel myself being split into different me’s. There was part of me that excelled in math and science and the part of me that loved writing poetry; the anak who loved sinigang and arroz caldo, especially the tripe in it and listened in Tagalog but could only speak English; the teen who turned pescavegetarian after seeing PETA pamphlets then had to stop eating tripe; the college student who dropped chemistry and became an English major; the young woman who got married on a small beach in Oyster Bay instead of in a church.

I could write several pages of all the pieces of me that sometimes fit together or clash with one another depending on the context. But what’s important is that over decades, I’ve learned that answering the question, “Where are you from?” is not easy. It requires years of inquiry, piles and files of literature, dialogue, flexibility, and open-mindedness. While I used to feel anger and frustration toward people who asked me this, I realize this question could open up dialogue and help this country become more inclusive and accepting of all.

“Where are you from?” is a question we should all explore in ourselves and others, that we should respect and appreciate that all people in this country have a rich cultural history to tell, and that all our stories matter. People need to stop thinking that to be American means to be white. America has many faces. We are all from many different parts of the world. This is something we should accept, respect, and value. From-ness is complex and consists of many places, generations, histories. Our nation is rich and unique because our from-ness is global.

Part II.

In the next few blog posts, I want to explore the question of identity through different texts I’ve recently read:

1. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
2. Fresh off the Boat by Eddie Huang
3. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi
4. American art at the Whitney Museum
5. An op-ed from the New York Times titled “What Does American Stand for?”