Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Posted on May. 2, 2023  /  DEIC  /  Subscribe 0

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

By Jonathan J. Wisco, PhD

Since 2009 the month of May has been designated by federal legislation as a time to remember and acknowledge the influence Asian American and Pacific Islander Americans have contributed to the history, culture, and achievements of the United States.

From a geographical perspective, Asia encompasses an enormous amount of land mass and includes countries that many would consider to be the Middle East, extending as far as the western side of the pacific rim. Furthermore, the Pacific Islands include thousands of islands, just within the Philippines, let alone other countries, each of which has a unique culture, and in many cases language or dialect. Therefore, in writing this blog post, I recognize my voice will woefully underrepresent Americans originating from essentially half of the world. I can only provide my own experience as a Filipino-American so thank you for your patience and sensitivity to my perspective.

My parents are from the opposite ends on the Philippines: my dad is from the northern area near Manila, and my mom is from the southern area near Davao. Because of this they spoke two different dialects of Tagalog, and had to communicate with the national language of English. I grew up hearing about half of every sentence spoken in one of the two dialects, and the other half in English. When we immigrated to United States, when I was less than a year old or so, my parents faced a lot of discrimination in Los Angeles. Therefore, they made a conscious decision to raise all of their kids (three eventually in total) to learn how to speak only English. Many of my colleagues have commented on “what a shame this is,” but I have no regrets. Even though I can understand most of Tagalog, to this day I cannot speak the language. I don’t think that makes me any less Filipino than the next person, but I could be mistaken. I am definitely the product of two parents who wanted to shield me from the effects of bigotry and racism, and I am definitely the beneficiary of that philosophy.

When I was a kid, we moved from Los Angeles to Portland, OR, because my parents recognized that the pollution of Los Angeles at the time caused and exacerbated my asthma. Without even knowing it, I was affected by the global environmental crisis on health outcomes, which I recognize today. My identity of being more White than Brown carried me through a 97% White public school district up through 12^th grade. It wasn’t until college at the University of Washington where I met many Asians and Pacific Islanders that I recognized I was out of place. It was during that time when I took an interest in what it meant to be a Filipino-American. Honestly, up to that time in my life, being a Filipino meant eating lumpia, pancit, and spaghetti with rice. Three events over my lifetime starting in college had a significant impact on my identity as a Filipino-American.

The first event was when one of my college Korean friends called me a “banana.” I thought it was strange to be compared with fruit! And then only after asking others what that meant (no Internet at the time!) - yellow on the outside, white on the inside - did I realize that was meant to be an insult (although it was taken in jest at the time). But, my friend was right! I wasn’t sure how to unpack all that.

The second event was when I gave my first lecture as an assistant professor at UCLA. One of my wonderful students exuberantly congratulated me for giving that lecture. I was a little bewildered by her enthusiasm for something that was within my job description. I asked her why I deserved such kudos. In her very sincere and well intentioned complement she said, “I think you are the only Filipino, who has ever given a lecture at the medical school.” I wasn’t sure how to unpack that either.

The third event occurred in the wake of the George Floyd murder when I joined a book club to read and discuss sociopolitical issues of racism. I hungered to learn more about the situation and increase my empathy for such an awful event. We read Dr. Ibram Kendi’s book, How to Be an Antiracist. (Before my next statement, I want to declare how much I loved this book because it has taught me so much.) I resonated with all of the beginning chapters of the book until I got to the chapter on assimilationism. That chapter so accurately described my skewed perspective on racism. It was hard to read. Really hard. The words reflected how I had contributed to racist ideology. It stung. But I kept reading and reading, and I packed years of self-suppression. I learned something important about myself: I recognized that even though I had inadvertently contributed to the problem of racism, I could still change course and be an agent for change.

So, I dove right in to every opportunity I could participate and contribute to the ideals of anti-racism and for that matter, gender-sex diversity and disability since the latter two issues are closer to me and my family personally. I’m still swimming. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning, but I feel better knowing there are others more experienced than myself who swim with me. There’s so much work to do because as long as one demographic – one individual – feels marginalized, all are marginalized.

I recognize that my experience is very personal, but I don’t think it’s entirely unique. I also recognize that not everyone is going to arrive at the same conclusions, and that’s okay. At least for this Filipino-American, the conversation started with honest self-reflection and a desire to do better personally. I hope we would all be willing to be part of the conversation in recognizing our own influences and contributions to make our society better moving forward.

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