by Diana Lim
I am a Philippine-born Filipino-Chinese. My parents, however, despite being naturalized, made it a point to tell me everyday not to associate with Filipinos.
During my school days, identity wasn’t really much of a problem since I was fairly popular amongst both Chinese and Filipinos alike. We never spoke of differences; we all shared one common problem -- studies.
The onset of the real world started after graduation. I worked for a Chinese architect who earned tons of money but treated his (Chinese) employees poorly. We neither had benefits nor did I, as a newbie, got minimum wage (which I didn’t mind since our family was well off and experience was what I was after). We were never credited for our designs; not even a simple word of praise. I was slaved for 45 days and even got attitude from a female Chinese receptionist who spent her time chatting away on the phone when the boss was away and kissing up when the boss was there.
Contrary to the reception of my Chinese boss and co-employees, the Filipinos whom I had the pleasure of meeting at the building’s cafeteria were very friendly. I, on the other hand, owing to my parents' constant sermons, was very wary of them. For every word of praise they gave, I was always thinking, “What’s the catch?”
After leaving the firm, I decided to strike it out on my own. I went into the construction business, interior designing condominiums and townhouses. Honestly, I felt uneasy being a Chinese boss over Filipino construction workers. It was here where I felt the gap. I felt like workers were making fun of me and sometimes mocked the Chinese language behind my back.
My insecurities made me an easy prey to them since I was overly accommodating, maybe in hindsight, to show the Filipinos that the Chinese are not bad people at all. It might sound inane but I, an educated well-off person was looking for acceptance from those guys only God knows which rock they crawled out from.
I got married in 1993. I was ecstatic that I was going to marry a fellow Chinese but my mom often chided me that I would not be able to marry one since I was so Filipinized. I even bragged to her that my soon-to-be mother-in-law was more modern and Filipinized because they spoke Tagalog in their household. But my joy was short-lived.
Underneath that façade, I found out, were a schizophrenic-compulsive mother-in-law and a Maoist-diehard Chinaman father-in-law. Suffice to say, those were not easy years. Everything I did was on scrutiny, the mere fact that I spoke fluent English, everything I did was labeled as “Filipino” with a matching look of disgust.
Here I felt I was at a crossroad, these Chinese fanatics think of me as an outsider looking in and the Filipinos treating me with tolerance and sometimes envy or disdain.
From my experiences with the Tsinoys, with whom I have had the pleasure of being acquainted with through the years, so as not to stereotype, they were no great shakes either. I have had many bad experiences with them, which makes me think: "If the Chinese (I am not saying all) are like these, could the Filipinos be worse?"
What are we really? This is the 21st century but if we say we are Filipino, the Chinese here would beg to differ vehemently. In my opinion, Tsinoy or Filipino-Chinese is just like a word to show ethnicity. Abroad, we all are Filipinos! What should we strive for: diversity or integration? Can’t we be Filipino without losing our identity? Or should we be more traditional and badmouth the people of the country where we grew up in, make our lives in and earn from?
I am hoping that I can lift the veil my parents and others have instilled on my mind and that others who have read this article be more open minded that Filipinos, like us, are also human and has, like any other Chinese, their share of the bad and the good.