It’s pretty much the end of Asian Desi Pacific Islander Month, but better-late-than-never is a fitting way to sum up my appreciation for being Asian-American.
My Asian identity is something that I’ve come to love and appreciate a little more each year. Growing up. I didn’t want skin color to be the reason people didn’t consider me for roles, opportunities, or even relationships, so I often downplayed it.
Little by little, though, that shifted. And when I found out Rhys was on his way, I became even more intent on passing that part of my identity on to him. I mean, genetically he’d only be half as Asian as me, but I wanted him to LOVE that half. I started brushing up on my terribly imperfect Tagalog. I asked my mom to babysit him in it exclusively. (She sort of listened). I plan to take him to the Philippines as soon as he’s an age where he’d remember that trip.
In this moment especially, of ramped up xenophobia and fear, I think it’s especially important to celebrate culture and identity and family.
I love that so many of us share the story of parents and grandparents who silently sacrificed a TON to leave us all better off.
I love that our different cuisines feature a diversity within diversity of flavors and histories.
I love how travel bloggers and Anthony Bourdain can’t stop talking about the warmth of the Filipino people after their visits. The Manila episode is Parts Unknown at its finest. Maybe someday we’ll get a foodie travel show with a Filipino host. I volunteer as tribute.
I love our tendency towards collective thinking, especially seeing the negative impact of toxic individualism during a crisis. Collectivism itself isn’t perfect, but it’s different and refreshing.
I love that our brightest days are still ahead.
It's An Honor Just to Be Asian
