Francis gave me a writing prompt for my blog, so I’m running with it (with an edit). People don’t understand why I left America. But it’s more than that. Why did I come home to the Philippines? When I phrase it like that, maybe you’ll understand. But when SO MUCH of the Philippine population dreams of life outside their own borders… What I did is unthinkable to many. I gave up on life in a first world country to try and help the land of my roots, my heritage, my blood.
Why did I give up America for the Philippines? Filipinos don’t understand that. But I believe as a Filipina-American, that I have a duty to help the country my family left, using my skills, my education, and the opportunities that were granted to me that others are not so fortunate to have in their grasp.
I discovered a secret in sophomore year of high school, that transformed me from an annoying teenager into a hotheaded Philippine patriot for the rest of my stay in the States- this is a secret in to be found in the pages of history.
At the risk of sounding like an angry fifteen year old once more…
Do you have any idea what America did to the Philippines over 120 years ago? It betrayed an ally in the fight against Spain, and invaded a friendly country that had just declared its own independence. Imagine you’re a Filipino fighter in the revolution against Spain, recently victorious, just there in Manila around Intramuros. And then you see your big white allies. Hey, Joe! Hey bro. Why you pointing those rifles and shit at us? We’re friends, right? Right?!
I was a teenager looking for my roots in a US high school library. I devoured so many WW2 books on the Philippine side of things, and when I dug deeper into history, when I ordered book after book through the librarians, I found this. That America betrayed its closest ally in Asia for the sake of creating its own empire as empires were crumbling around it. It ‘bought’ a land and people that were not for sale, from a country that had lost control of them.
I could rant for years on this, but I’m not that teenage hothead anymore. At least, not so much. But with how my dad explained his experiences to me, and his views of our homeland, I dreamed as well of helping it overcome the crippling blow dealt during the time of our ancestors.
We wonder why the country is so burdened with corruption today? But America the conqueror sent all our patriots to exile or to execution, after we’d won our independence from Spain. Spain killed Jose Rizal. But over a century ago, America’s leadership killed the hope of our country for a nationalistic, patriotic, somewhat selfless example of leadership. It took a toddler nation and broke its legs so it could push us around in a wheelchair and make us grateful to it for the act. And now we are, so literally, crippled by corruption and poverty as a result of that. The Philippine independence and government granted to us after World War 2 had systems in place, flaws, to make sure we’d never bite the hand that pushed us around for so long.
And here I am, hoping to be part of a generation to fix our nation’s crippled foundations and mishealed legs through writing. We can’t turn back time, but we can try from the present to fix things for the future of our beloved country.
I was there to listen when F. Sionil Jose said, over a decade ago, that there’s never been a second Rizal. Just like my father said. And if Jose Rizal were to write today, he wouldn’t write Noli and Fili as it was back then. He’d write something modern.
So for the sake of that, I write my own fiction. Science fiction, even. In the hope that dreams, shared, can shape a better future for our country.
That is why I left. That is my secret.