BALIKalisBAYAN

BALIKalisBAYAN

by Arianne Aquino

written, edited and This will probably have changed by now.

This is both objective and therapeutic.

etc

in

2016

Shout-out to Microsoft Word, iScanner app and Pixlr. Everyone who donated both time, money, inspiration and love. It’s sustained me. Then and now.

This is for ya’ll. This is for everyone. This is for me. This is for us.

Arianne you’re going to get called fat again. Oh you know how family gets, brutal honest or unoriginal commentary. Much to my dismay, when I thought maybe my thickness wasn’t a topic of conversation I heard what some folks said. It wasn’t malice I

Arianne you’re kinda dark compared to the east-asian looking models and famous people. Every inch of this fucking country praises light-skin I don’t believe people who say otherwise. While reading Elite, I learned about a phrase ‘brown mestizo’ which I am believe it, just conditioning.

realizing I might be. Also realistically in the grander makeup of the country, most Filipinos are still very much brown and to them I seemed light-skinned. I had to remind myself that my childhood was mostly spent interacting with snobby Manila and its mean dwellers. Oh

god Arianne, your Tagalog is going to be so ugly everyone is going to laugh at you. Maybe don’t even try. Just close your mouth and smile.

Honestly my Tagalog was really not bad and yes to some it was obvious that I wasn’t necessarily from the region I had enough I needed to defend myself at the baseline. Like a

Also no matter how hard you will try to blend in with everyone’s fashion your fashion will be loathe and people will think you dress awful. Somewhat true. I couldn’t help the muscle, it gets stronger the more you train.

pieces I brought. I’d rather be comfortable with what I’m wearing. Even when I tried to dress down along the same lines to blend in and divert potentially-dangerous attention to myself, it was still very much obvious I was “somebody else” – that I wasn’t necessarily from Manila, nor Abroad but maybe just a hipster here. I asked my maid one day on the way to somewhere what she thought of my outfit (realtree top, highwaisted semi-loose Levi jeans and black tevas) and if it was obvious I was from another country. She said “Not really [to the Q about being foreigner].” “Really?” “Parang japorms lang.” (translation: Slightly Japorms). Japorms comes from the word porma which means dressed to impress. I wasn’t dressing to impress but the word is use by folks who are impressed. Its also a word use to describe fashionistas (forefront of fashion) and hipsters (dressed very different from the usual)... I haven’t been called a hipster since I lived in Los Angeles.

I saw extended family who I haven’t seen in years. Two from my dad’s side: My uncle visiting from Australia then my aunt and her family who live in Bulacan. Mostly my mom’s side since they’re (semrich to rich to very rich lol) the ones who stayed in Manila. They played polite which I understand. I cant immediately connect with someone I haven’t seen in so long nor whos name and connection really remember. My mother’s parents due to their ailing health and the government’s lack of support for senior citizens have caused some drama in the family.

It was nice to see family.

Clear to white to pink to red. Some people are blood red. I cant handle clear white nothing.

Pink is better than clear white nothing.

But closer family bonds don’t happen immediately.

I want to connect more, genuinely. But that shit takes time and effort. I also wonder is it worth it? Would they want to do it to? What benefit is it? What does that look like?

Would they even like me?

Adults are busy and we’re all over 21 now.

Its funny, you know The Philippines is the most westernized country in Asia Not Southeast Asia, but all of Asia Which I kind of hate.

Even if I’m told and find myself being “so Filipino” in the group, I’m still the most westernized.

XOXO, JD + SED + DENDEN Meet people! Meeting people to … romance with? Of course I thought about it. I was excited to meet anyone and everyone I could and sometimes when you meet someone you meet people who stick out to you in that romantic way-ish lol. Vomit. I really was not expecting it… also because I absolutely dread this kind of shit. As a romantic I fall hard and because I fall hard I hate all the drama romance can be, well knowing how and who I am with it. Yet I met someone. I “met someone” three times. I met three boys. All made me feel different but still the same.

I met Sedrick without knowing it. Some boy at a beach lunch. Again at a CEC meeting as Prime’s assistant notetaker. The next day we were set to do some farm work and surprise? He’s our lead. An embarrassing truly memorable icebreaker happened between him, Jeanelle and I. Beach time reward for the farm work. Which I spent some with them, some alone and the rest (unplanned) with Sedrick. Ask basic questions and get to know, as most of the environmentalist we met were above 30. Instead, we spiraled into dazzling conversations about our deepest ambitions, our life as it was before this, what we like/dislike in a partner and our dreams for a new Philippines.

Fireworks weren’t the only sparks that 4th of July. “So what’s up with Sedrick?” folks asked a day after. I don’t know, you tell me. I couldn’t tell if he was just really charming or genuinely flirting. We remained in light contact while I was in Indonesia and had phone calls when I was back in Manila. I wrote him a letter and a poem before I left for America. th

JD was fucking ridiculous. If I was probably a white girl who fantasized the tropics, JD would be the boy for me. As our banka that took my friend and I to the cove was being hauled onto shore by 6+ grown ass men, JD comes out of the water to help. Board in arm, tanned from excessive surfing and with boardshorts so low you would’ve thought shit was painted and dripping off. His hair wasn’t even that long but he managed to flip it? He doesn’t stop talking to Tony in Ilokano as he invites himself to join us at the local waterfalls. He jokingly bickered. Little did I know me picking at him really set the stage for him to lock his true gaze at me and not my bestfriend. “Pwede ba mang ligaw?” (Can I court you?) he asked. What if you’re runner up? “Surfer ba siya? Loyal ba siya?” (Is he a surfer? Is he loyal?). I came to learn JD would repeat ‘loyal’ many times in describing his candidacy. I asked him why and he said because I’m beautiful and I scoffed and said why would you think that when I don’t look like other girls (skinny + lightskinned) and he lost his shit. He went off (affectionately) that he’s not like that kind of guy, how he doesn’t affiliate with people like that, if someone says it it should be true and that I have attitude/perspective issues. I laughed and listened. He ended up calling Tony ugly for being dark, a case and point on my end but he didn’t see it. He “told” me to come back so he can formally court me. He made puppy eyes as I left and I told him pull your pants up and maybe I’ll come back. I later learned that none of the local tour guides really don’t fuck with JD, they consider him annoying. Good kid, but I can see why.

Sweet quiet Cancer Kalinga Denden. We walk into the Indigenous and Kalinga gift shop. As a I perused the shop I didn’t notice there was a museum attendant in the room. He had headphones one, occasionally looking up from this really impressive pencil portrait of someone. I asked him if he drew that and he said yes. I also didn’t notice that there a traditional tattoo studio in the room, separated by beautiful textiles. I asked him can people really get tattoos here? He said yes. I asked him who does it? He said him. I asked who taught him? He said it has to be part of your lineage. I asked him if one can get a tattoo today? He said yes, though usually by appointment. I said okay. He said wait what? I said let’s get it done today then. He said really? I said really.

He asked really again. We went to the office where I got a mini orientation, signed some paperwork and put my number down. After it was done, we walked back to the office to show the staff and to take a photo for their binder. As we were walking there, he asked if he could have access to my number. I joked “Bakit? Liligawan mo ako?” (Why? Are you going to court me?) but said “sure”. Before I left he asked his friend to take a photo of us, which I later found out was not standard practice. I told him to make sure to text me because I want to ask him questions, since with all the Kalinga tattoo buzz only circulating Whang-Od and her tribe, I was curious to ask him about that stuff. I thought he was cute – sensitive hotties type but I wasn’t thinking much of it. He texted me the next day. He’s only been at the museum for a few months. Pretty unfamiliar with Manila. He said when I come back and he’s not at the museum to go find him in the beautiful mountains of Kalinga. I didn’t think he had such a big crush on me but I tend to be very very very oblivious to that stuff.

I did meet + have crushes on some femmes while I was there but no magic sadly maybe I just don’t look “gay enough” as often in Philippine culture lesbians/queers are more masc presenting than anything else.

July Twenty-Seven Twenty-Sixteen “I can't believe I've been here for almost a month now. It's been 3 days since the KBKN Relief Mission ended and I just can't believe it's over. I'm not surrounded by beautiful people listening to inspirational stories and struggling on what to wear since none of us have done laundry in two days lol I'm not with farmers talking about unjust corporate developments on equally unjust unowned land. I'm not with fisher folk asking them about sharks and tourists. I'm not with a sweet trans Aeta girl conversing about the lives of LGBTQ folks in America (she asked such good questions too!!!). I'm not learning about the difficulties of upland farming and learning native grains and vegetables. I'm not with Lumad evacuees exchanging feelings of inspiration as their existence gives me hope and our visit fuels resistance. Im not being teased about a certain someone anymore haaaaaaaa. Also, I'm not being forced to say my talambuhay anymore thank god lol (jk Jeannel). But although this time I'm not doing any of those things I'm left with all the influences this KBKN trip has given me. I can't believe soooooooooo many - too many to list - amazing things came and went. My disbelief ran so deep in my body apparently that on the ferry ride from Leyte to Mindanao I feel asleep so hard that I woke up actually forgetting I was on this trip. That somehow I never actually ended up going and it was just another summer day in Olympia. At some point I was even so scared that I had woken up into a dream and that in reality I was just back at work writing training manuals. Although grueling, challenging and very physically/mentally/emotionally/etc demanding the pace and content of the program was I honestly would have loved to keep going for another month.

Coming back to Manila from Davao, I've woken up to this site (pictured here). I've been staying at my grandparents house. That's my childhood home across the street, a place I'm no longer able to access since it was sold to another family close to the time when we had just left. That's been a weird feeling. Someone asked me how I've been feeling after coming back and seeing the Philippines in a different way after 13 years of being away. I find myself internally struggling to process since all July I've been exerting my energy being very focused on the present. It's been difficult to collect my mind and make sense of all that I've thought and felt on this trip and it's only one part of the summer plans too wow. Don't worry I plan to make two zines: one about the KBKN program and one about alllll the gooey diaspora related stuff. Tomorrow I leave again for another stage of this meaningful summer.”

GAYAMAN: A Manifestation Of An Intention On August 30, 2016 I got my first tattoo. I’ve always wanted one. Maybe full sleeve one day. When I learned Filipino culture has traditional tattoos – that’s what I wanted my first to be. When news of Whang-Od (or Fang-Od depending where you read it from) came out a few years ago, I wanted her to tattoo me. I never thought I’d get from her since when the hell am I ever going to travel to Kalinga let alone the Philippines. / / During our time in Zambales, I met Anna who told me about her travels to Kalinga where she received a tattoo from both Fang-Od and her protégé, her granddaughter Grace. Anna described to me how –almost a days worth – traveling to that location in Kalinga was really not that bad and very cheap. Should we re-do the rest of the trip? / / At the Pinto Art Museum in Antipolo City, I found myself staring at the opportunity. Denden. 22 years old. Sweet Boy. Cancer Sun. from Kalinga. In-house tattoo artist at the Museum. I have a lot of beef with museums hosting indigenous art (HONORING OR FORCED TIME-CAPSULE?) but here was an attempt by the museum to keep the art alive… literally. Some of it hurt like it hell but something about the methodology, the monotonous sound of the batok, the presence of my bestfriend and the admirable intention of the museum helped ease the pain. / / Gayaman means Centipede. Yes I paid money for the tattoo. Yes Whang-Od does it for free. Centipede represents bulon ti mangayaw, friends of the warriors. As a Balikbayan, isn’t that what I can be? I’m not grown in the motherland so I cant relate to the same first-hand oppression they do. I can use my power, privilege and etc to assist them the best I can. Curved Centipede?

Denden thought the female Gayaman would “look better” and because I’m a female I guess wtv lmao / / When my dad saw my tattoo peeking out of my shirt at Pepboys, he asked “Why Kalinga? You’re not even Kalinga!”.

All of a sudden my dad was about “authenticity”? / / During my KBKN time in Mindanao, someone had shared an observation they made about Indigenous activists. Although they ride or die for their indigenous culture and heritage, they still identify as Filipino. They speak Tagalog and exercise aspects of greater Philippine culture. I likely do not have ancestry with folks from the Kalinga region as I am more closely tied to the Badjao, creoles based in Zamboanga and Ilokanos of mixed heritage. There is a unique air in relation to Filipinos getting indigenous tattoos; Although not katutubo, we proudly identify as Filipinos. I wonder if the katutubo support for ‘Filipino’ comes from a place of, “we look alike and we both got fucked over by Spain & the US – let’s be friends?”. / / I’m not going to claim I’m Kalinga nor an Indigenous identity. What I’m going to claim is my diaspora identity. Pride, responsibility and accountability in my attempts to reconnect with The Philippines. Yes, I am not Kalinga but I am Filipino. I asked Denden recently over Viber if he thinks its weird that me as a nonKalinga having a traditional tattoo and he said, “Its okay. You’re Filipino.”/ / The tattoo serves as an homage to my blurred roots, if that makes sense. Its technically the only thing I can honor. / / / I acknowledge my shared roots with the people of my motherland and I will always keep that and them in my mind and in my heart. Many Fil-Am’s are also having these critical discussions with each other. I don’t know if we’ll ever come to a conclusion since what may makes sense here definitely may not make sense there. I’m just happy where having these conversations.

HOMAGE HOMAGE

I think one of the hardest reflections this trip has given me is my immigration. Some of the folks on the trip weren’t born and didn’t have a childhood in the Philippines but I also cant speak that they cant relate because the KBKN trip didn’t really give us space for that. I fucking hate migration. Not to say I 1000% know my life would have been better growing up in the Philippines because I literally fucking don’t and knowing my parents there is no way (aside from a mountain of money but also not really) they would’ve raised us in the Philippines. I sometimes just have a feeling it would’ve been better. I don’t usually feel certain about a lot of things but this powerful, sad, longing of an emotion is so powerful I daydream of mediocre things like eating fishballs on a stick dripping in sauce on my way home from school.

One of the things that hurts me the most about migration stories is the passion people have for “a better life in America”. Especially when parents say that. I wish before parents or soon-to-be parents really decide to have a life in America, theyre given a crash course on shit that comes with the (pseudo) economic equality offered to obtain that better life. No doubt it is a better life for many like refugees but no one ever tells them about the huge fucking package of racial identity issues that arrives on their doorstep every morning. Cool, you wanna come to America? Just know there is a deep, messy and silenced history of racial violence in America. Don’t believe in the concepts of “race”? Well in multicultural America you better start learning. You don’t want your kid to be a football star “because he is Chinese”? Ever thought that maybe America’s diversity comes at a price? Aka having to ACTUALLY engage with the real aspects (the good and bad) of interacting with those communities? Of a land were everyone has a right to everything like the right to hate you for what class/race/gender/religion/etc you are.

Would that crash course still attract folks? Would it deter them? Would they buy into it? *** I got my America citizenship in February of 2016. I’ve been in America since 2003. My friends threw me a party after my Naturalization Interview even though we all knew that America is awful for reasons lol I like to think that the party was also for my parents, who dedicated their life for that naturalization certificate. I think they would’ve liked the party.

My family looks down on me for thinking critically about race relations in America. We’re Filipino but only when it’s a nice brooch to show off. Inside, we’re really trying to be white. Sometimes I think what if self-appropriating your own culture is real. Yeah Filipino food is great here is a taste! Fighting for the rights of Filipino veterans who served for the US but never acknowledge? Not interested.

Moving here was easy because I was young and didn’t know a lot of things and just believe my parents when they say the Philippines is awful. Now I’ve seen it for myself as a balikbayan and I’ve got shit to say about that.

I got money. Not much money, but more than they got.

My family use to be in the landlord class due to my father’s dad. He used to own a ton of land to which the wealth translated down to his kids. By no means were we Marcos-Hacienda-Luisita-landrich but thinking of how +70% of the Philippine people are landless farmers, you can imagine the stark wealth gap. One bad decision led to another and one property remained under his corporation, the 5-story apartment complex up the street from my house. We use to have parties on the rooftop.

Everyone was invited.

In most circles if not all, it is taboo to talk about money – but I want to be honest. My grandmother gave ₱15,000 as spending money for the two weeks I’ll be there. I asked Sedrick how much his internship stipend was – ₱6000 for a whole month. She gave me money before I left for Indonesia, money for when I got back to Manila and money when I was running out.

All of the communities we visited for KBKN were considered peasant communities. Some had to pump their own cold water in buckets. My house in Manila had running water at both temps. They had to farm for their food. I had a maid who cooked whatever I wanted. Hitching on a tricycle was how you got around. We got connected to a private driver. Money was hard to come by. All I had to do was ask the Secretary. Most had to confront their privilege as a Fil-Am with having overseas wealth and power, along with that I had to confront mine as a balikbayan whose place was higher in the cultural and class hierarchy than many of the communities I visited. If I ever wanted to live the Philippines, I was kinda set.

Even when I was trying hard to separate myself from the wealth I was attached to I found myself in so many “normal” spaces that really were rich by normal Filipino standards. For a family birthday dinner we ate at the fancy ass buffet at The Shangri-La Hotel in Makati, Manila’s lush business district. But it’s normal to eat out for a family member’s birthday right? My aunt who married a pastor had a nice house with high ceilings and many amenities. If I simply reject “wealth”, wouldn’t that mean rejecting and alienating family I’m barely getting to know again?

I thought about how rejecting and distancing myself from all of this would make me a better Fil-Am to the communities I cared about. But I don’t want to be another rich-kid-gone-rebel assuming dropping everything is THE way. I’m normally against wealth and luxury at the expense of exploiting and excluding people – and I say normally because its hard to challenge capitalism! – but this has really helped me understand the nature of my balikbayan privileges and how I want to keep connecting with family AND work towards the liberation of all Filipino peoples. Its made me want to and still think critically and act with intention to strategically use it to forward anti-oppression work there knowing all my class strength and weaknesses… neo-Ilustrado anyone?. I could never really abandon my privileges because they are given to me by a rigged system, a system upholded by more than just myself. But collaboratively I’m sure the system will fall J

My mom recently surprised me in Manila in the last few days I was still there. She came to visit her dad quick because of when I called her a week ago about his recent heart attack. It was really nice being with her, my uncle and my grandparents in their house. It felt kinda whole again as cheesy as that sounds. I came back to America recently (I got back 10 days before her) and she brought a ton of childhood photos back – 5 pounds to be exact. It this trippy thing where it feels like another manifestation of the reclaiming my past. Not only did do I have new memories, but old ones too.

#WALANGHIYA Walang Hiya is Tagalog for “No Shame”. Hiya is deeply rooted in Philippine culture for multiple reasons, (see: History). To have shame is “to avoid exemplifying improper behavior”. It’s to maintain pride, and sometimes pride is cheap. The biggest consequence often is the inability to accept faults and take responsibility for any wrong done. Mistake humility with shame. Resist criticism. Hiya is considered a core value in the culture.

Truthfully it’s awful and beautiful, complicated at best.

A lot of Filipinxs wear sh a m e l i k e a b i r t h m a r k .

Walang Hiya is actually kind of a bad word. It’s not awfully forbidden but it does have a serious use. To be called Walang Hiya is to be seriously outcasted, but also it can be used somewhat jokingly between friends. Since Hiya is so deeply integral to the cultural identity, to be called Walang Hiya is kind of a sin. As you can see, this can be a point of contention for Filipinxs who grew up with Western culture and values, as group censure is meaningless to the ideologies of individualism and non-conformity. This point where two oceans meet is where I’ve cast my anchor. I care about individuality but a huge part of that individuality is… well… being Filipino. If I’m Filipino why wouldn’t I want to get along, engage and connect with Filipino people and culture?

Reclaim Walang Hiya! I’ve been contemplating the phrases a lot since I really started to notice the amazing Filipinx community I’ve developed here in Olympia and with some folks in Seattle. We do how we do, look how we look but also love and cherish our Filipinx roots.

Since I’ve come to terms that I like what I like (often affiliated with whiteness) and it shouldn’t have to be at the expense of my browness. Pinxy Solange Knowles I sometimes joke. I own up to the pieces of me that would traditionally give me shame: tattoo, aligning with urban communities, distancing from affluence, non-traditional schools, alternative friends, fluid sexuality, liking ‘weird shit’, and etc etc... ****By no means do I identify as a hyper rebellious and alternative pinxy, I am navigating claiming Walang Hiya and balancing parts of myself that my family and my kababayans can understand and work with. My identity of Walang Hiya exists in proximity to their definition and existence of Hiya******* I refuse to be ashamed of the parts I know give me strength.

I refuse to be ashamed of the parts that gift me people equally as valuable as water.

I refuse to be ashamed of the parts I worked so hard to unearth like mythological treasures.

I refuse to be ashamed of the parts I finally feel are my own.

Sep 3, 2016 Its my last day. Just finished all that counter shit. I had to move all my literature from my backpack in a safer pocket of my luggage… according to the attendant. I hate being that bitch who is unpacking and packing at the counter. My last time to breathe Philippine air-conditioned air until who knows when. I try not to think too much (as of right now) of all that’s happened and felt, I need to make it through immigration Ill do the crying and reflecting on this 11 hour plane ride. Shit I forgot to look up visa stuff before I go, is it chill to ask the Immigration officer. There are less people on this Saturday than I’ve ever seen this airport, huh. I’m in line. There is a strong stillness in the air. Time hasn’t stopped or anything but I guess its just the feeling of when you want to stand still against a strong wind so you feel every inch of it’s tension.

“Hello Ma’m” “Hi” I hand her my passport and ticket. She seems to be in an okay mood.

“Umm.. Uh Is there a way I can extended my visa?”

Wow bitch stupid question of course you could go to the embassy or google it.

“Yes Ma’m. You can go to the embassy.”

“Like past the 30 days right? I’m asking because I’ve been back twice and I don’t know if theres a limit on the 30 days granted-” “Huh Ma’m? What 30 days?”

“Well I know you get 30 days upon arrival and I wanted to know if I could get more somehow.”

“Ma’m, you get a whole year.” “… what?”

“See Ma’m, it says right here.”

She hands my back my passport and I notice a huge AUGUST 16, 2017 on my entry stamp dated AUGUST 16, 2016.

“Whaaaa the first stamp I got didn’t show me this.”

The prior entry stamp I had BB written on top of the space where it said “Stay Until.” I didn’t know what it meant so I didn’t think of it.

“Yes Ma’m. If you are someone born in the Philippines and became a national somewhere else, you are considered a Balikbayan you are granted a full year visa with benefits.”

I started to lose feeling in my hands that cradled my passport.

“Wow I was only told 30 days and fines to follow if I extended.”

“No Ma’m that’s wrong.”

Standing there, felt like an ever-expanding universe.

“Wow. That’s really amazing.”

The minute I got to my gate, I opened my laptop and Googled ‘Balikbayan Visa US’.

WALANG HIYA WALANG HIYA WALANG HIYA

Arianne Aquino. They/She. 22 years. Manila-born Scorpio. Raised in pre-gentrified Eagle Rock of Los Angeles. Currently lives in Olympia, Washington where they’re a Pre-Med student at The Evergreen State College. Loves Nicki Minaj, crying about the Earth’s decaying environmental stability and Popeye’s.

Her favorite Pinoy ballad to cry to is ‘Salamat’ by Yeng Constantino.

photo by naíma noguera (@naimaamujica)

Some Stories, Reflections, Doodles, and all that gooey diaspora stuff after returning to the motherland after 13 years.