Performing 'Filipinoness': An Exploration in Performance and the Creation of a Collectivity by Noa Oldak-Moradian

Performing ‘Filipinoness’ An Exploration in Performance and the Creation of a Collectivity Noa Oldak

For the love of Troy Phi

Table of Contents CH 1: “WE ARE A CULTURAL ORGANIZATION, NOT AN ETHNIC ONE.”

ON HYPHENATED IDENTITY FIRST IMPRESSIONS PERFORMING OUR WAY TO FAMILY…

5 7 9

CH 2: HISTORICAL ORIGINS AND AN IMMIGRANT EXPERIENCE

A HISTORY OF COLONIZATION

CH3: INSCRIBED IDENTITY: PERFORMANCE ON A DAILY BASIS

PERFORMING IDENTITY: THE INITIATION INTO A FAMILY

CH4: THE POWER OF PERFORMANCE

THE DEVELOPMENT OF FILIPINO FOLKLORIC DANCE CHICKS ON CRACK: KALAPATI AS A GATEWAY DANCE DON’T LOOK BACK THE DANCES GENDERED DANCES: GIRL PLAYING CHICK AND GIRL PLAYING BOY

29 30 36 38 41

CH5: “OH YOU’RE FILIPINO? YOU MUST SING OR DANCE.”

TROY PHI’S BEST DANCE CREW

CH6: CREATION OF A COLLECTIVE AND A SENSE OF FAMILIAL INTIMACY

FRIENDSHIP GAMES AND FAMILY: PERFORMING IDENTITY BY SHARING THE LOVE KINSHIP IN TROY PHILIPPINES PERFORMANCE AND FAMILY: DANCING AS AN AVENUE TO COMPANIONSHIP CONCLUSION: UNDERSTANDING FEELINGS AS MARKERS OF IDENTITY

52 55 56 60

CH 1: “We are a cultural organization, not an ethnic one.” My first day of fieldwork, I walked into a classroom teeming with lively college students. Everyone was laughing and embracing after a long summer. “Excellent!” I thought, “This organization is going to be just as fun as I anticipated.” Armed with my little black notebook and on a mission to collect anything that might be ethnographically valuable, I approached Natalie1, whom I had previously met through a Communication class. When she first recognized me, Natalie was unable to contain her surprise; the expression on her face read, “What on earth are you doing here?” Anticipating her curiosity I embraced her and said, “Hey! I’m here to become an honorary Filipino.” I was already masking my anxiety with humor. “Well,” she responded, you’ll get to hang out with all of them!” Looking for a seat, I caught myself thinking that the cultural ambiguity I was typically able to hide behind would no longer serve me as effectively. Still, I found comfort in a few familiar faces. I approached Brian, president of Troy Philippines, and a close friend of mine. Dressed in a button down shirt and slacks, he excitedly stated, “Welcome! So, this is like a classroom for you!” Brian was aware of my intentions as an anthropologist, but I had absolutely no desire to be introduced as the foreign researcher. “Shhh” I jokingly responded, “I’m an undercover agent now.” The invisible border that I had set up between being a researcher and a member of Troy Philippines, colloquially referred to as Troy Phi, would eventually dissolve as I attended more and more meetings. Initially, individuals would attempt to justify my presence by asking, “Are you half Filipino?” I was never surprised by the inquiry, but always hoped that when I responded “no,” members would not be too alarmed. As I visited my fieldsite more often, I found that it was more common for members to simply question how I found out about the organization. This

In order to preserve privacy, all names in this paper have been changed.

4 attitude, I quickly learned, stemmed from the notion that, “Troy Phi is not an ethnic organization but a cultural one.” It is true, in fact, that numerous members of Troy Philippines do not identify as ethnically Filipino. Lisa, External Vice President of Troy Philippines, explained that this means that one does not have to be Filipino in order to join the organization. Instead, the organization exists to both preserve certain cultural traditions and to maintain a strong supportive social network. The organization’s ‘mission statement’ reads: USC Troy Philippines is a Filipino cultural organization that combines aspects of cultural exploration, social community building, and personal development to provide its members with a cohesive experience that extends beyond simply educating them about Filipino-American heritage. Troy Phi is not just a collection of people with a common interest, but a family of diverse individual who use their respective talents and experiences to contribute to the organization’s goals and create a vibrant social atmosphere upon which the club thrives. Troy Phi focuses on fostering personal growth, facilitating awareness of Filipino heritage, and engaging in activities, whether through public service events or internal social gatherings, that achieve both of these goals…Troy Phi presents its members, whether Filipino or not, with an opportunity to celebrate their interest in Filipino-American culture while gaining invaluable experiences that will aid their personal and professional development moving forward, all within a welcoming and tight-knit family setting. I had not encountered this description of the organization until I received a program for the nineteenth annual Pilipino American Culture Night (PACN),2 an end of the school-year performance that features a mixture of folkloric dances, acting scenes, and modern choreography. As I read the description backstage, I looked back on the year and attempted to piece together memories of my own “cultural exploration” and the knowledge that I had acquired regarding “Filipino heritage.” Surrounded by frantic girls changing their costumes, putting on makeup, and rehearsing choreography, I found that I was grateful that Troy Phi had given me the

There is a continuing debate within Filipino communities as to whether to use Pilipino or Filipino. According to Root (1997), many who prefer Pilipino reside in California while those in the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii use Filipino. I use particular spellings as they have been utilized in the materials that Troy Philippines utilizes to advertise events and provide descriptions of the organization.

5 opportunity to participate in the show, and therefore to take part in the recreation of a form of Filipino culture on stage. Lost in thought, someone in the dressing room asked me, “So what dances are you going to be in next year?” I could not believe what I was hearing. Finally, no one was wondering why I was there, but how I was going to be involved in the future. It was at this point that I felt fully integrated into the organization.

On hyphenated identity Before speaking any further of my experience with Troy Phi, it is important to explain my decision to utilize the hyphen in the “Filipino-American” identity label. Originally, the term ‘hyphenated American’ was used to disparage Americans who were of foreign birth and perceived to be less loyal to the nation. In a speech in 1915, President Theodore Roosevelt stated that, “There is no room in this country for hyphenated Americanism.” Woodrow Wilson likewise stated that, “They hyphen is the most un-American thing in the world” (Berel 2005: 2). Commentaries by these past two presidents suggest that in order to embrace an American identity wholeheartedly, one must abandon any other national, ethnic, or cultural label. Maintaining the hyphen implies a dual nationalism and in turn, a threat to nationalistic patriotism. Other critics of the hyphen have suggested that the hyphen maintains a particular order of priority in identity. Grammatically speaking, nouns are more fundamental than adjectives; the second term in a hyphenated identity functions as a noun while the first as a subordinate adjective. It follows then, that the second ‘American’ segment of the hyphenated identity has priority as a noun over the first (Berel 2005). Despite the negativity attached to hyphenated identity, term hyphen, one with Greek origins, means “under one, into one, or together.” Both grammatically and symbolically, it ties

6 words together. (Steiner 1916). This line of thinking is one that was echoed in a conversation I had with Lisa, Troy Philippines’ External Vice President3: I think the hyphen just brings the two words together. Like if you just put Filipino American, like two words separate, it’s like they’re two separate identities, two completely separate spheres but the thing is, I’m Filipino-American, both of them combined. Because there are aspects of Filipino and aspects of American, that although they’re different, they really do come together. My use of the hyphenated “Filipino-American” therefore, is a reflection of the way members of Troy Philippines use the label themselves. This is not to say that every member agrees with Lisa’s opinion. Rather, I make use of the hyphenated name as I have seen it most often utilized in Troy Phi’s fliers, on their website, and in other materials that they hand out. It is important to note that the use of the hyphen is in no way uniform and frequently changes to ‘PilipinoAmerican’ or even ‘Pilipino American.’ The constant changes in both spelling and the use of the hyphen may also suggest that for members of Troy Philippines, it is not the spelling or way that the two words are combined, but more importantly, that the two components, Filipino (or Pilipino) and American, are present in the identity label. Understanding how and when this generation came to accept these two labels then, is crucial to understanding how Troy Philippines exercises its ‘Filipinoness.’ I use the term ‘Filipinoness’ to speak of the ways that Troy Phiers identify as Filipino—in the various forms that are possible to do so: half Filipino, second-generation Filipino, Filipino-American, pinoy, etc. Because it is impossible to speak of ‘Filipino culture’ or even ‘Filipino-American youth culture’ as one cohesive experience, referring to ‘Filipinoness’ allows me to discuss the state of, or condition of being Filipino in any form. It provides me with the opportunity to speak of a connection with some form of Filipino culture, regardless of how this connection is evaluated,

The role of the External Vice President is to collaborate with other organizations and be in touch with student groups on campus.

7 measured, or considered authentic by others. For Troy Philippines, the development of this ‘Filipinoness’ is generated primarily by preparations for Pilipino American Culture Night.

First Impressions In the spring of 2010, I attended my first PACN. I was in absolute awe of the number of people who filled up the 1235 seats in Bovard auditorium. Only at events hosting celebrities had I witnessed the venue fill up so quickly, buzzing with such excitement and anticipation for what would occur on stage. That night, I attended the performance as a pledging member of Delta Omicron Zeta (DOZ), a coeducational leadership fraternity on campus that also has numerous Troy Phiers4 as members. The show, entitled “One More Second,” traced the life of an ‘American’ boy who, after losing his mother, is left with her final wish to go and find the Filipino father he never knew he had. The plot fore-grounded issues of transformed identity, cultural clashes, and feelings of disconnect between first-generation parents and their secondgeneration children. Brimming with folkloric and traditional dances, the production allowed me to absorb a plethora of new information about Filipino culture—or at least Troy Philippines’ version of it. The show revealed that, despite how unacquainted I was with Filipino culture, I could relate to the difficulties of cultural translation and constantly feeling torn between different perspectives and ways of life. Though I was born in Mexico City, I was raised in Los Angeles from a very young age, and therefore still consider myself a first-generation American. Moreover, as a child of a multicultural family5, I understand completely the confusion but also the humor that can arise from finding oneself positioned in the exact zone where cultures clash.

I use this term to refer to members of Troy Philippines My father is third-generation Mexican but his ancestry can be traced from both Russia and Poland. My mother was born in Iran but immigrated to Israel in light of the Iranian Revolution of 1979. After going to graduate school and being married in Israel, they both moved to Los Angeles, California in 1991. 5

8 My ability to witness a similar struggle in the construction of cultural identity in other students really attracted me to Troy Philippines as an organization. For me, the general storyline, which made allusions to a search for individual identity in the context of ethnic and cultural differences, was a relatable topic. I was new to Filipino culture specifically, but the idea of being a confused minority was, and still is, something incredibly familiar. In fact, the aspects of the Filipino way of life that are emphasized in Troy Phi are friendship, closeness, and familyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;all facets that I identify in my personal upbringing. The never-ending journey in searching for a place of belonging, a sense of community, and a solidification of personal identity is a journey that I am taking with members of Troy Philippines. In addition, I have realized that much of my research has been informed by my status as a student of the University of Southern Californiaâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a positionality that has enabled me to be a semi-native anthropologist. While I do not identify as Filipino or Filipino-American, my familiarity with student organizations has allowed me be knowledgeable of the universityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s traditions, which affect greatly the way Troy Phi operates. Moreover, as a student, I understand the structural hierarchies and power structures of student organizations, in addition to the common challenges faced by all students attempting to sustain a strong organization. As a result, I have found it challenging to defamiliarize the inner workings of student organizations, including the practices of paying dues, attending weekly meetings, and attempting to establish social relationships outside of formal gatherings. In spite of this sense of familiarity, it is extremely important to point out that to this day, my position as an outsider in the organization remains distinct. The discomfort and awkwardness that arises in the attempt to take notes while simultaneously performing and observing has always been a huge obstacle in my fieldwork. Moreover, my exterior appearance draws attention

9 in an organization that has a member based composed predominantly of Asian Americans. As a new member, I have also run into issues of communicative competence. When I first joined and was asked whether I wanted a kuya, ate, or ading, I was hoping no one was offering me some form of non-kosher meat. I quickly learned that these were the words for older brother, older sister, and younger sibling, respectively. I emphasize how I came to discover Troy Philippines in order to elucidate how it permeated my initial perceptions of the organization, and in turn, why my first observations were indeed so “rose-colored.” My preliminary preoccupation with describing the friendliness of my informants also speaks to the fact that members of the organization were projecting a particular group identity—in this case the notion that Troy Philippines members are ‘one big family.’

Performing our way to family… At the end of PACN, I also took note that participants were crying and embracing one other. Following the performance, they all stayed on stage to hand out flowers to acknowledge those who had participated, and to chant, cheer, sing, and dance in culmination of their hard work. From what I could see, the students were simultaneously ecstatic that their efforts had paid off and devastated that the time that they had spent with their peers was over. I was fascinated with the sentiments exchanged among these members, and I found myself questioning exactly how these attitudes were produced, in addition to the way it was linked to the ‘Filipinoness’ of the organization. My fieldwork with Troy Phi exposed the numerous challenges and difficulties that arise in attempting to put on such an elaborate show and to sustain a cultural student group whose success depends heavily on the enthusiasm and ambition of its members. At first, the excitement for Troy Phi echoed closely the sentiments I had witnessed the previous year during PACN. The rooms were overwhelmingly full of students and members were constantly embracing one

10 another. It appeared that everyone was extremely happy to be a part of the organization. But the newness of the semester quickly wore off, and took with it much of the excitement and eagerness that had characterized the ambience of group gatherings. I quickly came to realize that Troy Philippines had undergone a significant change in leadership, and in the process, lost many of its seniors and most active members. The organization was facing obstacles in attempting to remain afloat financially and otherwise. My involvement as a dancer with PACN has proven most effective in highlighting these changes. With dance suites canceled, members not showing up to practice, and Troy Phiers failing to show up to meetings, I began to feel as though I had been cheated of the ‘true’ PACN experience—one that numerous members have raved about in the past. Becoming an active member of Troy Phi has taught me that this organization is vulnerable to drastic changes. This is not to undermine the close friendships and bonds between members, but it speaks to the importance of participant observation as opposed to outside scrutiny from a distance. In addition to these challenges, my research has led me to believe that essentially, all anthropology is reflexive—whether we choose to admit it or not. Ethnographers are constantly operating in environments where numerous factors are interacting, overlapping and colliding. Our own backgrounds and assumptions are just two ingredients in the rich stew that is fieldwork. I fully acknowledge that I will only be able to represent partially an organization that operates constantly while I am absent, and whose member base fluctuates according to (among other things) the time of year and the enthusiasm of its executive board. My attempt to study the formation of this community, or at least the perceived notion of one, was inspired by my initial observations that members were excited to be a part of the organization. Students join Troy Philippines not because they are necessarily searching for a

11 place to exercise their Filipinoness, but more commonly, because they are seeking a group on campus that allows them to feel a sense of belonging. When Troy Phiers perform their identities, ethnicity is only one component of both personal constructions of self and the development of group identity. It is the idea that one can become part of a “tight-knit family” that appears to both the reason individuals are attracted to the organization, as well as the typifying characteristic that members attempt to enforce most frequently. My study of Troy Philippines is an inquiry into the world of performance, and an exploration of the roles dance and theater have in both molding cultural identity and encouraging or challenging group cohesion and unity. My study will expand on dance’s relatively new place in anthropological and cultural studies (Desmond 1997) and provide additional insight on performance and its ability to destroy, reconstruct, and generate new understandings of personhood and collectivity (Frosch 1999). I seek to discuss the ways in which a community is constructed, and what that means for a group initially formed as an ethnic organization (Joseph 2002). For Troy Philippines, the performance of identity is grounded in the emulation of the Filipino family unit—a source of strength, support, and love for many members. Though the importance of family is not excusive to Filipino culture, it has nevertheless emerged as a defining part of the lives of these students, and consequently, has become a defining feature of Troy Phi. My fieldwork with Troy Philippines then, will present ways that cultural identity is constructed among a group of individuals whose ethnic representations of self are complicated, multiple, and shifting. The exploration of the use of performance in seeking to enforce group cohesion, and construct a sense of group identity as Filipino-American, suggests that creativity and the arts can be used to construct or deconstruct forms of ethnic identity. Participation in Troy Philippines is a performance of Filipino-American student experiences on the college campus—but it is also an

12 opportunity to construct the notion of ‘Filipinoness’ without necessarily identifying as FilipinoAmerican. Still, one cannot underestimate the importance of ethnic construction, the immigrant experience, and the effects of colonialism on an organization that seeks to “celebrate cultural heritage.” It is with this in mind that I consider the historical background of Troy Philippines, the immigration of Filipinos to the United States, and the development of the Filipino-American label.

CH 2: Historical Origins and an Immigrant Experience The year that I joined Troy Philippines marked the 100th year anniversary that Filipinos were admitted to USC. With this knowledge, I embarked on a search for documentation of a Filipino or Filipino-American student organization in the university’s El Rodeo yearbooks. After flipping through numerous editions, I finally discovered an organization labeled the ‘Philippine Circle.’ As documented in the El Rodeo publication of 1968, this organization served primarily to host Pasko sa Nayon, an annual Christmas dance that was both a social gathering and a fundraising campaign for scholarships given to college students in the Philippines. It felt reassuring to discover Troy Phi’s predecessors in print, but I was still unable to secure documentation of a Filipino student group before 1968. According to Troy Philippines’ Wiki Space, the roots of the organization can be traced back to 1910 when the Philippine Trojan club emerged. This organization eventually transformed into the Pilipino Trojan Family, and soon after, the Troy Family in the 1960s. The Wiki Space in particular is unique in that it is privately maintained by Troy Philippines and therefore provides the reader with an opportunity to understand how members perceive their own

13 histories (as opposed to a Wikipedia page to which anyone can contribute to). This online source suggests that while Troy Philippines and the Filipino student organizations preceding it may not have shown up in the yearbook, it is highly likely that some form of a Filipino-American organization existed. According to Wikipedia6, one of the few sources that provide historical information regarding the organization, the Philippine Circle became politically active in the 1970s, speaking out against the corrupt and authoritarian regime of Filipino president Ferdinand Marcos7. Rejecting the criticism, the government of the Philippines actually banned the organization, ceasing the scholarship program. In a quest to move away from the political undercurrents of the Philippine Circle, a group of Filipino students established ‘Troy Philippines,’ shifting the focus of the organization from politics to an increasing awareness of the Filipino culture on campus and in the community. The transition from the political nature of the Philippine Circle to a more culturally concentrated Filipino-American student organization can be marked most clearly by the first Pilipino American Culture Night held at USC in 1988. The organization eventually became a member of the school’s International Student Assembly, and then in 1989, a part of USC’s Asian American Student Assembly. Troy Phi’s history as politically active is important to understanding how it ran in the past, but the organization as I have experienced it appears to be most concerned with the

I acknowledge that Wikipedia is not a legitimate academic resource. However, for purposes of this paper, it is important to include the information provided by the website because there is very limited official documentation of the organization. Wikipedia then, provides one possible version of Troy Phi’s history. 7 After being reelected to his term in 1979, Marcos established a ‘cult of personality,’ requiring businesses and classrooms to display his official presidential portrait. Faced by threats from the Filipino Communist Party, a Muslim separatist movement, and protests by students demanding educational reforms, he declared Marital Law on September 21, 1972. He suspended habeas corpus, imposed a curfew and jailed opponents like Benigno Aquino. Under martial law, Ferdinand Marcos took extraordinary powers for himself. He used the country's military as a weapon against his political enemies, displaying a typically ruthless approach to opposition. Marcos also awarded a huge number of government posts to his and Imelda's relatives (Encyclopaedia).

14 preservation of the tradition of PACN, and other club practices. Moreover, the lack of a formal archive in regards to Troy Phi’s history presents a challenge in attempting to contextualize the organization. The bulk of the historical information that I was able to obtain is provided by sources that do not disclose their authors. The lack of these official sources establishes an ambiguity in Troy Philippines’ history, but also reveals the nature of many student organizations, which don’t necessarily take the time to document all of their activities or programs.

A History of Colonization While Troy Phi has been traced to the early 1900s, the immigration of Filipinos to the Americas can be dated back to the Spanish colonization of the Philippines during the Age of Exploration. Three centuries of colonization led to the reformulation of Filipino culture into a cross section between Eastern and Western traditions. From the West, the Spanish became involved in commercial trading between 1565 and 1815; they transported their goods on Filipino and Chinese manned galleons traveling from Manila in the Philippines to Acapulco, Mexico (Espiritu 1995, Lott 2006). In order to escape servile working conditions on the galleons, these “Manilamen” would jump ship in Mexico and along the Pacific and the Gulf of Mexico (Takaki 1989). The dominance of the Catholic religion amongst Filipinos, as well as Spanish names and dances that are performed during Filipino culture nights, reveal the enduring influence of the European colonizers. Despite a victorious revolutionary war for independence from Spain—as led by Filipino General Emilio Aguinaldo—Filipino natives were forced to surrender to the superiority of the United States military (Lott 2006). The American acquisition of the Philippines from Spain in 1898 caused the migration of about ten to fifteenth thousand Filipino youth to the United States in the first thirty years of the twentieth century. These immigrants were composed primarily of a) pensionados, the children of elite families looking to get higher educations, or b) single men

15 from poor provinces who responded to the calls for workers in Hawaii’s plantations and California’s agricultural fields (Bonus 2000). When the Americans replaced the Spanish as the new colonizers, Filipinos became US nationals and subsequently Filipino-Americans; Juanita Tamayo Lott (2006) even refers to them as a ‘truly American people.’ It must be noted then, that those labeled as ‘Filipino-American’ did not necessarily adopt the name as immigrants to the United States. Instead, Filipinos who remained in the Philippines were forced to adapt to a changed identity that developed as a result of a shift in power. The development of the Filipino-American label is central to the nature of Troy Philippines, an organization that seeks to educate the university community on ‘FilipinoAmerican heritage.’ While for some the title suggests an attempt by first-generation FilipinoAmericans to adjust to a new culture, for others, it is a reminder that American culture was imposed on those living in the Philippines. There were, moreover, limits on how ‘American’ Filipinos could claim to be. Those who immigrated to America with US passports for instance, were considered American nationals but remained ineligible for citizenship, and legally prevented from voting, starting a business, holding private and public office, and owning land and other property. Filipinos who migrated to the United States prior to World War II referred to themselves as Pinoys, and came to be known as the “old-timers” in order to distinguish them from those who arrived after 1965 with the passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act8 (Posadas 1999). The old timers generation has also been deemed as the Manong generation—a term utilized as a sign of respect for one’s elders and adapted as an acknowledgement of the generation’s endeavors to

This act abolished the National Origins Formulation, an American system of immigration quotas, which restricted immigration on the basis of existing proportions of the population in an effort to control the existing ethnic composition of the country (Posadas 1999).

16 improve conditions for their descendants in the United States in the face of socioeconomic hardships (Takaki 1989). By ridding of the national origins quotas and allowing entry based principally on family reunification or occupational characteristics, the Act of 1965 ushered in the era of the “New Americans” which brought thousands of newcomers from the Philippines (Espiritu 1995). The new policy also accelerated the movement of ‘professionals’ from the Philippines seeking employment in the 1950s. This movement is referred to as the ‘brain drain,’ with people seeking employment in medicine, nursing, law, dentistry, accounting, engineering, teaching, and social work (Morales 1974). This brain drain is particularly relevant to the personal life stories of member of Troy Philippines and contextualizes many of the individual pressures that numerous Troy Phiers undergo to pursue degrees in college that provide direct paths to professional careers. Much of this professional class developed from the education of Filipinos through a massive schooling program demanded by the American government in 1898. In the Philippines, the United States created a nationwide public school system patterned after the America model, allowing for the quick and efficient Americanization of Filipino culture and a turn to a consumer-oriented society (Pido 1986). This emphasis on education also allowed for the economic successes many immigrants experienced in the United States. Filipino immigrants and their children have come to be known for their heavy involvement in health care professions, particularly nursing. In fact, a large portion of Troy Philippines’ members are pursuing undergraduate degrees in the natural, biological, or physical sciences, or are on a pre-medical track. Because of this general pursuit of professional careers (by no means all), FilipinoAmericans enjoy a collective reputation associated with comparatively high-income levels.

17 According to a 1990 Census, almost two third of all Filipinos in the labor force are in managerial, professional, and technical occupations (Posadas 1999). By 1920 there were approximately 5,603 Filipino immigrants on the mainland9. Ten years later the population increased almost nine times (Takaki 1989). As â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;wards of the state,â&#x20AC;&#x2122; Filipinos were expected to pay allegiance to the United States and were subject to the colonial governmentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s jurisdiction and control. Filipino immigrants were stuck in a rather bizarre limbo: they were absolutely key components of the American agricultural economy but were denied access to mainstream culture by exclusionary laws and rules preventing citizenship (Bonus 2000). The low wages and harsh working conditions that Filipino laborers had to undergo for instance, hindered social and economic mobility. In addition to inequity in wages, the replacement of white laborers with these new immigrants created a general animosity towards Filipino groups. According to Ronald Takaki (1989), Filipinos who worked on the mainland experienced significantly more hostility than those who immigrated to Hawaii. While in Hawaii they were competing with Japanese workers, on the mainland, Filipino immigrants faced a racist white working class and consequently became targets of the violent backlash. So, in spite possessing a familiarity with the English language and aspects of American, many Filipino immigrants continued to face serious challenges to assimilation. Racial spite and legalized inequality led many to suppress their ethnic identity as an attempt to advance socioeconomically (de Leon 2004). Consequently, Filipino and Asian American culture more generally became an alternative site that created a cultural identity not dependent on institutional citizenship and national identity. Despite the eventual repeal of

In the United States, excluding Hawaii and Alaska.

18 these laws, in the context of American history, Asian Americans more generally speaking have been viewed as the ‘foreigner-within’ (Lowe 1996). In hopes of dealing proactively with this rather unique status, many Filipino laborers sough resistance through union demands. The activism of these Filipino laborers “reflected a changing consciousness—a sober recognition of shattered dreams and a new sense of ethnic unity.” Eventually, Filipino workers came to attain the reputation of being unified and skillful union activists” (Takaki 1989: 323). The Delano grape strike in California, led by the United Farm Workers (UFW) against growers of table grapes became a famous marker of this changed group consciousness. The Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee (AWOC), a predominantly Filipino organization, initiated the strike by walking off the farms of these growers and demanding that wages meet the federal minimum. In August of 1966, one week after the strike began, the predominantly Mexican-American National Farmworker’s Association (NFA), led by Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, launched another strike against the farms; eventually, the NFA and the AWOC merged to form the UFW. Beginning on September 8, 1965, the strike lasted more than five years and resulted in a successful first contract with the growers. This grassroots movement gained national attention, and by 1970, successfully reached a collective bargaining agreement with the table-grape growers, benefiting more than 10,000 farm workers in California (Ferris et al. 1998, Weber 1996). It was in the 1980s that Troy Philippines held its first Pilipino American Culture Night (PACN) based on the experiences of Filipino farm laborers in Delano, CA. For the purposes of this paper, think that it is important to note that Troy Philippines’ Culture Show was a turning point in the organization’s history, and indicated an enormous shift in group identity. This performance, entitled The First Wave, marked an interesting change from the political to the

19 cultural by holding a utilizing an artistic form to speak of the experiences of Filipino farm laborers in Delano, CA. The PACN then, which is now central to Troy Philippines’ emphasis on cultural preservation, began as a homage to Filipino activism in the United States. In searching for a socio-political context within which to place Troy Phi, Culture Nights provide the opportunity to witness the narration of the group’s history as it takes place on stage. Theodore S. Gonzalves (2010) tells us that a Culture Night “is one of the most dynamic history lessons that thousands of Filipino and Filipino American youth have chosen to create during their college careers since the 1980s” (166). To this day, it is through the preparation for and performance of these culture shows that Troy Philippines traces its history. Revisiting this history has proven to be a key component in the development of Troy Philippines’ identity as well as the construction of Filipinoness. However, in discussing identity—in the micro spheres of self and personhood as well as the more macro spheres of group, community, organization, institution, and society—one must consider the nature of ‘identity’ itself. While members of Troy Philippines use the stage to reinterpret their folkloric traditions and explore their multifaceted identities, the performance of group and individual identity is a continuous, daily process. __________________________________________________________________________

CH3: Inscribed Identity: Performance on a Daily Basis …the performance paradigm illuminates the mirroring that occurs in culture, the tension between stabilizing cultural forces (tradition), and shifting, ever-evolving aspects of culture that provide sites for social reflection, transformation, and critique ~ E. Patrick Johnson in Appropriating Blackness: Performance and the Politics of Authenticity Cultural identity, as something that is neither inherent nor fixed, is constantly reshaped and rebuilt according to our daily practices. Human beings act and perform in accordance with

20 certain social rules that we are conditioned to accept as norms by those external ideologies and institutions that compose culture (Butler 1991). Identity therefore, is exceedingly malleable, and provides both the individual and the group with opportunities to reform, reinvent and constantly reconstruct notions of racial and gendered self. Erving Goffman (1969) states that all social interaction is staged, and that people are always wearing masks and playing roles; the world is one enormous stage in which individuals constantly perform. When people come into contact with one another, they attempt to control or guide the impression that others might make by making certain alterations. Troy Phiers project their identities during, among other gatherings, meetings, welcome barbeques, and Culture Nights. E. Patrick Johnson (2003) comments on this performativity as it relates specifically to constructions of race. He states that we appropriate racial complexes in an attempt to delineate the boundaries of what it means to own a particular label, and in that way, exclude other individuals or groups that do not make the cut. The development of this otherness leads to racial identity claims, which cause dissension within the group. Wong (2004) tells us that performance affords us with the ability to assign certain labels to the human body: sex, gender, and race. She states that, “race is a constructed sign of historical injury that must be productively maintained and refashioned over time. The body won’t stay still…the body is a somatic site for a society’s most extreme visions of itself” (188). Our constructions of self are not merely our individual projections of how we wish others to see us, but they are also products of the way society has taught to see ourselves. The concept of Filipinoness then, has no essence—it is a changing social construct dependent on our notions of self as constructed by our impressions, as well as ideas imposed by institutions, structures, and ideologies (Omi and Wanant 1986). These external forces impose a

21 particular understanding of identity. For example, in most Filipino (and other Asian American) groups, the idea of saving face affects the construction of racial identity. Hiya, or shame, is a feeling expected to be felt by those who committed an act that is socially unacceptable. Everyone is expected to have hiya and to gain respect from community members by conforming to a particular set of norms (Quito 1994). Knowledge therefore, is heavily dependent on whoever holds power in a particular societal context. This institutional imposition is also one acknowledged by Edward Said (1979) in Orientalism. He asserts that concepts of essentialized identity and the attachments of particular characteristics to a whole region (in this case the Orient), are constructions that extend beyond individual intentionality; we attempt to project a certain identity, but this construction is always affected by society telling us that certain groups function and behave in certain ways. Dorinne Kondo (1990) points out that, “identity is not a static object, but a creative process; hence crafting selves is an ongoing—indeed a lifelong—occupation” (48). Our individual identities, our understandings of ‘the self’ should not be delineated from the multiple and complex contextual forces that influence who we think we are—politically, socially, economically, ethnically, religiously and so forth. Kondo (1990) seeks to emphasizes the “cultural specificity of selfhood” in order to de-essentialize the concept of self (37). Staged performance in particular is a tool through that develops the notion of an Other; whether in theater, dance, or comedy, there are the performers, and then there are those who watch the performance. Johnson (2003) acknowledges that performance has the power to dismantle “essentialist notions of selfhood” by providing performers with an opportunity to interpret for themselves these changing notions of race and identity. In that way, performance also provides a venue to resist oppressive systems; it possesses the unique ability to destroy,

22 reconstruct, and generate new forms of cultural and ethnic identity (Frosch 1999). On the one hand, it allows us to establish “lateral truths” in which we don’t approach history directly, but rather, provide alternate interpretations and suggestions. Moreover, cultural performers provide a “veneer of authenticity” and a sense of comfort for both viewer and participant that what is being represented is a rather accurate account of a historical past (Gonzalves 2010). For Turner (1987) performance on the stage is a sort of ‘metatheatre’ that complements the performance that is our daily lives; it is “a dramaturgical language about the language of ordinary role playing and status-maintenance which constitutes communication in the quotidian social process” (6). In other words, when actors act, they are attempting to communicate about the communication system itself—performers put forth a particular interpretation of the society they observe and live in. Turner also deems man a “self-performing animal” that performs as mode of self-discovery. Performances, then, are ‘reflexive’ in that the actor can get to know him or herself via the process of acting. The observer or participant in a performance can similarly gain knowledge about the self through a presentation by another human being. Consequently, reflexivity is both singular and plural as it is shaped in a societal context: “though, for most purposes, we humans may divide ourselves between Us and Them, or Ego and Alter, We and They share substance, and Ego and Alter mirror each other pretty well-Alter alters Ego not too much but tells Ego what both are!” (Turner 1987: 13) How we understand ourselves is entirely dependent on what we tend to understand as external from our individual being. We must acknowledge that boundaries between self and context—though very real to a certain extent—are not stable or permanent. The separate spheres that we understand to be our individual entities are actually permeated by the cultural forces that guide our self-projections. As we perform, we tell

23 others what to think of us, but our performances, our projections of self, are actually constructed by those ‘others’ in the first place.

Performing Identity: The Initiation into A Family For Troy Philippines, one of the most important ‘performances’ is the imitation of a family. Aside from the constant verbal assertions that Troy Phi is a positive support network, the organization creates a structure in order to encourage the development of stronger individual bonds. The organization as a whole is divided into four families, each which adopts a new nickname every school year. To this day, I have no knowledge of why certain individuals are placed into certain families, and I cannot identify any particular pattern. Nevertheless, construction of these divisions is part of Troy Phi’s ultimate goal to establish a “welcoming and tight-knit family setting.” My ‘initiation’ into my family was rather interesting. It was the third meeting of the semester, and I still felt rather new to Troy Philippines. On the right side of the room was a large web of yarn, attached to different chairs set in a circle. Each ‘family’ stood by a certain section of the circle. Attached to the ends of every string was a certain piece of yarn. The new member was asked to follow that piece of yarn (which was intricately woven in with everyone else’s pieces of yarn) until he or she reached a particular family. The scene was rather hilarious. A number of individuals who took up the challenge found themselves tangled in the intricate web. Afraid that I would end up with some kind of body part in someone’s face, I adopted the tactic of pulling the string towards myself and weaving around the outside of the circle. Eventually I got to Family Two, and was greeted by screams and hugs. Similar sentiments were echoed throughout the room. Every single time someone would arrive to their family, the members would scream and celebrate with enthusiasm. Regardless of whether the sentiments were genuine, the intention appeared to be that every member should feel welcome. As soon as the

24 excitement settled down, the senior members told us that our first task as a family was to come up with a family name. Each family came up with the following titles: Family One- The Chosen One (which was later changed to One Night Stand), Family Two: XX (also known as Dos Sexxies), Family Three: Trident, and Family Four: Fantastic Fornication. As a participant in the family initiation, I felt that the ceremony heightened the anticipation of being placed with a particular group. The newer members, initially nervous and out of place, were put into a situation in which they had to interact physically with one another— simultaneously increasing the level of awkwardness and breaking boundaries. When I did ultimately trace me way to my family, I felt comforted by the idea that I had a certain group of people in the organization who were there in place to support me. Being placed into a family was also an excuse to be individually introduced to a number of individuals who may have otherwise remained strangers. As soon as we were placed into a family, we took a family photo that was placed on the website. Seeing an image of myself on Troy Phi’s official website felt like an affirmation that I was really a part of the organization. While in retrospect I can state that the family divisions did not impact greatly my experience with the organization, they did provide opportunities for competition and a showcase of ‘family pride.’ My first experiences as a family member occurred directly after I was initiated. We played a version of Family Feud, a television game show in which families compete to name the most popular responses to survey-style questions previously presented to others. The competition was really a test of Filipino and Filipino-American trivia. Ultimately, the bragging rights were what everyone was after. Another instance in which I was able to note the effect of the family divisions occurred when I received a midterm study package from my Family II ‘mothers’—a Halloween bucket full of

25 candies, pens, and other treats. I found the gesture to be extremely thoughtful, and it did made me feel closer to my ‘moms.’ Still, this gesture was a sole act in the context of an entire year that would prove that the family divisions were not of the utmost importance. The construction of these families, rather, appeared to be a way for Troy Phi to provide its members with an excuse to socialize more closely with certain individuals. Families would sometimes embark on ‘family dinners’ spending more time with one another than with other members of the organization. The performance of Troy Phi as one large family however, appeared to be a more important end goal. It was through performance, and the time invested in preparing for it, that this sense of family was most evident. _________________________________________________________________________

CH4: The Power of Performance For Troy Philippines, music and dance are important components of nearly every group activity—general meetings, Friendship Games, the Mabuhay Festival, social events, and of course, Pilipino American Culture Night (PACN). Performance is central to the group’s larger collective sense of identity; it calls the imagined community into being (Anderson 1936). The preparations for, physical engagement in, and synchronization of group dances and performances provide an opportunity for group members to undergo challenges jointly, and to explore and mold both their individual and collective cultural identities. These experiences also reveal how group members establish close bonds and come into conflict with their peers. Realizing the effects that such activities have on Troy Philippines, it is important to explore what other scholars have to say about the power and capabilities of dance, as well as the performance of different forms of identity.

26 Scholarly discourse regarding dance extends over an enormous spectrum, and depends heavily on anthropological definitions of dance as opposed to other forms of human movement. Mary Alice Brennan (1999) states that social scientists have become generally concerned with movement analysis, dealing with any aspect of the human body as it moves, or in some instances, remains stationary. However, in hopes of pinpointing the unique capabilities of dance, Anya Peterson Royce (1977) asserts that dance is movement performed as an end in itself; it is rhythmic or patterned motion undertaken for some non-utilitarian purpose. Still, Royce points out that the American concept of dance does not necessarily translate into ideas of human movement as found in other cultures. In many Spanish-speaking societies for instance, danza implies ritual activity while baile refers to dancing (Royce 1977). Joan D. Frosch (1999) likewise tells us that in many indigenous societies, there is no concept comparable to dance. Studies of dance shifted by the late 1950s, when anthropologists began to acknowledge dance’s power as an “excellent vehicle [s] for communicating ideas about one’s own identity as well as for parodying the identity of others” (Royce 1977: 31). Royce (1977) points out that dance is characterized by a multi-channel expression: It makes use of ‘kinesthetic channels’ and generates sensory responses from the viewer (such as toe tapping or falling into a trance). Dance employs the visual faculty, making patterns in space and providing aesthetic experiences for the viewer. Spectators may also hear dance—not simply because it typically accompanies music, but also because of sounds of physical exertion. In addition, dance frequently requires the human capacity to touch, and in many cultural contexts, provides an opportunity for physical contact otherwise prohibited. In other words, dance’s potential for communication is incredibly strong, “It is perhaps this capacity to assault all of one’s senses simultaneously that makes dance such a potent, often threatening, vehicle of expression…you may be presented visually with one

27 message while you are hearing or subliminally experiencing yet another” (Royce 1877: 200). The dances in PACN for instance, provide an interpretation of a particular group or tradition in the Philippines by showcasing certain costumes, choreography, attitudes, music, movement and gestures. While the acting scenes make reference to Filipino and Filipino-American issues, the dances more effectively engage audience members by captivating them through multiple sensory channels. Frosch (1999) tells us that dance is a form of meaning-making, a way of creating social space and defining its boundaries. For Bonnie Urciuoli (1995), this creation of meaning is, above all, embedded in human relationships; people enact their selves to one another by way of words, movements, and other modes of action. Therefore, dance allows us to perform our culturally defined selves. When people dance they are engaging in one of or a combination of three things: generating and/or fortifying meaningful social relations, enacting roles that are important to them from their histories, folklores, religious backgrounds, political beliefs etc., and lastly, creating and strengthening key social bonds (Williams 2004). For Foster (1996), our physical bodies do not passively transfer meaning. Instead, “they develop choreographies of signs through which they discourse: They run…from premise to conclusion; they turn…through the process of reasoning; they confer with…one another in narrating their own physical fate” (x). While Foster (1996) emphasizes the ability of the body itself to communicate messages, Williams (2004) tells us that dance us is all about signs and symbols. As viewers of the performance, we witness the choreographer and participant’s interpretations of various aspects of the human experience. If indeed we possess the freedom to create ourselves in dance, we become “audience-participants in our own drama, our freedom to choose draws us into a new performance of our own” (Fraleigh 2004: 118). For Troy Phi in particular, dance is frequently performed in a theatrical context.

28 Even at parties or social gatherings, when the human body is not necessarily placed on a stage, the act of performance “provides a potentially utopian arena for the contestation and reimagining of nonnormative renditions of bodily identity” (Desmond 1999: 318). For Troy Philippines then, dance and music in general are two significant tools that allow for the construction of individual identity and cultural history. The way Troy Phi implements a particular performance—the specific steps in the choreography and the interactions among dancers—is significant in overcoming delineated boundaries regarding notions of identity, and recreating the meaning of being a member of a cultural organization (Gonzalves 2010, Foster 1996). PACNs, which require both music and dance, have become the most popular expressive form of culture on American college campuses since the 1980s for Filipino-American youth (Gonzalves 2010). Combining notions regarding the ability of the body to communicate meaning, and the power of dance in developing identity, Gonzalves (2010) observes that PACNs are “an opportunity by legions of students to address their bodies to what has been perceived as the irreversibility of linear time, the inevitability of national formations, and the incommensurability of Filipino experiences” (10). Following the tradition of Durkheim’s sociology, theatrical representations of ourselves are collective representations in the full sense of the words; they expose the degree to which we tend to modify the natures and characters of others to fit our own notions of the past (Williams 2004). These performances construct social realities, establishing a site for cultural production rather than reflecting social realities (Wong 2004). Consequently, every time Troy Phiers rehearse and get on stage—whenever they recreate a scene or reproduce a particular move, they are reinterpreting the multiple identities attached to their individual being: that of self, Troy Philippines, Filipino-American university students,

29 Filipino-Americans, and forms of Filipino culture more generally. It is important to emphasize that these performances cannot replicate real life, behavior or events. Rather, they reveal a multifaceted negotiation of meaning created by both the performer and the viewer. Scholar Josephine Lee (1997) comments directly on the effect that theatrical performances have on social constructions of race by asserting that the immediacy of theater also produces a live response from the spectator regarding the physicality of race: “The theater does not let us forget that questions of racial difference concern our most basic gut reactions, experiences, and sensations” (7). When one experiences a racial reference on stage it is much more difficult to conceal the very basic, immediate reaction. As a ‘live’ performance theater communicates, in an immediate way, the message that the performer is attempting to send to the viewer. In combination, the potency of a theatrical performance and the communicative faculties of dance, provide an incredibly powerful form of demonstration for all participants. PACN then, impacts its viewers in incredibly powerful ways by utilizing music, dance, and theater.

The Development of Filipino Folkloric Dance According to Gonzalves (2010), the beginning of Philippine national performance can be traced back to the early 1930s when Filipino immigrants began to develop a concern for the preservation of cultural traditions that were being lost in the process of assimilation. The concern for the conservation of a collective identity emerged from the changing status of Philippine nationalists under colonial rule, and an attempt to adjust to the abolishment of certain restrictions on citizenship. This unease, coupled with the effort by educators in Manila to create a more solidified folk form, ultimately set the path for the development of the PACN phenomenon in universities in the 1980s. The Bayanihan Philippine National Folk Dance Company, which was founded at the Philippine Women’s University in Manila in 1956, was tasked to research on and preserve indigenous Filipino dance and music. In doing so, the Company compiled research to

30 establish a particular repertoire that served the demands of contemporary theatre, and popularized what came to be accepted as Filipino folkloric dance forms. The group performed both at home and abroad, and was ultimately accepted as a marker of Filipino culture internationally. The Bayanihan group then, was absolutely essential in the development of an accepted Filipino folkloric form for Filipino performances around the globe. As a consultant to this dance crew, Frances Reyes Aquino, was key in the development of the folkloric dance form. Known as the “Mother of Philippine Dancing” she traveled to rural communities in the Philippines in order to collect information about the dances as a way to preserve folkloric traditions. In 1949 she founded the Philippine Folk Dance Society to create a space in which educators and students could exchange information regarding the dances (Phantom Ranch). One of the dances researched and preserved by the Bayanihan Dance Troupe and individuals such as Aquino include Kalapati, the rural dance form that I participated in for this year’s Pilipino American Culture Night.

Chicks on Crack: Kalapati as a Gateway Dance In hopes of being a dedicated and proactive participant in PACN, I decided to take the liberty of looking up the dance that I was assigned to perform of YouTube. My search for Kalapati resulted in endless videos of pigeons—pigeons racing, pigeons eating, pigeons modeling—an overwhelming number of videos of birds evidently plentiful in the Philippines. I wondered exactly how these pigeons (which for me are sort of rats of the sky) would be related to folkloric Filipino dances. I decided to continue my search, and ultimately discovered videos of girls in long, patterned skirts and white shirts with sizeable ruffled sleeves that came just past the elbows. Barefoot on stage, these girls donned enormous smiles and moved quickly, resting their hands on the middle of their backs, and flapping their elbows in rapid succession. These were the

31 very “chicks on crack” that I was soon to learn about—girls playing doves behaving like baby chickens. ________________________________________________________________________ Walking up to Heritage Hall, I was excited to finally join in on the PACN hype. I showed up to practice anxious to meet my fellow performers and rather nervous about both learning the dance and meeting the girls who I would spend the next few weeks with. Christina, our dance coordinator for Kalapati, had emailed four other girls in addition to myself in order to remind us of our rehearsal meeting time and location. Reading the names, I found myself quite enthused to participate in a dance with one of the girls who was not only in my fraternity, but who had also been the star of the PACN the previous year. I would soon find out that she, as well as the majority of the group, would never actually show up to practice. But my disillusionment with PACN did not begin just yet. As I rode my bike up to Heritage Hall, I found myself in front of an enormous group of about fifty hip-hop dancers, popping and stomping to the deep bass beats that emerged from the speakers. Watching this enormous, synchronized group, I found myself both embarrassed at the thought of dancing around like a bird, and hoping that as a pigeon, I would be just as effortlessly coordinated. I walked the perimeters of the Hall, and ultimately found a girl listening to her iPod and lying on a bench—this was my first encounter with Christina. Following a brief introduction, Christina remarked that she didn’t go to meetings very often, seemingly attempting to justify why we had not met prior to this moment. Her comment spoke to the realities of the Troy Phi year—one that was marked by a lack of attendance and a struggle to attain a dedicated member base. Her comment sparked an entire discussion about the changes that Troy Phi had undergone. Christina remarked that in the past, PACN was an enormous project and that this year “things just aren’t

32 the way they used to be.” In attempting to delve more deeply into exactly how these changes had occurred, I asked her what exactly had changed, and why the sentiments were so vastly different. Christina simply explained to me that the organization depended heavily on the attitudes and excitement of its executive board, and that at this point in time, things “were just different.” After half an hour of fruitless waiting for the other girls to show up, Christina and I eventually decided to switch gears and move on to learning the dance. I was excited for a private lesson (knowing well that my short term memory would not help me with remembering the steps) but was devastated with the reality that my rehearsal experience was not going to characterized by a collective team spirit. Nevertheless, my excitement to dance, to actually perform a part of Filipino culture, and therefore be involved in the preservation and interpretation of it, did not subside. Christina began with an explanation of Kalapati: the dance was part of the “Rural Suite,” a category within the show meant to embody the simplicity and cheerfulness of the Filipinos of the countryside. We were expected to smile at all times while engaging the audience and ensuring that they were convinced of our overwhelming happiness. Christina proceeded to explain that Kalapati was a “little girl dance” that moved at an extremely rapid pace—we were to act like “chicks on crack.” “Oh. So what exactly does this dance mean?” I asked, naively expecting Christina to feed directly into my anthropological curiosity. “I don’t know,” she simply responded. “You’re just supposed to be happy!” Christina seemed to be unaffected by the fact that she knew little of the historical background of the dance. Future rehearsals would reveal that other participants were just as comfortable in their lack of information regarding the historical and contextual significance of the dances. What was more important to them was that the choreography would ultimately be performed—that we would learn the steps, get on stage, and help make PACN happen. Christina was clearly

33 unsatisfied with the way things were being run, and the attitudes in future rehearsals revealed that these performers simply weren’t thinking about why they were doing what they were doing, but instead, were more concerned with ensuring that the performance appeared successful on stage. Christina’s apparent dissatisfaction with the organization’s leadership and current circumstances was validated by the lack of participation in the dance. I was, after all, the only one who showed up to the first practice. Regardless, I found that her attitude about the current situation did not affect her willingness to teach me the steps and show me exactly what to do. We began by reviewing the basic dance moves separately from their sequential order. It started off simply enough. Right foot out. Rock step with left. Left foot out. Rock step right. Right, step. Left, step. Right, step. The rhythm was starting to sink in and I found myself delighted with the ease in which it permeated my muscle memory. Then, the dance started getting a bit more complicated. “Ok now flap your arms.” Three small flaps. One big one. “You’ll get used to the flapping.” “Smile, SMILE.” I felt ridiculous flapping and jumping around, but I tried to keep in mind that I was not the first and would not be the last to do so. “Now, take small steps forward.” Kick back. One, two, three, KICK. Jump and kick in the air at the same time. “Keep flapping. Don’t forget to smile!” The rapid movements did imitate closely the behaviors of birds, and Christina explained to me that the large kicks were meant to assist in the movement of the lengthy skirts that could be hazardous to the on-stage performer. During one of the general meetings, Troy Phi members discussed that one of the powers of dance was that it allowed an individual to connect with his or her fellow dancers. I can assert that being physically uncomfortable in front of another individual breaks barriers fast; the simple act of spending time with someone coupled with the constant exchange of inquiries about how to

34 carry out certain moves, allows for a particular corporeal discourse that does not necessarily occur in a conversation over coffee. And dance, especially with the inexperienced, always leads to laughter—lots and lots of laughter. Still, I felt awkward knowing that the hip-hop dancers thirty feet away were watching us flap our elbows while they exerted powerful, impressive moves. It was something I would have to get used to—looking like a pigeon in public. _______________________________________________________________________ So, here I am. A non-Filipino performing the dance moves of a little girl simultaneously imitating a ‘chic on crack’ and embodying the joy and simplicity of the Filipino, rural lifestyle. Again, I attempted to inquire as to what it all meant. Why were college-aged girls, playing prepubescent children, who were actually performing a couples dance, meant to imitate the movement of birds? I asked my fellow performers, but I always received the same indifferent responses: either shrugged shoulders or the rather repetitive reminder that, “This is a rural dance. You’re always supposed to be happy and supposed to be smiling.” The simplicity of the answers echoed wonderfully the perceived simplicity of the lifestyles we were preparing to perform on stage. But it still left me guessing. Likewise, attempting to locate explanations of Kalapati within literature about Filipino folkloric dances proved to be difficult. According to descriptions provided by the Kalilayan Folkloric Group, a folk dance group based in the Philippines, Kalapati means dove and originates from the Lowland Christian region in the Philippines, or more specifically, in Cabugao, Ilocos Sur. I remember distinctly the day when someone asked me what dance I was participating in. Having forgotten the name I responded, “the chicken dance.” I was sharply corrected by an executive board member who reminded me that this was “the dove dance;” her assertion that we were meant to act as graceful birds seemed to contrast starkly with the previous instruction I received to act like a baby bird on

35 an addictive stimulant. The Kalilayan Group asserts that Kalapati is, in fact, a ‘mimetic’ dance imitating the movements of doves while they court one another—bowing, billing and cooing. The courtship dance is meant to signify the simplicity, naturalness and shyness of the Ilocanos. In imitating the movements of a graceful dove, the dancers are also imitating a symbol of peace. Furthermore, Kalapati dance has been referred to as a barrio dance—meaning “rural” or “local.” These dances are described as “deeply celebratory” and are rooted in both Spanish and tribal culture—some take from steps of Spanish flamenco while others resemble more closely traditional rituals. The costumes in rural dances likewise reveal the juxtaposition between the two cultures: long ruffled skirts bring to mind images of female flamenco dancers, while the color and flamboyance of the costumes bring to mind the joy and simplicity of rural life. When it comes to rural dances, it is not the perfect execution of choreography that is important, but instead, the appearance the dancers are enjoying themselves as much as possible. Rural dances from the Christian lowland have also been described as the “closest to the Filipino heart.” For many Filipinos, these dances illustrate a festive spirit and an appreciation of the simple things in life (Kosmix). Basilion Esteban S. Villaruz (2011) likewise states that while ‘ethnic dance’ is deeply rooted, it continues to find expression in modern-day Filipino communities. For him, ethnic dances are those that imitate nature and life and at the “social core” are performed rituals that allow for the maintenance of a particular ethnolinguistic group. These dances are, therefore, a form of survival just as much as they are forms of spiritual and social expression. Kalapati in particular, reflects the plethora of birds and fowl found in the Philippines. The dance, though packed with intricate moves, takes up only about two minutes of stage time. For this reason, it is a ‘gateway dance,’ a number that provides a quick transition between dances and acting scenes.

Don’t Look Back The show in its entirety is about two hours long and is composed of numerous dance sets, theatrical acts, and musical numbers. This year’s show began with a Pre-Show by a Tahitian dance group, followed by the singing of the Filipino and American national anthems. The rest of the show followed a trajectory that alternated between dance numbers and acting scenes: Acts I.I, I.II, Maria Clara Dance Suite, Act I.III, I.IV, Muslim Dance Suites (Pakuntao, Singkil), Act I.V, I.VI, Intermission, Modern Dance Suite, Act II.I, II.II, Mountain (Rain Dance, Bumaya), a performance by Troy Phi Voices, Act II.III, II.IV Rural Dance Suites (Kalatong, Kalapati, Tinikling), and then Act II.I and II.VI. This year, the storyline of the play and the dance suites did not appear to be linked in any way. Instead, the sequencing of the dances followed patterns of PACNs from previous years. Moreover, in comparison to the performance that I had seen the year before, the storyline of the 20111 PACN appeared to be less laden with linguistic and cultural references to Filipino and Filipino-American culture. This year’s show, entitled “Don’t Look Back” told the story of Gabe, an aspiring photographer emotionally devastated by a recent breakup. Gabe is convinced by his friend Matt to meet up with Victoria, a childhood best friend. Gabe discovers that Victoria had been hospitalized when she lost her breath during a swimming competition; when her breathing was restored, Victoria woke up blind. Victoria and Gabe end up spending more time together, and eventually enter some form of a romantic relationship. As their relationship develops, Jai, Gabe’s brother, faces the challenges of hiding his boyfriend, and therefore his sexual orientation, from his Filipino parents. Eventually he is kicked out of the house and forced to live with his brother. Gabe is eventually offered his dream job with National Geographic, and announces to Victoria that he must leave her. She is left devastated and angry that Gabe has chosen the job over her, but they resolve their differences and agree to stay in touch.

37 The play, though utilizing Filipino-American actors, and based off of the lives of Filipino-American youth, is really a storyline that can be exchanged across cultural boundaries. The story discusses issues that face college-aged youth regardless of differences in ethnicity. The sub-plot for instance, in which Jai faces the challenges of being gay, reveals an interesting cultural conundrum in which youth find themselves attempting to hold an identity that is not always accepted by their families. This problem is particularly relevant for many FilipinoAmericans who are raised in conservative Catholics communities, including members of Troy Philippines. In that way, the play provides an interpretation of some of the contemporary challenges of a Filipino-American university student. A more direct reference to Filipino-American culture is evident in the description of Gabe’s ex-girlfriend. She is the “quintessential girl”: an Ivy League graduate who works at CNN, shook hands with Obama, partied with Jay Z, and is of course, bilingual in Tagalog. The description of this idealized girl reveals many of the qualities that Filipino-American youth value in a partner, many of which are grounded in older Filipino values (including the emphasis on education and maintaining the mother tongue). Interestingly however, Gabe does not end up with this “perfect Filipino woman,” nor does he necessarily finish with the perfect ending. He falls for a blind girl and chooses to prioritize an employment opportunity over a potential relationship. But Gabe remains confident with his decision: “All that matters is wherever I go, I know where my home is and no one can take it away from me.” His final comment appears to be a commentary on the way Filipino-Americans understand the notion a home. The term ‘home’ is associated not only with a sheltering structure, but also with family and the place where one belongs. Gabe asserts that he knows where he comes from and that regardless of the changes that are bound to occur in the future, he will always be linked to this ‘home.’ The way the play ends

38 is a final emphasis on the Filipino and Filipino-American attitude that family is priority. The storyline may not explicitly speak of Filipino folkloric traditions or other cultural practices, but it does reveal what issues have emerged for members of Troy Philippines. Gonzalves (2010) tells us that, “The P[A]CN takes up the burden of answering questions about Philippine and Filipino American culture that are not adequately addressed institutionally on campuses and informally at home” (90). “Don’t Look Back” raises issues prevalent to Filipino-American youth at USC without explicitly stating that they are Filipino-American issues. It is important to note that while the storyline is important in considering the trajectory of the performance, had very little information regarding the plot of PACN until I received a copy of the script. Rehearsals were so busy and hectic that there was never enough time to simply sit and watch the show. Even during the final performance, any leisure time was utilized to get ready for the stage or to assist other performers in their preparation. For this reason, I was most involved in the preparations for, and execution of the dances. Considering the ‘power of dance’ and its ability to create meaning, I find that it is important to delve more deeply into the dances performed during Pilipino American Culture Nights.

The Dances My first lesson about the dances occurred during Troy Phi’s fifth General Meeting of the semester, entitled iPinoy10, dedicated to fostering cultural discussions and exploring the meanings of being Filipino or Filipino-American. My workshop in particular sought to discuss Filipino dances. “So, who here is in a dance suite for PACN?” Brain, president of Troy Philippines inquired. Several hands rose up, indicating plenty of participation in the show.

Pinoy is a term that refers to the Filipino people both in the Philippines and around the world. Historically, the word was used for self-identification by the first wave of Filipino immigrants before WWII and has since then, been used both in a pejorative sense as well as a form of endearment.

39 “Great!” he proceeded to ask, “Who knows what the dance they are a part of means?” This time, the room was silent. Brian’s questioning revealed that while many members were familiar with the costumes and choreography, they were not necessarily able to contextualize the dances. We began the mini-lesson by discussing the Maria Clara dance suite, which, according to Brian, developed based on mestiza11 heroine from the novel Noli Me Tangere, by Jose Rizal12 (Reference). Brian explained that Maria Clara is representative of the virtue of the Filipino woman as someone who is religious, demure, extremely modest, and possessive of a pure soul (Vartii 2001). Interestingly, Maria Clara is a woman of mixed race; the perception of her as the ideal Filipino woman suggests that the model Filipina is a woman cultured in both Spanish and native Filipino ways of life. Brian pointed out that the Maria Clara dance is, in fact, highly westernized, revealing of the influence of the Spanish colonizers. As a “pretty looking” dance, it epitomizes the values of the time, particularly courtship and formality. Brian returned to a discussion of the numerous Filipino elements of the dance: the formality of Filipino courting, the playfulness of Filipino flirting, the Filipino barongs, and the bamboo castanets13. However, the elements that Brian was claiming as “Filipino” could also be understood as part of Spanish culture. The barong, for instance, a Filipino dress shirt made of pineapple fibers, was utilized by Filipinos prior to the period of Spanish colonization. As I learned during Filipino Culture Month, when the Spaniards arrived, they made Filipinos wear the barong untucked to easily identify them as working class members. In addition, the translucent material of the shirt ensured that any weapons that the Filipinos were wearing would be made visible. In that sense, the barong was a tool of Spanish domination. 11

A woman of mixed race, especially the offspring of a Spaniard and an American Indian. Frequently referred to as the national hero of the Philippines, he fought for reforms during the Spanish colonial era. His writings sparked dissent and encouraged the formation of militant revolutionary groups against the Spanish colonists (Congress). 13 A percussion instrument frequently used in Spanish folk dance 12

40 Brian’s descriptions therefore, sparked questions of cultural authenticity. “Wait,” I inquired, “Isn’t it problematic that the dance intended to embody Filipino culture is essentially defined by imperialistic Spanish elements?” After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Nick, the superstar of the past year’s PACN, stated that aspects of Spanish culture simply became a part of Filipino culture. The barong did indeed possess a complicated history, but its current use as a formal Filipino garment indicated that many Filipino groups had simply accepted that Spain’s colonization would forever be a part of their culture. Brian reaffirmed this sentiment by stating that plenty of Filipinos simply embrace “that part of the Filipino culture.” Following the discussion of the Maria Clara Suite, the group moved on to a short discussion on Singkil, a dance within the Muslim Suite. This dance emerged out of the southern area of the Philippines, revealing a culture of royalty. The dance that Troy Philippines performs in particular, is composed of a dramatic narrative about a Muslim prince and his pursuit of a princess who has become lost in the forest while fleeing an earthquake. According to this year’s PACN program book, when the dancers maneuver through the clicking bamboo sticks on stage, they are symbolically avoiding the forest’s falling trees. The Bayanihan Philippine National Folk Dance Company describes Singkil as both a conscious and unconscious announcement to wouldbe suitors for a woman’s future marriage. The ladies graciously step in and out of bamboos poles arranged in parallel, rectangular, or criss-cross fashions. These poles are also hit together to create percussive sounds. The women maneuver through the poles this while manipulating fans, scarves, or even just their bare hands (Hiyas). Other suites not discussed during the meeting include the Mountain Suite the Tribal Suite, and the Rural Suite. This year, USC decided to perform the Bumaya dance of the Ifugao tribe in which men and women imitate roosters scratching the ground—symbolically expressing

41 thanks to the god Kubunian for a bountiful harvest of rice. The Rain Dance, the second Mountain Dance performed in the show, features women mimicking the fall of raindrops as a prayer to the rain deities to bring the days of famine to an end. The Rural Suite this year is composed of both Kalapati and Kalatong. Kalatong refers literally to the three-foot bamboo objects that the dancers wear around their waists. Beating the object in a fast rhythm, they believe it will bring luck and drive away evil spirits (Noel). Tinikling is the chosen tribal dance and is also accepted as the National Dance of the Philippines according to the Filipino government. The dance involves individuals beating, tapping, and sliding bamboo poles on the ground and against each other while dancers step over and in between the poles to a certain rhythm. The name Tinikling comes from the Filipino local bird known as the tikling and imitates the bird dodging bamboo traps set by rice farmers (Cruz). The dances in PACN then are laden with historical references and suggestions about values that were and in some cases are still held within different Filipino communities. However, as was made evident in the iPinoy meeting, performers of modern-day PACNs are less concerned about the historical and cultural program notes, and more preoccupied with the delivery of the performance itself. As Brian mentioned during one of the run-throughs, the primary priority is to ensure that performers maintain character on stage and perform the roles that have been assigned. The formation of these roles, I came to realize, were largely dependent on the construction of distinct gender roles.

Gendered Dances: Girl Playing Chick and Girl Playing Boy In Kalapati for instance, Christina made reference to our ‘partners’ and to the ‘boys’ dance moves. I assumed that she was referring to the boys who had been rehearsing during the same timeslot, and who were likewise practicing a dance involved in the Rural Suite. With time however, I learned that in Kalapati, certain female performers play the ‘girl’ role while others

42 play the ‘boy role; the dance is actually a partner performance despite its completely female cast. Different dance moves indicate different roles at different points in time—even though there are several moments at which performers switch these moves but do not necessarily change gender roles. In addition, the female performer playing the girl’s role is expected to hold a flower in her mouth nearly the entire performance. At a certain point within the dance, she is expected to transfer this flower, without using her hands, to her partner. Kalapati then, is a dance that simultaneously enforces and breaks down heavily gendered boundaries. Particular hand movements indicate which girl plays the male role, while other moves reveal who plays the female. Jane C. Desmond (1999) asserts that the majority of modern theatrical dance performances present audiences with bodies that can be read as biologically male or female. Moreover, many conventions regarding how certain movements and choreographies should be coded as masculine, feminine or neutral further construct cultural understandings of gender. Multiple aspects of the performance can construct particular gender boundaries: interrelational aspects of the staging, body angle, eye contact, costuming, makeup, sound scoring, and even lighting. In Kalapati for instance, we were constantly told to move our arms in a graceful manner that indicated both the grace of the dove and of a woman. The performers who played the ‘girl’ role were also told to make eye contact with the audience and flirt with them. The very clear distinctions between male and female roles can indeed reflect the Ilacanos’ attitude towards gender roles. It remains interesting however, that the young girls are expected to play these male roles. The requirement of young girls to engage in a courting dance logically follows the assumption that these girls are not yet married and are therefore looking for a partner. But why are young women the only ones engaged in the courtship dance? The employment of a purely female cast may suggest that the females are the ones who are supposed

43 to state that they are ready to engage in the courting ritual. Either way, the confusion of gender role suggests that, “choreography explores sex/gender construction with great freedom—with polarized attractions, repulsions, and deflations in every direction” (Fraleigh 2004: 114). In other words, even if gender is a cultural construction, it does play a significant role in the way a performance is enacted. Dance scholar Jane C. Desmond (1999) states that, Theatrical dance forms provide an opportunity to analyze related systems of gender performativity mediated through the conventions of historical dance forms, styles, and techniques. These historical conventions crystallize, exaggerate, diffuse, abstract, and otherwise intensify the enactment of the gender system as it operates in nontheatrical, everyday arena” (318). In the case of Kalapati, only viewers with previous knowledge of the dance would be able to identify which performers and playing male roles and which are playing female roles. Conventions are maintained in that the cast remains entirely female. However, gender distinctions are blurred as females are afforded the opportunity to play male roles. Other dances in PACN likewise reflect delineated gender roles. In Maria Clara, women are expected to move elegantly, twisting and moving their shawls effortlessly, while the men’s faces remain stoic and serious, stomping across the stage. Singkil requires the graces of a girl representing a princess and the strong, assertive moves of a male who can swing around a large sword. Pukuntao likewise requires the graces of a woman while asking for the seriousness of the man. In Bumaya, the men perform covered in only a piece of cloth covering the groin area while the women wear long skirts and modest tops. In multiple dances, particularly Pukuntao, the men are asked to make loud grunting noises, asserting their ‘manliness.’ In all dance suites, different costumes are provided for men and for women. The delineations between male and female roles reflect folkloric interpretations of the way men and women are expected to behave in regards to gender roles. Interestingly, the same

44 attitudes do not necessarily apply to the Troy Phiers who reject the binary presented on stage. Nevertheless, gender conceptions of the past are still maintained as the dances are performed. Performed dance, while developing implications for certain identity categories (particularly gender and ethnicity), has also come to define Filipinoness. The relationship of Filipino and Filipino-American groups with not just dance, but also music, song, and performance have created an interesting image of ‘the musically talented Filipino.’

CH5: “Oh you’re Filipino? You must sing or dance.” “The performing aspect of our culture goes way back. It’s not just a stereotype that “Oh Filipino sing and dance and act and do everything. I feel like it’s such a big part of our culture. It’s how we pass down all of these traditions…I feel like this is not a stereotype, but an elemental part of our culture.” –Marcella, Troy Philippines Secretary It was during an information session for DOZ when I met two girls who also happened to be members of Troy Philippines. “Oh, I’m in Troy Phi too!” I exclaimed, excited that we would have something in common to discuss. My comment was followed by the very common inquiry as to whether I was Filipino. Before I could respond, Alex, both a member of Troy Philippines and of DOZ, responded, “She’s an honorary Filipino! She sure sings and dances like one!” Shocked, but understanding the implication I responded, “No, I definitely don’t sing like one…” While the power of dance and music in reasserting cultural awareness spans numerous cultures, Filipinos in particular have been stereotypically linked these artistic forms of performance and expression. I find that it is important to investigate the assumption that most Filipinos can sing and dance, in order to understand what role it plays in Troy Phi’s construction of group, individual, and ethnic identities.

Troy Phi’s Best Dance Crew A few meetings into second semester, we were told to meet at Heritage Hall instead of the typical classroom that we congregated in. In order to find the group, I simply followed the loud hip-hop music blaring from the speakers on the steps of Heritage Hall. After singing the anthems and giving out announcements, we initiated more new members into the different families. Then, it was announced that we would be engaging in our first family competition of the spring semester. Each family was assigned a different choreographer and given about twenty minutes to learn and rehearse in preparation for a performance in front of the entire group. The family that performed the choreography ‘the best’ would then be given the title of ‘Troy Phi’s Best Dance Crew.’ My family, Family II, or “Dos Sexxies,” performed a short dance number to a Janet Jackson song. The rehearsal setting generated a more relaxed atmosphere; we could not stop laughing as we attempted to body roll and booty-pop in unison. Here we were, a Filipino organization doing what many claimed Filipinos do best: dancing. The first Filipino students I met at USC were, indeed, either dancers or singers, and it was then that I became fascinated by the connection between Filipino/ Filipino-Americans and dance and song. After all, not every student organization on campus has both an acapella group and its own dance troupe. It was when our family lost the dancing competition, that one of our team members jokingly inquired, “It’s because we aren’t brown enough isn’t it?” Family II did possess the least number of ethnically Filipino members. This seemingly harmless wisecrack revealed that ‘most Filipino’ family was expected to excel during such competitions. My personal time spent with members of Troy Philippines as well as Filipino-Americans outside of the organization has allowed me to learn about certain stereotypes firsthand: the idea of “Filipino time,” or always showing up late; the notion that Filipinos are active in many health

46 professions; the concept that Filipinos eat always and a lot; and of course, the belief that all Filipinos love to sing (especially to karaoke) and dance. Blogs about Filipino life such as pinoylife.com, discuss existing stereotypes among modern-day Filipino communities, including the notion that all Filipinos are great hip-hop dancers. This blog in particular, mentions MTV’s show “America’s Best Dance Crew” and the winning teams that are composed of numerous Filipinos, including the Jabbawockeez and Super Cr3w. In addition, pinoylife.com notes the “modern” segment of PACNs, which are nearly always characterized by hip-hop dance styles instead of any other form of dance. The link between Filipino-American youth and hip-hop culture can also be traced to Troy Phi’s involvement and planning of various events. Friendship Games, for instance is an annual event in which thousands of college students both compete in picnic games and put on performances in order to showcase pride for their schools. The event begins with roll call, during which each school spends a few minutes performing some type of dance. This mini-performance serves as an introductory presentation to the rest of the participating organizations, and provides a way for those who are present to see what the schools have prepared for this year’s competition (in terms of theme, props, and number of participants). Some of these sets were entirely choreographed, while others appeared to be organized chaos on stage. Nearly all of the performances were characterized by hip-hop or rap music and dance, and even the halftime show featured Filipino-American performers that were all rappers or hip-hop artists. I watched about ten different shows, marked by a high energy, as performers exhibited fast-paced dance moves, jumping and screaming in an attempt to excite audience members. In addition, Troy Philippines hosted the Mabuhay Festival, a fundraiser for the people of Manila in the Philippines. The event was based on musical talent and dance, showcasing both student performances and more popular

47 Filipino-Americans in the music industry including Lydia Paek, AJ Rafael, Kaba Modern, and Marlon D. Even in between sets, the DJ played an assortment of hip-hop and rap music. According to L. de Leon (2004), the connection between hip-hop and Filipino-American culture can be linked to the needs of Filipino-American youth to find an alternative way to assimilate into an American way of life. These youth were in limbo, frequently living a home life that retained the traditions of the Philippines while being educated in an Americanized system. As it formed, hip-hop developed not only into a distinct musical genre, but also into a style and culture that required practice, and representation. Developed on the inner-city streets of New York in the 1970s, hip-hop became a visual and auditory culture, which drew inspiration from the struggles of everyday life. Rap in particular emerged from the African-American and AfroCaribbean hip-hop youth culture characterized by of graffiti, break-dancing, and rap music (Rose 1994). Accordingly, hip-hop became an extremely attractive phenomenon for urban youth who were given the opportunity to be creative. Tricia Rose (1994) tells us that rap music is a form of rhymed storytelling, as well as a cultural address frequently told through the voice of a young man who wants social status in a locally meaningful way. It is a form of testimony, and a mode of social protest created via a language of liberation. As Rose (1994) states, “these dances, languages, and music produce communal bases of knowledge about social conditions, communal interpretations of them and quite often serve as the cultural glue that fosters communal resistance” (99-100). Deborah Wong (2004) states that, “rap is a site where the body and ground (i.e., history, community) can come into conflict. It is one of the most transnational of popular music genres yet even outside the Untied States is perceived as closely linked to African Americans” (180). According to Wong (2004), rap’s bodily language, its sartorial style, its gender politics and its technological base all

48 originated in African American performance practice. Rap does, therefore, raise issues of cultural ownership and authenticity. While the experiences of African-American and FilipinoAmerican youth cannot be equated, Filipino-Americans identified with many of the hardships that rap and hip-hop music expressed, and consequently adapted that form of music as a way to both articulate their frustrations with certain inequalities, and to express their pride for a culture that mainstream American society was rejecting. While minority issues affected various immigrant groups, the variation in immigrant Filipino-American experiences must be contextualized by American colonization of the Philippines even before they reached the United States. By embracing American hip-hop culture Filipino-American youth chose not to assimilate into the mainstream, but instead to absorb a sub-culture portrayed by the media as a purely African-American art form. Filipino-Americans were able to identify with a minority that experienced many of the inner-city problems identifiable in their own lives. Through rap initially emerged a form of black cultural expression, its ability to represent marginalized voices in urban America allowed the genre to extend to other minority groups seeking an avenue through which to be heard (de Leon 2004). Rap expanded to become a global language associated with the voices of youth and social criticism, and its thematic overtones apply to many immigrant communities. Adrianna, a long-time member of Troy Philippines attempts to explain the Filipino-American affinity towards hip-hop: If I can say it any slang terms, I think Filipinos are huge on SWAG. Hip-Hop is an extremely swaggish and smooth culture, laid-back and somewhat chillax, making it more familiar to Filipinos rather than any other music, such as rock. Swag, as Adrianna refers to it, is a vernacular term that refers to the way one carries oneself. It is composed of confidence, style, and demeanor. Here, Adrianna links the perception that Filipinos are â&#x20AC;&#x153;laid-backâ&#x20AC;? to the characteristics of hip-hop. Clearly, not every single member of Troy

49 Philippines only listens to hip-hop or rap, but my time spent with Troy Philippines has led me to believe that although the connection may be largely inexplicable, it is in no way unwarranted. In addition to this specific relationship with hip-hop, Filipino-American culture as it developed in the United States valued and continues to value its folkloric dance traditions. After World War II, newly formed families and second-generation Filipino-Americans sought a way to develop ethnic pride. In the early 1960s, members of the Bayanihan Philippine Dance Company visited the United States, allowing Filipinos to experience a celebration of their homeland while away from the place they called home. Still, Posadas (1999) tells us that the idea of performing culture, in particular folkloric dance, is just as much a Filipino-American idea as it is a Filipino one. PACNs in particular are phenomena constructed in the United States by Filipino immigrants and their children. For these immigrants, dance emerged as the most enduring form of cultural preservation and renewal. Posadas (1999) tells us that nearly all Filipino cultural programs include traditional dances, among them singkil and tinikling—two staple dances of the university PACN. Dance did indeed play an important role in the preservation of Filipino culture for Lisa. At the age of four, Lisa became involved in Tahitian dancing. As a child she identified with Polynesian culture, and the time she spent learning the dances led her in turn to become more involved in the Polynesian community. During high school, Lisa sought to become more connected with her Filipino background. Realizing that dance was a powerful way to learn about a culture, she developed an interest in Filipino traditional dances. Consequently, the desire to perform and learn Filipino dances motivated her to become a member of Troy Philippines. In discussing the musical stereotype associated with Filipinos she states that, “I’m sure singers don’t think, ‘Oh I sing because I’m Filipino.’ They sing because they sing.” For Lisa then, being

50 Filipino does not automatically imply that you can sing or dance, instead, many dancers and singers happen to be Filipino or Filipino-American. Marcella, Troy Philippines’ secretary provided a different viewpoint. As someone who grew up in the Philippines up until the age of fourteen, she emphasizes that dancing and singing is an integral part of Filipino culture. For her, the idea that all Filipinos sing and dance is not necessarily a stereotype. Instead, Marcella emphasizes that Filipinos enjoy the idea of celebration. Because they are proud of their roots, Filipino singing and dancing are two of the best ways to express this pride and to transmit culture. This idea however, does not appear to be exclusive to Filipino or Filipino-American ways of life. RJ, who grew up in Diamond Bar, California a region with a large Asian community, is one of the non-Filipino members of Troy Phi. When asked to identify his ethnic background RJ states that he is Samoan, Chinese, Japanese, and German. Now the organization’s historian, he asserts that he has observed many similarities between Filipino culture and his own (or the Samoan portion of it)—among them, the transmission of culture via dance. RJ explained that Samoans and Polynesians in general did not have a written language. Consequently, cultural practices were recorded and passed down through dance. While the historical path may not be the same for Filipino culture, RJ argued that generally speaking, dance has the ability to “perpetuate” culture and the practices of the past. In discussions of the connection between Filipino group and hip-hop, RJ commented that the Philippines was one of the first countries where hip-hop scene became popularized outside of the United States. Moreover, he told me, the American media has recently popularized numerous talented Filipino and Filipino-American artists. YouTube for example, has allowed musicians such as Joseph Vincent and AJ Raphael to gain public attention. In addition, American Idol has

51 showcased Filipino-American contestants including Andrew Garcia and Thia Megia. Other popular Filipino-American or partially Filipino performers include Nicole Scherzinger from the Pussycat Dolls, Bruno Mars the R&B singer, Allan Pineda Lindo of The Black Eyed Peas, and Cheryl Burke of Dancing with the Starts. The notion that all Filipinos sing and dance is of course a stereotype—making blanket statements about ethnic groups can never be valid. Still, the feedback from Lisa, Marcella, and RJ, reveals that both song and dance are vital components to Filipino and Filipino-American groups. Efforts to preserve and import Filipino culture were accomplished through the performing arts. Likewise, the fusion of Filipino and American cultures relied heavily upon dance and music. The desire to preserve culture in such a manner has therefore led many Filipino and Filipino-Americans to become involved in the arts in general. In our conversation regarding dance and song in Filipino culture, Adrianna told me that she didn’t believe that song and dance necessarily preserved Filipino culture, but that it was through these mediums that Filipinos are given the opportunity to congregate and get to know one another: “Since most Filipinos have somewhat of a background in music, many are bonded by song and dance. Usually any event featuring singing/dancing occurs at a large group event, further demonstrating the familial atmosphere that comes with most Filipinos. Family is the number one priority to the majority of Filipinos, making time together a crucial aspect of everyone's life.” Adrianna’s comment revealed that dance and song created a sense of ‘Filipinoness’ not only be recreating traditional dances, or enforcing particular assumptions about Filipino groups, but also by creating a space for the development of a family. _________________________________________________________________________

CH6: Creation of a Collective and a Sense of Familial Intimacy It’s not just a cultural group. It’s also a huge social thing. We’re a support group, we’re family. We welcome other people. We aren’t trying to ostracize anyone. We want to welcome people to learn about us. –Marcella, Troy Philippines Secretary In exploring the network of links between performativity, ethnic identity, and the immigrant experience, I have come to realize that ultimately, being a ‘Troy Phier’ means understanding how to function as part of a group that seeks to become a ‘family.’ For Troy Philippines, family does not imply biological bondage, but instead, loyalty and trust between individual members. These idealized bonds do not necessarily exist, but the endeavor to establish them and to create a positive support network is also Troy Phi’s endeavor to maintain a degree of Filipinoness. The venture to create a secondary family, I have found, is not exclusive to Troy Philippines, but could actually be identified in Filipino-American student organizations across the West Coast.

Friendship Games and Family: Performing Identity by Sharing the Love Friendship Games drew over 6,000 students from about forty colleges and universities in the West Coast who came to compete in games, participate in gift exchanges, and showcase their organization’s pride. The event bases itself on the ideals of SPUF: Spirit, Pride, Unity and Friendship. According to the Friendship Games website (http://www.csufpasa.com/fg/), the gathering was established in 1985 as a way to foster the interactions between cultural clubs from different colleges across southern California. It has now developed into the largest student-run Filipino American gathering in the world; the website states that, “Twenty-five years later, Friendship Games has become the highlight event of the Filipino American college life.” Aside from roll call, the previously mentioned dance sets on stage from Chapter 4, Friendship Games was composed of rounds of field day type games as well as gift exchanges. In order to participate in these gift exchanges, each team at Friendship Games came up with a short

53 ceremony in which they were to present a small offering to another school. The ritual was such that one school would approach another, and in starting their own rites, would initiate the larger exchange between the two groups, eventually providing the school they approached with the opportunity to respond with their own ceremony. Each school adopted a particular theme, which was evident in their costumes, chants, and performances. Troy Philippines decided it would go with a ‘zombie’ theme, and consequently, for the gift exchanges, prepared fake tombstones on which were written: “Troy Phi loves (insert the name of the Pilipino student organization and their president here).” In order to commence the exchange, RJ, Troy Phi Historian, used a megaphone to lead us in chanting “friendship, friendship” as we waved our hands back and forth and approached another school. The other Filipino-American organization, realizing that they were being approached, would join in the chant—every participating school appeared to be aware of this opening ritual. Then, when everyone’s attention was obtained, we would switch to chanting, “Where’s your president?” Once the president, or other leading board member was identified, we would proceed to repeat, “We have a gift for you.” Our group member Amy would approach the school leader and hug them. We would then recite, “You’re infected” several times to indicate that the zombies had spread their “disease.” In order to provide some comfort, we would then chant “here’s protection” and shower the other group with condoms provided for free by USC. The reaction by almost every school (we did this about twelve times) was a burst of laughter and then either a) an embarrassing walk away from the condoms or b) a scramble to pick up as many condoms as possible. After this was over, the members of the other school would respond by presenting their gift, accompanied by their own personalized ceremony. This exchange occurred twelve times, and the types of ceremonies always varied greatly. The exchanges typically

54 consisted of emphatic singing and enthusiastic movement, and also allowed both schools to embrace and chant in unison. According to CSUF PASA’s website, Friendship Games is about more than just the representation of Filipino-American college students. Now, it has become a time for old friends to reunite, new friendship to form, and a way to reinforce the ideas of Spirit, Pride, Unity, and Friendship which are applicable to “the many diverse walks of life in America.” This emphasis on fostering a competitive atmosphere and creating bonds between schools appears to be a cultural phenomenon. Barbara M. Posadas (1999) tells us that Filipino groups prize pakikisama, the ability to get along with others. Consequently, individuals are expected to seek consensus and prioritize the needs and desires of the group as a whole over their own. These cultural values have led many Filipino and Filipino-Americans to be more likely to identify with the groups or communities that they claim membership to than with the ‘self.’ In her research with the Japanese workplace, Dr. Dorinne Kondo (1990) reveals the emphasis on locating one’s selfhood in the domains of work, family and community, “for the family, too, is a site where selves are crafted” (115). The creation of a personal identity based on association with a particular group is similarly echoed in the attitudes of many Filipino-Americans, and more specifically, for members of Troy Phi. The attempts to foster such feelings of attachment and unity are also evident in Troy Phi’s endeavor to create an alternative ‘family’ experience for members of the organization. In all of my interviews with Troy Phi members, individuals assert that Troy Phi’s uniqueness as an organization lies in its ability to emulate so closely the feelings of familial, and therefore the production of a strong support network. Posadas (1999) tells us that a “respect for, loyalty to, and dependence upon the family” is something engrained in Filipino culture (45). Filipino and

55 Filipino-American conceptions of family are based on a bilateral kinship system that traces descent through both paternal and maternal lines. The Filipino ‘family,’ is composed not only of the nuclear unit, but also extended members, who are related both biologically and otherwise. Compadrinazgo, is the one of the processes by which these alternative kinship ties are established; an individual will sponsor important events in a person’s life such as baptism, confirmation, and marriage, and in doing so, establishes a spiritual bond with the recipient and the recipient’s family. All family members, whether biologically tied or not, are expected to be loyal to and supportive of one another. Therefore, for many Filipinos identity and self-worth are construction from familial relationships and notions of family (Posadas 1999).

Kinship in Troy Philippines In seeking to solidify the notion of family Troy Phi, the organization organizes itself structurally by establishing a kuya/ate/ading program. In Tagalog, kuya is older brother, ate means older sister, and ading translates into younger sibling. However, the terms kuya and ate are also utilized to communicate a sense of respect towards older individuals—regardless of whether or not they are biological relatives. The application of these terms emerges as a sort of imitation of the Filipino kinship system, which, as members have explained to me, is generational and can constitute an emphasis on the idea of elders and closeness between individuals instead of genetic ties. In addition to the use of these terms, Troy Phi always uses the word family to refer to both the four groups that have been developed in the organization, and Troy Phi as a whole. Interestingly, the kuya/ate/ading relationships between members have absolutely no connection to what family they are a part of; a kuya in Family Two can have an ading in Family Four. The intermixing of family lines develops an intricate web of “family relationships” that don’t necessarily seek to make sense structurally, but are focused on the relationships between individuals. In this same context, Troy Phiers utilize the term cousin,

56 simply to mean someone who they have a close relationship with. Again, the term does not automatically imply that two people are related, but instead, that the individuals are linked in some way. Like the naming system that Geertz (1966) identifies amongst the Balinese, the Filipino kinship terms allow for the drawing of a “cultural map” upon which certain people are closer to others, and in some cases play a more important role in each other’s lives. The attachment of these labels, and in turn, the positioning of an individual in the familial structure is also attached to a set of responsibilities and expectations. Geertz (1996) observed that among the Balinese, the social expectations associated with kinship terms are habitually overridden by responsibilities afforded by other forces including religion and politics. Among Filipinos however, the younger generations are always expected to display their respect for and deference to the older generations (Posadas 1999). Alternatively, the kuya/ate/ading relationships in Troy Phi develop a sort of mentorship program in which individuals are encouraged to turn to their siblings for advice or for someone to spend time with. Belonging to a specific family contributes to a sense of placement and identity within the organization. One of the primary ways in which this sentiment of ‘belonging’ is solidified is via preparations for Pilipino American Culture Night. I decided that in order to truly understand the role PACN plays in construction of individual, ethnic, group identity, and a sense of family, I would have to go ahead and participate myself. I quickly learned that like many biologically tied families, Troy Philippines had its own problems.

Performance and Family: Dancing as an Avenue to Companionship The Tuesday before the big show, I arrived off a plane from Buenos Aires, Argentina exhausted and ready to head straight to the doctor’s office to care for my painful sinuses. Then, reality hit—it is Heaven Week. The week prior to most theatrical performances is colloquially referred to as “Hell Week,” a time when performers spend extra hours at rehearsal. But for Troy

57 Phiers—for us—it is all about getting to spend more time together and to perfect the dances with the people we love. Right? Well, I sure was not feeling that way. Wednesday night, I decided to withstand the rain and ignore my body’s pains to trudge over to practice, which, due to the rain, was being held on the second floor of a university parking lot. Heaven Week was sure looking hellish for me. I attempted to brush off the negativity, hoping that this run-through would raise my spirits. But when I arrived an hour into rehearsal, I realized everyone was still waiting around for practice to begin. It would be a long night. Hoping to use my time wisely I searched for someone to rehearse with me before the other rehearsals began. Our group had had only a few full-length run-throughs and less than a week away from the big performance I felt extremely unprepared. Everywhere I turned people were busy. The responses varied but always provided another excuse not to practice: “I have to pee,” “I’ll be right back Noa,” “I just need to help someone else,” “Let’s wait for Katherine, I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” By about 8pm I was freezing. Sick, wet, and exhausted, I looked at Katherine and explained to her that I simply could not wait until the end of the run-through to rehearse. Still, Katherine kindly agreed to practice with me on our day off. On Thursday, I met with her behind Heritage Hall. I was endlessly grateful that she had agreed to practice with me, and I found her level of understanding to be rather overwhelming. We took each other step-by-step through the movements and then rehearsed with the barely audible music coming out of her laptop’s speakers. At the end of our short rehearsal, I thanked Katherine, telling her that I was impressed at how prepared members of other dance suites had seemed the night before. Katherine responded rather oddly: “Well, when I spoke to Christina, she said that by now we should know the dance.” “Oh really?” I replied, rather confused. “Yeah. She said that as long as we know the sequence she’d clean it up on Friday.” Katherine’s

58 comments did not shock me completely. After all, Christina had done the dance two years ago and was therefore extremely familiar with the choreography. Her attitude revealed one of the central problems of this yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s performance. The few, more experienced performers were becoming frustrated with the novice performers who simply needed more time to practice and learn. On Friday, there was a double run-through. By the time we got to the second full rehearsal everyone was exhausted and read to go home. Brian then asked us to circle up before the night was over. Roy placed himself in the middle of the circle and gave us an enormous pep talk about why we were involved in PACN, and how we should put our all into the performance. Three days ago, Marcella, who had three different solos in the performance, had injured herself during dance practice. As one of the most passionate members of Troy Philippines, the group was devastated that she would no longer be part of the showâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;and terrified as to who would take her place. Luckily a replacement was found, but Roy made sure to remind us that she of all people deserved to be on stage the most. Brian then took over the talk. Before I knew it, he was in tears, telling the group that this was his last PACN and that he was in shock that it would all be over soon. The previous forty-eight hours were stressful and exhausting, but here these two guys were, pouring their hearts out in front of the group. I state all of this to emphasize that preparation for PACN was in no way some type of perfect bonding experience. There were endless challenges and for me in particular, it proved to be a personal test of strength and willingness to dedicate so much of myself to the organization. I speak of my own obstacles to emphasize that Culture Night is not merely the idealized bonding experience that it is made out to be. The show is an enormous sacrifice of time and energy for all participants. Still, my experience with Katherine and the speeches by Roy and Brian were all

59 moments indicative of the supportive atmosphere that Troy Phi so frequently emphasizes. In discussions with Troy Phi members regarding Pilipino American Culture Night, there nearly always arises an emphasis on the attachments members develop with one another as a result of the experience. As Lisa told me, I don’t really know the history of cultures nights. I know I probably should, but I don’t. Honestly, like the most cultural aspects of PACN… [is] that sense of family—especially when you’re working together to produce a show—that huge show. I mean like, you do the dances. But honestly, you don’t really learn a lot about the culture. We teach the dances, and we teach the stories behind the dances but it’s not like Filipinos in the Philippines every day. It’s just [about] connecting with each other through the dances and connecting to each other through that hard work. Lisa’s sentiments reflect the sentiments of many of her peers in the organization. Her emphasis on a ‘sense of family’ appears to be the primary reason many non-Filipino and culturally mixed members of Troy Phi, are attracted to the organization. In my interview with RJ, I specifically inquired as to why individuals who do not necessarily identify as ethnically Filipino join the organization. He told me that, “ Troy Phi is open. It doesn’t matter to them. I mean look you did PACN! They are just very open, very welcoming. It’s very family-oriented. You have a good sense of community…I think those elements in the club attract some people.” From my personal experiences, members of Troy Philippines were indeed extremely “open” and “welcoming.” Members would frequently approach me and introduce themselves, ask me questions about myself, and then assist me whenever I needed the help. My integration into the ‘Troy Phi family’ however, was no simple task. I experienced numerous hardships attempting to familiarize myself with members, attend events, and feel a part of the group. PACN in particular allowed me to develop stronger friendships, but it also worked to reveal individual frustrations and the disillusionment certain people felt with the current status of the organization.

60 Much of what occurred backstage on the day of the performance was an enormous blur. The day was characterized by girls fighting for mirror space, bobby pins and safety pins flying through the air, and performers scrambling to change their costumes in time to run on stage. Still, the next day, members posted Facebook14 statuses about possessing PACN withdrawals, and being in absolute shock that the rehearsals were over. The hardships then, were overshadowed by the more positive opportunities that the performance provided. The extensive preparations for their performances and the time spent with one another allowed for the development of a sort of familial cohesion, and therefore a refashioning what it means to be Filipino-American. The performers do not just get on the stage for their audience, “They take to the stage primarily for each other, as if the experience of the PCN were itself a kind of sacrament or an ethnically specific graduation ceremony that invents a community against the larger backdrop of a culture that expects nation, ethnicity, and identity to be languages of the past” (Gonzalves 2010). Gaerlan (1999) likewise observes the use of folkloric dance as a way to articulate the complex historical heritage and aspirations of Filipinos and Filipino-Americans. He states explicitly that the intensity of the PACN experience “bonded the students into a tight-knit community and aided their sense of identity “ (Gaerlan 1999: 252). The experience of attending extensive rehearsals and preparing for the show is the present day attempt to establish familial bonds and ideas of kinship in rural areas of the Philippines.

Conclusion: Understanding Feelings as Markers of Identity PACN and performance in general, is about more than the physical act of dancing. These dances generate a particular meaning, an interpretation of national, communal, and identities of self that are not necessarily distinguishable (Fraleigh 2004). The extensive preparations that go

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61 into ensuring a successful performance provide numerous opportunities for these imagined communities to either be strengthened or to fall apart. Bonds of friendship or sources of conflict emerge when the dances are taught, when people fail to show up to rehearsal, and in particular, when members can share the joy and frustrations that are part of putting together an enormous and expensive show. ‘Performing Filipinoness’ then, is all a part of being a member of the same affect community. Affect, unlike any one category, is a fluid and all-encompassing component of the human experience that punctures categories in order to form bonds between those who may initially find that they are part of different groups. Raymond Williams (1977) best describes the nature of affect communities through his description of the “structures of feeling,” which are based on sentiments that create a “living and interrelating continuity”; his language suggests that the structures allow for a breathing, active, and endless set of interactions and bonds between individuals—links that are all-encompassing, intertwining, and connected. The affect that ties the system of webs in a structure of feeling is neither opaque nor invisible, but more understandably translucent to our human senses. Troy Phiers then, are linked by the experiences they undergo in both their preparations to perform on stage—through Friendship Games, dance troupes, acapella shows, and PACN. At the base of the Troy Phi structure of feeling is the need to constantly perform interpretations of the Troy Philippines identity. Though feelings remain translucent, ungraspable phenomena, they nevertheless continue to be the most powerful connectors in human life, and more specifically, in the construction of a group such as Troy Philippines. Like “ghosts,” the sentimental links between individuals defy all rationality and are commonly ignored—not to mention that many doubt that they are even real (Gordon 1997). But while we are not able to completely grasp structures of feeling, to see them

62 built, or to explicitly draw the connecting lines, we are able to witness the effects of the affect communities. In this case, it is the sense of family and togetherness—in spite of the very real sources of conflict and dissension—that I was able to detect in the organization without necessarily being a part of the group. Yes, creating these feelings is part of the performance, but the performance is what perpetuates the structure of feeling. Troy Philippines is, indeed, a group that developed on the basis of a particular ethnic identity, but it has morphed into an organization reliant on the feeling of family. The collective is created through performance both on and off the stage—individuals are linked by their identities as students, immigrants, descendants of immigrants, dancers, singers, and actors. However, the performance does not simply remain a rendition of reality, but actually becomes what the performers perceive to be real—the Troy Phi family. ‘Filipinoness’ for members of Troy Philippines is measured in terms of how supportive one individual can be to the next, and not by how much one knows about Singkil or the Delano farm workers. Personal and group identity then, cannot be limited to factors such as race, sex, history, gender, religion, politics, and class, but must also take into account human sentiment and sensibility. For Troy Philippines, the performance of Filipinoness is not merely an endeavor uphold certain cultural perceptions, but is also a practice in the creation of a collectivity.

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