Immigrants Change

I used to wonder why balikbayans are louder, more outspoken, don't care if they look fat in their black spandex halters, and wear funny caps, big hair, and big jewelry while visiting Manila. I wondered how they could voice out their complains when they don't like the service or the food in the bistros of even Podium, or why they kept speaking with an American worsh-worsh accent even if it was just us.

Confident of how I spoke English, I made a conscious effort not to speak with a slang when we migrated. With Koreans serving the counter of Popeyes Fried Chicken in San Francisco, and Latinos manning the drive-thrus of all McDonalds outlets here, their broken English with who-knows-what kind of accent was confusing: ("Wu you like fren frai?") We had to have the whole conversation again: "Would you like french fries with that?" or "Was that small frai or small Sprite?" GRR. . .

Then you come across the African-American English--the one that represents American English to the world, with "Yo, man dude," "Fitty-cent, (no second f, mom)", "I ain't no ho', nigga" (for whore, of course!), "Wuz d' matter with yo mama?" way of talking. It may be English, but it doesn't sound quite right. . .(There is a movement to eradicate woman-bashing and bad words in black music). Now I know why many are anxious around most black teens, they talk so loud, as in always. People look at them to shush in BART, in the bus, in the streets (where they walk in the middle, not in the sidewalk--but staring never bothers them and honking your horn at them while they walk the middle of the streets will get you into a fist fight).

It's been 2 and a half years of adjusting to in-your-face American culture. They say what they think, as they think it. Sometimes, that is why they seem to talk to much--they don't leave things unsaid. They just speak the words as they think it even if it is redundant, I just did it, did you see? Think of a conversation here as an uncensored first draft.

Even if I know my grammar and diction is acceptable, I have conceded to speaking with a twang, just for the sake of simplicity and to save time. This way, I don't have to repeat myself. Finance is fai-nance and withdrawal is withdrawl (only 2 syllables, and attention is attn-syun (the a is almost silent) here and that's that.

Everyone asks "Hello, how are you today?" As in everyone. And the common response is "I'm good, how are you?" which gives the other his 3 minute-litany to actually tell you stuff that Filipino culture may not divulge to strangers, like "I am having surgery next week for my back that has been given me pain for the last 2 years. . ." while stuffing your groceries in your reusable bags. And I don't know what to say to that because it's too heavy to get into sincere empathy mode.

So as the sensitive and secretive and seemingly shy Filipino that I am, I now kinda talk more than I want do, with a twang, only to Americans. I still don't complain much, but my husband does. (We even got a free meal once, because he said the soup was cold--not intentionally!).

I found myself standing up to a man in road rage and then crying in the street corner. I engaged in a check-out line fight, with a woman who told me to talk to her hand. I called her a pig, among other things. These things, I would not ever have to do in Manila. But now, who knows?

So many women beyond 250 pounds wear tank tops and shorts every time. I am petite and feel that all my fat is in my arms and hesitate to wear even a sleeveless top. Teka, kung sila, kaya nila, kaya ko rin. So when you see me in Podium, wearing a black spandex halter, with some back fat and bilbil sticking out, you'll know where the confidence is coming from.

These are things I wasn't in Manila. But then I saw on Pinoy TV a movement that stressed Maria Clara is dead and they are evaluating her virtues of mahinhin and secretive. She also committed suicide, they said. Not a good thing to idolize. (Sabagay, what would you do if the friar was coming to rape you? Well, hit him in the head with a lamp, is one. Kick him in the balls, another).

At the end of the day, we are still finding our way through the many changes in our lives. Culturally or not, it's really about who you are, as a people, and ultimately, as a person.

I know that Filipinos can withstand pagtitiis but will fight back to the death when truly insulted. And I know that though they are always smiling, they are easily offended by loud and unsensitive remarks. Immigrants have morphed into not taking things so personally. They also learn to talk a decibel higher, so as not to be drowned in the sea of bigger voices.

Let's see what other changes will happen. . .