As you read, think of this metaphor, “Beauty is only skin deep.” I think it’s an appropriate way to start because we’re going to talk about two things: beauty and skin. So far, we’ve examined the makings of the mestizo in the Philippines during Spanish colonial times (1521 to 1898). We’ve also explored ideas of privilege and race as it relates to immigration. Now, I feel it’s time to talk about these topics as it pertains to identity. Who shapes the identity and, subsequently, the confidence of second-generation Filipino-Canadians? Finally, how much of that confidence relates to ideas of beauty?
Looking back at the oral history interviews we collected for the Manila to Manitoba exhibit in 2010, the narratives of second-generation Filipino-Canadians are especially telling. This generation does not simply consider themselves Filipino because their parents are Filipino. Being Filipino to them is a matter of choice – they can choose to accept or deny this. For one informant, Marisolle, her bi-racial heritage as Filipino and Ethiopian urged her to “prove” she was more Filipino. She states:
“.. Are you East Indian? Are you black? Are you Spanish? I get everything, except Filipino; of course I don’t look anything like it. And I think, I kinda just want to show that you know, the only reason it was so important for me to prove that I am Filipino is because that’s what I know right? That’s my family.”(ANAK, 7 January 2010)
Her narrative urges us to assume two things: (1) she feels Filipino; and (2) she feels she doesn’t look Filipino. Her personal identity and confidence has been shaped by her tight knit Filipino family. Her bi-racial physical appearance however causes others to question what she believes. So, does this mean that the darker the skin the less Filipino one appears to be? Well, not so fast.
I must say that I can relate to Marisolle’s experience. Although both my parents are Filipino, I grew up taller, bigger, and fairer skinned than the majority of Filipino-Canadians I knew. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask if my father was either white or Chinese. “Nope,” I’d say. “My dad’s a very dark skinned Filipino.” So, it was a bit of a shock for me to discover that the hyphenates of my heritage extend beyond Filipino and Canadian, but also Spanish, Irish, Mexican, and Chinese. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if this distant past was anything to feel excited about. I always felt different. So, does this mean the taller, the bigger, and the fairer skinned appear less Filipino?
If we were to take a look back at the time of our parents’ emigration to Canada from the Philippines in the late 1960s and 1970s, we would see a world only beginning to broaden racially. Canada’s immigration laws now ran under a “point system” that allowed immigrants from outside of Europe. “Multiculturalism,” was Canada’s new banner as colored workers and their families began to enter the country’s borders. Later, in the 1980s, multiculturalism grew some teeth to become a new movement called “anti-racism.”
In the Philippines, there was another experience developing. It was the time of Martial Law. President Marcos had taken control of all aspects of free speech. Everything was under government control from the morning paper to the late night curfews. It was a time of either simmering protest or growing apathy. Filipinos were living either angry or ambivalent. Many took to the local cinema to live out their frustrations. It was at this time a new Filipina heroine arrived. Her name is Nora Aunor – the Philippines’ own “Black Beauty.” Scholar Behn Cervantes describes her fame this way:
The ascendancy of Aunor, the dark and underprivileged Filipina, coincided with the rise of rabid nationalism during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Her struggle against the mestizas was emotionally supported by the anti-imperialist, pro-masa [pro-masses] sentiment brewed by activism. Furthermore, her story was cinematic in proportion, being a genuine Cinderella who rose from rags to riches. She was the Dark Pinay [Filipina] who toppled the White Tisay [Spanish- Filipino mestiza]! The Filipino audience was ripe for Nora Aunor. Domestic helpers, atsays [housemaids], cigarette vendors, store clerks, and everyone else who identified with the diminutive beauty realized that with the price of a movie ticket they could make a difference. They were heard and noticed through Nora. Her smooth brown complexion and dark brown eyes legitimized their own skin and eyes. They became fanatically loyal. (Lim, p.66)
Philippine society and pop culture were now being turned on its head. The status quo of the wealthy and fair skinned mestizo elite were being brought into question by the growing numbers of poor and morena (dark skinned). What ideas did our parents hold onto as they left the epicentre of this nationalist movement? Did these ideas stick around when they raised us?
I’m told that when people ask “what” I am it’s because they are driven by curiosity not malice. But, when we live our life trying to figure out exactly what being both Canadian and Filipino means, these kinds of questions set us back. To be made to feel that you don’t belong (even when your confidence begs you to believe what you feel is right) hurts. When you are set apart, beauty might be the last thing you think you resemble. Too black. Too white. Says who?
The people asking us these questions likely lived a generation before us. They came to know “multiculturalism” as a way of celebrating difference. So, to ask and be curious, may mean acknowledging differences rather than accepting commonalities. Moreover, it could mean that those who ask recall a time of repression and protest in the Philippines, but can’t move beyond the 300 years of colonialism that first defined race with privilege. White is beautiful because history’s conquerors said so. Black is beautiful because Philippine nationalism said it was time for a change. Filipinos have a lot of ideas of who we are and who we should be. It goes to show that with all the regional and ethno-linguistic differences found there, the added layer of being Canadian here only adds to this diversity. Confidence is knowing that beauty is, in this case, the same black, white, and brown kind.
Sources:
ANAK Oral History Project. Interview with Marisolle N. (7 January 2010)
Lim, B. C. “Cult Fiction,” Spectator 24.2 (Fall 2004): 61-72.
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