When I was very young, my parents made the decision to never speak Bisaya to me. Growing up in America, they didn't want me to have to struggle in school, being confused by two languages.
I grew up struggling anyway with how to speak English based on my parent's heavy Filipino accent. And when we visited family, I felt like an outsider because I didn't know or understand Bisaya.
I'm still pretty slow with it. I understand better than I can speak. But in college, it really bothered me. When you leave home, you start to discover who you really are. Chinese, Japanese and Korean kids still had their language. It bothered me that I felt so disconnected from my heritage. As an art student, I did a few paintings about it. These paintings are from my last trip to Cebu in 1993.
Preparing Lechon
Preparing Lechon Detail
When I presented these paintings in class to my fellow students, no one really seemed to care. American kids couldn't relate to my experience from my point of view. Maybe I wasn't a good enough painter back then to express how I felt. Even if I was a better painter, I still don't think it would have made any difference. This was representational work when the pressure was really on to be abstract. I did a few more of these paintings, but I lost my energy for it.
Now that I'm much older, I don't worry about it so much. That struggle no longer occupies my daily thoughts.
My wife gets how I feel. She senses my longing for my culture and she can see how happy I am when family visits us. She's not Filipino, but her family lived there for a long time before she was born. She does what she can to make me feel like our house has a little bit of back home. She made that lamp for me out of paper. Two of them. Just little things.
My Uncle once told me that "Love is finding someone who understands you."
Thanks,
@PixelColada
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