Reflection Essay #1
Many of my peers, including myself were born here in America. As a Filipino-American, I am proud to be born and raised in America. I know the living conditions both here and the Philippines. By comparison, America is calm, civilized, environmentally aware; on the other hand, The Philippines can be characterized as tropical, hectic, impoverish, polluted. If I were to choose to live in either country I would without a doubt have an unbalanced decision with the seesaw more towards living in America. The reason being is mainly because my roots are here in America. Though I am Filipino, I was not born in the Philippines. I am fully aware of my bias towards living in America and I am not ashamed of it. In my early teen years, my friends and I ridiculed “Fob’s” because we felt they weren’t cool enough or the accent made them less of a person. I never acquainted myself with fobs because I never chose and wanted to. To this day I still converse with fobs. What is funny is even if a Filipino girl had an accent I would find them unattractive. Which then brings me to a documentary that I last seen during class. It was about a Filipino man that lost his Filipino roots and made every aspect of his life American.
I had a connection with the documentary from last Thursday. That connection was Dan’s disgraced deprivation from Filipino culture. And quite frankly, I can brazenly say that I’m within the realm of Filipino culture. My parents speak to me in Tagalog I respond in English—an odd connection that never fails in longevity. My connection is though I am physically far from the homeland; the practices at home are reflections to homes in the P.I. My parents are Filipino to the core. Born and raised in Olongapo City during the late 1950’s, my parents didn’t arrive till the mid and late 1980’s. My mother immigrated to Virginia with my uncle Mario, Patricio, and Anselmo. My father arrived in San Francisco and moved...
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