British | Filipino

Photo credit: provided by subject

I identify as British-Filipino, but heavily influenced by Indonesia. My Mother was born in Bontoc, Southern Leyte, a small Visayan province nestled in the Sogod Bay. My Father was born in England but, like most Fathers of third culture kids, he found that he was happier on an airplane travelling thousands of miles away from home. While I was born in the Philippines, I was quickly moved to Jakarta, Indonesia, where I learned the language and became more accustomed to the culture of that society. 

I was a self-proclaimed ‘Jakarta kid’, yearning to be part of a society that I slowly realized never appreciated my existence. My Mother was ostracised by religious PTA groups for being the younger Filipino wife of a White man, I was asked if she was a maid, if my parents loved each other even though they weren’t married or if my brother was my British Father’s son due to his darker skin. He was, he was also just really into swimming and not very into sunblock. It left a big question mark where my self-worth should be, and I became overly dependent on my loud personality and what I could provide for others to find friendships. A trait I realized plagued a lot of international kids in similar situations to me.

I later moved to Singapore to pursue a degree in acting, thinking that moving to a country that prides itself on its multiculturality would in turn help me define myself as a young biracial adult. It did, in part, but it also showed me how othering it could be just to proudly acknowledge one’s multicultural heritage. As an actor, it put casting directors and I in a delicate standoff. The term ‘Eurasian’ was thrown around quite recklessly. I came to realize that ‘Eurasian’ meant Chinese looking with Euro-conforming features, like high nose bridges and big eyes. Which I was okay with. I understood that that was an aesthetic production companies were looking for. What I wasn’t okay with was the misuse of the word Eurasian. The word I used to define myself, what the government defined me as on my identity card, became the description of an aesthetic that didn’t even encompass the full scope of what a Eurasian could be.

But, as a person, while embracing my identity started many friendships and conversations, it also left me in the same place of not knowing where I stood with people. I started recognizing this self-imposed ‘imposter syndrome’ that I also began seeing in others. It hurt seeing my multiracial peers navigating through university constantly code switching depending on which identity benefitted them most. Portraying a stereotype of one or the other nationality for the entertainment of others instead of embracing their own mixture of both. I wished I could’ve sat them down and told them that they didn’t have to pretend, to overcompensate. Something I wished someone would’ve told me. 

Since finishing university in the melting pot of a city that is Singapore, I’ve learnt to love my identity a bit more. Learned to embrace it for being two halves of different things sewn together to create something new. What I think truly helped was finding multiracial role models in the alumni pool of my university and within the industry that I’m working in. I saw how they carried themselves, owned each facet of their identity without making it the punchline of every joke. They were actors, singers, hosts, playwrights who were working and thriving without the conflict of constantly defining who they were. They were, in the end, professionals, whose work was only aided by their multiculturality. 

By taking them as an example, I could see how I could move forward as a fresh graduate. I used to think that I was a personality that had to compete with the fact she was mixed-race for the comfort of others. Now, I think that my mixed-race identity is just a component of what makes me unapologetically whole.