English/Scandinavian | Filipino

Photo credit: provided by subject

I didn't know I was Asian until I was about eight years old. Young children typically aren't aware about the concept of race or racial identity; however, I remember that life-changing evening clearly. I stood in my bathroom mirror, examining my physical features: olive skin; dark, thin, curly hair; small, dark eyes. I thought about my Mom and how she didn't look or sound like my friend's mothers. What? My Mom is from another country? My Mom is Asian? ... I'm Asian? 

My Mother was born and raised in third-world Philippines and moved to America in her mid-twenties to seek a better life, as well as to work and help her family back home. Frankly, the Philippines is a vain country. Appearance is everything, and by appearance, I mean Western appearance. Women often dreamed of marrying an American with Blonde hair and Blue eyes (which my Mom actually did) and having White children. Dark hair, dark skin, and dark eyes were never glamorized in the media. Thinking her children would be ashamed of their heritage and dark appearance, my Mother decided to try her best to ‘White-wash’ her children and Americanize them. Don't teach them the language, don't teach them the culture. Looking back, though, it was hard to ignore the interesting foods we ate and how many languages my Mother spoke when she communicated with family back home, especially with my Father working out-of-state until I was about four or five. 

My preteen and teenage years were the most difficult in terms of defining myself culturally. Mom and Dad always said, ‘never say you're White in forms and applications. You're a minority’. Sure, whatever that means. So I'm only Asian, right? But lots of people call me White and Dad is White, so am I White? I often found myself too Asian for my White friends and too White for my Asian friends, often leaving me feeling left out. Kids can be so mean. I begged my Mom to teach me Tagalog, the country's most prominent language, but I was too old to become proficient. This never stopped my desire to learn.

From then on, I decided to take every opportunity I could get to learn and embrace my heritage. When I was 17, I decided to legally change my name to follow a Filipino tradition. Today, I wear ‘Daclison’ proudly.

No one should ever be ashamed of who they are or where they come from. The vast amount of cultures in this country (and this world) is absolutely breath-taking and I encourage each and every one of you to take pride in your roots. 

Last but not least, I want to thank my Mother for being incredibly supportive of me. Our situation is interesting, Mom, but do you know what? I have one hell of a childhood to talk and joke around about and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Thank you, and I love you so much.