Racism from the Eyes of a Fil-Chi



I'm Fil-Chi, Tsinoy, half-Filipino, half-Chinese, and I love and respect my heritage and my ancestors. Sure, I may not fluently speak either language, but that does not mean I love my heritage any less. Sure, I might have been raised in a more Chinese background, but that does not mean I appreciate the Philippine culture less. Sure, I might not know what to call the aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins on the Chinese side, but that doen't mean I love them any less. Sure, I might get confused when distinguishing pochero from afritada from menudo, but that does not mean I like the food any less.

The problem with countries is that their fierce loyalty to themselves makes them possessive. I mean, I get that, but it does sometimes seem like an overkill. I remember when, as a child, I was told that when I turned 18, I would have to choose between the Philippines or China as my country of citizenship. Thankfully, that didn't have to happen because they changed the laws a few years later. To be honest, I would not have known what to choose. I love the the blood that flows in my veins—blood that is the stream that made two very different cultures meet. Try asking a person who has two heritages in their blood to explain it. We can't. We love both equally; there is simply no such thing as making us choose.

First Experiences: "On My Way Home" Tour Manila (Pentatonix)



First experiences are quite the thing, really.
First time to attend a "non-sectarian" (as my friend put it), non-choir concert.
First time to watch Pentatonix (whom I have great admiration for).