Alternate Universe Names -What's Yours?

 
Lazing around the other day, my mom casually said her second option to my name was "Rianna" after my father's mother "Seprianna"..you can imagine my surprise. I could have had the same name as the popstar Rihanna!

The twilight zone theme song popped into my head as I thought of an alternative reality where my friends called me "Rianna" instead of the name I have now. Could your name affect your personality? If you weren't born a Jane or a John but a Janice or a Jonah would that make a difference in how you develop your personality?

Your name is sacred and perhaps how people perceive your name can alter their reaction to you. The name "John" is associated with religious reverence at the same time most people consider it a plain name. Does that mean people would automatically think you are plain? Medical examiners likewise use the name "Jane Doe" for unidentified bodies. Does that mean "Jane" is associated with someone who lacks identity or someone who does not stand out? The same goes for other names like "Bob" or "Joe" because the name may lack outward character EVEN IF the name may mean something personally (like the name of a loved one).

My mom told me of an old wives tale in the Philippines. When a baby is born he or she is automatically assigned an "ambiguous spirit", which is sort of considered our "aura" in western terms. If the baby is continuously sick it means the spirit born with the baby is weak and unable to protect the baby from harm. Hence, the family calls on the village witch doctor. They bring the baby to a large old tree where the doctor swings a "bolo knife" at the tree trunk and pronounces a new name for the baby. This method gives the baby a new and stronger spirit.

A name is everything. It gives us an identity. It gives us a place. We can abuse our name but we can never change our name (I guess legally you can) but the name given at birth is what lives within you forever.

In the twilight zone, I wonder what Rianna would have been like. Would she be more adventurous? Popular? Outgoing? Worldly? Introvert? Artsy? A rebel? I would not know. In the back of my mind, I give reverence to Rianna, in whatever alternate universe she might be, and hope she lives up to the greatness of her name and who it stands for.

The Question of Identity

I am a Filipino-American, or as Filipino colloquialism would suggest, “Fil-Am”. Not many of you would know thus, but for many first generation Filipino-Americans, like myself, we often struggle with our IDENTITY. Amongst my non-Filipino friends, I am THE Filipino. Amongst my Filipino friends, in the Philippines, I am THE American.

However, I never really know where I fit in within both cultures because I constantly question: Am I Filipino or American? Here in the Philippines, I try to blend in as a “Filipino” but my body type, accent, and attitude is the typical American. While in the U.S., my long black hair, dark skin, and clique of Filipino friends make me “The Filipino.”

I realized early on that I could never be wholly Filipino or wholly American. I also learned that I could neither find comfort in being wholly Filipino nor wholly American. Instead, I find solace in the THE HYPHEN. That middle dash in between Filipino and American. That hyphen is my identity..it signifies me..standing on the precipice of two cultures and trying to embrace both.

 

Growing up, my mother denied me one thing, my language.

My mother and father were immigrant workers in the 1970s. They struggled financially all their lives and worked odd jobs like fast food restaurants, maintenance, hotel cleaning, cafeteria workers, florists, etc. They weren’t college  nor high school educated so you can imagine how much pressure they placed on my brother and I to do well in school.

Throughout their struggles they came to the hard realization that America is a difficult place to live. They encouraged my brother and I to learn English and they spoke to us only in English because they believed by having a different accent and by speaking our native Filipino dialect we only differentiate ourselves in society. By being different and being blatantly Filipino we only encourage stereotypes, judgements, and fewer opportunities because people would look down on us.

This denial of my culture was further exacerbated by the American system. For those of you who do not know, America likes to place people in neat ethnic boxes. When you apply for a divers license, college, or taxes you have check off which ethnicity you belong to.

In my case, when I applied for college I had to check off one of five boxes: Latin American/ Hispanic, Asian America/Pacific Islander, African American, Caucasian, and OTHER.

So, naturally, being a Filipino American, I asked where do I belong? Am I Latin American, simply because we share the same Spanish oppressor? Am I Asian-American, simply because the Philippines is considered part of the Asian region? Am I Pacific Islander, simply because I live amongst of Polynesians? Or am I an “Other” because even my own government cannot place me in the right category? Where do I actually fit in?

If not a Filipino..then an American..if not an American..then what type of American? An “other” American?

At this point in my life I have lived in the Philippines for more than two years and even now I find it hard to blend in to Filipino society. I have yet to fully grasp the language. In fact a lot of my Filipino friends bemoan my inability to understand Filipino jokes and sayings. My literal translation of everything and backwards attempt at speaking Tagalog is abysmal.

Moreover, my attitude has put me in trouble more than once when I get into heated discussions for supporting same sex marriages, stem sell research, freedom of choice for women, and reproductive health. I am very forthright in what I want and I am also very outspoken when need be. When I try to speak in Tagalog, everyone laughs and when I speak in English everyone cringes and they run away with an excuse. Even being an American in the Philippines is difficult!

In the end, I realize that I will spend the rest of my life struggling to reconcile the differences and I will always be stuck in the middle, like the hyphen, continually belonging in the middle and precariously balancing both worlds in one. I guess in the end, you cannot call me Filpino or American. Perhaps the U.S. government cannot recognize me as Filipino-American. In the end do not call me “fil-am” just the hyphen.