But I thought I'd leave you with an old post. Just because.
A few things, in defense of the OFW.
My sister called me up to tell me that she has now gone face to face with this somewhat vague prejudice a few people (mostly in the east and southeast asian regions) have against Filipinas.
The situation: A bitter former employee has just left the school and is hellbent on being a vindictive bitch. She starts calling students’ parents, urging them to pull their children out (which, sadly, a lot of them do), telling them that the curriculum is shot, the teachers teaching chinese aren’t that qualified, the school is falling apart… and oh yes, they just hired a Filipina.
Because, you know, being a Filipina is some kind of dirty little secret.
In Hong kong, the word for servant has become synonymous with Filipina. I still remember, back in the late nineties and early 2000’s, stories of how shop proprietors would sometimes turn incredibly rude once they found out where you were from (to the point where you were literally pushed out of the store). In Japan, the most people knew about Filipinas was that they worked as maids or nannies or caregivers or “entertainers” (hello, japayukis). In Brunei, Filipina concubines are still staples in the palace harems. In the Middle East, it’s pretty much the same thing. And they look down on the women of the Philippines, because all they see is the person who cleans their floors, and dances on poles, and cleans their children’s snot, and wipes their old parents’ shit.
And it’s all true. That is what a lof of the women of the Philippines have turned out to be, because that’s what they needed to be. And if nothing else, the Filipina is a survivor. She will do what needs to be done to save the people around her, to save herself. So she will carry on her back the lives of her children, the futures of families, and to an extent, even the economy of a nation. And she will do it with a smile (while quietly praying that she doesn’t break under the strain).
It’s almost funny how she uses that smile for everything. She smiles through the loneliness, the anger, the hurt. She smiles through hunger pangs and exhaustion and guilt. She even smiles when you question her character and her worth. The smile is her last line of defense, after all.
But while you take in that sweet smile, watching as she gyrates on club floors, or cooks your mother’s specialities, or runs your baby’s bath, absent-mindedly darkening the line between you and her, ponder on this:
Filipinas are daughters of an archipelago. We are children of soil and sea. We think nothing of crossing oceans, traversing distances. We fly and sail en masse to fling ourselves upon the world. We are everywhere.
We are nannies and babysitters: we are the hands that rock your cradles. We are teachers and caregivers: we feed your bodies and your minds. We are entertainers, dancers, singers: we ease your burdens, we make you laugh, we feed a little bit of your souls. We are nurses and nursing aides: you have entrusted us with your lives.
We have your children. We have your parents. On certain nights, we have your husbands. And you may not know it, but some days, we even have you.
My sister called me up to tell me that she has now gone face to face with this somewhat vague prejudice a few people (mostly in the east and southeast asian regions) have against Filipinas.
The situation: A bitter former employee has just left the school and is hellbent on being a vindictive bitch. She starts calling students’ parents, urging them to pull their children out (which, sadly, a lot of them do), telling them that the curriculum is shot, the teachers teaching chinese aren’t that qualified, the school is falling apart… and oh yes, they just hired a Filipina.
Because, you know, being a Filipina is some kind of dirty little secret.
In Hong kong, the word for servant has become synonymous with Filipina. I still remember, back in the late nineties and early 2000’s, stories of how shop proprietors would sometimes turn incredibly rude once they found out where you were from (to the point where you were literally pushed out of the store). In Japan, the most people knew about Filipinas was that they worked as maids or nannies or caregivers or “entertainers” (hello, japayukis). In Brunei, Filipina concubines are still staples in the palace harems. In the Middle East, it’s pretty much the same thing. And they look down on the women of the Philippines, because all they see is the person who cleans their floors, and dances on poles, and cleans their children’s snot, and wipes their old parents’ shit.
And it’s all true. That is what a lof of the women of the Philippines have turned out to be, because that’s what they needed to be. And if nothing else, the Filipina is a survivor. She will do what needs to be done to save the people around her, to save herself. So she will carry on her back the lives of her children, the futures of families, and to an extent, even the economy of a nation. And she will do it with a smile (while quietly praying that she doesn’t break under the strain).
It’s almost funny how she uses that smile for everything. She smiles through the loneliness, the anger, the hurt. She smiles through hunger pangs and exhaustion and guilt. She even smiles when you question her character and her worth. The smile is her last line of defense, after all.
But while you take in that sweet smile, watching as she gyrates on club floors, or cooks your mother’s specialities, or runs your baby’s bath, absent-mindedly darkening the line between you and her, ponder on this:
Filipinas are daughters of an archipelago. We are children of soil and sea. We think nothing of crossing oceans, traversing distances. We fly and sail en masse to fling ourselves upon the world. We are everywhere.
We are nannies and babysitters: we are the hands that rock your cradles. We are teachers and caregivers: we feed your bodies and your minds. We are entertainers, dancers, singers: we ease your burdens, we make you laugh, we feed a little bit of your souls. We are nurses and nursing aides: you have entrusted us with your lives.
We have your children. We have your parents. On certain nights, we have your husbands. And you may not know it, but some days, we even have you.
