My Heart of Rice: A Poetic Filipino American Experience

My Heart of Rice

My Heart of Rice

A Poetic Filipino American Experience

Ashley C. Lanuza

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2020 Ashley C. Lanuza

All rights reserved.

My Heart of Rice

A Poetic Filipino American Experience

ISBN

978-1-64137-371-5 Paperback

978-1-64137-281-7 Kindle Ebook

978-1-64137-282-4 Digital Ebook

To the manongs, to the activists, to the students, to my family, and to you.

Contents

A Note from the Author 

Spoonful of Love

retelling

nanay gloria’s supermarket

homework on the kitchen table

dinner at seven p.m. part 1

dinner at seven p.m. part 2

our favorite

birthday parties

kamayan (hands)

Your Comida, My Vida

from sinaloa

twisted tongues

holding on to what I know

three

Playground Prejudices

kids on the playground

the little differences

rice versus beans

unchanging

Filipino Club of One

honorary latina

one to none

cultural exchange

holding on a little less

Partying Prototypes

nothing i am

lacking experience

sophomore year

birthday invites

Longing for Belonging

missing more than just friends

letting go of what I know

College-Level Disconnect

your dream come true

the lonely road

not ready to go

olvera street

University of Unlearning

recalling memories

fitting in

connecting unavailable

presenting convictions

defining the lines

Forgotten Histories

1700s – Saint Malo Settlements of New Orleans, Louisiana

shrimp paste

1904 – The Philippine Exhibition in St. Louis, Missouri

the Philippine Question

1920s – Migrating Men of Stockton, California

just like home

only golden sunsets

the good

the bad

the american dream

exit signs

empty spaces

1965 – Creation of the United Farm Worker’s Association in Delano, California

please rise

united front

¡si, kaya natin!

1970s – Demolishing the International Hotel in San Francisco, California

the night of ’77

1990s to Present – Overseas Filipino Workers

landline

cell phone

Community Conditions

hiya (noun)

stem

mental

unfair

utang na loob

intergenerational conflict

model minority

hive

in my silence

It’s the Little Things

birthplace

enemy of the nation

american exotica

it’s not that serious

to be

Common Conditions

surnames

collectivist choices

to dads:

to moms:

degraded degrees

what they won’t tell you

enforcing expectations

eyes on you

borders

no better

Rebirth

lightning strike

this is filipino

broken perfection

hesitation

Student Activism

self-led

self-investment

self-evaluation

self-awareness

self-criticism

Far from the Finish Line

lost in one place

finding space

undo the cliques

always redefining

Two Flags Only

pueblo

abroad in Barcelona

present

Conversations Lost in Translation

no questions, no answers

awkward silence

be quiet

to: me

hope and doubt

Work in Progress

awakened

claiming

I am

to lolocon:

Appendix

References

Acknowledgements

A Note from the Author 

Where did you learn to cook? I asked my grandfather with childlike curiosity.

The silver pot bubbled on the stove as sunset’s orange-yellow beams flooded the stained countertop. Using the towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder, he wiped the sweat off his brow.  

Oh, Lolocon sighed, squinting at a memory only he could see. In the Philippines, I was responsible for my seven younger siblings. I learned to cook to feed all of them. And now I just cook all the time.

He shrugged his shoulders in the humble way he always does, but I could see the ghost of a smile play on his lips. Lolocon rested his hand on his hip while stirring the aromatic pot of meat marinated in spices and sauces.

Go finish your homework, na, he prodded, almost begging me to leave him alone, ladle in hand and proud of his stovetop creation.

I am starting where everything starts—home. Home is the foundation of all that we learn: love, comfort, tradition, and food. Food is such an integral part of home life because of the multisensorial way it satisfies our taste buds, appetites, relationships, and souls. The social power of food lies in its story, myth, or origin. Hot dogs mean baseball parks, buttered popcorn means movies, burgers mean American, and les escargots goes to the French. Food represents these different cultures, so, in a sense, we consume culture—literally.

When we consume culture, we determine our likes and dislikes, seeking more of what pleases us. During my travel abroad in Europe, I had an authentic German schnitzel platter consisting of breaded pork, mashed potatoes smothered with gravy, and a side of boiled, sweet red cabbage. The meal gave me a sense of the country’s taste for hearty flavors that paired well with their love for refreshing beers. Moreover, I found I really liked the contrast of a sharp cabbage cutting through softened starches. I continued to search for the same experience I had when consuming that food because it made me content in a sitting near the fire on a cold winter’s day type of way. (I found a similar experience in the Czech Republic, a country fond of its pilsner.) In consuming culture, we consume the knowledge offered to us. Thus, we deepen our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

This is the story of my culture consumption, particularly my Filipino American