by: Davian Gagne
Filipinos landed in the US in Morro Bay, California on October 18, 1587, 435 years ago. They came under tough conditions – meager food rations, disease, and very low pay for their labor as crew members on the ship. I learned this story and history a couple of weeks ago. This holds a lot of significance for me; Filipinos have been here for a long time and rarely are there opportunities to learn about this deep history. Imagine the rich stories that exist here. I am ready to learn more. I am a bi-racial Filipina. My mother, Emelita Aspiras (maiden name) was born in Sydney, Australia and spent almost the first decade of her life in the Philippines and then immigrated here to the U.S. with Maxima, Panfilo, and her brother Leo when she was around 10 years old. She grew up in the Washington, D.C. area. My father, David Gagne, was born in Vermont and is French Canadian. He grew up in a single parent household with his mom, Cecile, and five siblings speaking French. These are my people.
Last year I was in a place of longing to come back to my ancestors, stories, and people. I wanted to heal the space of the in-between, meaning that I wanted to create loving acceptance of being bi-racial and claim the beauty and power in the blended space of my ancestors. I also wanted to heal in community for part of this as I know the healing medicine of bearing witness and telling my story. So I discovered an offering for AANHPI communities and applied and was accepted into the Decolonizing Race program hosted by Decolonize Race Project. It was a beautiful tapestry of Asian leaders from a variety of Asian diasporas. We came together to share stories of our families and their journeys to the U.S., internalized white supremacy, shared immigrant narratives, and more.
It was also during this time that I asked my mom for my Lolo’s autobiography, which is captured in an accounting book and where the first page of his story starts on the last page. Panfilo wrote this some time in the 1950’s. I shared with the group the existence of this gem, this window into my Lolo’s life. I have peered into the book once, to glean his beautiful cursive handwriting. The first paragraph describes his family, names his siblings that I know nothing about. That is as far as I have gotten. For some reason, I am not ready even though I have a burning curiosity to come back to my ancestors and family to learn and take in all that I can. The book lives in my room, on the corner of my dresser. I look at it a couple of times a week, at his handwriting on the faded green canvas cover. I keep imagining myself picking up the book, holding it on my lap, and inviting in his spirit to tell me the stories on those pages. I am sitting with a couple of truths – the time will come when I am ready to take in his story and what is it that is giving me pause.
There is a bit of contrast for my dad’s side of the family. He shares vivid, captivating stories about the adventures he and his brothers and sisters experienced growing up along the Connecticut River way up north close to the Canadian border. He shares glowing stories of venturing in the woods with his older brothers, building wood rafts out of logs, and floating down the river in the spring when the water ran high. There are other stories of spending time on his uncle’s maple tree farm and learning how to tap the trees for the sap and syrup making process. I hold so many of these stories close in my heart along with his other sharings about growing up mostly on government food, spending some time in an orphanage, and being separated from his siblings. These are also the pieces of me and my identity.
October is Filipino American History Month. I offer an invitation to myself and others to continue to be curious about the Filipino communities around you. We have been here for a long time, we have contributed to important labor movements (Larry Itliong), we have been amazing Olympic gold medal divers (Victoria Manalo Draves), and we have been a part of the thriving R&B scene in the 1950’s (Sugar Pie DeSanto). I am excited to continue to take in the rich history, for it to be a medicine and pathway for my coming back to self, family, and community.