I’m an alien.
In my birthplace, the Philippines, I’m a foreigner not able to speak the national language of Tagalog. Although, born in the central province of Cebu, my communication skills are limited, able to understand the local language of Visayan but putting a sentences together is a challenge. The culture which adores Korean pop and the never ending karaoke is incomprehensible to me. During my visits, locals and other foreigners are astonished and often ask “where did you get that American accent.” My misfortune is understandable since my family immigrated to the U.S. when I was seven.
Football, hamburgers and pizza, the affinity for beautiful cars and the rest of American culture is what I associate with. I can communicate and speak fluently in the English language, yet I can never be a complete American. Appearances dictate that I am not. My philosophy and my heart is American and my lineage is Filipino. Yet, I’m an alien in both countries.
With no remorse, my inner-strength is forged by both cultures.
My understanding of life and the world is better for it.