care

Care manifests itself in so many different forms. I’ve been told growing up that the Asian way to say I love you was “Have you eaten yet?”. For my mom, that was her love language. She made so much food, she baked, we attended so many potlucks. We drove three hours for pandesal every weekend because it reminded her of home, her own roots. Food is something we all need to survive so it makes sense that we latch onto our own culture’s cuisine so fervently.

Being Filipino in the south is an interesting adventure of food. In North Carolina, while I was growing up, not a single Filipino restaurant existed. The way we would get Filipino food is from our own parents or from other Filipino titas at the potlucks. But, we’d still enjoy food of other cultures. Maybe that’s why I latched onto other Asian identities so quickly. Anime and K-pop are cultural phenomenons that has the whole world in a chokehold.

It’s weird being identified as other ethnicities before my own. Hispanic, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Thai, Blasian, etc. etc. I’ve received it all. And then when I reveal my true ethnicity… “My brother is married to a Filipino woman” or “I dated a Filipino lady once” or “I used to live in the Philippines” and the best “Aren’t you guys basically Hispanic. Your language is basically Spanish”.

Cool.

Very cool.

Because of that I felt the Asian way of saying I love you was never really the Filipino way of saying I love you.

So, what was the way a Filipino said I love you?

Growing up, it was me and my sister, Lyssa, racing to the door to see who could greet our dad first.

Growing up, it was my mom insisting I sing with Uncle Neil on Sundays at our church.

Growing up, it was late nights Taco Bell runs with my brother.

Growing up, it was listening patiently while my dad cried, lamenting that my mother was making his heart hurt.

Growing up, it was bringing my littlest sister to the Kid’s Museum on my days off.

I don’t think it was "Have you eaten yet?”. I don’t really know what it was. Maybe it was every time I slipped into my mom’s bed to cuddle her. Or my brother asking if I wanted anything from the grocery store. Or maybe it was Lyssa learning ukulele after I did. Maybe it’s my littlest sister being the second person in our family going to college. Maybe we never say it. Maybe we’re just trying our best to be the best versions of ourselves we can be while doing the most we can for each other while we’re all figuring it out.

Sometimes I feel like my own care for my family is slipping away. The choreographer in the show I’m doing asked for more excitement for a line. He said “Who’s your favorite celebrity? Musician??” I said I don’t have one. I said I’d be the most excited to see my mom. And it worked. She is the person I would love to spend time with every day if I could. I hate being across the country from her. If I could, I would buy her a house right now and move her to Atlanta.

I’m not sure of the way we show care. But I’m learning how I do. I’m learning how I’ve done the opposite for people. How I’ve shown them that I don’t care. From that, I’m learning how to show care and that’s teaching me how to actually care. It looks so different across the board but what does it look like for me?

What can I do to show I care?

Peace and Love,

Perlizbeth