Harsh edits welcome! Is it too long? Too wordy? Tell me what you think. Thanks in advance!
"Here, sing!" My Tita Sandy thrusts a karaoke microphone in my face, smiling expectantly at me, but I grimace in response. I maneuver expertly around her outstretched arm and sit in a loveseat at my Auntie Tina's house, at yet another family party - this time for my aunt's birthday. Sighing with resentment for being forced against my will to attend another potluck, I watch people mill in and out of the living room. As I sigh, I breathe in the delectable aroma of fried food - chicken, fish, and my favorite, lumpia, small little egg rolls stuffed with meat. Several ladies crowd around my aunt and cackle uproariously at a joke she makes. A group of my titos raucously sings to the karaoke machine's beat, their arms around each other and their brown faces slightly red with beer and good food. I can't help but smile.
On a couch nearby, my mother discusses taxes - taxes, at her sister's birthday party. I shake my head in awe. Awe that she even brought up such a word at a party, and awe for my mother's work ethic. If there's one thing my immigrant Filipino parents have impressed upon me over seventeen years, it's a strong work ethic. Growing up, I watched my parents work hard to provide for my siblings and me? in a foreign land - and succeed. Their labor over the years has taught me the importance of hard work and what it can do for you. For them, it transformed them from struggling immigrants into productive citizens of American society, able to provide for their family/immigrant children.
She catches my eye and I recognize the look on her face - she's about to introduce me to that lady she's conversing with. Oh, no. Another awkward meeting with some relative I don't know and can't converse with in Tagalog. She's probably my aunt twice removed on my father's side. Seeing my attempt to retreat, my mother locks her fingers around my wrist and pulls me towards a smiling Filipino woman. After the introduction, I smile and, bowing my head, take her right hand and touch the back of it to my forehead in the common Filipino sign of respect. I learned from an early age to respect my elders at all times. This adherence to respect extends not only to my elders, but to my superiors in general as well as my peers. It's something that I try to maintain at all times.
I retreat to my seat and my Uncle Berni walks over to me and hands me a plate full of food. I take it, smiling at him in thanks. My uncle's actions towards me showcase another trait that my Filipino upbringing has instilled in me: concern for others, especially family. I always grumble conspicuously when my parents remind me to look out for my brother, but truthfully, I do it subconsciously. Family in Filipino culture holds the greatest value. Ever since I was little, I spent more time with my family than friends my age did, and still do, today. We don't always get along, my family and I - once, I cut up my brother's hockey socks when he deleted all my files in my computer - but I would do anything for them.
Another hand grabs me. I freeze; could it be another painful introduction? But no - it's my little five-year old cousin, Kakoy. I laugh. I realize that despite whatever frustrations I may have, my ethnic background/ethnicity has made me who I am today, a person of whom I've grown quite proud. I pick up Kakoy, squeezing him to me, and head to the food table for more fried food and possibly dessert.
"Here, sing!" My Tita Sandy thrusts a karaoke microphone in my face, smiling expectantly at me, but I grimace in response. I maneuver expertly around her outstretched arm and sit in a loveseat at my Auntie Tina's house, at yet another family party - this time for my aunt's birthday. Sighing with resentment for being forced against my will to attend another potluck, I watch people mill in and out of the living room. As I sigh, I breathe in the delectable aroma of fried food - chicken, fish, and my favorite, lumpia, small little egg rolls stuffed with meat. Several ladies crowd around my aunt and cackle uproariously at a joke she makes. A group of my titos raucously sings to the karaoke machine's beat, their arms around each other and their brown faces slightly red with beer and good food. I can't help but smile.
On a couch nearby, my mother discusses taxes - taxes, at her sister's birthday party. I shake my head in awe. Awe that she even brought up such a word at a party, and awe for my mother's work ethic. If there's one thing my immigrant Filipino parents have impressed upon me over seventeen years, it's a strong work ethic. Growing up, I watched my parents work hard to provide for my siblings and me? in a foreign land - and succeed. Their labor over the years has taught me the importance of hard work and what it can do for you. For them, it transformed them from struggling immigrants into productive citizens of American society, able to provide for their family/immigrant children.
She catches my eye and I recognize the look on her face - she's about to introduce me to that lady she's conversing with. Oh, no. Another awkward meeting with some relative I don't know and can't converse with in Tagalog. She's probably my aunt twice removed on my father's side. Seeing my attempt to retreat, my mother locks her fingers around my wrist and pulls me towards a smiling Filipino woman. After the introduction, I smile and, bowing my head, take her right hand and touch the back of it to my forehead in the common Filipino sign of respect. I learned from an early age to respect my elders at all times. This adherence to respect extends not only to my elders, but to my superiors in general as well as my peers. It's something that I try to maintain at all times.
I retreat to my seat and my Uncle Berni walks over to me and hands me a plate full of food. I take it, smiling at him in thanks. My uncle's actions towards me showcase another trait that my Filipino upbringing has instilled in me: concern for others, especially family. I always grumble conspicuously when my parents remind me to look out for my brother, but truthfully, I do it subconsciously. Family in Filipino culture holds the greatest value. Ever since I was little, I spent more time with my family than friends my age did, and still do, today. We don't always get along, my family and I - once, I cut up my brother's hockey socks when he deleted all my files in my computer - but I would do anything for them.
Another hand grabs me. I freeze; could it be another painful introduction? But no - it's my little five-year old cousin, Kakoy. I laugh. I realize that despite whatever frustrations I may have, my ethnic background/ethnicity has made me who I am today, a person of whom I've grown quite proud. I pick up Kakoy, squeezing him to me, and head to the food table for more fried food and possibly dessert.
