The Sunshine Post #12

Hello dears!

You know you’re not so young anymore when your peers begin to get married, have kids, or worse, ask you to be godmother to their kids. The tally so far: Three people have asked me to be godmother to future children. One of my best friends has plans to tie the knot. I know some people in my class who have already done so, some out of wedlock. And one of them expressly stated that she wants a small torch as a present for her wedding this May so she can make crème brulee. (I also need to find a dress from the prewar era. Which war?! Maria? Bissy? Any suggestions? I’m a little lost in that department.)

Any other single people out there who think that if this keeps up for the next few years, he or she will give in to people’s well-intentioned but ultimately distressing suggestions to join an on-line dating service? Raise your hands. Let’s form a support group. There will be chocolate gatherings, panel discussions and cocktail hours. Let us toast the single life.

Ah the pressure to procreate and perpetuate the human race! To find love and live happily ever after! Mein Gott. Must I do it now? I haven’t even gotten my pilot’s license yet! I still have to go to school! And I am so behind in taekwondo! *sob* Somebody please hit the Freeze button on the stopwatch of life!

For what it’s worth, I’m sure that I will marry outside my culture. I think it’s a whole lot sexier and a lot more interesting. I’ve observed that those who are at least biracial or have been raised in at least two different cultures are less likely to be arrogant and more likely to be self-possessed and sensitive to other people. I think it’s because they’re already marked as “different” from the rest of the “purebloods,” and so become less cliquish and more open from birth. They’re not deeply entrenched into their own practices and actively seek out other perspectives and viewpoints. Or at least that has been my experience. The happiest and warmest people I’ve met usually come from “Melting Pots” – Philippines, Brazil, Australia, to name a few.

I also think you become prouder of your heritage because you get to pick the best of each of the bloodlines coursing through your veins. That’s one advantage of not being fully accepted – you yourself don’t have to accept everything about one culture. You can take your pick and make it your own. Culture becomes a link and not a barrier, and issues on racism are lessened because races themselves are diluted. Plus the bilingualism is built in, which I’ve found quite helpful.

I’ve always loved meeting people who are really mixed in terms of upbringing. They have the most interesting stories – like one of my yoga teachers who was raised in a kibbutz in India and traveled around the world. They also look amazingly interesting and striking. The best example I can come up with right now is Naima Mora (Irish + Native American + Mexican + African American. I love it! America’s Next Top Model Cycle 4, yo! Don’t laugh, it was my cheap indulgence back when I still watched TV – I think the photo shoots are pretty.)

I’m already three-quarters Filipino, making it half the battle (which supposedly means Malay + Spanish + Chinese + other stuff in there. Who knows?! Yay! My cousin told me she found out she’s part Portuguese as well, although whether that’s also in my bloodline is something I have yet to find out.) and one-quarter Chinese (i.e. my grandfather came straight from the Mainland) and I was raised in both environments, studied in a high school headed by strict French-Canadian nuns and in a university where fraternity men streaked through the school to protest government corruption as an annual activity.

So whee! Oriental + arguably Hispanic? Check! Strange and often-contrasting modes of education? Double check! Extremely questionable skin color? Hello, I’m whiter than white people! Now if I can only find a part-African, part-Caucasian part-Kiwi guy who spent his childhood scuba diving in Australia and once worked as an interpreter of Egyptian hieroglyphics, I cannot wait to see what my kids will look like. My household will be a mini-UN.

It’s the same with altruism and philanthropy too, I guess. I think the most successful non-profits are those that are very international. (Yay, WYA!) To be brutally honest, everyone is forced to behave themselves and really think outside the box in order to be diplomatic and to substantially address the cause that they chose to espouse, instead of half-assing their charity case and still feeling good about themselves but not truly addressing the issue.

I think diversity is the way it’s supposed to be for almost everything. People who were raised in one environment will never truly know what the outside world feels like unless they see it for themselves. For the most part, and with notable exceptions, I have found that those who want to help but whose philosophy is very homogeneous will be (unwittingly) condescending and culturally insensitive to the people they want to aid no matter how good their intentions may be – how will they know how the other side lives if they’ve only seen it in pictures? On the flipside, those who need help and who have insulated themselves may likely try to solve their own problems the usual way instead of looking for what other communities have done. The coolest people are those who have the richest and most varied of experiences.

Plus I think they have better pick-up lines. I remember one embarrassing incident in one of my many extra-curricular classes (which I’d rather not specify since I don’t want this to turn scandalous. This is just an anecdote.). One of my classmates thought that cupcakes and hugs and being nice equal to me saying “Let’s get it on” as illustrated in a brief but rather shocking e-mail.

I didn’t speak to him for two months. Argh. I feel like I should wear a T-shirt that says “Just Because I Hug You Does Not Mean I’m In Love With You” in front and “ ‘Dear’ Is My Default Name For All Living Beings” on the back. Good grief. It was just a cupcake, dear. Let’s not get carried away. What’s next? Do I complete you, too?


Lots of love,
Cathy