Cultural blur

I found myself wandering the streets of Kampong Gelam in Singapore on a quiet Sunday afternoon, waiting for time to pass before the opening plenary of the communication conference that I am currently attending. I’ve always been fascinated by how certain cities can feel like the world condensed into a few walkable blocks. For such a small country, Singapore showcases a rich hodgepodge of cultures. Apart from the familiar Indian, Malay, and Chinese influences, I was pleasantly surprised to see Turkish shops and restaurants lining Arab Street. It is something geographically distant from Southeast Asia, but still undeniably Asian. Indeed, there is now a cultural blur that transcends borders and continents, one that makes it harder to define identity by geography alone.

In the Philippines, we are heavily influenced by the nationalities that colonized us for centuries. In hindsight, we are very Spanish --our surnames, our language, our customs. I recall the many times I fought the urge to take an afternoon siesta just so I could squeeze in more playtime. The siesta itself is such a deeply rooted Spanish practice that has stayed with us for generations. Yet, at the same time, we are very American in how we think and express ourselves. Among our Southeast Asian neighbors, we’re known for our fluency in English and our subtle, persistent fascination with the so-called American dream. Our food tastes like Indonesian and Malaysian food. Our faces resemble those of our neighbors.

We share a cultural and historical thread, but the question of identity remains complex. It becomes especially pronounced when we start discussing what we are fighting for and what truly defines us. Filipinos wear multiple cultural masks depending on where they are in the world. Where I am currently, they are mostly known as domestic helpers. On Sundays, their only day off, they gather at Lucky Plaza, Indian-squatting on sidewalks, doing all sorts of odd jobs just to earn a little extra. That little extra, of course, goes straight to their families back home. It's heartbreaking to think that such hard work is necessary simply because there are not enough opportunities waiting for them in the Philippines.

The cultural blur goes further with cross-cultural unions. Many Filipinas marry foreigners, and vice-versa. In North America, there’s a growing trend of half-Filipino youths returning to the Philippines in hopes of rediscovering their roots. These young people often live in a sort of limbo, raised between two cultures in a single household. Most of them are the children of Filipinos who left because they had to --not necessarily because they wanted to start anew elsewhere, but because they needed to.

If we reflect deeply, perhaps there is no longer one single culture tied exclusively to a nation. Just like language, culture evolves. It shifts with migration, media, economic changes, and the current times. We can embrace this evolution, to refine and adapt to new cultures without abandoning our roots. After all, remembering where we came from is just as important as where we are going.