My Countries ‘Tis of Thee

Someone once told me that love of country is similar to love of family–you love it because it’s yours.  I suppose by that logic, I’ve got a larger family than most.  I could call them three “separate families” if I were to be so bold, but I’d like to think that they all make me complete, and so I harbor no reservations with calling each member inseparable parts of myself.  My country of birth, of upbringing, and of heritage are all different places, and I’ve come to a point where I now regard that fact as a blessing.

My parents are Filipino.  Their parents are Filipino too, as were their parents and their parents’ parents.  I’m about as ethnically homogeneous as one could possibly get, but I hardly look the part.  I’m lighter-skinned than most Filipinos, and I speak not a word of Tagalog (believe me, I’ve tried, and it’s a pathetic sight to see), yet I have no qualms with calling the Philippines part of my “family”.  The Filipino people make the country, more so than any other I’ve heard of or visited.  The most Christian nation on God’s green earth, its people are blessed with a compassionate and joyful spirit the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else, in spite of the fact that desperate poverty isn’t unheard of or even uncommon.  I once read in “The Hobbit” that “If people valued food and cheer and song over hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”  If only more countries followed that pearl of wisdom; the Philippines certainly does.

But there’s a reason why my parents decided to leave their native land for the sunny shores of California after getting married.  If the Filipino spirit is kindled by its citizens, the American identity is determined by its ideals, and to the “shining city upon a hill” that Winthrop–and later President Reagan–so passionately spoke of. “In my mind it was a tall proud city, built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace”, said the 40th President.  I’ve fallen in love with that city, and the notion that “all men are created equal”.  America is not without its pitfalls, but there is a reason why myself and most of my peers are applying to American colleges from halfway across the world.  The state of American hegemony might be up for debate, but its opportunity, its promise, and its ideas are not–and I’m proud to call the United States of America my place of birth.

Upon meeting new people, I often have difficulty answering the simplest of ice-breaking questions:  “Where are you from?”  I presently have two answers at my disposal.  The long answer says “Well, I was born in New York, my parents are from the Philippines, but I live in Hong Kong”, and the short answer simply says “I’m from Hong Kong”.  There’s a reason why Hong Kong is the only place that makes it into the short answer (which, for brevity’s sake, has become my preferred answer).  I’ve lived here for 12 years.  I’ve grown taller, grown older, survived puberty, and become who I am in this crowded island of a city, and I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.  In Hong Kong I witness daily the unleashed energy of human potential, a place where towering skyscrapers are placed side-by-side with even taller edifices, nestled between sprawling green hills and an utterly magnificent harbor.  The grand splendor of human achievement can be seen and felt in virtually every square meter of Hong Kong’s land.  Reagan went on to describe his vision of America as “a place with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity”.  I’d like to think that the port city of Hong Kong better fits that description.  And did I mention how amazing the food is?

I suppose I can add one more rehearsed answer to my repertoire:  I’m from the Philippines, I’m from the United States, and I’m from Hong Kong.