During the second weekend of January for the last 6 years, I have taken part in the annual African American Student Leadership Experience (AASLE). In just the last 3 years, we have developed the Asian American/Pacific Islander Leadership Experience (AAPILE) and Chicano/Hispanic/Latino Leadership Experience (CHLLE) in order to expand leadership development through a cultural lens as well as build coalitions among these groups. When I first attended AASLE in January 2014, it was through my role as an advisor to students. I initially saw my role as a chaperone, but what I found was a conference like no other. The keynote speakers, the workshops, and the experience moved me like no conference ever had. And if someone were to ask me what made this conference different, I would be at a loss for words about how it was not so much a conference, but an “experience.” There was an aura of love, authenticity, connection and care in the space that you do not find everywhere. As I process the feelings that I felt that first year and continue to feel every year that I take part, I think of the quote by Maya Angelou that goes, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Similarly, I do not remember all that the keynote speakers and workshop leaders said and did, but every year, I remember feeling a sense of connection with people I had just met as well as a sense of empowerment that we truly can change the world for the better.
Young Men Connect
I had the incredible opportunity to serve as the keynote speaker for a retreat of phenomenal high school men today. The all-boys Jesuit school hosted this offsite retreat with the goals to provide a space for conversation and understanding, and to empower students to discern how they can bring their learning back to campus. Like many schools (and organizations) across the nation, they had been experiencing race-related issues on their campus. This retreat was an active step to bridge the divide among students and develop leaders who could help foster opportunities for connection among their peers.
After sharing my story with the students, I focused my energy on them. I wanted them to know the value of their presence at the retreat. I wanted them to know that they had incredible power to do more than just good, but do great things to leave this world better than they found it. I wanted them to know that our world needs them.
I was so moved by the questions they asked, their openness to share their stories, and their engagement overall. Having worked in education for more than 15 years, I had observed a good share of student posturing. Often in diversity-related conversations, students posture by keeping the conversation intellectual and do not always talk about their personal experiences or share their diversity stories. They act like they know it all because they read about it, but are not willing to engage more deeply in the self-work it takes to “be” about it. This group was different. There was a willingness among these young men to be vulnerable, which is hard for anyone to do, not to mention high school students. This group was willing to “be” about it. And from my perspective, it was a privilege not only to observe them doing the work, but to be part of the experience.
There are times in my life when I know that I am supposed to be in a certain place, at a certain time. This retreat was one of those times. I needed to experience the vulnerability of these young men as much as they needed me to help facilitate the space.
Starting a Cultural School
As the daughter of immigrants from the Philippines, I recall the joys and challenges of being a young second-generation Filipina American, navigating a world around me that was predominantly White. Even with my beautiful black hair, brown skin, and petite size, I found myself wanting to be skinny, tall and White with blonde or brown hair like my classmates, teachers, and the people I saw on television. I was aware of my identity as a Filipina American, but as a young girl, I did not take pride in it. To some degree, I was embarrassed about being so different from my classmates. I wanted to look like them and be like them. But growing up in a close-knit Filipino family provided me with many opportunities to experience the beauty of Filipino culture – through family gatherings, my mother’s delicious food, my cousins who moved to the United States from the Philippines, visits to the Philippines, and so much more. I just did not appreciate those experiences at the time.
Now as the mother of 3 kids, I want to share with them the richness of Filipino and Filipino American culture. I want them to take pride in their cultural identity, their unique beauty, their family heritage. I want them to learn the Filipino language, hear the traditional stories, experience the customs, and enjoy the food.
I was lucky to find a group of second-generation Filipino Americans who felt the same way. Together, through Katipunan, the Filipino-American Association of Maryland, we started the Katipunan Cultural School with the mission to engage, empower, and energize Filipino American youth to celebrate their culture and historic traditions. The program covers a variety of learning opportunities such as Filipino language, martial arts, cultural dance, food, and more. The pilot program was held in August 2017 and was so well-received that the Cultural School was offered in November and December that year with requests to continue offering this program. For 2018, students will learn about the “Regions of the Philippines” with each of the 3 sessions focusing on Mindanao, Visayas, and Luzon. We look forward to continuing to build the program and encourage our youth to take pride in their Filipino cultural roots.
Not Your Average Athlete
When our son William was an infant, my husband and I learned about a father who ran marathons while pushing his son in his wheelchair. Like William, his son had experienced complications at birth and was diagnosed with spastic quadriplegia cerebral palsy. As runners and parents to a child with special needs, my husband and I resonated with this father’s sacrifice for his child.
We were thrilled to learn about an organization called Athletes Serving Athletes (ASA) which empowers individuals living with disabilities to train and compete in mainstream running events by pairing them up with a “wingman” who will push them throughout the race. When we learned about their annual ASA Runfest, we did not hesitate to support this organization by taking part together as a family.
RunFest was such a family-friendly event. We pushed William in his wheelchair, his 5-year-old and 8-year-old siblings enjoyed the 5k walk, and friends and family joined us as well. We even dressed the kids up in their Halloween outfits, and watched our fellow walkers/runners in their Halloween costumes. And of course, there were the post-run activities and goodies that the kids thoroughly enjoyed.
We loved that William could be with us. William loves being outdoors and loves the stimulation and excitement of people around him. As parents of William and being runners ourselves, we have experienced firsthand the rush of joy and accomplishment when crossing the finish line at the end of a race. Even though we decided to walk, we were glad that William could experience that same rush as he enjoyed the outdoors, the movement across the pavement, and the energy of those around him.
What I Learned about Completing a PhD
If I learned anything during the nine and a half years it took me to complete my PhD, it was that completing the PhD was not about being smart enough to complete it, but about being persistent enough not to give up (and crazy enough to pursue it in the first place!). As a first-generation college student, I remember being proud to be pursuing a bachelor’s degree – something neither my parents, grandparents or other family members in previous generations had attained. At the time, I did not think that I would go back to school and end up with a master’s degree let alone a PhD. And what I discovered during my academic journey was not what I expected. I found that the key piece to my persistence and completion was my “Why?” Why was I pursuing a PhD? Why did it matter to me to finish? These were important questions for me to reflect on because my responses drove me forward, particularly during those times when I just wanted to give up – when I didn’t want to read another book or article, when I didn’t want to write another word, when I didn’t want to transcribe another interview or analyze even more data. Whenever I felt like throwing in the towel, I reminded myself of my “Why?”
My “Why?” actually had nothing to do with making my family proud or being the first in my family to ever complete a PhD. As a woman of color, I expected my PhD to open doors that might not open up to me otherwise. As a wife and mother, I expected my PhD to expose me to opportunities that would in turn allow me to provide my family with financial stability and abundance. As a Filipina American who rarely saw people that looked like me with PhD’s or in visible leadership positions, I expected my PhD to pave the way for those who looked like me to know that if I could do it, they could do it too.
40 Days, 40 Push-Ups
Forty days ago, I accepted a challenge. It was a Facebook challenge to do 22 push-ups a day for 22 days to raise awareness about the 22 veteran suicides that took place daily. You had to post a video of yourself doing the push-ups along with your message. I accepted the challenge and decided to extend the number of push-ups to 40 for 40 days. In addition to raising awareness about veterans committing suicide, I also wanted to acknowledge other lives lost – Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, the officers killed in Dallas, the innocent lives lost in Orlando, Paris, Turkey, and countless others whose senseless deaths have left many of us hurting and wanting better for our world. I spent the last 40 days praying and pushing for increased dialogue, deeper understanding, connection across difference, and the healing of our nation. What we had seen over the past few weeks, months and years was not the world I wanted to leave for my children or my children's children. This challenge served as one way I would commit to changing the world. I chose the number 40 for its biblical significance. Forty days is often considered a time of trial as well as a time in which promises are fulfilled. I took on the challenge because I believe that we can change the world one person at a time, beginning with ourselves.
Well, a lot happened in those 40 days:
1) This push-up challenge gave me a space to raise awareness about important social justice issues and release a variety of emotions I had been feeling about our world today.
2) My strength improved and the push-ups became easier. I went from doing 40 push-ups in about 2 minutes and taking 4 breaks to doing 40 push-ups in about 1 minute with no breaks.
3) I was thrilled with the support of friends and family, and appreciated the opportunity to share issues I am passionate about while reconnecting with old friends.
4) This challenge reignited a self-confidence in me that had been waning. I have become more focused on my dissertation work and am writing more consistently instead of feeling shame and being stuck.
5) I feel like I did bring awareness to veteran suicides, honored lives lost, and shined a ray of hope that we all can do something to make a difference in this world.
6) Overall, this push-up challenge was an extremely positive and inspiring experience.
Would I do it again? Yes!
Shine On
After boarding my flight yesterday, I lifted my carry-on luggage (which probably should have been checked in due to its size and weight) into the overhead compartment. The guy standing next to me stared at me in awe with his mouth open and said, "I was going to help you, but I didn't know that someone so small could lift something so big." I told him that looks can be deceiving (even though there was a lot more I wanted to say about his assumptions about me as a petite woman). Anyway, I share this story because despite our size, shape, background, color, sexual orientation, or anything else, we should not underestimate our own or anyone else's physical, mental, or spiritual power. We are powerful beyond measure, but I think we box others in with our assumptions and/or box ourselves in and shrink back from shining our brightest. My call to all my brothers and sisters is to shine on!