The Strange Thing About Belonging

While looking back at all of the blogs that I have written, I started to notice a pattern. All of them have something to do with my family. Whether it be my mom’s side of the family, my dad’s side of the family, or the anxiety about traveling without my family, they all connect. I didn’t intend to do this, but oh well. So, where do I lie in this family? Since I seem to be going off a pattern, it only makes sense to talk about myself in the context of my family.  

Sure, from the first blog, you can gather that I have a close relationship with my immediate family, as traveling that far away from my parents for two weeks worried me. At this stage, you would probably think that someone my age would be more than fine with traveling on their own. That something like a two-week trip wouldn’t bother them. Like, I go to college in a different state, almost two hours away from home, and yet going to San Francisco still scared me. Obviously, things turned out fine. I really did enjoy the trip and did just fine without them being there, but it does show my positive relationship with them. Then, for the two blogs I made in San Francisco, both sides of my extended family came up. How much I love them and my memories with them. One side is Filipino, and one side is white. Despite the many cultural differences, both sides of my family can agree that family holds a very important aspect in our lives. That family has each other's backs and will support each other. Maybe that’s why family holds such an importance to me: because the concept has been instilled in me since childhood.  

But who am I to my family?  

Well... 

I am the eldest child of my mother (the middle sibling of her family) and my father (the eldest child of his family). I have been artistically inclined since childhood. Singing, dancing, drawing, or writing. I did all the creative activities that I could get my hands on. I stayed physically active through musical theater, which I had gained a love for (because of course I did). From early on, I was the music kid of the family. Sure, I wasn’t the only one, but to this day I am the only one who keeps up with it. I participated in musical theater, community theater, signed up for choir, did vocal lessons for a while, took part in a few vocal competitions, and a few other activities. Then as years went by, I got more into creative writing and started doing more with that. Creating two different book series ideas with two different genres, because of course I couldn’t just stick to one. I’m too indecisive for that. 

My family has always been supportive of whatever endeavors I get myself into, artistic or not. They made an effort to go to my performances when they could. Even with my creative writings, even if I don’t bring it up as often, they are all more than happy to read, give constructive criticism and feedback, and support me, just like with anything else. 

This support didn’t change or waver when I came out to them. They all accepted me with open arms and were more than happy to make the necessary changes, like calling me by my preferred name and pronouns. They allowed me to come out to them all on my own terms. I can’t thank them enough. I know just how lucky I am to have both sides of my family support me for who I am and what I decide to do. I know this shouldn’t be seen as impressive or crazy, but there are a lot of people out there who can’t say the same thing that I can. I’ve seen it. I’ve heard the stories. I know just how lucky I am to have my family, and I love all of them dearly. 

But even with all of that, I still find myself feeling out of place. The only person that “gets me” being my younger sibling. Why? Well, it’s always weird being the rare mixed (White and Asian) kid on both sides of my family. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like anyone mistreats us or anything. It just makes a person feel out of place. When I’m with my mom’s side of the family, I get looks from onlookers. People question how on earth I’m related to people that have such a pale complexion. Such as when I was in grade school and me and my two younger cousins went to the same school. Whenever I told people that they were my cousins, they didn’t believe me at first. It didn’t hit me until I got older on why they didn’t realize that they were related. To me, it was obvious. Can’t you see? We all know each other and get along so well. How can we not be family? My sibling didn’t get those same looks as often, due to her having a lighter skin tone to where she can “pass” as white, which has resulted in some issues of her own for different reasons. Such as people looking at her and my dad and questioning how they could possibly be related, not at all realizing that they are his kid. I still get looks when I’m with dad’s side of the family, as my skin tone isn’t dark enough to where I still stick out. Obviously not as much as my sibling, but it’s enough to notice.  

Sometimes it makes me wonder where I fit in. Despite being raised in a predominantly white community surrounded by my mom’s side of the family, I’m not “white enough.” And I don’t feel “Filipino enough,” as I don’t even know how to speak Tagalog (the Filipino language). I don’t know a lot about the culture. Sure, I know more than most people, but that can’t be enough, right? On both sides, my experiences are very different from everyone else around me. Maybe that’s why I find myself fitting in a lot more with the queer community. At least there, I feel that I have nothing to prove, whereas with race, I do. Because no matter what I do, I’m not enough. Now, I know that’s not true. I don’t need to prove myself when I already am, but it’s hard. It’s why I always feel so awkward in Asian or people of color spaces in general. I just don’t share many of the experiences that they all seem to share. It makes me feel out of place.  

So, at least I have my sibling. Despite our many differences, we both can understand each other's struggles, even if they may seem different. We both get it. My sibling and I grew up in the same environment, raised by the same people. Sure, due to private school, I became the more sheltered of the two of us, but we still understand and are there for each other. I know if anyone has my back, it’s her.  

It’s funny. My sibling is currently working on her college entrance essay for the Common Application, and she came to me with her essay. Why? Lo and behold, their essay was about them being a mixed-race kid, which is something mom and dad wouldn’t entirely understand. Specifically, about the color of her skin and how that has affected her over the years. Now, I had thought about my final blog topic for a while and already planned on talking about my experiences with being a mixed kid and tying it into my family, but it’s kind of funny how we thought of similar things. We are siblings, so having a similar thought process makes some sense. I just find it kind of funny.