“Kumain ka na ba?” Translated from Tagalog (the national language of the Philippines), it means, “Have you eaten yet?” This phrase is used in many Filipino households, especially in mine. It’s one of the first questions my Nanay (Mom) asks me and my siblings when we see one another. To me, food and family are fundamental components of Filipino culture. Food isn’t just something we eat to satisfy our appetite—it represents the best times when you can forget your troubles and enjoy quality time with your family, all while gobbling down delicious food. In this article, I will share my story of how food and family helped me understand my Filipino culture and Asian American identity.

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Immigrating to Tennessee

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My family comprises of my Nanay, Ate Katherine (Sister), and Kuya Bryan (Brother). When I was four, we immigrated from the Philippines. My Nanay received an offer to work as a nurse abroad, so in pursuit of a better life and better opportunities for our family, we left behind our home and lives as we knew it. We settled in a small town in the middle of rural Tennessee aptly named Centerville. In our new community, we were one of only two Asian families there, the other being another Filipino family that immigrated for the same reasons as us. Adjusting to our newfound life was difficult for my family, even more so with the loss of our familial support system (due to the time difference: when we were awake, they were asleep and vice versa).

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Other than adjusting at home, school life was difficult, too. Transitioning from my old school, where everyone looked like me, to a new school, where I was suddenly the minority, was scary. To make matters worse, I felt embarrassed trying to talk to others because of my thick Filipino accent (I was later put into the ESL class, which helped me gradually lose it). At times, it felt like I was viewed as a spectacle with my foreign features and different way of speaking. Eventually, my classmates and I overcame our differences and became friends. Still, those bad memories stuck with me as I grew older.

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Moving to Brownwood and My Loss of Identity

When I was ten, my mother received a better job offer to work in a small town in the middle of Texas called Brownwood (I guess we just have a weird affinity for small towns in the middle of states…). Brownwood was a bit bigger than Centerville, and the community was more heterogeneous, too––still, fellow Asians were scarce. To avoid the negative experiences I had back in Tennessee, I was determined to be “normal” like my classmates. Although I couldn't change my appearance to fit in with them, I could talk the same, eat the same, and effectively try to be the same as them. Thankfully, this worked because I made friends! Sure, I would still get odd looks, but I learned to brush it off.

As I grew older, I kept up this facade. I was careful to separate the two aspects of my life: the “American” one at school and the Filipino one at home; however, as careful as I was, it was impossible to stop the two from eventually bleeding into one another. For example, I stopped speaking Tagalog at home and began using English primarily. As a result, I lost my proficiency in speaking Tagalog, but I still understand it relatively fluently. At school, I stopped being viewed as an American and became the token Asian friend. I wasn’t even regarded as a Filipino; instead, I was an amalgamation of anything that resembled Asia––a twisted collection of stereotypes, assumptions, and fragments of Asian culture that people projected onto me. In either school or at home, I felt like I didn’t truly belong. I was confused and lost––I didn’t know who I was anymore.

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Finding Myself through Filipino Food

I confided my troubles with my family, and my Nanay suggested I begin finding the Filipino side of myself since “at heart, that’s what we are and always will be.” At that point, I couldn’t speak Tagalog anymore, so my closest connection other than family was food. I followed her advice and started learning to make Filipino food like her. To my surprise, our famed family recipes weren’t always passed down from our ancestors. When she forgot them (which was often), she turned to the Internet for recipes. She would look at a couple of websites, but our favorites are Panlasang Pinoy (It tastes Filipino) and Kawaling Pinoy (Filipino Pan).

On those websites, they will sometimes have a brief history of the dish’s origins. For example, one of my favorite dishes, Leche Flan (Filipino steamed custard), has its roots in Spanish colonization. Derived from Spanish Flan, the Filipino dish gained popularity when the Spanish introduced Christianity to the Philippines. This fervent conversion to Christianity required the construction of many churches around the Philippines to worship God. Back then, egg whites were a key component of the cement used to build the churches. This led to many egg yolks being discarded because of the high demand for egg whites. With the Filipinos' resourcefulness, these “worthless” egg yolks began to be used for food. This brought the popularization of Filipino Leche Flan and the creation of other egg-yolk-based dishes like Yema (a candied custard) and Egg Pie (a baked custard in a pie crust). Through these recipes, I began learning more about my Filipino culture and heritage.

Filipino cuisine is very diverse. Even among longanisa (Filipino sweet sausage), there are so many regional variants of this common ingredient with their own different tastes and histories. This diversity stems from the Philippines’ unique geographical, cultural, and historical influences. Without delving into the lengthy history of the Philippines, modern Filipino culture (and, by extension, cuisine) is largely founded upon the Chinese, Spanish, and American cultures that arrived when they came to the Philippines (either for trade or colonization). Learning about Filipino history made me draw parallels with myself, particularly the American influence. Like me, Filipino history undoubtedly has American influence, but rather than being transformed into an American facsimile, it used those American influences to become even more unique by incorporating them into itself.

Understanding this was a pivotal point for me. I stopped trying to separate my Filipino and American identities; instead, I wanted to embrace them for what they are. Most importantly, I stopped tolerating being the Asian amalgamation and corrected people when they reduced me as a generalized Asian instead of being a Filipino. I began actively spreading Filipino culture with my friends through the dishes and desserts I learned to make. Every new recipe became a new way of sharing my culture with those I care about. Nowadays, I carry my Filipino culture with pride, and I love to share it with those willing to listen. Additionally, my identity as an Asian-American is not static; it continuously evolves as I navigate living in a big city for the first time in my life, experience different cultures, and embrace living life in my early 20s. Despite these changes, one thing will remain steadfast: my deep love for my family and food.

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Conclusion

I hope my story provided insight into Filipino culture and how food can facilitate cultural learning and exchange. As we near the holiday season and are with our families, I encourage you to think about how your journey has been shaped by the flavors, traditions, and stories that connect you to your heritage and family. Happy Holidays!

If any of you readers would like to connect and discuss more about food and culture (some of my favorite topics!), please feel free to send me a message at JamesBautista2@my.unthsc.edu. I’d be happy to reply and exchange our stories :D Also, if you’re interested in learning how to cook Filipino food, I recommend the websites Panlasang Pinoy and Kawaling Pinoy.

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