An Easter Confession in the Age of Coronavirus... (2nd Conclusion & Predictions)

              Racism against Black-Americans was foreign to me until I came to the US in March of 1981, even though there were plenty of Blacks in the two provinces of the Philippines where I used to live, namely: Pampanga-- which was home to US Clark Air Base, and Zambales-- where the biggest US Naval Base, outside of the United States was located.

              On top of that, our town of Sta. Cruz in Zambales housed the US Naulo Point, which was home to the US Coast Guard that patrolled along the South China Sea, helped in rehabilitating the area from destructive typhoons during the 6-month monsoon season, and protected the ships that transported chromite extracted by US Mining Companies from the mountain ranges in our province, and brought it to the US, and other parts of the world as raw materials for industrial use.

               From Grade 6 until I was 26 years old when I left the country, and migrated to the US permanently after I got married, the only races I knew of Americans were not based on their skin colors, or black & white, but rather they were the moneyed race, that had to be treated well in our furniture store in town according to Papa, because they had lots of money to spend on their Filipino girlfriends or spouses, who pointed to whatever pieces of furniture they wanted delivered inside their homes.

               There was no haggling involved; the Americans, whether black or white, treated their Filipino women right, worked hard inside their base or station, and had a great time during off hours, when we delivered their furnitures inside their homes; which was my first impression about Americans, before coming to the US.

               I was shocked when I went to New York City, took the subway train for the first time, and saw many homeless Americans around (that was  during the US economic recession in early 1980's,) who were mostly black; while white men,  women, and other nationalities in impeccable suits and dresses were rushing to go to work along 5th Avenue, where I was going to meet the sister of my colleague in the Philippines at the Metropolitan Museum.

               She told me to see at least one Broadway show in the city before going back to the Philippines, while enjoying the Da Vinci exhibits where she worked, and gave me easy directions to Manhattan over lunch afterwards, in their cafeteria.  She said to  make the most of my stay in the US, while doing research and auditing classes at Columbia and NYU, despite of the recession, and not to be shocked in the subways filled with graffitis, but get used to racial prejudice, discrimination, and inequality in America, especially among blacks, more than Filipinos, who were mostly nurses, and professionals in New York City.

               In  a way, the closest thing to institutionalized or systemic racism in America, which I experienced myself, is still going on, and highlighted by police brutality in the killing of a black man George Floyd during his arrest by a white officer in Minneapolis, is the enormous gap between the rich and the poor in the Philippines, which is still endemic in Philippine society today, even though it had been exposed by Philippines national hero Jose Rizal in his novels, and who himself came from rich Filipino illlustrado ancestors, during the Spanish colonial times.

               First of all, I didn't even know that we were poor when I was growing up because Papa was a travelling salesman for a rich guy in town who owned a drug company, and lived in Manila, just like the other fathers in our barrio; and we always had food on the table because Mama's brother who was a farmer from Nueva Ecija always sent us rice from our farm land left by my parents there when they moved to Pampanga; while Mama raised pigs & chickens, and planted vegetables in our backyard garden.

               It was only when Papa & Mama moved the family from Pampanga to Zambales to takeover his brother's furniture business that I learned from my older sister later that our neighbors were telling us that we left our town of Macabebe with nothing, and we will surely come back with nothing.

                And even when we all finished college in prestigious universities in Manila, and our parents decided to move back, retire in Pampanga, and build a brand new house in the same piece of land they owned because our old nipa home which was occupied by Papa's sister and her big family when we left for Zambales was in disrepair; while the wags in our barrio cannot control their tongues, and told my parents that they couldn't possibly have the money, since we all went to college in Manila. Fortunately, my Mom knew how to save, and our new home was built without a hitch.

               After that, I saw them every weekend while getting my Masters at night in the Catholic University/UST Graduate School, after teaching in Don Bosco Makati, Monday to Friday during the day.

              Unfortunately, having three teachers in the family, and a business administration graduate for a brother, who took over my parents business in Sta. Cruz, Zambales does not cut it  for us to afford buying a new car in the Philippines, even though my brother was making ten times more teaching ESL in Aramco, Saudi Arabia, my sister's husband who was a top business graduate working in Saudi Arabia also after quitting his job in Rustan's Makati, while I was already making ten grand a year then as a full time professor in UST, school administrator in a parochial school also in Metro Manila, and radio program moderator, at the same time; and the social mobility I was dreaming about for our family was stuck in limbo. Why? 

               Unless you were born to a wealthy family, had an enormous business with  political connections, was a prominent but corrupt politician, had a successful business and career in the US or other countries, then you cannot afford to buy a car, save plenty of money in your twilight years, travel around the world, or enjoy the luxuries of life in the Philippines, no matter how successful you are in your career as a teacher, nurse, medical technologist, dentist, lawyer, executive, or even as a doctor-- if you're only working for somebody, and don't own a pharmacy or local hospital with your siblings or spouse.

              On the other hand (assuming, of course, that you know how to handle your money,) my aunt & uncle, who were a teacher & business owner respectively in the Philippines, but came later in the US in their early 40's, were able to bring all their children to the US, then retired, and lived a luxurious life in the Philippines, were able to buy five investment properties, although they only had manual jobs in the US, because even if you're only making $4,000 per month in US Social Security pension or retirement income, it's equivalent to PHP 2.4 million pesos every year in the Philippines, and you can afford to travel abroad, or visit your children and grandkids in the USA.

              That is why I had to find a way to come to the United States on my own by getting a visiting scholarship at Teachers College in Columbia University (aside from the fact that my personal and professional life was starting to deteriorate due to sex, drugs, and alcohol scenes in Manila,) and brought Papa, Mama, Kuya Arthur, and Kuya Bert, who brought Ate Fel to the US, except for Kuya Muling who couldn't get a visa.

               And, coming from a Third World country, the Philippines, I did experience racial prejudice and discrimination initially, but I fought back with my supervisors and managers in college textbook editorial production, and telemarketing sales, as a production editor and specialist. 

              However, my experiences were nothing compared to our top telemarketing specialist (I was second to her, although given the worst territories to sell tax & legal services on the phone in Puerto Rico, US Virgin Islands, etc., instead of mainland USA)-- a black woman, who was passed over for promotion, because our boss hired a fellow Italian-American from the outside as a supervisor. 

               I was lucky because I ended up working for myself in real estate sales and marketing as a licensed independent contractor broker-salesperson, bought a commercial building with an apartment and food store & deli-lottery for Gie to be her own boss; didn't encounter any police brutality; but I know that white supremacy was going on because of our young children, who complained about what's going on in their school; and I taught them how to fight back.

(TO BE CONTINUED IN MY NEXT CONCLUSION & PREDICTIONS...)