Choices to Make in Darkness

A lot of Independence Day reflections happening in America. Mine will always be more complicated. But I reflect nonetheless.

The Philippines was a former American colony and July 4th was when the islands became independent from the U.S. It is one of three Philippine independence days. During WWII my father fought for both the Philippine and American flags. Filipinos, whether they knew or not were American "nationals." July 4th ushered in the long-promised independence that finally arrived in 1946, albeit with political strings. The Americanization of the Philippines that began in 1898 continues to this day. I am a part of the Filipino diaspora in the U.S. that my medical paternal family started in the fifties, and we, our generation, continue. I don't see myself as simply an "immigrant." I am not just a naturalized U.S. citizen. Our voyage to America began a long time ago. I am a byproduct of 1898. When the U.S. Congress rescinded war benefits for war veterans like my father, our consciousness was born. The string attached to the independence of the Philippines became more complex.

July 4th: a complicated history that one must think about as America bears witness to both tyranny in mass scale and the return of "internment camps" for targeted ethnic groups. They are not familiar with this America. Most never saw this coming. Democracy, they say, is fragile. 250 years end here. But many immigrants voted for what is happening today as well. 36% of eligible voters also didn't vote, not that it would have mattered. We are where we are because we have created a system that we never saw failing. Blame capitalism. Blame billionaires. Blame left-wing socialists. Blame all. We are probably here because we all need to be reminded of the fickleness of history, and not just the fragility of democracy.

The way I see it: as a generation X, I feel that this is not my history as much as it used to be. There are three younger generations behind me. I have done my activism, wrote the books and continue to do so, but the climate of the world must fall on those whose futures it would affect most. That's not mine. But it doesn't mean I mustn't act. We have choices to make in darkness, some of which we might not be able to live with. Heard of "alligator alcatraz"? Sounds like a joke from a stand-up comic. But it's a chicken-wire reality that a heavily funded and empowered system will duplicate throughout the country. Some of us will stop at nothing to make sure we protect our loved ones. Some will stand by the fringes also to protect our loved ones. The complexity of survival. All will be for the same reason, and justice will be confused by our intentions for the moment.

In Bataan New Jersey, I wrote about this tale. My father told me over and over again when I was growing up—how Filipinos only watched them during the Death March. That was 65 miles of spectator sport. They watched. I never really understood what he meant. I would grow up to learn that for the most part, in darkness, I have chosen not to watch. But to act. But to walk the talk.

I do still wonder, if my father were alive today, what would he be thinking about all of this, he who survived a concentration camp, he who fought for the American flag that now stares at his survivors as a reminder that history is fickle?