In the summer of 2018, I spent two and a half weeks in the Philippines. It was my first time in the Motherland without family. I wasn't on vacation but on a mission to understand the economic plight of marginalized and underserved communities. I was a missionary on my first medical mission along with a faith-based organization that a friend previously attended and recommended.
I came in with the notion that Filipinos in underserved communities needed my help, that they needed saving. But I was so wrong and I'm glad I was.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/8019b7_4fc0cf951e774829a22a721f032d6970~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_653,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/8019b7_4fc0cf951e774829a22a721f032d6970~mv2.jpg)
Image of our local guide with his caribou before our two-hour walk across the lahar to the mountainous indigenous community.
The communities don't need our sympathy. They need our solidarity.
That is the biggest lesson I learned: how to be in solidarity with the community. The biggest lesson I am unlearning is my sympathy and how my upbringing as a Filipina in America reflected a colonial mentality, one where I was taught to believe that America was superior and the Philippines was inferior.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/8019b7_e23ea0e31aca4bebb0fd571497362881~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_653,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/8019b7_e23ea0e31aca4bebb0fd571497362881~mv2.jpg)
Image of the children who first greeted us when we entered the community. They were running around in the mud barefoot while rolling tires.
I haven't publicly shared my experiences until now because I was discouraged after returning from my trip. The loved ones I did share my experiences with seemed to scrutinize what I had learned, witnessed, and experienced on my trip. It was my first time witnessing some of the harsh realities that Filipinos face. The indigenous community I visited struggled with losing their ancestral land and being displaced by governmental and foreign development projects. To my loved ones, they believed that these communities should "get on with the modern times and embrace industrialization and the new construction of new roads and buildings." What I experienced in those communities was a struggle to survive, to put food on the table, to find a decent-paying job, and to be able to live on their land. I witnessed the challenges they faced while living in their community, but when I returned home to the US, I struggled with the responses and perceptions of my loved ones, who also grew up in the Philippines.
I was confused and overwhelmed. My previous trips had been family vacations, but this trip was radically different, to the point that I became paralyzed and very much culture-shocked. I was finally coming to understand the Philippines on my own, and it was difficult to take a stand when I was still learning. As I was beginning to define my relationship with my birth country, I realized that the perceptions and matters I wanted to involve myself in could greatly differ from my parents, my family, and my relatives. That was a tough reality to face because I had hoped they would care for the same matters I cared for.
I was scared to share my experiences with others then because I feared they had the same perceptions. I felt my reflections wouldn't be welcomed. And yet, I began to carry a guilt of not being able to share the stories and testimonies of those back in the Philippines with whom I promised to share.
I was in so much internal conflict at that time.
But it's been a couple of years. I thank therapy for so many things, but mostly for teaching me how to be okay with speaking my mind. That there is no shame in sharing what I need to say. That I can take up space. And that if others, especially the ones I love, don't approve of my views or what I have to say, it's not my responsibility to carry their perceptions. I shouldn't have to carry that mental load.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/8019b7_c143337707c8444b87e7a8f27155ab0d~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_653,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/8019b7_c143337707c8444b87e7a8f27155ab0d~mv2.jpg)
Image of me with my fellow missionary and roommate (left) and the mother and son of our homestay family (right).
Witnessing the genocide that is currently unfolding in Gaza and returning from my most recent trip to the Philippines has resurfaced my experiences and reflections from my 2018 medical mission. And it's time I finally shared the stories I couldn't tell before. I can no longer be silent when I have the privilege of sharing and lending my voice to a conversation that is needed. I can no longer be complicit, and so I must share my experiences so that the stories of those who can't share are told and that they enlighten those who aren't aware. Change doesn't happen in comfort.
Thank you for reading. Stay tuned for more insights about my trip experiences.
Maraming salamat.
Comments