Originally coined in 1968 by student activists Emma Gee and Yuji Ichioka (Kambhampaty 2020), the term “Asian-American” has since become a loose umbrella ubiquitously defining the pan-Asian diasporic experience, despite the cultural and ethnic differences outside of our shared love of rice (because rice is, in fact, delicious). 

Yet in this—often rote—conversation about representation, the writing is on the wall, sometimes literally. On my sister’s wall, you’ll find posters of anime and Korean pop stars. On the screen, there’s Everything, Everywhere All at Once, and dozens of highly entertaining K-Dramas, Japanese reality shows and Taiwanese movies. Don’t get me wrong; it’s all very, very cool. But it doesn’t represent me.———

The following interview is a curated series of individual conversations that have been edited, compiled, and condensed. The core messages and ideas remain intact while they've been shortened for brevity. 

Do you think we’re Asian enough?

ALLAN: It’s a funny question—well, not really.

It could be.

DRE: I don’t really feel that I’m Asian, in a sense. As Filipinos, because so many different cultures have colonized us, we’re almost in a class of our own.

KHRYSTA: I had a conversation with someone about how Mexicans and Filipinos are very similar. You know, because of the Spanish colonizers. I feel like, because of colonization, what does that even really mean?

ALLAN: When we talk about this, we’re often talking about this with respect to the Western perspective.

KHRYSTA: Is it the typical East Asian standard we see in the media?

Let’s say media disseminated through Western mediums and channels.

KHRYSTA: I mean, it could be, but I’m thinking about K-POP as an example. You know how, like, it’s such a standard with that level of idealization?

For sure. When we look at how White people frame Asian identity in the Western diaspora—at least in North America—they see the Koreans, the Japanese, and the Chinese. So, we’re always trying to fit this sort of standard. With the current Korean fetishization, we’ve got to try to fit this mold of what people see as beautiful and ideal.

KHRYSTA: I feel like Filipinos are pretty low in the hierarchy..

DRE: I can see [that]. I feel that many Filipinos can’t identify themselves with anything.

ALLAN: I legit don’t think about this stuff. I feel like I’m in my own bubble, where when it comes to being Asian enough, I haven’t dissected that and found something I was comfortable with. I just dive into the work I like, and if that’s Asian enough, I don’t know. But, my work reflects my personal history and the history of a lot of people in my neighborhood.

Makes sense. When I talk to my Southeast Asian friends about it, we’re all pooled into this racial class. We call ourselves jungle Asians, poor Asians, while everything else is rich Asian shit. You hear about how we’re called the “Mexicans” of Asia. We’re already qualifying ourselves through how the West perceives race and color. It’s crazy when you think about it.

KHRYSTA: Archetypes push the narrative forward. You see Filipinos bleaching their skin, using papaya soap to make themselves lighter. Colorism is so predominant in the Philippines [and in our communities], and capitalism plays a big hand in exploiting our weaknesses.

DRE: I guess I'm having trouble answering these questions because I never really identified myself as an Asian other than on a questionnaire when I have to give my background.

Khrysta, within the culture industry—let’s say art—are there many Filipino or Southeast Asian artists within your sphere?  

KHRYSTA: You don't really see a lot of Filipino artists. In the Philippines, art is not necessarily art. It's more like a luxury. When I think of the art industry, with galleries, there’s very little traction there because they don’t push this narrative that we can be as creative as other cultures.

But we are so creative. We’ve done a lot of DIY stuff, but a lot of it is unseen because our audience prefers something that fits that Western standard or East Asian standard. In music, we have something called P-pop. It’s very similar to K-Pop. It’s like we have to use a template that already exists to be palatable to other audiences.

Dre, something that people don’t know a lot about is that we have a bigger association with Canadian and American colonial history than, in a modern sense, Asian.  

DRE: True. I mean, some of the first Filipinos in America were in Hawaii. Before Hawaii was colonized, Americans would send workers from the Philippines so that when they took over, they became Americans—did you know that we changed the face of Creole cooking?

No. How’s that work?

DRE: So the first actual Filipino town was in New Orleans¹ Anyways, the Filipinos there manage to take the shrimping techniques they did back in the Philippines: catching fish, drying them, and then using them as seasoning or preserving them. That's how they came up with shrimp seasoning, where they would dry up the shrimp, grind it, and use it in their cooking, which changed the face of Cajun cooking.

But we don't get recognition for that. Nobody talks about it.

It’s under the radar. But here’s what people talk about—when you look at Crazy Rich Asians, there’s two Filipinos there. One’s Kris Aquino, but she belongs to the Chinese elite. Then you have this other guy Nico Santos who’s playing a member of the Singaporean elite. So, you really have this conception that brown-skinned Filipinos and working-class Filipinos don’t belong in that conversation.

Like, where do we fit within there? Another film, The Triangle of Sadness, shows how Filipinos are still placed within this domestic ladder. We’re invisible. We accommodate others before us.

DRE: We've always been the culture that's working in retail or hospitality. You know, we're always there to take care of people. We’re the help.

ALLAN: This is a result of our migration channels—most Filipinos go abroad as workers, so their ability to stay in these countries is highly conditional on their employers. So their living conditions are vulnerable.

In mainstream views, their experiences with Filipinos—to a large degree—are people who are in these unfavorable conditions. A lot has to do with the [Philippine government] encouraging this migration behavior. So if being Asian enough is to be at a certain class or social class, then I guess in the [grand scheme of things], we might not be.

KHRYSTA: It’s the way of the dice. But we adapt so well. Like, yes, we don't fit into any mold in a way, but we can adapt to any shape. We're liquid like that. We flow through time, through different cultures. And I think that's what's so special about Filipinos. We’re like halo-halo. We try on so many hats or templates, and they may not be as “original,” but that could be our strength. 

[We make] compromises. I’ve made compromises to understand the foundations before breaking them. That’s when you create your own mold.

¹ Dre refers to Saint Malo, the first permanent Filipino settlement in the United States. Stephanie Jane Carter, “Saint Malo: The first Asian settlement in the US”, Time, November 28, 2022.

We always seem like we have to please somebody.

DRE: And it seems to be part of our culture.

And maybe that’s what holds us back in certain ways.

DRE: Exactly. And as we get older, you start not giving a fuck. You do you, and you do not care what other people say. That's the only way you'll pass on a message and be outspoken is when you start knocking down those barriers and those walls of shame and regret.

It’s like the antithesis of how we always try to be accommodating. To represent ourselves honestly, it’s about not giving a fuck.

KHRYSTA: Being asked if we’re Asian—or even Filipino—enough is more of a personal question because, at the end of the day, you have to deconstruct what it all means.

DRE: Back then, when I would cook, I’d feel a bit of shame because I wanted to please a different audience. I felt shame because I wasn’t cooking from the heart.

ALLAN: It’s because we’re submitting ourselves to a structure. And this structure doesn’t make sense because it’s based on white supremacy. The idea of being Asian or Filipino enough doesn’t matter to me because it suggests some kind of tendency towards assimilation—and I couldn’t care less about that.

KHRYSTA: I’m not going to go around art school saying, “Yo, I’m a Filipino. Therefore, I make Filipino art.” I’m just here, and I’m going to make art—whatever that looks like. If that doesn’t look Filipino or Asian to you, I don’t give a fuck. This is not for you. This is my work, work that I’ve made for myself and that’s the most Filipino thing you can do. The most Filipino thing you can do is when you give less fucks about what everyone else thinks about what it means to be [this or that].

With our food, and our art, a lot of people see it in such a negative light, like it’s a bastardization of influences.

DRE: I think we took the best of other cultures and made it our own—and better.

We indigenized our influences.

ALLAN: I don't give a fuck what people think. And if your bursary doesn't vibe with what I'm doing, then okay. I’ll apply for the next bursary. I’m not going to adjust myself for you.

It’s just you being authentically you.

ALLAN: It’s just me being like, yo, I think my stuff is dope, and I just want to talk about how my stuff is dope. I want to show how my jewelry [and art] are radical and confident and that it makes people who wear them feel radical and confident.

I like to think that when I tell people that it’s inspired by our traditions and history, I hope it sparks something in people. That they’ll see it as badass and be surprised that it’s Filipino. That’s what matters to me.