Before I jump into the moment my family and I landed here in Canada, I have to start with my upbringing and the environment I lived in to gain a full understanding of the narratives that played out to get to who I am now as a unique individual, who's constantly unlearning and re-learning.
I was born and raised in Metro Manila, Philippines. Unlike my peers here in UBC, I went to an 'unknown' (according to UBC's list when I tried to look for it lol) high school. It was not an international school, not an IB school, nor was it one of the "top" schools in Manila. It was a humble private, Catholic school ran by nuns. Honestly, the school did not prepare me, academically, for a university life in Canada. But the one thing the school equipped me with is a whole lot of self-discipline, patience, and strong camaraderie. This school built my character.
I have heard so many stories from Filipinos in the diaspora about their family lives, the community they were raised in, the schools they went to, and the culture that surrounded them. Just like in any part of a country, society and culture differ spatially. My parents were originally from rural provinces in southern part of the Philippines, but due to economic struggles; such as lack of job employment and a repressive semi-feudal system, their parents (my grandparents) and some extended family decided to migrate to the country's capital- Manila, the rising urban jungle. My parents met in Manila and started a family there. So my siblings and I were full-blown Manileños/-ñas. This means that our culture is different. We grew up heavy on American influence, half of the kids' TV shows we watch were American, we were forced to speak English at all times in school, we learned from our textbooks that America was "our saviour" from the Spanish colonization... of course this does not hold true in any way. Ultimately, the American influence held (and is still holding) precedence on our political economy (see modern-day imperialism), and had a strong soft influence in our pop culture and societal expectations.
Now we'll talk about the Labour Export Policy of the Philippines and how this affected my family. While many countries export their raw resources into the global market, the Philippines' highest exported resource is labour, more directly- people. Due to the high influx of remittances from Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW), it has become easier for the government to focus on sending Filipinos abroad rather than focusing on increasing domestic jobs. Domestic jobs have become scarce and prices of basic necessities have gradually increased. Our family was a single-income household, my mom had to stay at home to take care of their four children since child care was not an option. Due to financial constraints, my parents decided that my dad should take a job offer overseas so we won't have to struggle in the daily; so they can still send their children to a private school, give them a balanced diet, and afford the mortgage. In 2007, my dad left for Dubai and he would stay there for 6.5 years to work and send money back home. He left at a critical time during our growth and development, we were just entering our teenage years. Also because of teenage angst, we felt distant from our dad at times. I am grateful of how my parents upheld their relationship and without neglecting us those 6 long years. Regardless, we felt loved and supported. I will always cherish that. It's almost a privilege in a way because I know how this process broke so many homes, and this would be the darkest aspect of sending Filipino labour abroad.
Through those 6.5 years of my family being incomplete, the one desire my parents worked hard to achieve is to live completely as a family again. They knew that was not gonna happen in the Philippines as the domestic labour infrastructure worsens and prices are shooting through the roof. The only way, they thought, is to live in a 'developed' country where their children will have many job opportunities and we can all live together again. Since some of my dad's siblings migrated to Alberta almost two decades prior, migrating to Alberta was the easy answer. But of course the process was difficult. Canada does not make it easier for seekers of permanent residence to obtain this privileged status. My dad had to save up a hefty amount of money to apply. Not only was he paying for the application itself, he had to prove the Canadian government that he has a certain amount of money to enter the country and that he has contacts (sponsorship) in the province he'll be living in, all while sending money back home to our family, and trying to survive in Dubai too. In 2013, my dad's hard-work paid off, the Canadian Immigration Services approved his application and by the summer of that year, we packed up our home, sold all our furniture, gave our dogs away, said goodbye to our friends and family, and booked a one-way ticket to Canada. Other than my dad, that was my entire family's first time leaving the country.
This is it, my parents have been waiting for this day to come. We'd all be a complete family at this point and we'd all struggle together in a new, unfamiliar territory. Just like many immigrant families seeking for "better opportunities" and "better standard of living", the moment you enter the country is an exhilarating feeling. This was my narrative for the longest time. I couldn't complain about leaving the life I loved in the Philippines because my parents worked hard to get where we are. But we left Manila during my formative years, I just finished my first year in college, I was in a creative community I loved, I have amazing groups of friends, I was coming out of my shell, and I was establishing my own identity. When I stepped in the hallways of my first Canadian education experience (I started my 12th grade here), it just sunk in to me... I am starting from scratch. I have no connections, no network, no money, no outside support system. I was with my family but I felt alone. I was socially empty, and I lost the fuel that drives me. Coming from a dynamic city that never sleeps, moving to a small town in Alberta was a culture shock. I had to re-learn how people move, socialize, work, and interact here. As an immigrant who wanted to feel comfortable in this new setting, I thought I needed to assimilate myself.
Those days in Edmonton felt long and the years longer. I assimilated well. I worked hard like any Canadian would, complain comprehensively about the weather, complain about the construction, complain about having to work hard but debts still kept piling up. To my parents' hard suggestion, I immediately applied for university and got in to a local one in Edmonton.
I realized that this story is now intertwined with my university years. So I decided the most effective way to narrate this story is to cut it in two.
Next: Migrant story pt. II (Uni years)
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