By Noel Copiaco, Lansing, MI
After passing a civil service exam in 1969, I was offered a job at an engineering firm here in Michigan. It was my first “real” job with a big company. During the first few months at the firm, it amused me that many of my white co-workers assumed that I am an American Indian (maybe it was my long hair). People called me “chief” and other epithets pertaining to Native Americans, some of which I learned later were not very kind. When opportunities came up, I was always quick to educate people and explain that I am Filipino. Curiously, many people in Michigan in 1969 could not even locate the Philippines on a world map. I realized I had a lot of “educating” to do.
The socio-political atmosphere in Michigan during that time was reflective of the pervading sentiments of those days particularly in light of the raging war in Vietnam. There was polarization: black and white, long hair and hard hats, hippies and rednecks, liberals and conservatives among other paradoxes.
There were a handful of Filipinos in my workplace in those days. Many of them were older than me and definitely old school. One of them, a guy named Gus (not his real name), asked me if I was a Communist. Apparently, he associated long hair, denim jeans and rock music with Communism. How bizarre was that? For the most part, they were good people, hard working, yet conservative and loyal to their own definitions and perceptions of American principles which in some cases differed than mine. Most of them come from a generation of Filipinos that considered Americans the liberators from the ruthless Japanese regime during WWII. In their eyes I was a “radical” because I was quite outspoken in my opposition to the Vietnam War. Regardless, I liked most of them and respected their political views.
One day at work, inside the vending machine room, I overheard a conversation among a group of white men. They were talking about the “foreigners” whose numbers were “dangerously increasing in Lansing”. They made references to those “opportunistic” and “stingy but extravagant” Filipinos and even named a couple of guys.
Ironic, but one of the Filipinos they mentioned was Gus, the same person who asked me if I was a Communist. Gus is like a coconut. He is brown outside but white inside. He feared and loathed the blacks but bent over backwards for the whites. And yet, those white men clearly couldn’t stand him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that some people whose culture he so adored hated him for being a “bird of a different feather”. These men defined the word xenophobia.
Still, Gus remained oblivious to it all. He continued to be friendly with them, even participating in racist conversations against blacks and Hispanics. He played golf with them, entertained them in his home and practically licked their boots.
When those white men found out that I am Filipino, they were surprised but not embarrassed. One approached me and said “hey chief, damn, I thought you were a Chippewa or something. I guess you’re just a Filipino hippie huh?” I just looked at him and said “Yep, and I would’ve gone to Woodstock but I had a date with the draft board. The government expects foreigners like me to fight the damn war too, you know”. Then I added just to be a smart aleck “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Gus will never know what you think of him”. I winked, laughed and then walked away.
I often think of Gus when I come across Asians particularly Filipinos who insist that they do not experience discrimination or prejudice in America. I just shake my head and accept the fact that there are too many immigrants like Gus out there, denying the reality of racism and happily embracing the image they have of America where Asians are accepted as white. I suppose Gus believed in the Easter Bunny too.
I love this country and I believe in the principles it was built upon. E pluribus unum, and all that stuff. In fact as a Filipino-American I insist to be included in “We the People”, but I’ve seen the dark side too. My maternal great grandfather spoke of atrocities committed by American troops during the Philippine Insurrection. Then there’s My-Lai and the carnage that went on in Vietnam. How about the shameful treatment of Japanese-Americans during WWII? Let’s not stop there. How about the slavery of blacks and the genocide of American Indians? Are all those things OK with people like Gus?
It is difficult to understand how people can pretend that racism, prejudice and discrimination do not exist. I will not judge Gus and people like him but there is one thing I am sure of. In their desperate desire to fit in, some people will choose to be blind to a highly immoral issue even if complicity to it is spiritually crippling.
How ridiculously sad that is.