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| First learning how to bgirl. |
A loud sound emanated from the room that would become my second home in the weeks to come. I could easily hear the bass thump as I inched closer to the door. Hesitant to twist the doorknob as if it were electrified, I waited a few moments, unsure of what to expect. I slowly entered, and I was greeted with a wall of "destiny" written in different languages. Advancing a few steps, I could see the spacious studio complete with mirrors and artwork that catch your attention with ease, laid atop a bring neon green background. But this was no funhouse. Not an ordinary one at least; in fact, it was better by a long shot. Instrumental beats that speak stories without a word, various canvasses proudly displaying a great deal of talent to make one ponder each enigmatic illustration, and people that move as hard-hitting as Muhammad Ali with the acrobatic skills of a circus performer, I knew that I would love this place. As soon as I stepped through the door I was immersed in an urban lifestyle that I've learned to appreciate for its uniqueness. And so the journey begun.
As a
second generation Filipino-American, I had felt disconnected from my culture to
a certain extent. My parents and siblings were born in the Philippines, myself
being the only child to be born here, have little understanding of the Ilocano
language, and dislike certain ethnic foods.
I definitely felt more American than Filipino, to my parents'
dismay. When I was young, I instead
found a fascination with the Japanese culture as I grew up with English dubbed
anime to first spark my affinity for drawing.
From the traditional art and style of dress to sushi, every aspect
piqued my interest. Although there have
even been times others had mistaken me to be Japanese, one thing was certain: I
knew more about another culture than I did about my own. I would have rather have identified myself
under the general term of Asian, not under the mistaken negative stereotype of
"dog eater."
My
senior year of high school was when everything changed. As electronic dance music's popularity began
to skyrocket, it was not my kind of scene.
Attending my first bboy jam opened my eyes. Fresh Cafe was hosting the United Styles bboy
competition, and I assisted at Diverse Art Center's booth. With wood-printed linoleum taped to the
floor, breakbeats blasting enough to break through the doors, the emcee hyping
up the crowd, and the intensity of the bboys exemplified through power and
style, I couldn't help but be completely mesmerized by the scene - to think
that throughout all these years, I have been missing out. Forced to stand atop my chair in an attempt
to watch the battles, I scanned the mob of spectators and bboys. I realized that a majority of them were
Filipino. After getting to know a few of
them, I learned that multiple crews hailed from Kalihi, Waipahu, and Ewa Beach:
areas that are not known to be the wealthiest, but also have a large Filipino
population. Having been raised in Nuuanu
and as an alumni of Roosevelt, I had to take it upon myself to discover and
become exposed the scene. It begged the question, why are so many hip-hop heads
Filipino? Was it just pure coincidence?
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| First art show in 2011, & for a good cause. |
It
wasn't until my junior year of college that I decided to register for a
Filipino culture class to delve deeper.
We were challenged to consider rather dark topics, such as the morality of
the Europeans who once put our people on display like a circus act, the
long-standing Spanish occupation, rituals consisting of self-harm, and the
troubles of discrimination that plagues immigrants. At the same time, we learned about festivals,
full of life and exuberant colors emanating from the streets. We eventually covered the topic of art and
its importance in the Filipino culture. When suppression had taken its toll, many looked
toward art. It was a means of rebellion for the voice of the people - just like hip-hop. Artistry appears to be in our blood. Even without wealth, we make the best from what we have, including having sessions on the concrete.
A friend of mine, who also happens to be Filipino, makes his living off of
his dancing ability. His life path has
definitely not been the easiest a person could have, alongside the rest of his crew, who I also know personally.
From issues in school to losing a close loved one or being detached from
one’s family due to relationship issues, dance has been their therapy. He had recently traveled to the Philippines
in order to teach free dance workshops at a church. In spite of being unable to speak with them
verbally, he was still able to “reach out to the community” and did not allow
the language barrier to deter him.
Instead, he let his body language do all of the talking. When he teaches classes locally, he makes
sure not to solely teach dance, but lecture on life lessons. He uses his own experience and advises the
youth if they are veering off life’s tracks, making certain that they have a
community, or rather a dance “family” to rely on and assure that they are not
alone.
Some see hip-hop as a simply a genre of music. To others, it is that and beyond. Hip-hop is an unlimited outlet of self-expression and a lifestyle. For myself, it helped me to find who I am, discover my potential, and perhaps most importantly, take pride in my heritage.
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