wholehearted
All posts tagged wholehearted
Obligation. Image from Black Art Depot. Quotation author unknown.
This is not the original post I intended to write. But in light of recent events in the United States, I am impelled to say the following.
Many times, I have encountered the idea that the “musts” we often grow up with are not that great. There’s something freeing and seductive about this idea. I admit, I’ve been enthralled by it more than once myself. Let’s face it: the social obligations exacted by family and history can be very…to say it politely…confining.
However, there’s a lot to be said about the confines not being of our own making. That’s something we’ve all recently learned through news stories in these here United States (namely from the state of Florida). While we do our best to oblige, be responsible, do our due diligence, fulfill our duties, what are we giving up, if anything?
“We owe it to our ancestors and to the sacrifices they made, to continue to achieve higher goals, while maintaining our identity.”
Pretty tall order. The weight of it is, at times, crushing. And confusing. I can no longer deny that I live in a society that has made it abundantly clear that certain people’s identity, who you are by virtue of your body and your cultural and social heritage, is something to be feared, ridiculed, ignored, or considered less than worthy of polite company/benefits of society/even existing. For a while there, I felt almost convinced by the arguments that we live in a post-racial society, that the Dream could be realized within my lifetime. I was so acutely aware of the effort I was expending to resist, they seemed so reasonable. Then July 13, 2013 came. The wispy ghosts of racial inequality and discrimination in America, specters that I sometimes had to see through the corners of my eye, became flesh, stood in front of me, and slapped me in the face. I knew they were there all along, hence my resistance, but I didn’t realize that I was pretty far along the slope of slipping into a lull, enticed by promises of respectability, status, earned benefits and merits, and the privileges I have come to take for granted.
How does one go about “continu[ing] to achieve higher goals”? With great dignity, strength, and perseverance. Translation: it will not be easy. But you gotta do it. Ugh, easier said (or written) than done. How could there really be earned benefits and merits if the game is rigged, and has been all along?
When I think of obligation and duty, I often get the message that these are things best left behind. Even more so if they are well-worn tools of oppressive social systems that perpetuate unacceptable inequalities. (e.g., “We came to America to make our own destiny!” “Blaze your own trail!” “You decide the course of your life, not your parents!”)
Yet still… I see obligation and duty as the primary reasons I do what I do. I have obligations to my spouse, my children, my mother, my kin, my friends, my coworkers, and my colleagues. I have duties to people who have placed trust, belief, and investment of time, effort, and money in me, whether professionally or personally. Sometimes I don’t quite know how to act on these senses of duty and obligation, but I feel strongly that I must express and do something about them, nonetheless, to fulfill and repay the promise (which is a particular type of debt).
What, then, is the obligation and duty to be upheld when others have made it unequivocally known to you that you don’t count and won’t amount to a whole lot? No matter how hard you try. Obligation and duty are not dirty, but they do pose important questions, filled to the brim with the usual notions of reciprocity and gratitude, but also loyalty and trust.
By the way, I am not posing rhetorical questions. I have no answers. I am seeking them.
Please call me Melissa. I get confused when I am called Mel.
One’s true name is a powerful thing. It may not be apparent, but the name I tell people to call me indicates their status within my social network construct. See, my social construct of relationships and networks reflects my belief in the notion of kapwa, the core-of-the-core of the Filipino values-system. The way I see it, at least.
I ask people to call me Melissa. Only my mother, my grandparents, my aunts, and uncles call me by my childhood nickname (which I will not reveal here). My siblings and cousins call me Até (pronounced ah-teh). Or Até plus my childhood nickname. I am the oldest in my generation. The honorific title means something (literally, it means “oldest sister”). My children call me Mom. My husband calls me Melissa. I will answer to Mel, but I do find it confusing. It makes me think of my younger sister Melanie, whom we call Mel.
Anyway, what all this says is that the idea of kapwa creates connections and distinctions. Great, more tensions. And these tensions are always fleeting. While I strive to be open, I also distinguish between ibang tao (outsider) and hindi ibang tao (non-outsider, insider). And this is where cultural characteristics become very difficult to explain. There are some circumstances where certain people are ibang tao to me, even those whom I would otherwise consider insiders. Some of the reasons are just purely circumstantial. For instance, though my husband is the closest person to me, at some level he is still somewhat removed. This is largely because of our cultural differences. He can’t pronounce my childhood name right, no matter how many times he tries. He has trouble understanding me, my thoughts, feelings, and motivations. And I him. We make it work, however. Not a bed of roses, but it works.
Some reasons for my placing people within the ibang tao category are intentional and deliberate. My daughters understand this very well. I tell them not to say a lot about our family’s history to others. I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business. I didn’t realize how much of it “isn’t anyone’s business” until Maddi had a genealogy school project for which she needed to make an oral report about her family roots. It made her remark to me, “you are very Confucian, you know that?!” I never thought of it that way, but I suppose that is true.
Maddi told me that her teacher told her that I was a very private person. I didn’t think so. I thought I was just being respectful of my elders by not airing out family stories that may be construed in an unbecoming manner. I didn’t intend to guard my family’s privacy at all. But there it was. Privacy is just one resulting aspect of the Filipino value of kapwa. Considering I have this blog and write about matters that are pretty close to my heart, a strict sense of privacy is something I wrestle with and haven’t quite figured out.
Honorific titles such as Até and Kuya (pronounced koo-yah, literally means “oldest brother”) indicate a level of closeness and respect. It is fairly common for Filipinos to bestow these and other family honorifics on close friends and distant relatives in order to signal love, respect, and membership into the hindi ibang tao construct of kapwa. Até Gina is a very distant cousin. I call some of my mother’s and my aunt’s female friends Tita (pronounced teeh-tah, literally means “little aunt”), though we are not related by blood.
I tried to instill this sense in my children, at first insisting that teachers and friends call my daughters by their long name. I gave up after both my girls seemed to prefer to be called by their shorter names indiscriminately. Explaining the value made it seem stupid. I figured, in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Since it only mattered to me, it seems.
Privacy isn’t the most important aspect of kapwa, however. It is commitment to consideration and care for others, their feelings, and their well-being. Kapwa is more about unity and togetherness than privacy and filial piety. Never doing things alone. Never letting others feel as if they are alone. You help when and where you can.
One of the biggest things I wrestle with in my life as a Filipina immigrant in the United States is the notion of interdependence. Simply put, I think Filipino culture places greater emphasis on the needs of the collective over those of the individual. American culture tends to be the opposite. There are many times in my adult life when I know people think I need to be “less insecure” and “more independent.” I’ve even been told this (in a manner as if I needed to be told). Reconciling the two value-systems, however, goes beyond simply becoming “more independent” and “less insecure.”
Sometimes, in order to show commitment to the welfare of others, one needs to be more open and approachable. Showing one’s vulnerability means showing the limits of one’s sense of self-assuredness and independence. Risky.
Bayanihan. Joselito E. Barcelona. 1993. Image from Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University
I’ve often told my colleagues that I considered myself a team-player. It wasn’t until fairly recently that I realized how inadequate a description that word was. Or how this may seem so unremarkable to others. I don’t think it’s that remarkable either, just that it is something that means a great deal to me. I suppose people call themselves a team-player all the time, so it’s possible to simply pay lip-service to a value without real commitment to it.
I guess, to some people, getting along means complying to their own demands 100%. There’s no give and take. No reciprocity. Others think that in order to get along they have to give in, 100% of the time. All they are expected to do is give. They don’t get a say or are allowed to voice a contrary opinion.
This brings me to pakikisama (camaraderie), the Filipino core virtue of getting along with others. I don’t think Filipinos are the only ones to hold camaraderie as a highly esteemed social virtue. Getting and going along is one way to demonstrate utang na loob (debt of gratitude), which can go unpaid across many generations. This can lead to many bad things. The good things, however, involve being able to empathize and sympathize with your brethren. When I speak of team-work and collegiality, I mean the good aspects of pakikisama. While we each have our own separate responsibilities to uphold, pakikisama exacts an expectation that in order for the group to survive, we need to work together, build a strong feeling of trust among the individual members of the group. Contribution and dissent in such a group dynamic is sometimes necessary (though pakikisama may actually curtail these, too).
All members need to feel invested in the group. This can be less likely when there are obvious signs of favoritism, mistrust, and antagonism within the ranks. But many don’t really care, so there. Ok. Do we really have to like each other so we can move a big house (referring to the picture in this post)? No. Not at all. But if I can’t set my ill will aside so that I’ll do you a turn and lend you my shoulder to lift and move the house, then it matters if I like you or not. More so if we have to solve a very complex problem together, say, several errors in process that involve live computer systems and ongoing human data-entry and procedural input. Or what about coming up with viable solutions and programs that change library patron behaviors and perceptions of the library institution, services, and offerings? Then, perhaps, getting to the heart of the antagonism among the human actors is more than necessary. Too many complexities, too many moving joints, and definitely many opportunities for sabotage and areas for “failure.” Not all problems are as easily fixed as screwing on a light bulb in order to have electric light. Some problems involve matters that deal with sources of electricity to begin with (For example, do we go with solar energy or is nuclear plant-generated electricity the way to go?). Such a question is not going to be addressed by your skill and knowledge of screwing on a light bulb. It’s way too easy to blame an individual for not showing up. And this happens quite a bit. It’s pretty easy to overlook that people have their own strengths, weaknesses, and that the work environment contributes to a lot of shizz that discourages people from showing up, becoming more visible, and committing through their work and effort. Sometimes the message given is “show up my way or not at all.” I am not surprised when many people choose “not at all.”
I have been in too many situations where lip-service to group collegiality is paid with very little commitment or demonstration to building collective trust. In fact, scapegoating dissenters and outliers as outsiders and saboteurs is a thing I’ve seen and experienced much more often. (Ok, I’m ignoring the fact that participation in scapegoating is a way to build collective trust. Let’s not go there.) Actual commitment to getting along (again, from what I’ve seen and experienced) simply = “do as you’re told, or else.” In some respects, doing what you are told preserves group harmony, sure. But it’s also a great way to build resentment and bitterness, support bullying, sabotage, and passive-aggressive behaviors, and, of course, destroy trust. Along with bullying, scapegoating, favoritism, nepotism, and corruption, unreflective self-censorship and self-suppression are just some issues that fall within the darker side of pakikisama. So, which side of the Force do you choose?
Needless to say, pakikisama is another one of my strong, culturally ingrained senses of virtue that often clashes with my social interactions in adult life here in the United States. I still love its positive aspects, mind you. I just don’t delude myself by thinking it’s all good.
Oftentimes, I stay quiet because the stuff that run through my head violate my sense of pakikisama. They are often mean, unkind, and impolitic. My friends on Facebook can understand this the most. They, my children, and my husband are the only ones privy to my sardonic, snarky, and often-salty commentary. Many take my outward quietness as true meekness. To those people, I say, “if only you knew me better. But you don’t. Sorry (for you).”
I’ve been told to be more assertive, to be more confident. In other words, speak my mind. Ok. Point taken. At the same time, I hear things like “be true to your heritage, your roots. Be who you are.” I want to do both! I want to stay true to my upbringing and my culture. I want to be celebrated, not just tolerated. I’m trying! But the contradictions are maddening! I’ve come to the conclusion that people don’t really want to know what I think. They just want to believe that everyone has a right to be heard, but they don’t want to do the actual listening and hearing themselves. Pardon me, but that’s a bunch of bull in a crock. If people have the right to be heard, it takes other people to hear them. Generosity of spirit from institutions, governments, and organizations begins with generosity of spirit from individual human beings. This is what I mean when I say I am a team-player. It is also what I mean when I say I put people first. I have come to these conclusions thanks to pakikisama and other Filipino and Catholic virtues I grew up with.
So, I wonder, do I get along by “not rocking the boat” or do I “get along” for real? How do you get along?
Utang na Loob = Debt of Gratitude. From Northern Illinois University’s Center of Southeast Asian Studies.
I grew up in the Tagalog region of the Philippines. My maternal grandparents raised and cared for me. I came to the United States when I was 17 years old, only after my mother became a legal citizen. She and my father left the Philippines to work in the United States. My younger sisters and I arrived in this country in 1990. When we arrived, it was the first time my family had been together in 10 years. People who know first-hand the complexities of immigration and overseas labor, especially their effects on families, can comprehend the meanings of this paragraph.
In many ways, I still don’t think of myself as “American.” Sure, I am a legal citizen of the United States of America. I work, vote, pay taxes, and live in this country. I have a legal license to drive a C-class vehicle and a legally obtained Social Security number. My children were born in this country, go to public school, and my family uses public institutions provided for by the local, state, and federal governments. I am married to a man who was born in this country and grew up in the Midwest and the South. But these are not all that constitutes being an “American.” At least I don’t think so. Interesting that the previously linked video focuses on beliefs, traditions, values, and personal traits and behaviors.
When I think of the moral and cultural imperatives that drive my adult actions, I think of my childhood and upbringing in the Philippines. One of the most significant values I was raised with was the notion of utang na loob. Debt of gratitude. “Depth of gratitude,” I think, is appropriate, too. A sense that a debt is so great, so beyond simple repayment and reciprocal turn, that words fail proper description of this feeling of gratitude. On top of the fact that the feeling is already hard to describe, I have trouble expressing this without appearing or being considered weak, insecure, and too emotional (all thought of as extremely negative in many circles). That’s just one common example of the cultural divide I (still) experience in this country. I guess it doesn’t help that I have a strong sense of hiya as well. (Hiya is often equated with shame.) When I was a child, one of the worst things to be called was walang hiya (without shame). These were fighting, insulting words. To be without shame is to be without honor and respect for self and others. I still hold this to be true. Having some shame is good. (Shame, I think, can be correlated with a sense of pride, though I haven’t done a research study to investigate this opinion.) It’s just having too much of it that’s problematic.
There are moments when others felt compelled to make me feel like an outsider, that I didn’t belong, and that my presence in this country, or within a particular group, was not wanted or welcomed, that I was an interloper, somehow inadequate. During those times, and times when I have felt unjustly wronged, asking others for assistance, consideration, or support is difficult for me. Like many people, I feel I need to resolve things on my own, though I know and accept that seeking help when needed takes strength of character. It still feels wrong, so I sometimes ask for help when it’s too late or just absolutely necessary. These are the times when my utang na loob and hiya clashes with my lakas ng loob (bravery, daring, nerve, courage, or inner strength). From my own lived experience and the video linked on this post, American values place higher premium on overt displays of lakas ng loob. Working in advocacy and outreach demands a high level of it, too. The times I need to show lakas ng loob often conflicts with the part of me that privileges utang na loob and hiya. I must work to resolve these somehow. And the process of this resolution is continuous and, seemingly, neverending. I am sure I am not alone in this. I don’t think this is something that is unique to Filipinos either.
All these posts that I write about resilience, bravery, courage, and fighting are, really, ways for me to bolster my own nerve so I can quiet my sense of inferiority in the face of challenges. I do this so I can rise up and meet problems directly. I want to be fearless, but I am not. I wish I was infallible, but I know I am not. I don’t have superhuman capabilities. I am not impervious and bulletproof. I bleed all too easily. I tire and wear down from running away from the nagging self-doubts. They always catch up to me no matter how fast or how hard I run. Each. And. Every. Time.
All I really have is a desire to be better than what I am right now…and at the same time, I also have the need to accept that what I am is enough. The contradiction between the two is glaring and painful. So the struggle continues.
John Gurdon’s abysmal high school report card
Ever felt beaten down inside and out? Yeah, that’s what I thought. We all have. So what’s with the whining? No, no whining here. But we will think more deeply about why, after a tussle, it’s important to get back up and try again.
Word for the day: resilience. According to Wikipedia, resilience is “an individual’s tendency to cope with stress and adversity.” In a blog post a month ago, Jenica Rogers asked why building resilience is important. I had long though it was significant to living a satisfying and purposeful life, though I couldn’t exactly and succinctly articulate why I held this opinion. Certainly, I thought this because it was a perspective I so wanted to instill in my daughters. I had often told them, loosely quoting Mary Pickford, “it’s not the falling down, but the staying down that matters more.” In dealing with the adversities and tragedies one will surely encounter in life, resilience is indeed a virtue.
But what about in the workplace? I don’t need to do scholarly research to know that resilience matters. Since I already accept that organizations, institutions, and workplaces are made up of individual people, I can therefore accept that individual psychological resilience can only benefit organizations. Exactly how that is, is a different matter. That’s that part I need to look up. How does resilience figure into an individual’s worklife and an organization’s makeup? What implications does psychological resilience hold for organizational management and leadership? What does scholarly research and scientific studies tell us about individual human psychological resilience and group dynamics in a work setting?
I’m still rooting through these questions during my (very limited) spare time. Many have written of resilience in various professions. Foremost in my mind is Karen Munro’s 2011 post at In the Library With the Lead Pipe. I’m a librarian, so the ideas in the post took root and will be budding at any moment. In it, Munro provides us with a basic tenet of resilience theory: change is going to happen no matter what. It is inevitable (so deal with it). But we know that change can be difficult, down-right uncomfortable, and a reason for freak-outs here and there.
Back to individual psychological resilience. There’s nothing like getting an abysmal performance review or report card to make you feel stressed, under fire, and, well, adversely affected. It’s a big signal that says “something has to change!” After getting such a report, Sir John Gurdon switched his scholastic pursuits. I know I’d lose my taste for what I had considered my passion. In fact, I know I have. We can only speculate on what sort of intellectual contributions he would have made had he stayed on the path of studying classics after receiving such devastating feedback. However, we do know that human knowledge of medicine and physiology is all the better because of Sir John Gurdon’s return to science.
What lesson do we take away from this story? There are lots. But for me, at this moment, I’m settling on the importance of making one’s ability to work, develop, and exceed be a matter of perseverance (what others call grit). This takes courage, heart, and, yes, resilience. Getting back up after being knocked down is important because the alternative is to accept something that may not be as valuable, wanted, or needed. Giving up is safer, so much easier, more restful, and inviting.
Brené Brown: Listening to shame | Video on TED.com.
Some take-aways I got from Brené Brown’s TED video linked above:
“Vulnerability is not weakness. I define vulnerability as emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty. It fuels our daily lives. And I’ve come to the belief…that vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.”
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.”
It is not the critic who counts. From Amir Salihefendic.
“When people start talking about privilege, they get paralyzed by shame.”
“Shame drives two big tapes: ‘Never Good Enough’ and…’Who Do You Think You Are?'”
“The ability to hold something we’ve done or failed to do up against who we want to be is incredibly adaptive. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s adaptive.”
“If we’re going to find our way back to each other, vulnerability is going to be that path. And I know it’s seductive to stand outside the arena, because I think I did it my whole life, and think to myself, I’m going to go in there and kick some ass when I’m bulletproof and when I’m perfect. And that is seductive. But the truth is that never happens. And even if you got as perfect as you could and as bulletproof as you could possibly muster when you got in there, that’s not what we want to see. We want you to go in. We want to be with you and across from you. And we just want, for ourselves and the people we care about and the people we work with, to dare greatly.”
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