Just tell your story
"Sit in front of the mirror and tell yourself your own story," advises a friend on the ride home from the Wai'anae coast back into town, as I am driving at 11:30 at night. I had called him to help keep me awake, but now I am slightly annoyed. It's not like that, I think to myself. But part of me knows that it is.
"Especially, if it is personal," he continues, "You need to know the ins and outs of your story to be able to know what things to cut out and what to add." Hmmm. Something about that draws me in, but before I know it I have reached home and need to excuse myself from the conversation to come here to the blog and further reflect with my virtual mirror of sorts.
In my mind, I review tonight's and yesterday's storytelling sessions and the process of sharing and drawing forth of the content for the upcoming benefit performance: Bittermellon and sweet Papayas. Of the women in the performance group, I am the youngest. Of the women in the performance group, I am also the only one not born and raised in Hawaii and have never lived in Wai'anae or any part of Oahu's west side. To my benefit, I am full Pinay- Ilocana and Igorot and I have over ten years of diverse types of service to local youth and a deep, demonstrated commitment to the indigenous peoples of this land as well as to my own people in the Filipino diaspora.
In this situation, I am the classic insider-outsider, an intimate stranger who is absolutely comfortable and uncomfortable in not being kama'aina. My chosen profession and love of the ocean, however, has given me a certain awareness of how the aina and how her children speak, how things are done local style, and what may best support an authentic voice; But at times, I can be unknowingly clumsy and painfully awkward with all the invisible social rules that demand a certain way of behaving. I have always done my best to be respectful, but at times, I am content to be the nail that sticks out and pierces the veil so that I and the other can be finally, honest with each other, and thus ourselves.
Like many once-upon-a time small village communities across the planet in the throes of globalization, Wai'anae-the site of the storytelling benefit-is changing. And she and her people are engaging several processes to acknowledge the immense new creativity and destruction occurring simultaneously. While her daughters in the collective can do this eloquently, I feel like I am tasked to do something different for the the story-telling collective-which at this time, I am not entirely sure what it is. Except that it has to do with bearing witness to group and individual change.
And to be ever present, ears and heart wide open to be the best believing mirror that I can be.
"Especially, if it is personal," he continues, "You need to know the ins and outs of your story to be able to know what things to cut out and what to add." Hmmm. Something about that draws me in, but before I know it I have reached home and need to excuse myself from the conversation to come here to the blog and further reflect with my virtual mirror of sorts.
In my mind, I review tonight's and yesterday's storytelling sessions and the process of sharing and drawing forth of the content for the upcoming benefit performance: Bittermellon and sweet Papayas. Of the women in the performance group, I am the youngest. Of the women in the performance group, I am also the only one not born and raised in Hawaii and have never lived in Wai'anae or any part of Oahu's west side. To my benefit, I am full Pinay- Ilocana and Igorot and I have over ten years of diverse types of service to local youth and a deep, demonstrated commitment to the indigenous peoples of this land as well as to my own people in the Filipino diaspora.
In this situation, I am the classic insider-outsider, an intimate stranger who is absolutely comfortable and uncomfortable in not being kama'aina. My chosen profession and love of the ocean, however, has given me a certain awareness of how the aina and how her children speak, how things are done local style, and what may best support an authentic voice; But at times, I can be unknowingly clumsy and painfully awkward with all the invisible social rules that demand a certain way of behaving. I have always done my best to be respectful, but at times, I am content to be the nail that sticks out and pierces the veil so that I and the other can be finally, honest with each other, and thus ourselves.
Like many once-upon-a time small village communities across the planet in the throes of globalization, Wai'anae-the site of the storytelling benefit-is changing. And she and her people are engaging several processes to acknowledge the immense new creativity and destruction occurring simultaneously. While her daughters in the collective can do this eloquently, I feel like I am tasked to do something different for the the story-telling collective-which at this time, I am not entirely sure what it is. Except that it has to do with bearing witness to group and individual change.
And to be ever present, ears and heart wide open to be the best believing mirror that I can be.
Comments
This is indeed a pleasant surprise. I was searching for pinay bloggers in diaspora and found this pukengkeng site. Interesting insights.
Another karenkeng!