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My Turnby Maileen Hamto |
 |
From The Asian Reporter, V17, #39 (September 25, 2007), page 6.
Fitting in
People think the rigor of college and graduate school prepares them for the ‘real world.’ Not true. Life more closely resembles one’s experiences in high school."
That was a former colleague talking, in his attempt to share pearls of wisdom about survival skills in a new job. And life in general.
His theory goes like this: Hierarchies in the corporate world and in society as a whole are akin to the pecking order among 15- to 18-year-olds. The jocks and cheerleaders who are primed for careers in sales and marketing. Geeks and math freaks who probably will end up in engineering school. Artistic types who spend time in theater or creating art out of used brake rotors. The idealists and cynics who write for the school paper.
The bottom line, he said, is that survival in the real world is quite similar to survival skills that worked in high school. To do well (and so much depends on one’s objectives) you have to be liked by the "right" kind of people. You have to find the right crowd that will embrace you, and brand you as one of their own.
Much of his thought process makes sense. It is true that we tend to surround ourselves with others we closely identify with. We live in neighborhoods that reflect our income and status.
Then I started to think about my own "fitting in" experience. I was an émigré who lived my childhood in a hybrid Asian culture with a long history of colonization, albeit under different masters. I grew up in a largely homogenous society, living among all shades of brown people: Tisays (mestizas), Chinoys (Chinese-Filipinos), Ilocanos, Bicolanos, Waray, et al.
I attended public high school in Manila, in a school that grouped students according to academic performance. It’s safe to assume that we were among the smartest kids in school, the group deemed most likely to succeed. My best guy friends were flamboyantly gay. They also happened to be among the most popular boys on campus, and had a great sense of humor about their sexuality. None of us were part of varsity sports. Parties were clean: alcohol and drug free.
Compared to the mainstream experience of high school kids in the States, I guess you would say I grew up in bizarro world, ruled by geeks, queers, and just plain "weird" — yet wholesome — kids.
I left that world at age 15, almost immediately after high school. I was fluent in English, familiar with the founding principles of the United States, and quite acquainted with American culture through television and film.
I was really excited to be here. In many ways, I felt I had spent much of my life preparing for life in America. I didn’t think I’d have any trouble "fitting in."
Was I ever wrong.
People ask me whether I experienced "culture shock" when I first came here. The shock did not come as a result of trying to adapt to a new, foreign culture.
Perhaps the most jarring experience was realizing how native-born and other established people saw me.
Back home, I grew up as part of the dominant culture. Coming to America, I was labelled as an outsider for the first time in my life. I was made to feel that I did not fully belong. That I was a second-class citizen.
The first stone was cast by the most unusual suspect: another brown boy, himself the son of immigrants.
He called me and my brother FOBs (Fresh Off the Boat).
Perhaps I didn’t have a sense of humor about any of it at the time. My parents were educated professionals who came to the States with working visas. They hired lawyers to ensure permanent legal status for the rest of our family. From the get-go, we were self-sufficient. Productive. Thriving.
The experience of being treated as an outsider by people I regarded as "my kind" drove me to carefully scrutinize the company I keep. I have the utmost respect for — and am most comfortable amongst — people who may have had the same outsider experience, but who don’t find it necessary to put down newcomers.
Bottom line: My "fitting in" experience is anything but.