Heritage

After viewing this video on facebook of a 90+ year old tatted badass lady in the Philippines, I find myself dealing with a surge of interest and obsession with the Filipino culture. Her story told of her solace and comfort in the simple trade of making tattoos and etching ink into her countrymen. As the ink and flesh mingled together, so did her life and her client's. Somehow, through practicing her skill she connected with others, filling a void after losing her boyfriend to the Japanese occupation back in World War 2. 

I myself also found a solace of sorts, but  not through getting tatted. The video shows the inhabitants in her village, and I felt as though I could relate more to those people than to the culture in which I grew up my entire life. I am only half Filipino and I have never been to the Philippines, but I saw, for the first time other than my extended family, people who were my size, shape, and build. Here in the US, I often lament of how tiny I am compared to most others. But I see now that if I were to travel to the Philippines to meet my distant relatives, I would fit in perfectly, perhaps even tower them slightly. On a deeper level, I saw in her eyes the spirit that reminds me of my own great-grandmother. Sadly I was never able to get to know her personally, but that which I've heard of her lets me know where I got my feisty side from. My great-grandmother and the tattoo master share a similar look in their eyes--a look of quiet, humble strength, a strength that doesn't feel the need to laud itself or put itself on display as is so prominent here in America. They were so small in stature, but the gentle ferocity deep within them more than compensated. This brought me comfort.

When I consider the modern day Philippines, I think of a manipulative, self-serving government, a confused culture trying to kiss tail with the rest of the world, poverty, and Filipino mail-order brides. I refuse to believe that this is what I descended from. No. I, along with the rest of them, descended from people like the tattoo master, who were warriors of the jungle laden mountains, resisting the Spanish and the Japanese, striving to preserve their culture and identity, and empowering others through their struggles and triumphs. To be sure, there had to have been many aspects of this culture that were less than appealing, or even morally challenging. But all cultures have sore spots and blotches in their histories, and this culture is no different. May we discover and remember who we are, appreciate its good, and learn from its imperfections.