I am a Filipina and a mother of two children (8 years and 3 years old). Unlike perhaps most Filipinas in the Netherlands, I am married to a Pinoy. Nevertheless, the question of raising children is also relevant for us. My husband and I came to the Netherlands 9 years ago. So, both our daughters were born here. Since both of us are Cebuanos, we talk in Cebuano at home. Luckily we were in the Philippines when my first daughter was just learning to speak. So, naturally her first language was also Cebuano. However, when we went back to the Netherlands, my daughter had difficulties expressing herself with other Dutch children in the creche (nursery). This made us worried and for a while we considered the idea of talking in Dutch with her at home. Fortunately, the creche leidsters (caretakers) and other Dutch parents encouraged us to go on with our own Philippine language at home. They assured us that soon enough our daughter will pick up the Dutch language. And true enough, she did! So, at home our daughter spoke Cebuano and in the creche she talked in Dutch. Up to that time, I thought that raising children in a mixed culture was only a question of language. Until...one day, while my daughter and I were on our way to the creche (she was then around 3 years old) she asked me "Mama, am I a Filipino or a Dutch?" For a while I didn't know what to say. I first had to search my own feelings. Then reluctantly and with uncertainty I answered her, "well, you are of course a Filipino because we, your parents, are Filipinos and we try to live as Filipinos. But an important part of you is also Dutch because you were born here, have lived here most of your life and most of your friends are Dutch." And my daughter responded happily, "oh, how nice! I am two (i.e. Filipino and Dutch)! You and Papa are only `one', he? And Ember (her Dutch friend) is also only `one'. But I am `two'!" And with more certainty I answered her back, "yes, you are `two'. And you are lucky to be `two'." This conversation with my daughter made me realize that living in a mixed culture need not be problematized. Rather, it can be very positive and enriching to one's life. Also, I learned that as parents trying to raise our children in two cultures, it is important to find out how our children perceive and experience their life in these two cultures.
Of course, these lessons I learned are easily said than done. One day, when my daughter was around 4 years old (she was then already going to the kleuterklas or kindergarten), she asked me, "Mama, could we not just talk in Dutch, so I don't need to think always in Cebuano and then in Dutch?" Hearing this made me very angry. And I told her angrily, "Okey, don't learn Cebuano anymore. And when I go back to the Philippines, you may not come with me and you stay here alone!" Then calmly and surprised, my daughter asked me "Mama, why are you angry?" "Indeed, why am I angry?", I thought. And I answered my daughter, now in a calm way, "I'm sorry, I got angry. I was just hurt because it is important for me that you know my language. This is the language of your family, your roots. And I just want you to be able to communicate with the rest of your family back home. Of course, I understand that more and more you will prefer to speak in Dutch. But please, don't forget our language." Then she said, "Okey." And we walked towards our house. That evening, I kept thinking about the conversation I had with my daughter. A part of me tells me not to impose my own thinking and feelings on my daughter. Another part of me also tells me to ensure the Filipino identity of my daughter. My husband and I discussed these things that evening. And we thought that maybe we have to make a compromise. So, the following day, we told our daughter that she may talk to us in Dutch while we continue to speak to her in Cebuano. My daughter was pleased with the arrangement. Then she told us, "Mama, Papa, don't worry, if ever we go to the Philippines, in a few days time I think I can already speak in Cebuano because I will store Cebuano in my head." And I thought, "I really hope so." So, that was how we settled the language question. At the age between 5 and 6 years old, my daughter continued to grapple with her own identity. There was a time when she wished her hair were blond, or that she had lighter skin color, or that she were a little bit taller, etc. etc. Patiently, we dealt with every question she raised about herself. Although I must admit that there were times when I also lost my temper, especially if she complained about the food. Fortunately, my daughter also received positive remarks from her social environment such as, how nice her hair was because it's black and thick; how lucky she was to have such color the whole year round without having to bathe in the sun; etc. etc. One day, my daughter told me about a conversation she had with her classmate (she was then 7 years old). She said, "you know Mama, my classmate said that I am black. But I told, no, I'm brown, Joyce (a Srilankan) is also brown but a bit darker, and Tatiana is black." Then she asked me, "am I right, Mama?" And I told her, "yes, there are many colors in this world, just as there are many languages, many ways of doing things and many kinds of food. These things precisely make the world an interesting place to live. Not one is better than the other, but it's more a question of preference and of what one is used to." And I added, "what is important, and which you should always remember, is that you should always try to be fair and just. When you choose your friends, don't choose them because of their color, or because they have nice and expensive toys. But choose your friends because you like them as they are and they like you as you are." At the age of seven, somehow I felt that my daughter was beginning to get hold of her own identity. Whenever somebody tells her that she's small, she would answer with confidence, "yes, I'm small here, but in the Philippines I'm just average." She also seemed to have accepted the fact that I will always be her "kleine moeder". There was a time when I overheard her teaching soem Cebuano words to her classmate such as "tubig", "bala", etc. And one time, when her classmate stayed with us for the weekend, she was so happy that her classmate especially enjoyed our meals. And proudly she told her classmate "That's Filipino food. That's what we always eat for dinner."
Raising children in a mixed culture is indeed a long and a very dynamic process. I think that there are really no clear, hard and fast rules or formula. From my experience, it was a process of constant dialogue and interaction with my daughter -- trying to find out and understand her own thinking and feelings, while also making her aware of my own thinking and feelings. I've learned that, as parents we cannot impose ourselves upon our children. We can only interact with them, explain to them as much as we can, and build a relationship of mutual respect with them. I've learned that, as parents, we should give our children enough room to discover their own identity. We cannot define that identity for them, but we can only guide them and try to give answers (as much as we can) to their questions. Children are actually capable of understanding things more than we think they do. Now, I'm quite confident that my daughter has already discovered a substantial part of her identity. And what especially makes me happy is that I've seen how confident she is of that "Filipino part" in her identity. But I know, that this will continue to be a process. And the process of discovering and rediscovering one's identity in a mixed culture will not always be a smooth one.
In the summer of 1991, I took my two children with me to Sweden to visit a family friend. Since we have Philippine passports, we needed to get visas for Sweden and transit visas for Germany and Denmark (as we were travelling by train). While we were packing our things, my daughter asked me why we need to have a stamp on our passports. I answered her, "well, these are called visas. Each country make their own rules and one of that is to get their permission when people need to enter their country. So, that's what we need visas for." Then my daughter said, "so, if my classmates will go to Sweden they will also have to get visas." And I automatically answered, "no, they don't have to." "Why?", asked my daughter. I stopped packing and had to think for an answer. I already started to get nervous, anticipating where the discussion was leading to. And carefully, I answered her back, "well because your classmates have Dutch passports, and those with Dutch passports don't need to get visas for Sweden." "Why?", asked my daughter again. And I answered, "well, as I had told you, each country make their own rules and that's one of those rules." "Oh", said my daughter, "can we not just get Dutch passports? Afterall, we're living in the Netherlands just like my classmates." At that point of our conversation I felt something I could not really describe, it was a mixture of many feelings -- pain, anger, sadness, uncertainty, homesickness, groping for some strength, etc. And calmly I told my daughter, "oh, my child, you ask so many questions. Sometimes you'll have to wait until you're a bit older. And you will understand these things better." And quickly I asked her "have you already packed all the toys and things you want to take along?" And she answered, "yes".