F is for the Filipino American Farmer
Filipino farmers in the asparagus fields of Stockton, California. Image from Little Manila Foundation.
Four years ago, I was asked a question I still seek the answers to. "When was the last person in your family a farmer?"
I didn't know what to say...and felt a little ashamed. Sure, I loved reading Carlos Bulosan's America is in the Heart. I chose produce from farmer's markets, not just because they tasted good but because the food came directly from a person, from a place. But I never heard stories of our family's farming history, and conversely, never asked. All I knew was my family's "white collar" history of immigration - how my parents, my titas and titos had crossed the Pacific as nurses, technicians, and teachers. It felt like a kind of amnesia. Who were - or are - the family farmers?
While I may never learn the names of direct farmer ancestors, my life would not be the same without the legacy of farmers in this country and their experiences, struggles, and hard-won triumphs carved into the land. When I look at photos documenting the waves of Filipino farmers in the 20s and 30s, I see my grandparents and great-grandparents in their faces, and my heart rises.
From Seattle to Stockton, Waipahu, the San Joaquin Valley, to Fruitvale, Filipino farmers were among those who worked the earth, harvested apples, cut cane, built thriving communities, survived the spiritual pains of loneliness and racism, and shaped the long, beautiful, and painful history of this country. There are vital lessons to be learned from the Delano manongs, whose efforts united Filipino and Mexican agriculture laborers and birthed the UFW movement, to farmers in the Philippines, where rapid climate change is ravaging crops and people, and many work without owning the land they till.
I've found a little thread that ties my family to farming. Before our lolo (grandfather) became a pilot in WWII, he studied agriculture. His family line, my mother's side, grew mangoes, cacao, rice, and raised fish, and I had the chance to visit those fields and fishponds with my mother. It's small, but it is a beginning. There is more to uncover, reclaim and understand.
Looking deeper, I can only feel more respect for all farmers here at home. Their legacy is relevant to all of us - as people with Filipino roots, as Californians, as those who have ever eaten a peach or stalk of asparagus, as those connected to US history. We are part of this legacy.
More: there are amazing resources, organizations, on this rich history past and present. Please suggest more to add to this list, look them up, and thank a farmer near you.
Delano Manongs: Forgotten Heroes of the UFW