Growing up the way I did, where I did, it was often a struggle for me to fit in. In "small town America," as some call it; I was a little different than most around me. I always had my own style, listened to my own music and kind of did my own thing, no matter what the rest of the place was doing.
It was expected of me to grow up red-neck and I wasn't happy with my father forcing me to wear ONLY tight jeans and boots. I liked it sometimes, but I still wanted to branch out, so to speak. He kicked me out if the house when I came home once with a piercing in my ear, and we didn't have another conversation together for twelve years.
I never was much of the "go-with-the-flow" type. I enjoyed being different. For that, I received a lot of judgment and it often caused trouble. I also loved poetry. I have written poetry since I was barely old enough to write, but I soon found out that men with emotions are often not accepted where I'm from. In fact, I remember buying a girl a bouquet of flowers once, and I took them to her. She threw them in the back seat of my car and when I mentioned having a candle-lit dinner, she told me, "You need to grow some balls and become a man." Those roses rotted in my back seat for weeks.
Everyone seems to want that boyfriend with tough, aggressive attitude, destroying anything weaker than them, in their paths - yet they spend their days praying for someone to live them and basically worship the ground they walk on. It seems to be a human instinct in America that if someone appears weaker, crush them. I eventually adapted to my surroundings, which I apparently was good at doing. I blended in and everyone finally accepted me, though I wasn't happy.
The first time I flew to the Philippines, I realized what a big difference the Asian culture was, compared to what I'd been living. I wasn't just accepted, I was held upon a pedestal and I'd suddenly felt like a superstar, though I was just a nobody. It was a big change for me.
Growing up in America had taught me to never let down my guard and always be ready for the worst possible scenario. I was always expecting a fight in public places, and robbed if I ever took my eyes off my wallet. In the extreme heat of the Philippine sun, I wore my long sleeve, flannel shirts and blue jeans with cowboy boots. I was always ashamed to remove my hat, as other people had made fun of my forehead and my Irish-pale legs.
I also was always afraid of smiling, due to being made fun of for my smile. I honestly didn't express many emotions at all, because in such a case in America, people spot your weaknesses. In my mind, it was a "dog eat dog" world and the only way to survive it, was be the toughest of the whole crowd.
After two or three trips to the Philippines, I began letting my guard down. Without realizing it, I was adapting to their culture in my own little way. I was allowed to be myself for once, without judgment. I was encouraged to not wear my hat, so I could show my "handsome" forehead and began wearing shorts that allowed me to deal with the heat. Another thing; I found I was able to openly talk about God without "offending" people. That's something that just can't be done in modern American society.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was learning to be happy again. My smile meant something to people. My sense of humor was appreciated and encouraged. I stopped trying to act so tough and began showing my emotions. I was finally smiling, playing with children and being who I wanted to be all along.
In the Asian culture; more specifically, the Philippine culture, I was no longer just some face in the crowd. People wanted to be my friend. They wanted to speak to me, just to have conversation with me. They wanted to take pictures with me to show their friends and family. The children were like loyal followers, always wanting to look at me and touch my face.
In the Philippines, family is such an important part of their lives, they love their families. I almost instantly felt a part of the family, where I was. I had never felt like such an important part of someone's life before. It really grew on me. They also celebrate the passing of loved ones. Where as we Americans, often hold grudges or treat people in the wrong manner; they pass away and we live with constant regrets and the mourning never ends. Filipinos get together with family every year to celebrate their loved ones' passing. That's exactly how I think it should be. I love and still love, being surrounded by Filipinos and learning to be more like them.
Maybe things would be different, had I been hanging with the high-class people and enjoying the comforts of high-class hotels and resorts. Yes, I've done so many times. Though, nothing is more satisfying than being amongst the average Filipinos. That is what gave much value to my life.
Coming from a place where I dreaded every day of my life, I found purpose. I found courage within myself to be "me." I found true friends and felt like I was apart of a family again. I found confidence in my appearance and stopped worrying about what people back home may think of me. There's no longer a stress of being the toughest or not showing my weaknesses.
Aside from showing my white legs in shorts, with confidence, I put on a suit for the first time. If I wanted to dress up in fancy clothes, stay in a five star hotel and drink fine wine; If I wanted to dress down and play basketball in the blazing sun with the local community teens and young men, none of it was frowned upon.
I, for once, learned to be myself to the full extent. I learned that I was a very important person and in being myself, I would make all the right friends and be surrounded by the people that matter. In Asia, in the Philippines, I found true happiness. I found my true self. The hardest thing about finding myself in the Philippines, is being away from it.
