Mahalaya Vol. 1, Issue 5

Longfellow Elementary School Celebrates a Decade of Filipino World Language Program

BY FELICIA HYDE

Students,

teachers, and families of Longfellow Elementary School celebrated the 10th anniversary of the Filipino World Language program on Oct. 14 with a Barrio Fiesta filled with food, dancing, and musical performances.

“It’s a huge milestone, and it’s a great opportunity to be able to celebrate a decade of successful contributions to the Filipino community,” said Elaine VillasperDizon, a Longfellow parent and Associate Director of the Filipino Community Center.

The Filipino World Language in Elementary School (WLES) program is among only a handful in the United States that offers an elementary school-level ethnic studies curriculum focused on Filipino culture, language, and history. Located in District 11, Filipino WLES serves the largest population of Filipinos in San Francisco.

“I love Filipino WLES because I learn about my culture and history. I want many other children to have that,” said second-grader and Barrio Fiesta co-host Aya Francisco-Menchavez.

Filipina American and Longfellow alumna Jennifer Raupach and her husband, Paris Raupach, appreciate the program’s well-rounded language curriculum and inclusivity.

“From a non-Filipino perspective, I was really amazed at the sense of community that came out of the program,” Paris Raupach said. “Even the kids who are not Filipino are benefiting from learning about an amazing and beautiful culture.”

Longfellow’s celebration came just months after a summer-long campaign to lift San Francisco Unified School District’s enrollment cap on kindergarten and first-grade classes for the 2022-2023 school year. The move by SFUSD’s Educational Placement Center (EPC) proposed an 11-student enrollment capacity and would have resulted in one split class for both grades. The Longfellow community raised awareness on social media, organized a letter-writing campaign and petition that garnered over 600 signatures, and mobilized at two Board of Education meetings in June.

Among the community members who voiced their support for the program during public comment was fifth-grader Alaji Sey. His brother Tijan Sey is a WLES student in the first grade.

“Our program is one of the two Filipino language and history programs in the whole country. An accomplishment like that shouldn’t have a poor decision made like this,” Alaji Sey said. “I’ve loved being in this program because I learned so many different things from different perspectives and cultures. There are over 7,000 islands in the Philippines, and kids should really learn about them and the culture of the people there.”

The campaign was a success. The EPC agreed to increase enrollment capacity to 22 students in kindergarten and first grade.

Alaji and Tijan’s grandmother Laurie Hughes commends the teachers, Filipino activists, and community organizations who defended the program. “It was really lovely to see, and I feel super honored that my family and I are welcomed and able to be a part of it,” she said.

Jeffrey Lapitan, a WLES kindergarten teacher, says the summer campaign was not a one-time mobilization. Rather, Filipino WLES represents decades of community organizing and relationship-building with families.

Filipino language in SFUSD originally began in 1969 at Bessie Carmichael School/Filipino Education Center (FEC) in San Francisco’s South of Market District. In the early 2000s, parents and families expressed a desire for bilingual afterschool programming for newly arrived Filipino youth. Their advocacy led to the formation of FEC-Galing-Bata, which continues to serve students at Bessie Carmichael’s elementary and middle school campuses.

“It’s important for our kids to see us fighting for programs like these because we’re securing their

Kindergarten students in the Filipino World Language in Elementary School (WLES) program perform

“Sampung Mga Daliri” and Kung Ikaw ay Masaya” at Longfellow Elementary School’s Barrio Fiesta on October 14, 2022 in San Francisco, California.

Photo: Andre Canta

future. It’s important they have a space to grow up healthy, socially, and emotionally and be validated and protected,” said Cristina Alejo, a parent, co-founder of Galing Bata, and educator at Bessie Carmichael Elementary.

Community campaigning for Filipino language programs in San Francisco continued under the leadership of Dr. Allyson Tintiangco-Cubales and Pin@y Education Partnerships (PEP). They partnered with Bessie Carmichael and Longfellow teachers to begin developing a Filipino language curriculum. By the 2011-2012 school year, both schools implemented Filipino WLES — previously referred to as the Foreign Language in Elementary School (FLES) program.

Filipino WLES has since grown with the help of leaders, including Sherry Vaughn, Angie Estonina, Leni Juarez, and Mariel Bautista.

Dr. Valerie Francisco-Menchavez, an Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology and Sexuality Studies at San Francisco State University, is inspired by the ongoing advocacy to ensure the longevity of the program and is thankful that her children, Aya and Cy, feel represented in the curriculum.

“My hope is that many families can find culturally and linguistically relevant education for their children — whether they be newcomers, whether they be second or third-generation Filipino Americans — that they can find a home and a community at Longfellow,” she said.

An essential resource for Filipino immigrant youth and U.S.-born children in the Bay Area, Filipino WLES

helps students connect with their heritage and roots. But beyond cultural enrichment, Dr. Francisco-Menchavez says the program teaches students another valuable lesson:

“My children learned that part of being Filipino American means they’ve inherited a legacy of resistance, that Filipinos contribute to the cultural makeup of this country, this city, and the Bay Area,” she said.

Jhulsany Futol, who teaches first grade in Filipino WLES, reflects on this legacy of activism. A Longfellow alumnus and longtime educator in SFUSD, Futol has seen firsthand the ways in which Filipinos have mobilized to build a better world for future generations.

“It’s in our hearts to support each other,” Futol said. “That’s our community.”

LONGFELLOW, from front page

Emcees Valerie and Aya Francisco-Menchavez.

Filipino WLES teachers Jhulsany Futol and Jeffrey Lapitan at Longfellow Elementary School.

Photo: Andre Canta

Elaine Villasper-Dizon (left) and her family on October 14, 2022.

Photo: Andre Canta (Left to right) WLES students

Tijan and Alaji Sey.

Photo: Andre Canta

Filipino American History Month Festival Honors Stockton Historian Dr. Dawn Bohulano Mabalon

BY NIKKI CHAN

The second annual Filipino American History Month Festival, featuring community organizations, businesses, and artists, returned to Stockton on Oct. 22.

Dedicated to the late Dr. Dawn Bohulano Mabalon – a respected historian, author, filmmaker, poet, chef, baker, and community leader –this year’s FAHM Fest was held in partnership with Kommunity Hub, San Joaquin Delta College, Little Manila Rising, Empowering Marginalized Asian Communities, and the Stockton chapter of the Filipino American National Historical Society. The all-day event also celebrated the legacy of Filipino farmworkers, the 20th anniversary of the designation of Stockton’s Little Manila as a historical site, and the renaming of the West Forum building at San Joaquin Delta College to the Mabalon Forum building in honor of Dr. Mabalon.

Born and raised in Stockton, California, Dr. Mabalon dedicated her academic profession to researching, collecting, and preserving the history of Filipinos in her community. She wrote the book “Little Manila is in the Heart,” which “traces the growth of Stockton’s Filipina/o American community, the birth and eventual destruction of Little Manila, and recent efforts to remember and preserve it.”

“Dawn had a vision of community and a definition of Filipino-American that was more beautiful than we actually thought. She gave us a better definition of

ourselves and who we are. She gave us a better identity that’s something beyond the “auntie” and nurse jokes and that there is something beyond us as a people. We are people that are resilient,” said Dillon Delvo, executive director and co-founder of Little Manila Rising.

In the words of Dr. Mabalon, “All roads lead to Stockton.”

Stockton was the heart of Filipino America in the 1920s. Filipinos worked as farmworkers in agricultural fields across the Central Valley at the time, and during the asparagus season from February to May, about 15,000 settled in Stockton. By the 1960s, Filipino farmworkers, historically referred to as the manongs and manangs – an Ilocano term of endearment for an older man or woman – helped lead and organize the United Farm Workers Movement that empowered and educated migrant farmworkers and demanded higher pay and better working conditions.

Before FAHM Fest, Stockton previously had an annual Barrio Fiesta. Held for over 40 years, Barrio Fiesta was a staple celebration for the city until 2018. Today, community members are working to revive Little Manila Stockton through economic development projects, events, programs, and workshops.

“I had no idea how important FAHM Fest was for the community. Stockton needed this event, and I feel like we were able to help revive the community. We brought in all the generations together with our food, performances, and history,” said Mariah Taloa, executive director of Kommunity Hub. “There’s an abundance

Saxophone player Rocky G of The Balikbayans in Stockton

Filipina American rapper Ruby Ibarra and her band The Balikbayans perform at the Filipino American History Month Festival in Stockton, California. Photo: Casey Ticsay

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Casey Ticsay

POETRY EDITORS

Marjorie Justine Antonio Sunday Lim

WRITERS

Jaena Rae Cabrera Nikki Chan

Anthony Principe-Contreras

Nicole Gervacio

Felicia Hyde Geno Lavarias

Poyan Maniego Lorillee Paras

Jazlynn Eugenio Pastor

Bernard James Remollino Mia Soumbasakis

Alexis Terrazas Jaime Wong

PHOTOGRAPHERS

Dru Banerjee Andre Canta

Jen Rocha

Casey Ticsay Thy Tran Joyce Xi

ILLUSTRATORS

Steph Gervacio

Erika Pascual goodwaves.studio

FOOD RECIPE

Imani Youngblood Sage Youngblood

LAYOUT DESIGN

Casey Ticsay

LOGO DESIGN

Marybeth Soriano

How people of Filipino heritage in the diaspora identify themselves has evolved over the years — Pinoy, Pinay, Pilipino, Pilipina, Pilipin@, Pin@y, Filipino, Filipina, Filipinx. Thus, the terms we publish may be used interchangeably and will vary depending on article content or a speaker’s personal experience.

Follow @mahalayasf on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

Oakland AAPIs Pledge Support for Reelection of Nikki Fortunato Bas

Editor’s Note: The following is a letter of support for Oakland City Council President and District 2 Representative Nikki Fortunato Bas, signed by 240 Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders in Oakland, California. Visit bit.ly/oak-aapinikki for more information.

the immediate safety needs in our communities with the long-term goals of addressing the root causes of violence and poverty.

Mahalaya, meaning love and freedom, is a community newspaper founded by Casey Ticsay in 2022. Powered by a staff of dedicated volunteers, this monthly publication centers Filipinx voices and experiences in and beyond the Bay Area.

We,

Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders who live or work in Oakland applaud Council President and District 2 Representative Nikki Fortunato Bas’ leadership in tackling the longstanding challenges of public safety and inequality in our city.

We reject attempts by political opponents who use fear-based mistruths to mislead voters, undermine her values, and question her integrity.

Council President Bas has a demonstrated track record as a solutionsoriented bridge builder who is deeply committed to creating an Oakland that cares for all of us by balancing

Under her leadership in 2020, the City Council made gun violence the top law enforcement priority in Oakland. Nikki called on the Oakland Police Department (OPD) to focus resources on solving criminal investigations for homicides and violent crimes. To improve response times for calls to 911, she invested the budget in MACRO, an alternative crisis response program in the Fire Department that takes on non-criminal 911 calls (which make up 60% of OPD 911 calls) for emergencies like mental health crises, so the police are available to respond to other pressing matters.

Nikki tripled the investment in violence prevention with an all-handson-deck approach across city agencies by funding community outreach workers, life coaches, community ambassadors, and crime prevention through environmental

design. She has continued to invest in addressing the root causes of violence and inequality–providing affordable, stable housing, mental health services, healthcare, and good jobs; supporting youth programs, parks, libraries, arts, and culture.

As the first Filipina American elected to Oakland’s City Council, Nikki is a strong, progressive, and pragmatic leader, and a constant and reassuring presence in our District 2 neighborhoods of Chinatown, Eastlake, Little Saigon, Grand Lake, and San Antonio.

As many of us have witnessed and survived violence and tragedy in our neighborhoods, we appreciate Council President Bas for her thoughtful, holistic approach to reforming and building a more comprehensive public safety system that involves multiple city departments, community organizations, businesses, and residents.

Oakland City Council President and District 2 Representative Nikki Fortunato Bas on October 19, 2022.

Photo: Joyce Xi

Filipino American International Book Festival

Returns to San Francisco Pubic Library

BY JAENA CABRERA AND JAIME WONG

Filipino literary creatives from around the world converged at San Francisco Public Library’s Main location on Oct. 15 and 16 for the sixth Filipino American International Book Festival (FAIBF). Filled with camaraderie, collaboration, and celebration, the twoday festival is the largest of its kind in the United States, bringing together both emerging and established Filipino American authors and artists from the Philippines and the global diaspora.

This year’s theme was “Hiraya/Emergence: Writing Towards the Future.” “Hiraya” is a Tagalog word for imagination, for dreaming, the emergence of the flower and the fruit. The festivities opened with a live performance from “Larry the Musical,” a muchanticipated production written by Gayle Romasanta about labor organizer Larry Itliong. The festival’s keynote speakers included Gina Apostol, Newbery Award winner Erin Entrada Kelly, and Meredith Talusan.

Founded by Gemma Nemenzo and Literacy Initiatives International Foundation, FAIBF is typically held in person at the San Francisco Public Library every two years but was postponed due to COVID-19.

“This festival is a coming together, an emergence from the difficulties and isolation of the past three years to celebrate Filipino/a/x literature and art in the community,” said Edwin Lozada, a festival organizer and President of the Philippine American Writers and Artists. “The Filipino/a/x writing community has seen phenomenal growth in the past few years. Together we move towards the next, despite the uncertainty of current times.”

Attendees were treated to several discussions and activities. This year’s festival had a children’s program that was larger than ever before and offered teen programming for the very first time. Must-see panels for kidlit fans and readers included “Coming of Age on the Page: A Young Adult Author Roundtable” with Candy Gourlay, Laurel Flores Fantauzzo, and Cynthia

Salaysay, and “Writing the Awkward Years: A Middle Grade Author Roundtable” with Tracy Badua, Sophia N. Lee, and Mae Respicio. The panels were moderated by Randy Ribay, a National Book award nominee for “Patron Saints of Nothing.”

“As San Francisco’s home to the literary arts, the Library is proud to host this stellar lineup of authors who have dreamed, imagined, and written about the Filipino experience, past, present and future. Our hope is that this festival helps to cultivate even more inspiration for budding writers and artists for years to come,” said Abraham Ignacio, librarian, and manager of SFPL’s Filipino American Center.

The festival ended with Maria Ressa, a journalist and Nobel Peace Prize recipient, in a special pre-recorded one-on-one interview about democracy, press freedom, and her upcoming book “How to Stand Up to a Dictator,” a story of how democracy dies by a thousand cuts.

Visit filbookfestival.org for the full list of authors and creatives.

Writing the Awkward Years: A Middle Grade Author Roundtable with Randy Ribay, Mae Respicio, Tracy Badua, and Sophia N. Lee on October 16, 2022. Photo: Dru Banerjee

Slime-making activity and Mae Respicio reading of “How to Win a Slime War.”

Photo: Dru Banerjee

“Lumpia with a Vengence” booth.

Photo: Dru Banerjee

Crafting Filipinx Visibility in the Bay Area’s Custom Motorcycle Scene with Alvin Dizon

BY BERNARD JAMES REMOLLINO

AlvinDizon is becoming a familiar face in Bay Area motorcycling circles, building custom bikes, organizing local gatherings for motorcycle enthusiasts, and sharing their stories. His work with other Asian American motorcyclists troubles a trope of motorcycle culture: that it’s an exclusive space for outlaws, renegades, and fugitives — many of whom are white. His ability to tell inclusive, empathetic stories stirs up social impulses in friends and strangers alike.

After riding out from his Daly City home to a beachfront café in Pacifica, California, Dizon shared his artistic philosophy: “I live my life trying to make magic with little to nothing at all.”

Dizon is a second-generation Filipino American born and raised in the Bay Area. His mother is from Ilocos Norte, and his father is from Manila. As a youth, Dizon watched his father tinker out of his garage and quickly followed suit.

“I liked to create things in lots of different mediums,” Dizon recalled. “As a kid, I liked to draw and sketch. Then it turned into building things with my hands.”

In 2018, Dizon and his wife caught the riding bug while visiting the Philippine island of Siargao. There, small, low-powered improvised habal-habal motorcycles transport tourists across its 170-squaremile locale.

“At the time, I had very little experience riding any type of motorcycle,” Dizon said. “I remember that sense of just being on the road and not wanting it to end. When I got back, I told my wife I was getting a motorcycle, and I did.”

When he returned from the Philippines, Dizon purchased a used 2007 Honda Shadow and learned how to “chop up” his ride as he went. His personal build is now iconic: a worn tuck-and-roll seat, whitewall tires, high handlebars, a brass knuckle shifter, a Filipino vinegar bottle for a coolant overflow tank, and decals paying homage to his Filipino American identity and Daly City roots.

Dizon’s ride showcases the chopper style of motorcycles. Riders modify their machines to fit their personalities, match their riding preferences, and satisfy their needs for self-expression. This approach to motorcycle customization reflects a counter-cultural impulse within a subculture historically associated with nonconformity.

“The word ‘chopper’ and the style of the motorcycle had a rebellious undertone to it,” Dizon said.

While Dizon eventually became attracted to the subversive cultural potentials of chopper building, he admits that it took time for him to warm up to this customized aesthetic. His reservations stemmed from perceptions that chopper building was cost prohibitive or solely for folks who owned Harley-Davidsons — popular associations reinforced through films like “Easy Rider” (1969) and “Hell Ride” (2008) and television series like “Sons of Anarchy” (2008-2014). There was also the added dynamic of being a Filipino American in spaces historically associated with whiteness.

Dizon credits the folks of LNSPLTBLVD, a group of Asian Americans based in San Jose, California, for stoking his enthusiasm for choppers, teaching him how to customize bikes, and emphasizing that Asian Americans have a long history of occupying motorcycling spaces.

“This group of Asian guys that are into choppers and bobbers, and they build and ride their own bikes — it’s just such a badass concept,” Dizon said.

Dizon’s admiration for LNSPLTBLVD stemmed from their mechanical skills and attitudes toward personalizing their rides. His subsequent collaborations with LNSPLTBLVD also underscore an important facet of his experience building and riding motorcycles: that those involved are searching for community. This has a historical precedent.

The history of Asian American bikers reaches back at least half a century. Asian American veterans of World War II were some of the first thrill-seeking riders around the Bay Area. By the 1960s, the “Golden Age of Choppers” included a vibrant Asian American cohort

of bikers. San Francisco’s Chinatown, North Beach, and Japantown became epicenters of Asian American chopper culture. Activism against the war in Vietnam and the rise of the Third World Liberation Front at San Francisco State University heightened the gravitational pull of these artisan rebels. Filipino Americans were right in the middle of it. The power of these historical legacies reflects in why Dizon loves taking apart old bikes.

“There’s something about old relics that have already seen so much,” Dizon said. “I really like the soul that old things have and the stories they hold. It takes a while to breathe life into something so modern.”

Dizon’s love of a good story energized his efforts to build an archive of Bay Area motorcycling. In 2020, he and Christopher Hugo founded Heartbreak Moto, an inclusive motorcycle lifestyle art-brand intent on sharing the pair’s creative visions.

Inspired by LNSPLTBLVD’s work, Dizon and Hugo hoped to cultivate a following out of Daly City by sharing their chopper builds on their YouTube channel. Thanks to Dizon’s penchant for storytelling, that’s

exactly what happened. His work with Hugo has earned him staunch support, especially from viewers inspired by his positionality as a Filipino American chopper builder.

“A lot of people that view my content are starting to be more inspired by the fact that I am a Filipino American learning how to build these things and navigate my way through the chopper community,” he said.

There is power behind representation. It’s a belief of Dizon’s that stems from his college years as an Asian American Studies student at San Francisco State University.

“Learning about my culture through people who look like me was eye-opening,” Dizon said. “I had no intention of learning or wanting to learn that. It just kind of happened that way, and I started embracing it.”

Dizon sees representation as a way to open doors for those interested in being part of motorcycle communities but may be intimidated by its traditional associations with outlaws and renegades. He encourages folks to

Alvin Dizon at a Moto Social event on September 20, 2022 in San Francisco, California.

Photo: Jen Rocha

(Middle) Moto Social organizers Alvin Dizon and Allan Aguas with their bikes on September 20, 2022 in San Francisco, California.

Photos: Jen Rocha

Poetic Short Film “Not Your Erotic” Confronts the Fetishization and Sexualization of Filipinas

BY LORILLEE PARAS

NotYour Erotic,” a 2021 poetic short film written by Jo Bulaong (they/them) and directed by Gelli Pascual (she/her), presents an all-too-common reality of racial and ethnic discrimination toward Filipinas and other women of color.

“Once upon a time, I went on a Tinder date, and the guy said, ‘I’ve never been with your kind before’/He ate with his mouth open and called me exotic four times more/He said he loved ‘Asians’ and had yellow fever/I almost went to the chef to go find a meat cleaver.”

Society’s fetishization, sexualization, and objectification of women, particularly in media, have created false

beauty standards that impact women’s mental health and can lead to low selfesteem, eating disorders, depression, and body dysmorphia.

“The film was a reflection of this macrocosm of systems that continue to oppress BIPOC folks like me today. It’s connected to this larger system that we need to look at,” Bulaong said.

“Exotic is a word that should be buried in the ground/It represents conquering other countries and leaving my people to drown/It’s years of oppression and fetishization/Raping and taking women of my nation/Exotic is a label given to wildflowers that must be tamed/It’s given to people whose cultures have been erased and maimed/My identity doesn’t need to fit your reality, I am not your erotic, do not call me exotic.”

Pascual and Bulaong made “Not Your Erotic” within one week after endless phone calls, and a 10-hour table read rehearsing the delivery and tone to create compelling emotions. A letter to society, the visual story calls for a more just world where women’s agency and choices are respected, and their bodies are free from monopolization and exploitation.

“I think the first step to dreaming and building that better world is first accountability. Accountability for people who are causing harm, accountability for people who are perpetuating these systems of harm, even in realms like the dating realm,” Bulaong said.

Pascual and Bulaong hope that viewers see Filipinas for who they are and continue to be: strong, intellectual, passionate, loving, and resilient.

“Tell me that my brown skin was gifted from my ancestors when they loved free, and the inferno island sun was their protector/Tell me that my luminescent radiance is so bright that it stuns and that the truth that I speak knocks the air from your lungs/Tell me that our bones were made to shield our divine intentions and that these dreams of equality are real, and not false deceptions/Tell me that our muscles were made to pull us closer to one another and that we’re more alike than different if we would just look past color.”

As storytellers, Bulaong and Pascual have embraced their authentic selves and paved their own unique paths in filmmaking and screenwriting.

“I always like playing around with scenes in my head. When I dream, I dream in scenes. I think that’s what I really love about narratives because you can create whatever world you want,” Pascual said.

Pascual works full-time as a writer, producer, and director at Hidden Temple Media Production, a multifaceted production company based in Sacramento and the San Francisco Bay Area. She always had a personal fire that guided her throughout her life and a work ethic molded by her upbringing in the Philippines, hopping on jeepneys and selling goods to earn money.

“Growing up in the Philippines, being in the streets has really helped me solidify my values. There’s that gratefulness that things are always going to get better. If I could survive then, I can survive now,” Pascual said.

Inspired by the work of Jordan Peele, Chloé Zhao, Issa Rae, and Ava DuVernay, Pascual aims to create authentic and powerful stories that move people. She values the genuine connection and collaboration between actors and crew members and lives with the mantra that feeding her soul through storytelling welcomes her into spaces and experiences she never imagined could be a reality.

Bulaong has been reading and writing stories since childhood. One of the inspirations behind their love for writing is their dad, a hopeless romantic who, while working overseas, would send poems to his wife.

“From the immigrant child experience of not seeing our stories being told in widespread media, I wanted to communicate the actual expansiveness of our own stories and lives,” Bulaong said. “I think that planted a seed of understanding that there are other ways to express ourselves.”

Bulaong is not only a poet and screenwriter but holds hand poke tattoo ceremonies that integrate Reiki, a breathwork of meditation and ancestral practices. The hand poke tattoo ceremonies have brought Bulaong closer to their identity as Filipino/a/x. For them, ancestral tattooing is a form of storytelling and a practice of reclaiming one’s place in a society ruled by unjust systems.

“We are using our bodies and our voices that oppressive systems cannot take away from us,” they said.

Portland Rapper Salutes His West Bisayan and Filipino American Roots with Song “Big Flip”

BY ALEXIS TERRAZAS

1992, Marfil immigrated to California with his mother, thus beginning his journey of diaspora.

Talilo

Marfil, a Portland-based rapper who has dedicated his life to mentoring youth through art and music, celebrates the city’s Filipino American community in his latest single, “Big Flip,” featuring Swiggle Mandela, Taryn, and JayRThaBarber.

“Big Flip” not only amplifies Filipinos in Portland but aims to connect Filipinos with their language, culture, and heritage through food, martial arts, spirituality, and music. With the help of his manager Javonnie Shearn and funds from a Regional Arts and Culture Council (RACC) grant, Marfil brought the spirit of Bayanihan to the music video, welcoming businesses, cultural performances, and talents from community members of all ages. “Big Flip” — which featured hip hop artists Nump and Bambu, Miss Philippines USA 2021 Cheska Angeles, comedian Rex Navarette, and actor Joey Guila — also holds special significance. The song is in remembrance of Marfil’s son, who would’ve been 15 years old this year, and his Lolo Weniefredo, who passed away in 2021.

“I want to be a part of a movement that helps the next generation remember their roots,” Marfil said. “My inspiration was more in tune with reviving our culture and helping us remember our language, our history.”

Reconnecting with one’s roots is deeply personal to Marfil. Growing up, the West Bisayan and Filipino American hip hop artist always wanted to tap into his culture but often felt disconnected from his Filipino identity.

Marfil was born to a Filipina mother and an American father in the Philippine city of Iloilo, located on the island of Panay. But he traces his ancestral roots to Bacolod City on the island of Buglas, the pre-colonial name of what is now known as Negros Occidental — Spanish invaders named the island Negros after the Ati people, who are the original inhabitants of the area. In

For nearly a decade, Marfil called the East Bay his home. He experienced homelessness during much of his childhood, bouncing from one 925 city to another, but found camaraderie among his Black and brown friends in Antioch and Concord.

“Getting out of the house and kicking it with the homies, getting into trouble was a normal thing for me,” Marfil said. “It intensified when [my parents] uprooted me from Antioch. I have all of these friends, then boom. I get uprooted to a southern Oregon, predominantly white town.”

Only 12 years old at the time, Marfil felt disconnected once again. Living in poverty and longing for a community, he ran with a gang and stole the cars and pistols that belonged to his mother’s boyfriends.

“Fighting with her boyfriends was a normal thing for me. There was a lot of friction with her significant others because I noticed how they treated her,” Marfil said. “I didn’t understand the complexity of colonialism and how it affected my reality at that point. I didn’t really get in tune with it until after I got out of prison.”

Marfil was sent to Portland after being expelled from school at 15. Shortly after, he became homeless, and at 19, he served a two-year prison sentence before being released at 21. He was free, but not totally free. His dreams of becoming a firefighter were promptly extinguished due to his past conviction. So Marfil tapped into music, a passion he honed growing up in the Bay, Klamath Falls, and Portland, Oregon. He enrolled in college to study music, and it was there that he found his calling.

Mentorship programs like Outside the Frame — which gives marginalized and unhoused youth opportunities to tell their own stories through film — played a critical role in Marfil’s life. In 2016, he made his first music video that was screened before a crowd of over 600 people at Armory Theater in Portland.

“For a young adult coming out of prison that has very low self-esteem, thinks he’s going to go back to prison, and doesn’t know what he’s doing in life — that was huge for me,” Marfil said. “After the show, I felt like I could do anything I wanted to in life.”

Today, Marfil serves on Outside the Frame’s board of directors and is the program manager of Ascending Flow, a program that mentors youth and young adults, all while building skills using music, art, and selfexpression.

Raised on 90’s era hip-hop, Marfil immersed himself in the sounds of California rappers such as Tupac, Brotha Lynch, and Spice 1. He credits Bone Thugs-N-Harmony and Tech N9ne with influencing him stylistically. At 16, he began to take pride in his Filipino identity by listening to Los Angeles Emcee and community organizer Bambu DePistola, who he eventually opened for during a show in Portland. Before long, he was reciting poetry over beats in the company of his friends.

Being exposed to those varying styles enabled Marfil to forge a style of his own. Delivering frenetically-paced, blistering rhymes in both English and Hiligaynon (also referred to as Ilonggo), Marfil’s music pays homage to everything from Portland hood street culture to Filipino liberation movements.

“When I rap fast, I feel like I’m letting it out, and it helps with my mental health to let those emotions out in a more positive way,” he said. “Hip hop became a form of survival for me.”

Marfil remembers spending hours in the Apple Store as a homeless youth making beats on GarageBand. Hiphop became Marfil’s form of survival.

“Survival was what sparked it, and then it became a lifestyle for me,” Marfil said. “It gave me food. It gave me peace. It gave me a way to express my emotions. That’s how it saved my life. It was there for me when no one else was.”

Talilo Marfil poses for a photo outside of the Department of Justice in Portland, Oregon. Marfil is featured in the public mural painted by Alex Chiu, representing Asian Ameri can and Pacific Islander communities, leaders, and members. Photo: Thy Tran

Fish Heart

BY MIA SOUMBASAKIS

I have always had a fish motif in my writing. Beating gutted fish hearts, A fish pulling its fisherman Back in

Mothers pregnant with fish babies

I have always had a fish motif in my writing and never knew why.

As I spoke to my Lola, who carefully compiled her memories into grammatical English sentences, I learned fish tangibly.

Fish, dangling from the hooks of bamboo sticks of Parañaque fishermen My great Lolo, a Parañaque fisherman, and salt maker and oyster breeder and carpenter

Fish to survive

Fish, color not imperative, dangling with bloodied mouths from hooks Small ones in the buckets of children Fish skinned by mothers with knives, fish blood

Fish sauce bought for 10 centavos fish sauce bottle carried proudly by my 6-year-old Lola fish sauce bottle hit against her head because she had dropped the change.

Fish swam upstream, up through my great Lolo up through my Lola up through my mother, who got sick on fishing trips as a child, up through me.

My mother apologizes for the smell of fish sauce. My knowing of fish is Diluted, Colorful, imaginative, in the hearts of mermaids in the heart of mine.

Ode To Nana

BY JAZLYNN G.E.P. (PINAYPAGES)

In loving memory of my Nana Maria Elena (October 5, 1947 to February 16, 2022)

I stitch these words and images like how Nana used to sewWith care, ease, and determination. These crafts come to us like intuition.

A second nature that were always in these hands. Ready to mend the broken past to create a durable future. We will spend hours getting the details right. Making sure everything fits the way it’s supposed to.

These are the legacies we leave to you.

Forever fixing. Forever changing. Forever trying.

To love you the ways that we know and want you to remember. For we are the storytellers.

The givers. The makers.

The rememberers of everything past, present, and future.

That’s why if you find Nana in the kitchen, Sit with her. Speak with her. Listen to her tales. Of how she was the first. And the last. And everything in between… If you hear me bring Nana up, Ask me about her. Sit with me.

Listen to her tales. Of how she was the first. And the last. And everything in between.

For repetition is not a broken record. It is blessings being sewn into your memory. Etched into your DNA. So that one day, you will inherit your intuition. This craft will be yours too.

And it shall be second nature to love your family and our history.

Of how we are the first. And the last. And everything in between.

When We Say

BY ANTHONY PRINCIPE-CONTRERAS

When we say kamayin we mean come-on-in. We mean love with a capital L and one syllable for all the loves that have passed you by. And deftly with three fingers Touch the person next to You. Know that they come with the ease of a bull.

Longanisa, bangus, and rice.

Muling Pagbangon

BY POYAN MANIEGO

Nagsilbing pundasyon Ang papag na kinagisnan Upang muling bumangon Sa mapait na kahapon

Sa simoy ng hangin Tumatagos ang kalungkutan Dinadaan sa panalangin Ang pag-ahon sa kahirapan

Ang edukasyon ang pag-asa Upang mamulat sa katotohanan Na ang yamang natamasa Ay nadaan sa karamutan

Ang taong nagpapasilaw Sa pekeng gintong inaani Habang-buhay isisigaw Na ang mundo’y kanyang pag-aari

Rise Again

It served as a foundation The hardened bed I’m used to To rise again From a harrowing yesterday

Through the breeze The sadness is felt Counting on prayers To get out of poverty Education is our hope To discover the truth That the riches earned Were gained through selfishness

A person who is dazzled By fake gold harvested Will forever declare That the world is his for the taking

coasts, islands to continents

BY NICOLE GERVACIO

our skin the color of sand adapts, shifts, sings sunlight, spring & summer lingers in autumn impressed hues shaded by obsidians

i am ochres, siennas, oxides, burnt umbers, purples & deep emeralds where blood rivers run speckles & scarred flesh, flecked with memories, and deep lines in the palms of both hands since I was seven

and I imagine what it could be like to deconstruct the concrete we inherited - what we were born into, what was man-made –so the earth can breath

…not stopping at cracks, or fractals, or rubble, but pulverizing to dust & grit, to be carried by wind, by water or to turn beneath our weight or by earthquakes, liberating minerals from cement to dance with soil.

on these distant lands will concrete remember what it is to be sand?

to be pebbles or deep ocean beds after medians, barriers, walls, suffocated stretches of parking lots, foundations of racist statues, capitol buildings, or skyscrapers stroking egos sands stolen from the opposite side of the ocean - the edges of our motherlandslike the eucalyptus, the palms, and the black & brown peoples brought here.

BY GENO LAVARIAS

It’s only when the door closes behind me and I sit alone in my room, all my things organized and stored, that I realize I am

eight thousand, five hundred, and twenty-six miles from home

which I know to be a vague term for an oddly specific feeling

so by home I mean my mother’s voice booming down the wooden stairs bawat Linggo pagkatapos ng misa telling me to chase the man selling taho down the road and I would, my slippers banging against the hot asphalt, coins jingling in my hands.

the ten-hour road trips we would take every New Year’s down to my lola, with her fiery brown hair and strong posture, beaming with pride as she saw how tall her apo have gotten as we spill out of the van and into her home like the floods she is oh so used to.

the brittle crackle of cooking oil on lazy weekend afternoons, bananas coated with rice mixture shifting from immaculate white to golden brown, along with the unmistakable tssss of Coke, skies shifting from bright blue to bursts of magenta and tangerine before fading into gentle violet.

so, when I say home I mean all of these and more–lahat nito, and I realize I am

eight thousand, five hundred, and twenty-six miles from home

which becomes a specific term for an oddly specific feeling

MOTORCYCLE, from page 8

reach across the largely imagined boundaries between motorcyclists and those who may be hesitant to get on two wheels.

“A lot of us stay away from certain things because we’re afraid of what our parents told us or how you’ll be portrayed if you get into this kind of thing,” Dizon mused. “There’s something to be said when somebody looks like you and is doing amazing things. You feel more empowered to do them also.”

The core of Dizon’s work is community. In 2020, he began organizing with The Moto Social. A brainchild of Toronto riders in 2013, The Moto Social has since grown into a global series of gatherings spanning twenty-five cities across seven countries, including San Francisco. The event values inclusivity above all else, and its success hinges on community builders like Dizon, who are committed to bringing people together.

“I want to highlight and put more emphasis on our culture as Filipino Americans in the motorcycle community, even if it’s just us, showing up to more events and just being who we are,” he said.

In his journey to learn how to hone his creative skills through motorcycle building, Dizon is doing something remarkable. He is showing people the magic that happens when you pursue your passions grounded in your roots.

“Like many other things in life, you just have to take a leap of faith,” Dizon said.

of Filipinos and culture that is still here. We see the torch of preservation and leadership getting passed down and new generations taking on the work.”

For some, FAHM Fest was a reunion for community members who haven’t seen each other since the pandemic. For others, like Darleen Mabalon – sister of Dr. Dawn Mabalon and chair of the entertainment planning committee of FAHM Fest – the event was a full circle moment.

“I grew up performing at the Barrio Fiesta. Now, as an adult, I’m part of the entertainment committee for FAHM Fest, handling and booking all the stage performances and seeing new youth perform the same way I did,” Darleen Mabalon said. “I saw people I had performed with as a kid who now watch their kids in awe as they perform on the stage. It was a heartfelt moment for me.”

The day ended with a performance from headliner and Bay Area rapper Ruby Ibarra who was also a student of Dr. Mabalon.

“When I think about Filipino American History Month, I think about our culture, I think about our celebrations. But I also think about the people that came before us, the people that opened the door for us to have a platform and a space like this. I think about Dr. Dawn Mabalon and Larry Itliong,” Ibarra said on stage. “I know that Stockton has such a rich Filipino American History. This is the town where there were signs that said, ‘Positively no Filipinos allowed.’ But the fact that we are here in this beautiful community with an entire Filipino line-up that’s a statement. This isn’t just a performance. This is a statement that we are here and that we’ve been here.”

STOCKTON, from page 3

Alvin Dizon at a Moto Social event on September 20, 2022 at Ballast Coffee in San Francisco, California. Photo: Jen Rocha

Ayla Roda, an independent Filipino-American tatak practitioner (tatakbyayla.com). Illustration: goodwaves studio