This essay was originally published in BitterSweet Monthly on July 17, 2023
I miss Cagayan de Oro, my hometown in the Philippines. I remember the days I spent bathing in the Cagayan River, playing with childhood friends, speaking Bisaya, and welcoming the warm embrace of the earth. But now I’ve lived in the United States for almost eight years and this homesickness has never left me. The increased anti-Asian hate has only made me feel less “at home” in the U.S., while Cagayan feels too far away. Torn between two continents, I struggle to find belonging in either.
I moved to the U.S. in 2015 for my dad’s seminary education. We immigrated with international student visas, so we didn’t have citizenship. We joined various evangelical spaces where white people towered over me, speaking and worshipping God in unfamiliar English. A midwestern accent replaced my “heavy” accent, and Bisaya slowly dissolved into memory. I remember calling one of my friends who spoke Bisaya. I couldn’t keep up with our conversation and constantly reverted to my midwestern English. Another friend from the Philippines started calling me an “American” when they realized I could no longer speak Bisaya. After both interactions, I wept for whatever vestige of Cagayan I had left.