For the longest time, my identity revolved around feeling different. From my friends, my family, my community. It stayed with me probably until my 30’s, when I met my friends from Roanoke. They became the family that I chose. The people who loved me and could make fun of me for all my quirks but in a way that let me know that they accepted me exactly as I was.
One of the things that made me feel so different was growing up Filipino in a small rural town in Virginia. This post was originally written on October 3, 2013. Now I know that lots of Filipinos relish in all of the similarities we share as second generation Americans who share lots of inside jokes about how similar our childhoods were.
To read the original post, click here.
