Mestiso Manifesto #11

If you’ve heard me speak about the concepts and themes behind my work or have some insight into why I do it and what it all means, you’ll understand that my work is essentially a safe space for me to explore my cultural heritage and identity — both in regard to my ancestry and my sexuality. Ultimately, what I’m trying to work out is who I am and where I belong.

I’m Australian-born and of Filipino and mixed European descent. If I go by my Ancestry DNA test, I’m 50% Filipino, 32% German, and the remaining 18% is a mix of different European regions — from the United Kingdom, Central and Eastern Europe, and the Baltics. I have a name that unintentionally conceals aspects of my heritage, and I have an appearance that doesn’t represent any of it.

For most of my adult life, I’ve identified as being Filipino Australian. My mother (who is Filipina) had the most influence on my cultural identity growing up. This is coupled with having mostly Western values and ideals due to being raised and educated in Australia, and my mother’s desire that I grow up to be Western (that’s a whole other issue to unpack). I often feel the need to continually switch between each of my heritages, not feeling like I’m one or the other. Most of my life, I’ve felt quite alien, and I often feel that I look strange or unusual when glancing in the mirror.

To Asian people, I’m often perceived as not being Asian — or not Asian enough. To white Australians, I’m not seen as Australian — or not Australian enough. My parents would tell me stories of when I was a baby in the early ’80s, when people would often look at them both while out in public and then look at me — their child — to see how I turned out. Even my parents individually identify me differently.

The way I’m perceived, and the environments I’m in, often trigger the need for me to constantly shift my identity to fit in or become relatable to others. Being preoccupied with how people perceive me has left me in a position where I’m not able to perceive myself.

A term I’ve learnt recently really resonates with this chameleon act I constantly engage in — and that’s "cultural camouflage". It’s a term that’s applied to different concepts and fields of study, but in the context of my identity and heritage, it makes a lot of sense to me and holds a deep resonance.

Today, I experienced this unease in such a visceral way. I was checking my emails, as I normally do at the end of my workday, and I came across an open call for a group exhibition. This group exhibition was open to Asian artists to coincide with Asian Heritage Week. Initially, I thought, sure — I’m Asian, I have Asian heritage, I’ll enter something. But things started kicking off in my mind when I visited the Instagram page of one of the collaboration partners.

As I scrolled through the posts, I realised I didn’t look like the people featured on the page. I began to wonder: was I even Asian enough to apply to this show? What would people think if they saw my name when I applied? Would they think I’m some kind of joke? How do I prove my heritage to people? I have a Western name and such an ambiguous appearance — am I even allowed to call myself Asian? I have a Western upbringing — am I even Asian at all? Am I deluded in thinking I’m Asian?

I’m still sitting here, with the email open, with a feeling of otherness that I’m struggling with. I’ve often been told that I’m not Asian, or that I’m not Asian enough, by people who are of full Asian heritage — that their DNA, cultural upbringing and physical appearance gives them the authority to determine who or what I am and what I can claim. Will I make an application for this group show? Probably not.