Photographed by Wish Thanasarakhan for the September 2024 Issue of Vogue Man Philippines
Roselynn Jane Villa writes about finding herself in the middle of “Tayo” and “Kayo.” In this iteration of Vogue Voices, she unpacks the cultural labels, erasure, othering, and other complexities of being both Filipino and Chinese.
This essay is a part of the series Vogue Voices, Vogue Philippines’ biweekly series of personal essays on memory, culture, moments, identity, family, and community.
I am a Filipino citizen by both jus soli and jus sanguinis principles. I was born and raised in Manila, and my father is Filipino. I am also a third-generation Lannang, my maternal grandparents migrating to Manila from Hoksan province in Guangdong, China sometime in the 1920s. Culturally, I identify as having been raised in the values and customs of both Filipino and what is defined as Lannang by The Lannang Archives. Finding myself in the middle is where growing up Chinoy gets interesting for me.
I heard of The Lannang Archives only last year and I am glad to have a basis to start defining my Chinoy experience to the world. The word lannang is rooted in the concept of us versus any group that’s not part of us. The word literally translates to us people. Lannangs have already established a certain assimilation with Philippine society, and their language is different from Chinese groups in China, recent Chinese migrants, and other Chinese migrant communities in other parts of the world.
I am Filipino, and I confidently speak good Tagalog, even if my friends and colleagues would protest. I know Filipino traits; both good and bad are evident in me, like Filipino time, ningas-cogon, pakikisama, utang na loob, malasakit, adaptability, and resilience. We have a giant wooden spoon and fork at home, okay. Outside of wearing a kimona at saya everyday, honestly I don’t know how I can be more Filipino-forward, but I understand my Filipino-ness somehow takes a backseat in the eyes of both my Chinese and Filipino tribes.
First off, I want to be fair. One look at my pan-Asian features and Filipino would be the last nationality one will pick. I get that.
Throughout primary and secondary school I got away with being Chinese-Chinese. That is, all my Chinese teachers assumed I was pure Chinese, surprised that I had Filipino blood, because I was great at memorizing our lessons and my Mandarin pronunciation was accurate enough to represent our class in declamation contests! Make no mistake, I cannot speak like a native Chinese when it’s not a memorized script. But my generation was the non-Chinese speaking generation and we spoke our own version of pidgin, a multilingual mix of Tagalog, English, and Hokkien and Mandarin words uttered in every sentence. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a regular “huan na gong.”
Suffice it to say that my lived experience growing up Chinoy is that I felt embraced by the Chinese-Filipino community as a fellow Lannang. Us people. Tayo. I was such an us people that in regular Chinoy encounters it will be common to rant about “huan nas” (these natives) or use the word “chuutsi-ah” (half-breed) with a derogatory tone, forgetting or not realizing that I am one of them.
“My lived experience growing up Chinoy is that I felt embraced by the Chinese-Filipino community as a fellow Lannang. Us people. Tayo.”
In the Chinese high school I went to, if you passed and especially if you were top of the class, it was because you were bright and studious. If you failed, you were lazy. In the 99 percent Chinoy student body, there were those we considered brilliant in math and the rest of us were mere mortals. But in university, I learned for the first time that being good in math is a right by blood and not necessarily the product of hard work. To be fair, the class topic that day was about stereotypes, and all my classmates looked at us two Chinoy students and said “good in math!”
I wish I were good at math.
In one performance class, our group donned costumes, and my professor asked if I was Chinese. I said yes. She said, you’re pretty for a Chinese, and I said thank you.
I was so lame. That was not a compliment at all.
In French elective class, my classmates and I would introduce our nationalities. They would say, “Je suis philippin or philippine,” In my head I was deciding whether to say “philippine-chinoise.” But I think I just blurted out “Je suis chinoise”.
Honestly, Chinoy as a distinct identity was of no import to me growing up. I had no concept of it as integral to my being. Looking back, I wonder if the ongoing erasure or invisibility of my Filipino-ness is due to my own doing. Do I project myself more as a Lannang physically and behaviorally? Is it because the only available exposure to Chinoy culture was watching locally-produced film and television series that perpetuated outdated Lannang stereotypes?
Whether I am considered Chinese or Chinoy or not by anyone has not been an impediment to me in my personal and professional growth so far. So, what’s the big deal?
I experienced more stereotypical comments in the professional setting. Most of these, I consider harmless. They were just annoying because none of them applied to me. Having excellent stock knowledge of Chinese horoscope, Chinese New Year dates, feng shui, to having an internal calculator, to being good at mahjong since childhood are, I’m sorry to say, totally inaccurate. I wish they asked me instead what it’s like to be raised by a Tiger mom and yet be an underachiever.
No, these weren’t the comments that were bothersome to me. It dawned on me that they, too, like my experience with the Chinoy community, seem to forget that I have actual Filipino blood and am Filipino too. I don’t think Pinoys ask fellow Pinoys if they have an altar of multiple Chinese deities and Sto. Ninos at home.
The pace was glacial and it has taken me years to realize that at some point I started feeling a sense of othering, and that to this different group, I was a kayo, you people. The worst part is that I am actually an other in both the us people and the you people groups.
Lannangs talking about Filipino negative traits as if they’re perfect. During the height of political tensions between China and the Philippines, I have had actual Pinoy friends on a few occasions tell me that we should go back to China and leave all our businesses here to be run by Filipinos. I confirmed if their remark included me and my family, and the answer was yes. Still another would say to me, in a conversation that was about understanding fresh Chinese immigrants, “so kayong mga Chinese… natter natter…” The choice of words betrayed that I was being lumped together with the immigrants and not considered a local.
To the non-Chinoy, there is no distinction between a Lannang and a Chinese national. There was (is?) a latent anger toward Chinese nationals living in the Philippines and the Lannangs are bearing that brunt. The irony is the Lannangs are also hating on fresh Chinese immigrants for different reasons. They’re apparently uncouth, noisy, with bad hygiene and sanitation habits. Guess what, not all Chinese immigrants behave that way, and many of them are already becoming self-aware of their behavioral differences and are doing their best to adjust to Philippine mores.
Let me just say that I am quite optimistic that the newer generation of Filipinos and Chinese-Filipinos are becoming more aware and conscious about pre-existing biases toward each other’s cultures. The content creator Ansis Sy, of whom I am a big fan, paints a spot-on picture of the modern stereotypes of the Chinese Auntie and Uncle personas in his video sketches. I would go through his material to relate more about the true Chinoy experience.
And maybe don’t call every long-haired girl with Chinese features Shancai or Mulan?
Roselynn Jane Chan Villa considers herself “a third-generation Chinoy.” Aside from writing about Chinese Filipino culture, she is also a public relations practitioner.
In this story: Photograph by Wish Thanasarakhan. Styled by Mauricio Quezada. Grooming: Seiya Iibuchii using Victoria Beckham Beauty. Talent: Benji Xu, Brandon Lee. Producer: Josh Robinson. Photographer’s Assistant: M. Atiwat. Stylist’s Assistant: Amp Suwan. Video: Gun Phuwaphat.
