A love story: Remembering Carlos Bulosan

Sometimes, a love story isn't just about two people finding each other. It's about how that love reflects and survives the larger forces swirling around them. That's the story of Carlos Bulosan, the giant of Filipino American literature, and Josephine Patrick, a fellow activist and radical with a fire in her belly.

"When I was very young, I went out in the fields and organized in Yakima Valley, Washington," wrote Josephine Patrick in Filipinas Magazine. "That was the first time I met Filipinos. 

“They were the most militant section of the agricultural working class in this country at that time, and they made a great contribution to the development of trade unionism. They were also one of the most oppressed minority groups. Because of language and cultural differences, they were completely isolated and excluded from mainstream American society.”

It’s a story ripe for a movie. Anyone?

They met in Seattle in 1952. By then, Bulosan was a name whispered with reverence and caution in FilAm circles. His book, "America Is in the Heart," was already the gospel for a generation of Filipino farmworkers and immigrants who understood its pain all too well. Yet, for all his fame, Bulosan was also a man in decline. Years of poverty, hard labor, and tuberculosis were taking their toll.

Patrick, an American activist and Communist Party member, was already a force in her own right. She organized farmworkers and fought against the deportation of union leaders during the McCarthy-era red scare. When she and Bulosan met, a connection was instant. She wasn't just a fan of his writing; she was a fellow warrior in the same struggle.

The two were introduced to each other in 1952 at a party in Seattle and found an immediate connection. Bulosan moved into Patrick's home.

Despite their short time together, Patrick considered Bulosan the love of her life. Bulosan was inspired by her political convictions and her fighting spirit.He made a pact with her that he would write her a leter every day, a promise he kept until a few days before he died.

Their romance, however, was as radical as their politics. Patrick was separated but still legally married to another party member. In the strict, unbending world of the Communist Party, this was deemed "immoral." For their love, she was expelled from the party, a personal and political betrayal that carried a heavy price in those paranoid times.

But it couldn't snuff out her spirit. Patrick remained dedicated to left-wing causes long after Bulosan was gone. After he succumbed to his illness in 1956, she was entrusted with his manuscripts. It was her recollections, shared in interviews years later, that provided a poignant, human glimpse into the final years of a literary titan who had been largely forgotten.

Their story reminds us that the personal is always political. Their relationship wasn't just a romance; it was an act of defiance against the establishment, the red scare, and even the rigid doctrines of their own movement.

Josephine Patrick and Carlos Bulosan.

In an interview with the Seattle Times, Patrick said, "Those years with Carlos, I think that they were the happiest part of my life," Patrick says. 

"But you can't have happiness without pain."

Their romance didn't occur in a vacuum. It was a time when there were few Filipino women in the US in the early 20th century because early Filipino immigration was heavily male-dominated, and discriminatory US laws and social attitudes created a hostile environment for women to migrate and live freely. American agricultural businesses, including Hawaiian sugar and pineapple plantations and West Coast farms, actively recruited young, single, male laborers.

This recruitment strategy was designed to create a mobile and temporary workforce. Companies often housed these male workers cheaply and viewed their lack of family units as an efficient way to control costs. Recruiters also discouraged the immigration of women as a way of preventing the formation of permanent Filipino American communities.

"Carlos was very concerned, however, that I would knuckle under from all the pressures and prejudices. Even in the political milieu racism was very vicious. They disapproved of my going out with Carlos," Patrick wrote. 

 "But despite this, he always had a love and optimism about people, and the world, and no matter how much he suffered, he did not particularly blame bitterly the people around him. He didn’t get paranoid and withdrawn. They were really a very courageous people."

The romance of Bulosan and Patrick is a story of two people who found solace and love in each other, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness of a hostile world.

In early September 1956, he was interviewed by a Seattle Times reporter. Bulosan told her that he was at work on a sequel to "America Is in the Heart," which he tentatively titled "My Letter to the World," and a rough draft of a children's book.

"I want to interpret the soul of the Filipinos in this country," he told her. "What really compelled me to write was to try to understand this country, to find a place in it not only for myself but for my people."

About a week later, Bulosan passed out on the lawn of the King County Courthouse after drinking with a friend. He was taken to Harborview Hospital where he died  of pneumonia, not tuberculosis, on Sept. 11, 1956. He was 44. 

Carlos Bulosan is a name we celebrate today, his books read in classrooms and inspiring new generations. But it's important to remember the woman who loved him in his final years and carried his legacy forward. 

Patrick was present during Bulosan's time in the hospital, and she helped care for him during his final years. 

Bulosan died in 1956 in Seattle, and Patrick was at his side. She became the custodian of his unpublished letters and manuscripts which she later donated to the University of Washington Library. 

She continued to share stories about the author, but also about his cooking, his sense of humor, his love of nature, his bouts of melencholy  which includes a deep disappointment of his so-called East Coast friends who abandoned him. Patrick spent the rest of her life keeping Bulosan's legacy and memory alive.

Josephine Patrick, the friend and former romantic partner of Carlos Bulosan, died in the Seattle area on July 23, 2005, at the age of 86.

Their story is a powerful testament to the fact that while history books focus on the headlines, the real struggle and the deepest connections often happen behind the scenes. It's a reminder that America's story—especially the Filipino American one—is filled with countless such untold tales of love, defiance, and resilience.

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