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.

EDITOR'S NOTE: For additional commentary, news, views and chismis from an AANHPI perspective, follow me on Threads, on X, BlueSky or at the blog Views From the Edge. 

Bulosan's 'Freedom from Want' essay written in 1943 rings just as true today during the age of coronavirus

SATURDAY EVENING POST / NORMAN ROCKWELL

COMMENTARY

Its a good bet that Norman Rockwell's Saturday Evening Post cover for "Freedom From Want" is more famous than Carlos Bulosan's essay that is meant to accompany the picture.

As we near the end of Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, the convergence of Memorial Day under the cloud of the coronavirus, it would behoove Americans to read the Filipino American author's thoughts as thousands of people flock to the beaches as if the coronavirus pandemic of the last two months and the 100,000 deaths didn't happen.

In 1941, it was obvious to President Franklin D. Roosevelt that the US had to enter the war against Germany. In his 1941 State of the Union address, he told Americans that US had to extend more aid to Great Britain for the sake of Democracy (Capitol "D").

Democracy -- and by extension, the United States -- was worth saving because of the famous Four Freedoms: Freedom of Expression, Freedom of Worship, Freedom from Want and Freedom from Fear.

The freedoms of expression and worship are guaranteed in the Bill of Rights. However, the freedoms from fear and was a bit more controversial. Conservatives called them “New Deal Freedoms,” not “American Freedoms.” a view still held by radical Republicans trying to the social safety net programs borne out of the Roosevelt administration.

Rockwell's rendering of a multi-generational white family sitting around a table of relative abundance, is to miss the irony of the counter-balancing message from Bulosan, who was commissioned by the Saturday Evening Post to write the accompanying essay. He was the only person of color asked to put pen an essay.

By the time Rockwell and Bulosan presented their interpretations of Freedom from Want, America was in the throes of a war whose outcome was still uncertain. Thus the table in Rockwell's portrait is rather sparse compared to today's standards. Missing are the marshmellow-covered yams, the dinner rolls, the buttered vegetables and the whipped cream-topped pies we're used to seeing on a Thanksgiving table. In the middle of a war, it was not a big splashy show of overabundance, but it was just enough to feed that family.

Gone also are the young men of fighting age. The only man who might be of "fighting age" is the man in the lower right corner looking at the viewer (It's said to be a self-portrait of Rockwell) inviting the onlooker to the feast.

CARLOS BULOSAN

Bulosan wrote from the persp

ective of someone who worked in the fields and canneries of the California and Alaska, as he did. He had a deep empathy for the working man -- not the wolves of Wall Street and their lackeys in Washington DC. 

"If you want to know what we are, look upon the farms or upon the hard pavements of the city," he writes. Today, you see the men outside of Home Depot waiting for work, or the men and women bent over in the fields harvesting crops.

"You usually see us working or waiting for work, and you think you know us, but our outward guise is more deceptive than our history," he continues.

When our crops are burned or plowed under, we are angry and confused. Sometimes we ask if this is the real America. Sometimes we watch our long shadows and doubt the future.

As if Bulosan foresaw 2020, where farmers burn their crops, kill their livestock because there are no restaurants ordering their products; but at the same time, millions go hungry and food bank shelves empty out.

"When our crops are burned or plowed under, we are angry and confused. Sometimes we ask if this is the real America. Sometimes we watch our long shadows and doubt the future." 

But Freedom from Want is not only about the food on our table; it also means freedom to think, to debate to be part of democracy that is of, by and for the people.

"But we are not really free unless we use what we produce. So long as the fruit of our labor is denied us, so long will want manifest itself in a world of slaves. It is only when we have plenty to eat — plenty of everything — that we begin to understand what freedom means. To us, freedom is not an intangible thing. When we have enough to eat, then we are healthy enough to enjoy what we eat. Then we have the time and ability to read and think and discuss things. Then we are not merely living but also becoming a creative part of life. It is only then that we become a growing part of democracy.

"We do not take democracy for granted. We feel it grow in our working together — many millions of us working toward a common purpose. If it took us several decades of sacrifices to arrive at this faith, it is because it took us that long to know what part of America is ours.

As he saw the flaws in the America in which he traveled during the decades of the 1920s to 1950s, he didn't let that darken his vision of the promise and dream of America and her ideals. Although his critics called him a socialist for his proletarian views, he knew deep down in his heart, that the USA offered hope and a path towards a dream even though it has not yet realized it.

"The totalitarian nations hate democracy. They hate us because we ask for a definite guaranty of freedom of religion, freedom of expression, and freedom from fear and want. Our challenge to tyranny is the depth of our faith in a democracy worth defending. Although they spread lies about us, the way of life we cherish is not dead. The American Dream is only hidden away, and it will push its way up and grow again."

As if he anticipated the arrival of Donald Trump,  when people were marching for women, immigrants, black lives, young people, against climate change, for the truth and against gun violence. Bulosan knew that in order for citizens to enjoy the fruits of democracy, the nation demands an informed and active citizenry. 

"But our march to freedom is not complete unless want is annihilated. The America we hope to see is not merely a physical but also a spiritual and an intellectual world. We are the mirror of what America is.  

"If America wants us to be living and free, then we must be living and free. If we fail, then America fails.

"What do we want? We want complete security and peace. We want to share the promises and fruits of American life. We want to be free from fear and hunger. 

"If you want to know what we are — we are marching!

Today, despite the top 1% who only want to fill their already full pockets, the fears that has unleashed racial bias that has been held in check by the unwritten rules of civility and tolerance, the uneasimess created by a warped kind of leadership and the humility rendered by an equal opportunity pandemic that knows no boundaries, political affiliation, race or class, Freedom from Want  as envisioned by Bulosan, is a worthy and attainable goal that can only be attained if  governments are pushed sufficiently by the will of the people.

Bulosan saw the need for men and women of good will, of all races and economic status, to rise up and speak up in the face of ignorance and injustice, in order for Democracy to survive. It was true back when Bulosan first penned "Freedom from Want." It is just as true today.

Read Carlos Bulosan's entire essay "Freedom From Want."

For your reading pleasure this Sunday: Immigrants, Bulosan and 'colorism'

A Filipino American family is on the cover of the New York Times Sunday Review section.

I love lazy Sundays. I swear, I could just sit here in my backyard in the shade of my ol' tree and read on my iPad all day. This weekend has given us a plethora of articles that will make one stop, take a deep breath, and ponder. Hopefully, a light bulb will go on and one will experience an "ah-ha" moment.

Today, I'm reading:

Contrary to white supremacist fears that the shifting demographics is changing America, the writer says, "I took reassurance this past week in another Texas immigration story, which suggests that America’s powers of assimilation remain formidable."

In an amazing story (photo above), New York Times writer Jason DeParle asks, "What Makes An American?" He  has been following a family for over 30 years, from their life of poverty in the Philippines to their new life in Texas. Their immigrant story reassures him that the American promise and dream is still alive. He focuses on the the daughter of the family and concludes, "She didn’t replace an American; she became one."

Filipinx American author Elaine Castillo reflects on the importance of Carlos Bulosan's iconic novel  America Is In the Heart.

She write in The Nation that the impact of the book goes beyond the words on the page. It changes one's perspective, thus it changes one's life. It gave her "Life Tools."

"To not read it is, to put it simply, to not know America, to deprive oneself of the full backstory of the long, drawn-out, bloodied multiverse that is our shared history—Filipinx, American, everywhere in between,"

Miss Universe Catriona Gray is not mentioned in this story,  but it is about why we idolize people like her.

Just add another "ism" to your life. You've heard of ageism and racism, now you can ponder "colorism." Yes, it's been part of some Asian cultures for so long we just accept it as a reality of life.

From Vogue, we get the article Skin Lightening Is Fraught With Risk, But It Still Thrives in the Asian Beauty Market—Here’s Why.

San Jose State University Joanne L. Rondilla explains how skin color isn’t primarily about vanity for Asians; it’s about social standing. “Having light skin implied that one was a woman of high class, education, and leisure,” she writes. “A woman’s light skin meant she did not need to work outdoors to make a living."

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Asian American classic novel to be republished

Comedian Hasan Minaj reads 'America Is In the Heart.'

ASAM NEWS

America Is in the Heart, a must read in many classrooms, will be republished by Penguin Classics 73 years after its debut, reports CNN.

Written by Carlos Bulosan, the book follows the journey of an immigrant, Allos, as he treks from poverty in the Philippines to a migrant life during the Depression era of the United States. Through his travels, Allos experiences rampant racism, police brutality and labor struggles.

Poet, essayist, novelist, fiction writer and labor organizer, Bulosan wrote one of the most influential working class literary classics about the U.S. pre-World War II, a period and setting similar to that of Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath and Cannery Row.

The Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center last year held a reading of Bulosan’s novel-relating it to the immigrant experience today. The reading featured Junot Díaz, Hasan Minhaj and Ivy Quicho.

Penguin Classics will release the new edition of America Is in the Heart in May 2019 in time for Asian American History Month. Three other Asian American books will be released at the same time- The Hanging on Union Square by H.T. Tsiang, the first Japanese American novel No-No Boy by John Okada, and East Goes West by Younghill Kang.

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FilAm History: A pilgrimage to Carlos Bulosan's gravesite

PHOTOS BY DIOKNO

The author's search for influential writer Carlos Bulosan's final resting place ends in Seattle.

I WASN'T SURPRISED at how modest the grave was. That was in keeping with Carlos Bulosan's persona, quiet and unassuming.

I was on a pilgrimage of sorts, to seek out the writer that has been a huge influence on my work, helped shape my view of my place in our country and my given me a past.

Bulosan's novel "America Is In the Heart" is probably the most widely read Filipino American author ever. It's popularity goes beyond Filipino American readers. It is required reading for most students of Asian American history. Even though it is a work of fiction -- some say it is semi-autobiographical -- is is the Asian American "Grapes Of Wrath."

“It is considered the premier text of the Filipino-American experience,” said Greg Castilla, a scholar and social-work supervisor who wrote his doctoral dissertation on Bulosan. “He was a migrant worker who became a prolific writer.”

The novel's depiction of how Filipino farm workers were treated in the 1920s-1930s is heart rending and still relevant today expressing the hopes and reams of immigrants, and how some Filipinos are treated today, except instead of the short-handed hoe, today's Filipino's are hindered by given the worst hours, hampered by stereotypes of an inability to lead, and made invisible by their perceived irrelevance.

CARLOS BULOSAN

Anyway, for Filipino American History Month, I thought I'd share how to make a similar visit to honor one of Asian America's most famous and influential authors.

First of all, it is located in Seattle, the city where the author first settled when he arrived in the U.S. in 1930. Although he traveled around the country, he always considered the Emerald City his home. It was in Seattle where he found his first home, met his first American friends, lived in his first filthy American bunkhouse, first came face-to-face with racism, met an enduring love, and lived the last years of his short life, writes Herbert Atieinza in Positively Filipino.

Bulosan's grave is located in Seattle's Mt. Pleasant Cemetery in the residential neighborhood of northwest Seattle. You can Google to find directions to the cemetery. But once there, there are no directions to the Bulosan gravesite. 

Looking over the cemetery, my wife and I were perplexed. How does one find a single gravesite amidst the thousands of buried individuals in an unfamiliar ceemtery  and there's most likely no one around. Although he was celebrated among literary circles, he never achieved the super-stardom status often given to today's writers. So there are no maps, no concrete sidewalks and no crowds to follow.

All we had was Googled photos of previous pilgrims. We thought we could locate it by the nearby shrubbery and a tall white obelisk grave marker in the background. Unlike Bruce Lee's gravesite in another Seattle cemetery, it is not on Google Maps.

It took us over an hour to find it. It is dwarfed by the tombstones on either side of it. 

It was an unremarkable tombstone -- barely over two feet tall -- for such a giant in the annals of Asian American history. I'm surprised that there hasn't been an effort to give the author a memorial more fitting for his place in history. But the grave marker's humble appearance is characteristic of Bulosan, I think. 

A pen and a scroll flank Carlos Bulosan's name, under which is engraved: Writer, Poet, Activist. The inscription below has worn away so it's difficult to read.

Finding the tombstone momentarily took my breath away and a lump formed in my throat. I felt the deep emotion of thousands of Filipino immigrants welling up inside me: the agricultural workers who toiled in California and Hawaii's fields, the veterans who proudly saluted America's flag and stood by their belief's even when the country they defended denied them benefits, the nurses and doctors who staff U.S. and Canadian hospitals today, the lawyers and other professionals who took meniel jobs in order to support their families and my parents who made the journey to America, who left everything familiar to them to lmake ensure that their children have a better life, who watched their friends and family die defending their homeland and the United States from foreign invasion, 

To find Bulosan's grave, one must enter the cemetery at the West Berrett Street entrance. Turn left as soon as you pass the gates and follow the fenceline bordered by shrubbery for about 200 feet. If you're driving a car, there's a couple of parking spaces up the road a bit. Park your car and go directly to the fenceline, then make a sharp right right. 

You will find a trio of tombstones. The shorter one in the middle is Bulosan's marker.  The black marble marker has these faded, barely readable words engraved on it:

“Here, here the tomb of Bulosan is. Here, here are his words, dry as the grass is.”

Here is a Google map to help you locate Bulosan's grave. The Barrett Street entrance is at the left. The red arrow marks the gravesite.

Bulosan died from a long lingering illness, collapsing on the steps of a Seattle courthouse. Emergency an hospital personnel didn't know who he was. They thought he was a homeless indigent. 

By the time of his death in 1956, his works were largely forgotten.

"He was a little guy, very slim, and he was always very well-dressed all the time,” wrote the late Fred Cordova, who with his wife founded the Filipino American National Historical Society. “He was not what you’d call a charismatic speaker. He was unassuming and very quiet — a very gentle person. But he wrote like a lion.”

In 1943, he was one of four American authors commissioned by the Saturday Evening Post to write an essay on President Franklin Roosevelt's "Four Freedoms." Bulosan's assignment was to write about the Freedom From Want. Here's an except:

"We are the desires of anonymous men. We are the subways of suffering, the well of dignities. We are the living testament of a flowering race.

"But our march to freedom is not complete unless want is annihilated. The America we hope to see is not merely a physical but also a spiritual and an intellectual world. We are the mirror of what America is. If America wants us to be living and free, then we must be living and free. If we fail, then America fails.

"What do we want? We want complete security and peace. We want to share the promises and fruits of American life. We want to be free from fear and hunger.

"If you want to know what we are — we are marching!"

-- Carlos Bulosan

"Freedom From Want"

Saturday Evening Post

Bulosan loved America and that's why he could be so critical of our country. He saw its flaws and imperfections, but he also saw its promise and dreams. That's what drew him and millions of other immigrants to this country. The racism and xenophobia Filipinos and other strangers encountered and endured was -- and is still is -- worth it if we can inch towards the freedom and equality that we long for.

In this era of ant-immigrant sentiment, undisguised racism stirred up by Donald Trump, and Central American refugees marching to the U.S. seeking asylum only to be met by unfeeling border agents and to be separated from their children -- Bulosan's writings are  as relevant today as when he first wrote those words. May his words -- like dry grass--  spark a fire to clear the underbrush of hate and ignorance.

May his writings continue to burn in the hearts of today's students and writers.

EDITOR'S NOTE: On this blog's profile photo, there is this description: "In Search for Carlos Bulosan." That is not meant literally and it is certainly not in reference to my modest efforts at writing. It means that out there, somewhere, is a writer who could possibly match Bulosan's moving, thoughtful and inspirational messages and his long-lasting influence on generations of Filipino Americans. Despite finding Bulosan's final resting place, I'm still searching.

ONE MORE THING: For additional commentary, observatioins, tips and references with an AAPI perspective, follow me on Twitter @dioknoed

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Smithsonian: 'America Is In The Heart' inspires the immigrants of today

SMITHSONIAN

Most new immigrants had never heard of Carlos Bulosan or the stories of Asian immigrants.

GROWING UP in 1950s-1960s California, our history textbooks would have us believe that the immigrant story was all about Europeans coming to America.

Like many of us, filmmaker Frank Chi discovered the works of Carlos Bulosan in college. We discovered that the history of America we were taught told only half the story.

An Asian-American immigrant who had difficulty finding a sense of belonging, Chi said the Bulosan's most famous work, "America Is In the Heart"— which loosely mirrors Bulosan’s immigration from the Philippines and describes the suffering of migrant laborers in the 1930s — resonated with him, helping him learn how to be an American in his own way.

Now, in a short film released Wednesday (Nov. 29) with the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center (Smithsonian APA Center), Chi is bringing Bulosan’s words to life.

“There’s a lot of negative portrayals of the families who come to this country from all parts of the world searching for a better life,” Chi said. “Given the times we live in, I wanted to revisit Bulosan this way because we can all use a reminder that there have been other tough times in America, and we have persevered and become stronger as a people, and as a nation.

" ‘America Is In The Heart’ is about what sustains us as a people — in the past, today and forever." 

The film features comedian Hasan Minhaj, activist Ivy Quicho, and writer Junot Díaz reading from “America is in the Heart” set against images of immigrants and their families across the country working, going to school, and serving in the military, among other activities.

Since Bulosan's novel was published in 1946, over 45 million new immigrants have come to the U.S. While the majority of the immigrants came from Latin America, in recent years, the largest number of immigrants are coming from Asia.

In the production of the film, the Smithsonian APA Center reached out to an array of immigrant communities across the country, according to Adriel Luis, curator of digital and emerging media for the center. Luis told NBC that most had not heard of Bulosan’s book, but after reading the passage used in the film, many were inspired.

“Similar to how other historic writers like James Baldwin and Sylvia Plath have been rediscovered by younger generations, Bulosan’s work also continues to resonate beyond just the Filipino American experience of the 1940s,” Luis said. “The Bulosan film also takes a written artifact of that era [and] time, but captures the spirit of hope and determination that is still felt by immigrants today.”

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Charlottesville: Asian Americans at a turning point

GROWING UP in California, my parents never talked about the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s. To them, the plight of African Americans and their fight for equality were distant events

To them, the March on Washington was for African Americans. It didn't affect Filipinos or Asian/Americans. (In fact, the term "Asian American" hadn't even been conjured up until the latter half of the 60s.)

I can't remember any of my teachers in my racially diverse high school discuss  what was happening in Little Rock, Selma and other parts of the South. The Vietnam War had yet to reach our living room TV screens.

I'm embarrassed to say, that post-WWII generation immigrants of my parents -- as much as we owe them and love them -- there was an awful saying they repeated from a popular racist ditty: "If you're white, you're right; if you're black, get back; if you're brown, stick around." (Ooo, boy, that was difficult to write.)

Through the decades, that mantra has thankfully and gradually disappeared although it is showing signs of revival among the new immigrants from Asia who have no grasp or background of Asian American history. 

As AAPI people have become more attuned to the realities of America and it's dreams, as a group, we still struggle to find our place in our country -- as individuals and as a political construct  -- and rid ourselves of the "otherness" imposed on us by other people.

The events of Charlottesville, the uprising of white supremacists and the rise of Donald Trump, a leader who has no grasp of history and no empathy for people of color is forcing us to once again, seek a place in this current battle for America's soul because, whether we like or not, it is better at the table discussing these issues rather than retiring to the kitchen letting others duke it out.

The Asian Americans Advancing Justice, a coalition of five legal aid organizations, recently put out a call that perhaps best sums up why Charlottesville affects us why we should prepare ourselves the debates that are going on and the battles that are sure to come over race and what it means to be an American.

Here is the AAAJ's clarion call:

While few Asian Americans trace our roots to the Civil War, our history in this nation is deeply intertwined and impacted by white supremacy and nativism. At the turn of the 20th century, white mobs threatened -- and even lynched -- Chinese, Filipino, and South Asian immigrants, in part for fear they would taint (white) American culture. White supremacist groups helped to pass the Chinese Exclusion Act, the first law to ban an entire ethnic group. And white supremacy birthed “alien land laws”, barring “non-citizens” from owning land at a time when mainly Asians could not become U.S. citizens, and anti-miscegenation laws, prohibiting interracial marriage (a law that in California specifically singled out Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, and other Asians). White supremacy also paved the way for the U.S. government to violate due process and incarcerate 120,000 Japanese Americans, many U.S. citizens, during World War II -- an action upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court in Korematsu vs. United States and never formally overturned.

Given our history, we as Asian Americans cannot stand idly by and watch as white supremacists march through our neighborhoods. Even before this past weekend, hate crimes were surging upwards, including nearly 200 incidents against Asian Americans since January documented through our hate tracker (StandAgainstHatred.org) and the shooting of two South Asian immigrants, Srinivas Kuchibhotla and Alok Madasani, in Kansas earlier this year.

We as Asian Americans also must not be complicit in the white supremacist agenda of this current administration. White supremacy drives the President’s Muslim bans, seeking to ban entire groups of people based on their national origin and non-Christian religion. It drove last week’s one-two punches from the White House. First, when the President announced his support for the RAISE Act, an immigration bill that would gut the current family-based immigration system, which has brought millions of Asian, African, and Latin American immigrants into the U.S. and remade the racial demographics of the U.S. in the past 50 years. And second, when the White House redirected federal civil rights resources to undo long-standing affirmative action policies. The administration’s purported claim to be fighting discrimination against Asian Americans flies counter to all other evidence that this administration and its allies and supporters seek to advance only the interests of fellow white Americans.

Our nation is at a critical crossroads. White supremacist leaders like David Duke have seized upon Charlottesville as a turning point in moving their hate and nativism mainstream. Without clear and decisive leadership from the President or other administration officials or Congressional leaders, it falls on all of us to resist white supremacy, including efforts to be co-opted by white supremacists who do not and have never had our communities' interests at heart.

We call on all Asian Americans to join us in defending our vision of democracy – one where we protect the vulnerable amongst us, resist efforts to erode our hard-won rights and protections, and fight to advance progress for all marginalized communities. We pledge to challenge rising hate, to fight the President’s Muslim bans, to oppose the RAISE Act and the gutting of affirmative action, to fight deportations and defend DACA, to champion health care for all, and to ensure all voters can cast their ballots. We cannot do this alone, and we will be calling upon you to join us on the streets, in legislative chambers, and on the steps of the courts to stand up for our democracy.

RELATED:

• Trump eases up on white supremacists 
• AAPI politicians condemn white terrorism; Trump's weak response

It is critical for the AAPI community -- especially those recent immigrants who come to the U.S. with its abundance of opportunities available to them -- to know that it was not always this way. Affirmative action, census counts, data disaggregation, employment rights, equal pay, equal access to health care, the right to own land, the ability to marry outside your race, family reunification -- these things had to be fought for. AAPI have bled and died for these rights and opportunities we take for granted. While America was yet a dream in for the recent immigrants, Asian Americans were in the courts, the fields, in the halls of government, on the job and in the streets fighting for these doors to be opened.

White supremacists would like to use us as a wedge against other communities of color. They would like to separate us from others who share our struggle. They would like to divide us from each other. We must not let this happen.

Filipino American author Carlos Bulosan wrote in America Is In the Heart words that still ring true: "America is also the nameless foreigner, the homeless refugee, the hungry boy begging for a job and the black body dangling on a tree. America is the illiterate immigrant who is ashamed that the world of books and intellectual opportunities are closed to him. We are all that nameless foreigner, that homeless refugee, that hungry boy, that illiterate immigrant and that lynched black body. All of us, from the first Adams to the last Filipino, native born or alien, educated or illiterate-We are America!"


The violence that occurred in Charlottesville was violence against the AAPI community. It was as much an attack against the AAPI as it was against the African/American, Native American and Latino communities. When Heather Heyer was killed, a sister was struck down.

America is at a crossroads. We are at that crossroads. In the weeks and months to come, we will determine which America will emerge: one where one group reigns over all; or an America that welcomes that refugee, shelter the homeless, feed the hungry, clothe the naked.

The history of Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders is an ongoing struggle to know our role in American history and how we have arrived to Charlottesville last week; how we have come to this America of 2017. 
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Smithsonian: First-of-its-kind AA literary festival honors Carlos Bulosan

University of Washington

Carlos Bulosan at his typewriter.

CARLOS BULOSAN is often described as an Asian American writer, or a Filipino American author. He is perhaps the most important American (no hyphen required) writer no one has ever hear of.

As a commentator and chronicler of his time, Bulosan should be on par with his contemporaries John Steinbeck and F. Scott Fitzgerald. While the former wrote about the poor whites and the latter wrote about the hypocrisy of the rich, Bulosan wrote about the poor struggles of workers of color: the farm workers, the fishermen, the cannery workers and servants.

This weekend, the Smithsonian Asian American Literature Festival hopes to change that, with a wide range of readings and interactive programs that celebrate both the legacy of Asian/American literature and contemporary writers. 

“Asian American literature has always been a crucial space for writing hidden histories and building new communities,” said Lisa Sasaki, director of the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center. “This festival is a chance to honor Asian American writing and writers and grow the next generation of literary trailblazers.”

The Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center, the Library of Congress, the Phillips Collection and Dupont Underground will host the Asian American Literature Festival from Thursday to Saturday, July 27–29.

One of the centerpieces of the festival is a two-day reading of Carlos Bulosan's 1946 autobiographical work, America is in the Heart. The book addresses struggles of immigrants that are still relevant today. It's an apt focus for a celebration of American diversity, and perhaps an inspiration to stay hopeful for our nation and its people.

Bulosan came to the U.S. in 1930 and soon discovered the American Dream was a fragile wisp of hope. Of his experience as a migrant worker, Bulosan wrote, "I learned its a crime to be a Filipino in this country." He suffered at the hands of people who tried to run him out of town, and in one incident in California he was tied to a tree, stripped and beaten.

Despite the disappointments he encountered, he loved the idea of America.  "For Carlos Bulosan, no lifetime could be long enough in which to explain to America that no man could destroy his faith in it again," said Carlos P. Romulo in a review of Bulosan's America is in the Heart.

Featuring more than 50 prominent Asian/American poets, writers, literary scholars, graphic novelists, spoken-word artists and children’s literature authors, the festival will present an array of live performances, mentoring sessions and interactive workshops. The event will take place at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery July 27 from 11:30 a.m. to7 p.m.; at the Phillips Collection July 28 from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.; at Dupont Underground July 28 from 6 p.m. to11 p.m.; and at the Library of Congress July 29 from 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m

This first-of-its kind festival is also celebrating the release of an all Asian/American issue of Poetry magazine. Other highlights include the premiere of a short animated film by artist Matt Huynh, adapted from a forthcoming work by Pulitzer-prize winning novelist Viet Nguyen.

Featured Programs

• A two-day long participatory reading of Carlos Bulosan’s seminal 1946 novel America Is In the Heart
• An animated adaptation of a chapter from Viet Thanh Nguyen’s forthcoming novel The Committed (sequel to Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Sympathizer) by artist Matt Huynh
• National Book Award finalist Karen Tei Yamashita and Kimiko Hahn, president of the Poetry Society of America, will give intimate lectures on their personal journeys through Asian American literary history
• LITERAOKE, a fun combination of literary reading and karaoke, with performances by Franny Choi, Tarfia Faizullah, Ed Lin and local Washington, D.C. poet Regie Cabico
• Writer-scholar round-robin session for exchanging writing and scholarly interests and building new networks
• The Asian American Literature Donation Project, which will provide donated works of Asian/American literature to local spaces of need

A complete listing of participants and programs at the festival is available at the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center’s website.