(Trans)national Tsina/oys

Acknowledgments

Writing this book has been a long journey, and there are so many people who have contributed to the completion of this project. First and foremost, I am thankful for the love and support of Anh Huynh and Hieubert Hao. Both have been incredibly patient and encouraging throughout the process of writing this book. I am and will always be grateful to my parents (Jose Andres and Salome Hao) and my siblings (Beanne, Mark, Ryan, and Stephanie), all of whom have taught me everything about my Tsinoy identity. My great appreciation goes to a-má and Susan Hao for their generosity and kindness. Thanks also to Crispin and Betty Hao, my extended families, and my in-laws for their continued support.

My book would not have come to fruition without the research grant I received from the University of Denver’s Center for Multicultural Excellence that made it possible for me to conduct ethnographic interviews in the Philippines. In addition to Susan Hao, Cheryl Hao deserves many thanks for helping me with recruitment of Tsina/oy participants. Of course, all my Tsina/oy participants, the wonderful staff at Bahay Tsinoy, and Teresita Ang See’s influential scholarship on Tsina/oys are the reasons I have a book to write. Thank you so much! My appreciation also goes to Stephanie Hao, who designed my book’s cover.

A big thank you to editors and reviewers. I want to thank Bernadette Marie Calafell and Thomas K. Nakayama for including my book in the Critical Intercultural Communication Studies Series. I am especially grateful for their belief in my project from the very beginning. A big shout-out to Peter Lang’s editorial team, especially Niall Kennedy and Joshua Charles, and Production Editor Naviya Palani. Thanks to my writing coaches who provided an extra set of eyes to improve the book’s contents: Bryant Keith Alexander, Shinsuke Eguchi, Greg Langner, and Dawn Marie McIntosh.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reproduce copyrighted material:

“Critical Intercultural Performance Framework: Transnational Hybridity as Performance of Reentries,” R. N. Hao, Journal of Intercultural Communication Research, copyright © 2020 World Communication Association reprinted by permission of Taylor & Francis Ltd, http://www.tandfonline.com on behalf of World Communication Association.

“Cultural Reentry: A Critical Review of Intercultural Communication Research,” R. N. Hao, in N. Bardhan and M. O. Orbe (Eds.), Identity Research and Communication: Intercultural Reflections and Future Directions, Lexington Books. 2012 All Rights Reserved.

“Virtually Tsina/oy: Performing and Negotiating Diasporic Hybridity Online,” by R. N. Hao, 2013, Qualitative Communication Research, 2, pp. 159–181. Copyright 2013 by The Regents of the University of California (University of California Press). Reprinted with permission.

I am also deeply indebted to Bryant Keith Alexander and John T. Warren’s mentorship; both have had tremendous impact on my scholarship and pedagogy. Along with John T. Warren, thanks to Nilanjana Bardhan, Craig Engstrom, Jonathan Gray, Rachel Hastings, Kathy Hytten, Cheryl Nicholas, and Ronald Pelias for reviewing an earlier version of Chapter Five, “Virtually Tsina/oy: Performing Hybridity Online.” Their feedback at the time made a huge difference to get me where I am today to publish this book. Finally, I want to thank Robin Boylorn, Rona Tamiko Halualani, Judith Hamera, and Mark Orbe for their (auto)ethnographic scholarly inspiration and collaboration that helped shape the trajectory of this book!

Rediscovering Tsina/oy Identity: A Critical Intercultural Performance

November 29, 2010. I arrive at Denver International Airport and approach one of the airline’s self-serve electronic ticket kiosks to print my three boarding passes (from Denver to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to Tokyo, and Tokyo to Manila). What was normally a routine of being able to print my boarding pass(es) when flying domestically in the United States, this time something unusual flashes on the computer screen: “Please see the attendant to process your request.” I follow the directions on the screen. I step into the counter closest to me and mention to the attendant that the self-serve ticketing couldn’t process my request. She asks me where I’m heading. “Manila,” I say to her. In that moment, I just realized that I’m not only visiting Manila, but I’m returning home for the first time in 17 years. As I take my seat on the plane and start pondering about my travel to Los Angeles and Tokyo, before arriving to my final destination in Manila, I think about what these places are to me. When the plane arrives in Los Angeles, I feel (un)easiness as it reminds me of my family who lives in the suburbs about 45 miles away. In Los Angeles I have to go through another security screening that will take me to the international terminal for my flight to Tokyo. As I embark on a 16-hour flight, I experience international travel for the first time since my family and I left Manila for Los Angeles when I was 13 years old.

After three connecting flights, the plane descends to the ground of Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila, Philippines. As I walk out of the plane to the gate area, anxiety and excitement simultaneously fuel my body. I cannot help but notice the Christmas decorations and lights along the way, which are very telling of the holiday season. After locating my luggage, I wait patiently outside of the airport terminal swarmed by many Filipina/os who, like me, are eager to be picked up. Hearing Tagalog or Taglish (a combination of Tagalog and English) spoken all around me is familiar. Almost another hour has passed at roughly 10:45 p.m., I suddenly hear someone calling my name in the midst of honking cars driving past me. I turn to my left, and I see a blurred face from a distance waving and continuing to yell my name. A tall, slender woman comes closer, and as soon as I recognize my aunt I hurriedly pick up my carry-on bag right next to me, put it on top of my suitcase, and move all the luggage towards a parked van on the curbside. As soon as I approach my aunt, she welcomes me warmly in Hokkien, a local Chinese language we both speak, while simultaneously directing me where to put my luggage in the van.

As the van departs the crowded and heavily trafficked airport, my aunt, whom I have not seen in almost two decades, engages in a small talk to see how I have been all these years. Driving by the city with several well-lit tall buildings with Christmas lights and parols (star-shaped Christmas lanterns) hung around several houses and businesses, my aunt asks me if I think things have changed since I lived in Manila. While observing quietly through the van’s window, I do not hesitate to point out to my aunt that I did not see many tall skylines and expansive shopping malls that populate the city as a child, but crowded streets remain unchanged.