You’re 27 years old, a mother to four children, without the support of family or loved ones. Working at a local college in the Filipino city of Manila, you sit behind your desk looking at your accepted immigration papers. This golden ticket that holds an uncertain promise of the fruitful “American Dream” is only ever known to you through word of mouth from a friend of a friend. An opportunity, while unpredictable, that could be (and would be) generationally altering.
This was the experience shared with me by my Lola,1 recounting what reality entailed for her in making the strenuous embarkation to America almost 50 years ago. Along these lines is a snippet of life shared by many immigrant families. These stories are filled with different means of strife and struggle, but they all contain the desire to start fresh and create a “better life,” one distinct from everything they’ve ever known. Being mixed-race and the first grandchild from the Filipino side of my family, hearing and acknowledging this history is something I’ll forever cherish.
I recently spent the last four weeks bustling around New York City. But instead of sightseeing and borough hopping, I was grateful to have spent quality time with my Filipino grandmother. While she’s always been a huge part of my life, this last month was my first solo trip to see her. During my time there, I assisted her with wholesome, mundane adventures and errands throughout the city she’s been native to since first immigrating here in the 1970s. In doing so, I learned so much about her history, and I believe I’ll always hold it close in my mind during my own life’s endeavors.
With her 76th birthday celebrated on Sept. 9, I wanted to share a bit of the impact she’s made over two generations, with many more to come. This is my heartfelt way of expressing her influence, while telling her Salamat Po.2
Life in Manila, Philippines, as Natasha Dominguez
Interestingly enough, before she arrived in the U.S., coming to America was never something my grandmother seriously sought out. When I first asked her about her journey out of the Philippines, my grandmother admitted to me that she applied for immigration “simply to see what would happen.”
Before permanently residing deep in the junctions of E 14th St. and Avenue B, her initial life plans were very different.
Sometime around the 1940s, Natasha Dominguez was born as the sixth child out of a total of eleven kids, and would become the first of her family to attend college in the highly pristine city of Manila, the capital of the Philippines. Staying with relatives as a means to reside closer to her education, at just 16 years old, Natasha was pursuing business studies to ensure a successful career that would make her family proud.
At this time, it was recognized in Filipino culture that being sent to Manila for a higher education was a huge honor, one that families highly anticipated. For children lucky enough for this chance, it bore a critical responsibility, especially for daughters. My grandmother recounts this by expressing the obligation she felt to achieve what her family expected of her.
During her time in Manila, she recalls being quite content with the future she was building for herself. Leading a life littered with the typically atypical and individual experiences of highs and lows, Natasha’s world, some years after her education, expanded yet remained within Manila. She had four children (two from a previous relationship), worked as an academic advisor in the business department of her college, and married her second husband, Antonio (my Lolo).3
Antonio was the one who persuaded my grandmother to go to the U.S. after the news that her immigration papers were accepted. As I’m sure anyone would have felt, Natasha was hesitant at first. Moving to the U.S. (especially in the 70s) meant moving to a country without your relatives, native language, or any means of familiarity. Not to mention, they’d each be the first out of their communities to make the journey.
But, despite it all, the thought of the futures that could be created was enough for my grandmother to go along with it, and alter the course of her life.
American customs gave my grandmother three options for places to reside: California, Texas, or New York. Aware of the high esteem NYC held, my grandmother proudly professed her interest in New York. So in 1973, they took the leap of faith familiar to so many other third-world natives and began their next chapter — navigating America.
Navigating America, and bringing the Family over
Another custom in Filipino culture is having parents and elder relatives nearby to look after grandchildren, while young couples establish themselves in their jobs and finances, allowing them to grasp stability in their lives.
For their first year in the U.S., Natasha had made the difficult decision to leave her four children under the care of her stepfamily in Manila. She did this in an effort to ensure that she and Antonio could work on themselves before bringing them over. This included preparing a proper home, securing new employment, finding a sense of community, and creating a new lifestyle.
When I asked my grandmother about what finding work was like for a young Filipino couple in the U.S. at the time, she told me that it was difficult to find employers willing to take a chance on her and my grandfather. While my grandfather eventually found work in the labor field, my grandmother faced more societal obstacles that she was determined to overcome.
Besides an apparent language barrier between Tagalog and English, a common remark she remembers is being faced with phrases along the lines of “We require applicants with X amount of years of experience.” With workplaces consistently disregarding her years of work and education in the Philippines, Natasha was determined to be recognized for the skillset she arrived with.
“How do you expect me to have years of experience if I just arrived here?”
Natasha Dominguez
This persistence she continued to carry eventually led to a lifelong progressive and lucrative occupation, one where she could climb the management ladder, as a bank teller with CitiBank. Their financial success as an immigrant couple followed not long after, allowing them to bring over their children only a year later. Reunited and as a family, they continued to integrate into American life, and even welcomed another addition to their family with the birth of her fifth child not long after.
Following the arrival of the rest of her family, as well as friends and other loved ones, the community of Filipino immigrants in the U.S. began to grow. Some followed in my grandmother’s footsteps and came to NYC, while others spread out across the nation. Nonetheless, each of their success stories holds its own value, weaving together a larger narrative of resilience, sacrifice, and achievement that defines the Filipino immigrant experience in America.
The Present Day: Lola to eleven Grandchildren
As my grandmother recounts these instances in her life, I see waves of expressions on her face that include frowns, smiles, and laughter of authentically raw passion and grit for everything she’s cultivated across decades.
Fast forward to the present day, almost 50 years since her arrival, and she is now the Lola of 11 grandchildren. It will always make me wonder what life during integral time periods must have been like for her. Whenever I ask, she tells me it’s indescribable. Since opting to reside in the boroughs of NYC, she’s never once considered moving and has become undoubtedly recognized amongst the locals on her side of town.
To many who claim to know her, she’s a kooky Asian woman who wears an absurdly chic combination of clothing as she parades around the city, hopping from bus to bus, and running miscellaneous errands. But to those who really know and love her, my Lola is a woman who has lived many lives, with the stories and successes to prove it. Her history is something I’ll eternally hold dear to my heart and be forever thankful for in all the endeavors I pursue, as she will be the reason for my own success.
Tagalog Meanings:
- Salamat po = Thank you; 2. Lola = Grandmother; 3. Lolo = Grandfather.