America Is In The Heart

Carlos Bulosan is a prominent figure at  the centers for Filipino-American studies in the University of Washington in Seattle and the University of California-Davis in the US. I didn’t learn  about Carlos Bulosan, a writer, poet or a labor union leader,  until lately while reading Luis Francia’s  “Eye of the Fish”. As I read Carlos Bulosan’s account of his struggles as a migrant worker in US, a long ago exchange with Sam came to mind.  Fresh-off-the-boat, so to speak, I held on  to the ILO definition of  my presence in America and declared myself as a migrant until  Sam corrected me:  you’re an immigrant.  The International Labour Organization (ILO) defines migrant as a person who moves or migrated from one country or another for the purposes of employment. Google further explains that immigration is like in-migration where an individual goes into another country to live there permanently while emigration is like out-migration where an individual leave his country for another. 

Carlos  Bulosan’s book “America Is In The Heart” comes in four parts. First part details his childhood as a child laborer  in the Philippines  long before ILO even thought  about the Intenational Programme  on Elimination of Child Labour.   Carlos did not go to school in order to help his father in the farm or assist his mother in selling “boggoong (p.33)” at their town market in Binalonan or the nearby town market of Pozorubio. His brother Macario who was studying to be a teacher provided most of Carlos’ early informal education where he learned to read and write. It was Luciano, another brother, who encouraged Bulosan to read and suggested that he could become a journalist someday. 

“‘Reading is food for the mind. Healthy ideas are food for the mind. Maybe someday you’ll be a journalist....(p.56)’”

Extreme poverty which led to an insurrection  of tenants against landlords during the Colorum Uprising that started in 1924 reinforced  the resolve of Carlos  and his brothers Macario and Amado to leave Pangasinan for the US separately.  Part 2 revolves around  the author’s steerage passage to the US and arriving in Seattle on June 22, 1930. A few of Carlos’ fellow passengers died while ship’s in transit (yep, that’s SHIT for you).  Steerage passengers are confined and hidden the lower decks of the ship. Carlos soon realizes that life in America is not any different from the life he left behind in Pangasinan. It is the time of Great Depression and life is difficult for everyone including native-born Americans whom the author referred to as “whites”. 

“I came to know afterward that in many ways, it was a crime to be a Filipino in California. I came to know that the public streets were not free to my people; we were stopped each time these vigilant policemen saw us driving a car. We were suspect each time we were seen with a white woman. (p.121)”

Parts 3 details the author’s deepening involvement in organizing Filipino migrant workers  to thwart off unfair labor practices amidst an often hostile and exploitative working conditions. Often out of money and living on his own, the author traveled from the state of Washington  to California in the south  or Alaska to the north, looking for  seasonal  and agricultural jobs.  One time hunted, beaten and left for dead because of his involvement in organizing of labor unions, the author is constantly on the move either looking for jobs or searching for his brothers. The author who initially found comfort in meeting friends who come from Pangasinan and its neighboring provinces soon felt that such “regional friendship developed into tribalism which obstructed all efforts toward Filipino unity in America (p.98)”.  I know you can relate, but then, there are also wonderful  moments, of course!

Part 4 of the book accounts the author’s deepening involvement in the labor movement, his declining health and his flourishing as a writer and poet.  The last part of the book is also set during the McCarthyism era when labor leaders and activists were labeled as “communists” and  accused of subversion or treason to discredit their progressive causes.  Yep, it does sound familiar.

Like the ending of a movie, the author muses while looking at the passing scenery out while enroute to Portland on a bus:  “I glanced out of the window again to look at the broad land I had dreamed so much about, only to discover with astonishment that the American earth was like a huge heart unfolding warmly to receive me.”

In his flowery prose, the author sums up the book based on his experiences and sentiments: “it came to me that no man—no one at all—could destroy my faith in America again. It was something that had grown out of my defeats and successes, something shaped by my struggles for a place in this vast land, digging my hands into the rich soil here and there, catching a freight to the north and to the south, seeking free meals in dingy gambling houses, reading a book that opened up worlds of heroic thoughts...” 

The  author died in Seattle on September 11, 1956.