Not a day passes without giving thanks to my late and lamented father, Emiliano. He had the blind faith and courage to venture with his brother Joe in the 1920s and board a President’s liner (steerage) in Manila bound for America and opportunity.

They didn’t get rich.  But they did get out of the Philippines.

There his brothers and sister remained, and there I’d be too (or a reasonable genetic facsimile) were it not for the desperate hope of immigration.

That’s luck.  For that I give thanks. I’m me. It couldn’t have happened without that hopeful glimmer of an American dream.

But it also explains my mixed allegiances. As an American Filipino, rooted by both parents, I identify Filipino and American. I cheer the U.S. on, but I also cheer for the Philippines. And what a bonanza that’s been, sports fans!

LINCECUM

It’s especially  convenient when an  American Filipino like Tim Lincecum wins his second Cy Young award in his first two full years in baseball. Lincecum, whose father is Caucasian but mother is Filipino, is an undeniable source of pride for all twofers and halfs.  Some local commentators like Gary Radnich may say aloud, “What’s race got to do with it?”  It’s become the standard to “de-raceinate “ our thinking because tying things to race leads us perilously close to the  Jimmy “The Greek” style  of analysis. He’s the former CBS guy who made racist comments about how blacks were somehow genetically prone to being great athletes.

Think of all the real-life Urquels you’ve known and you know the Greek’s sociobiology is crap.

In Lincecum’s case, it was all hard work and not race that made a difference. How does someone well under  6 feet throw a ball 95 miles per hour consistently? They don’t call him “the Freak,” for nothing. So the race issue with Lincecum is really just a matter of pride. When was the last time you saw an American Filipino excel in athletics at the highest levels?  OK, U.S. Olympic swimmer  Natalie Coughlin (another half). But it just doesn’t happen often. Given the relative invisibility of American Filipinos, colorblindness is not a problem. A little racial pride is not a bad thing.

PACQUIAO NATIONALISM

Of course, when it comes to boxer Manny Pacquiao, racial pride is through the roof. Manny, is a full-blooded hero and symbol of the motherland. Pacquiao is the living metaphor of the modern Filipino who fights his way out of poverty to fame and fortune. Immigration? He’s a free marketer. The U.S. is his suburb.

What I’m impressed by is how a Pacquiao fight unites immigrants, American Filipinos, natives. There’s a surge of nationalism that’s undeniable. Even if you’re not a Philippine national. It’s so thick, it’s like sweet rice.

So where is that nationalism when it really matters?

Just as Pacquiao was in America training for his big  payday, Filipinos were acting like imperial lapdogs when U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton arrived in Manila.

Such a lovefest for the rockstar politician! Truthfully,  was it a monumental relapse into colonial mentality.

It almost made me yearn for the days when such a visit would certainly merit at least one burning effigy of Uncle Sam. At least one effigy would be a sign of good mental health. But the image to the world media was one of Hillary yukking it up about MILF’s with lapdog Filipinos who acted like they were seeing the second coming of Miley Cyrus.

In the 1980s, when martial law flourished, the U.S. relationship was put in the proper perspective. The U.S. backed Marcos 100 percent, and certainly more than a handful of “people” (of “People Power” fame) in the Philippines knew which way was up back then.

So what’s the difference now? The U.S. wholeheartedly backs Arroyo, whom I’ve called “Marcos Lite.”  (Is there much question?)   Meanwhile in Washington,  Reagan and Bush have morphed into Clinton, then Bush II, now Obama. The bases are gone (sort of) but there’s still these soldiers fighting terrorism “side by side.” Martial law is gone, but the fledgling colony is still fledgling. And the double talk of diplomacy covers up the truth.

The typhoon tragedy made this more of a humanitarian, rather than a policy visit. No talk of human rights as Obama did in Myanmar. Dead protestors and journalists in the R.P.?  Not a word. 

Hillary Clinton did help make things seem slightly less colonial.

She was there to provide the mother’s milk.

So what’s worse? Paternalism or maternalism?

What happened to the sense of nationalism? What happened to Filipino pride?

If a change is to be made in our lifetime, it will begin with a passionate sense of nationalism that only comes out, it seems, when Pacquiao fights. The country will remain a lapdog until it starts acting like a champ.

When that day comes, we can all be thankful.

E-mail: emil@amok.com  Updates at www.amok.com