… where ever “there” may be (and here, I don’t mean Oakland, which because of Gertrude Stein, is known as “there.”). For the purposes of this here blog post, “there” means not the West Coast.
When Luis Francia came to town last month, one thing he marveled about was the deep sense of history our local Filipino American community not only honors, but also carries in our collective memories/consciousness and our bodies. Certainly, our community’s ancestors brought with them here that connection to the land as rural folk and farmers who’ve poured so much of themselves into this earth, and who’ve formed kinships and communities for material and spiritual survival. Hence, a deep connection to this place. Don’t you feel it, when you are driving through the state? Not only the Steinbeck Monterey, Salinas, and Watsonville, but the Bulosan, the Philip Vera Cruz Monterey and Salinas, the Jeff Tagami Watsonville. Not only the Jack London Oakland, the Gertrude Stein Oakland, but the Vangie Buell Oakland (and hell yeah, Black Panther Oakland). Not only the Beat Poetry San Francisco, but the Al Robles San Francisco, the Jessica Hagedorn San Francisco.
Continue reading ‘Literature and San Francisco: More Thoughts on Being Filipino Here and not There’
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