Stories of Migration
The stories of migration shared by our storytellers are as much about the journeys they took to get here as they are about the feelings and lived experiences of being here in this region and country. In their own ways, these stories of migration tell us about how storytellers negotiate their identities and senses of place as people whose lives are shaped not only by their mobility, but also by their existence as people of colour from a Global South country in Canada. For many storytellers, these manifest as experiences out of placeness or homesickness, while for others, they come through as difficult feelings of guilt for abandoning their homeland. For at least one participant, moving to Canada has meant navigating exclusionary border and migration policies and infrastructures, including past restrictions on queer forms of kinship and relationships. Yet, for others, migration is about opportunity and the possibility of better futures. For most, it is some or all of the above.
Our storytellers’ narratives of migration capture the diversity of experiences of migration among Filipinx community members in Greater Vancouver. They signal the different possible routes that members of our community have taken to get here. We variously came here to work as migrant workers, to study as international students, to settle for the long-term as permanent residents, or to be with loved ones and kin through family reunification. Some of us came directly from the Philippines, while others arrived from other parts of the world, including East and West Asia, Northern Europe or Central America. Still others arrived here after living in other parts of North America, such as Ontario, Manitoba or California. For some, migration to Greater Vancouver is permanent, while for others, this region may well be one stop in a larger life story of further global mobility.
These narratives of migration, including the vignettes below, also give us a sense of the different aspirations and desires that motivate people to move here. They make visible the political structures and histories that induce Filipinx global mobility and that shape how Filipinxs experience being here in Greater Vancouver as migrants. The dilation of economic opportunities in the Philippines, the desire for more opportunities elsewhere, the need to reunite with family and friends – these are some key aspects of our storytellers’ narratives of migration. Considered critically, they invite us to ask questions about the global unevenness of economic opportunities and the social structures and systems that require the separation of families and relationships in the first place.
“When I had to leave, I feel like I was doing a disservice to the nation.”
Claire Baguio: So, again you talked again, about how you consider like, your friends places, like all these people, like where you feel safe and secure? How do you feel like you’ve made a home here, like in Canada? Or do you feel like…maybe this is a loaded question, but do you want to go back to the Philippines?
Jasper Mallonga: Oh, yeah, it is a loaded question.
CB: Yeah, you don’t have to answer. I’m just curious, like the nature of this conversation, I’m just like, super curious.
JM: Oh, it’s totally fine. But to your first question, I feel like I have made myself a home in Canada, but I wouldn’t say so that I made it a home. I think a lot, a really big part of it was, you know, that I was with my parents and my siblings the entire time. And I feel like it would have been much more difficult to make a home, if it was, if it were just me. And that’s me basing it off the experiences of the other people that I know who are here on their own, whether, you know, they’re studying, or they moved alone, it’s much, it must have been a lot more difficult. So, yeah, I mean, I’m just recognizing that it’s an, it’s been an easy process for me.
And going home. That’s, that’s also something for me to think about, honestly, because sometimes, if I had the choice, if I wanted to go home right now, like to the Philippines, and, you know, stay there long term…I’ll also feel like I wouldn’t belong as much. Not not so much in terms of, you know, integration and whatnot. I can be, I can be there one day and not and pretend like, Canada never happened for me, I can, I can totally do that. But it’s like, I guess this goes back to the safety and security aspects of how I define what a home is. Because when I go back there, you know, I might be with the friends that I have really known as family all these years, but then I wouldn’t feel safe and secure in terms of like having a job, or being able to sustain myself while I’m there, is maybe the question. My dad is still there, and I have a few family friends who are there, maybe that will help me a little bit. But that’s more on the belongingness side of things, and not really that safety and security side.
CB: Like you can’t, you don’t feel like you’d be able to, like, build the life you want for years.
JM: Or maybe it’s just easier if I stayed here. Yeah, because, you know, I left the Philippines right after graduating, so I don’t have work connections. I still have my, you know, make connections from UP well might be wherever industries, but it doesn’t feel…I would feel like I’ll be starting from scratch if I went back now. But long run. I mean, I think one of the reasons I didn’t want to leave the Philippines in the first place is…there’s…I know the stories of the people there.
And this might be me leaning in more on my, on my advocacies. But before I left, I was working on this renewable energy project with a with people with a community from Aurora, which is like, very far, like an eight hour ride car ride from from Manila, and they’re on the other side of the Sierra Madre mountain ranges. So, they’re, they’re not connected to the electric grid at all. And so, they have to rely on other sources of electricity. And, you know, it’s it’s that part that really, people, some people still have don’t still don’t have access to reliable energy. And there’s not a lot of people working for for their sake. And also something that they instil in students in UP is that you know, “you’re a scholar of the nation.” Iskolar ng bayan. And being of service is a really big part of who you are, at least for me. And when I had to leave, I feel like I was doing a disservice to the nation kind of, kind of thing.
CB: Wow, really? Because like you weren’t able to continue that work while you were here.
JM: I wasn’t. Studying in UP is…like, the government pays a lot of expenses for you, you don’t really feel it, but like, it’s, it’s huge. And it’s, it’s partly that, but also like, knowing that there’s people who need your help, and you’re moving to a place to kind of, you know, sustain yourself. It feels like I’m betraying someone, or betraying the people and saying…
CB: Betraying the values that you learned at UP almost?
JM: Like literally the people who I’m leaving, you know? I mean, it’s very easy to say quality of life here is very different from there. And it feels unfair that I’m getting to enjoy this kind of life when some, many people back home are not, you know, they don’t even have electricity for God’s sake. And yeah, it’s…so long term, I still really want to be able to help as much as I can. And that maybe that’s also one of the things that I carry while I’m here. It’s like, how do I? How can I be of service? While I’m far away, still? Yeah, long term. That was the long plan.
“When I was living with a lot of Filipinos, I felt like, I didn’t have to question myself so much.”
Hannah Balba: “I was born in the Philippines. I was born in Manila. And both my parents are also Filipino. But in 2001, they decided to move to Canada, specifically Richmond BC as we had some connections in the city. So yeah, I lived in Richmond, basically all my life. I moved there in 2001, we moved to a very working class neighborhood called Colonial Drive. And that’s a part of I think, Seafair West Richmond area– That is, historically, there’s a lot of working class, new immigrants that settle in that neighborhood, because it’s a more affordable part of Richmond. So, yeah, growing up in Richmond was interesting, because I think, in the neighborhood that I lived in, there were actually a lot of Filipinos, because a lot of them are also newcomers, like our family. So I grew up with a lot of Filipinos in that sense, I think there was about maybe 9 or 10 Filipino families that I grew up with. And I’m still friends with a lot of them to this day. And so, I think, because we all grew up together, all of our parents kind of took care of each other, took care of us. I think being Filipino in Richmond, in that setting, I never really kind of felt isolated, just because I was around a lot of Filipinos all the time. But it wasn’t until you know, because I think Colonial Drive is a very, it’s a stepping stone for a lot of people, for a lot of newcomers. Because eventually, we all moved out of that neighborhood into different parts of Richmond. So I don’t see those Filipino families as much, but we’re still very much close. And we’re still very much friends. But I think when I moved out of that neighborhood, that was kind of when I started to feel … that’s when I started to feel a little bit different.”
Hannah Balba:“…when I was living with a lot of Filipinos, I I felt like, I didn’t have to question myself so much. I didn’t have to question my worth, I didn’t have to question my identity, because they just accepted me. Right? I didn’t have to prove anything. But then when I moved, yeah, but then when I, you know, moved to what we wanted, we all moved away. And when I because I think when I when we moved away, it was like, a very critical time in my life, like I was a teenager, right? I went from, you know, growing up with my childhood friends, and like, staying, and living with them and seeing them every day, to going into high school, and then not having them anymore. Like, it was a very you know, and it was a very, it was very jarring experience, to say the least, because we were all we were you know, like we could see each other every day. And we were also able to kind of commiserate on like, on like, on, you know, like how we did at school and then like, and just like having that support like that consistency. I think that having it having that consistency, you know, and not having and then not having that consistency anymore. Just really I think was really affected me a lot.”
“She couldn’t include me in her application. Because during that time, with the Immigration Refugee Protection Act, the definition of a spouse is someone you’re married to and of the opposite sex.”
Claire Baguio: All right. So, Tita Darla, tell me a little bit more about what it was like, for your partner to leave for many, many years and not be able to live together and how that influenced your migration.
Darla Tomeldan: Okay. All right. So, um, yeah, so you can see the work that we do today in Vancouver is influenced by immigration experience, right? Or lived immigration experience. So again, a little bit of background. So, Cecilia, and I met at University of the Philippines suppose in around 1980. And then, became more than just friends, two years later, continue to, then I have to say, Cecilia hates it. We’re now going 42 years.
CB: 42 years!
DT: Yeah, so, after university, we faced, you know, migration, migration policy hurdles. And we were forced into long distance relationship for many, many years. I ended up in the US and, as Cecilia had mentioned, she ended up in Canada. It was quite a distance. And so, it was kind of hard because you’re kind of like maintaining two separate households, unlike when couples live together. It was kinda hard. And being women, you know, the wage gap and all that. That’s also one impact, one hurdle that we had too. So, most of our- and mind you, there was no Skype at that time, no phone cards. So, our phone bills were humongous. Airline tickets, just to come visit each other. Right? On whatever salary we had. We were women, and again, a wage gap, right? You have to consider that. And airports were very lonely and sad places for us ‘cause one was staying, and one was leaving. Right? So, airports were very sad for us. And you know sometimes we’d say “oh one of these days, we’re going to be at an airport and both be going somewhere together, you know?” Yeah, and didn’t happen for so many years.
And in mind you, during that time, you know, they like…Cecilia had, you know, mentioned the struggles that she went through as a caregiver here. And it was hard because there were no cell phones at that time. She would go to a payphone outside in Canada in winter, you know, putting in quarters. Just being on the phone, right? It was hard. It was difficult, because I mean, how do I comfort her? I’m there, she’s here. And she’s dealing with all these issues here. And then, of course, I have many other issues that I had to deal with too, right, where I was at in San Francisco. But that went on for a while because, again, even when Cecilia got her permanent residence, she couldn’t include me in her application. Because during that time, with the Immigration Refugee Protection Act, the definition of a spouse is someone you’re married to and of the opposite sex. That was what the law was at that time. So, there was no way a person can sponsor or add into the application, a same sex sex partner. Now there was no same sex marriage at that time yet too.
CB: That’s true.
DT: In Canada, they were still debating it left and right. And when they did come up with a same sex marriage, it was provincial, depends on which province you’re at. So, it was only you know, in our lifetime a lot of changes happened. Same sex marriage became legal. But we were able to reunite in Canada and it was based on the humanitarian and compassionate grounds. Right? So, our application was very thick. And we had to prove to immigration that there was grounds for them, humanitarian compassionate grounds for them, to grant us permission to live together in Canada. As a gay couple. We were like the second couple, I think. We joined the Lesbian and Gay Immigration Task Force which was founded by Chris Morrissey, I’d like to mention that, and Bridget, may she rest in peace. They were both nuns. And they they were the founders of LEGIT, Lesbian and Gay Immigration Task Force. It was new at the time. So, we joined them and they, they taught us how to do our application, humanitarian and compassionate.
So, immigration was letting us in through the backdoor. Right? But humanitarian compassionate cases, they’re not all successful. It was a very low success rate. Okay. And it’s discretionary, depends on the immigration officer. Okay. Hopefully the immigration officer interviewing you got up on the right side of the bed, right? It’s discretionary. So yeah, I was able to come in through the humanitarian, compassionate grounds. That was in 1994, so it took a long time, but we finally got together. But we wanted it legislated. So, we continued with LEGIT, to organize and to lobby the government. Though Chris Morrissey and Bridget, they didn’t do humanitarian compassionate grounds, they went all the way to the Supreme Court.
CB: Really?
DT and Cecilia Tumolva: To change, to challenge the policy
CT: To challenge, change the law
DT:And then we continued lobbying the government saying that under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, we’re not defined as a family, and therefore your policy is discriminatory. People have, you know, the right to challenge whatever policy they think is discriminatory. Okay. So that went on for almost a decade. And then finally, in June, I believe of 2002, they changed the definition of spouse. This is immigration. They changed the definition of spouse to someone you’re married to or living common law of the opposite sex or same sex. So not only gay couples were included in the definition also heterosexual common law couples. So, it’s good for everybody.
CB: It’s great for everyone.
DT: So yeah, we didn’t only fight for LGBTQ rights, but for everybody with support, so…