a collaboration
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Two Women
This is a mother - daughter collaboration which tells stories of their past and present lives as Filipino Americans. The global diaspora weaves many narratives of Filipino lives, this is our story. Oral history, written word, artistic expressions and ethnic identity development work are part of a collaboration we are calling "Mga Kwento, Many Stories". Timelines in Development
MOTHER WWII. Jungle Birth. Childhood. Education. Artist. Teacher. Marriage. Motherhood. Martial Law. Resistance. Immigration. Assimilation. Introspection. Art DAUGHTER Birth. Martial Law. Dictatorship. Immigration. Freedom. Assimilation. Education. Identity Diffusion. Resistance. Immersion. Introspection. Awareness. Acceptance. Articulation. |
About Me
When I was a young child, newly arrived in North America, my parents tucked my brother and me into bed each night. My father would kamut (scratch) our backs to lull us to sleep, while my mother told us stories—fairy tales of jungle people and witches, and memories of her imaginative, unstructured childhood in a small city on the island of Mindanao. These were oral stories, passed down from her parents and older siblings.
As newly transplanted tropical people, the novelty of winter—its chill, snowflakes, and blizzards—kept us homebound in Canada. My parents filled our home with the warmth of Filipino cuisine, stories from tropical islands, and a quiet, steadfast love expressed through their care and generosity. Like many immigrant families, our survival was shaped by love, hard work, sacrifice, adaptation, perseverance, mobility, an appreciation of the natural world, and intellectual curiosity. It wasn’t until adulthood that I began to fully understand the complexity of our lives. It is through this evolving lens that I continue to piece together our family story.
In mid-August 2017, during a time of heightened division and overt expressions of hatred, white nationalists marched through the University of Virginia campus chanting, “You will not replace us” and “Jews will not replace us.” Even from afar, I felt frightened. I was on vacation with my husband and children in Martha’s Vineyard, and part of me wanted to remain sheltered, to hold onto that sense of safety a little longer. But the reality of what was happening—what has long been happening—felt inescapable as we traveled back to Boston, where another “Free Speech” rally was gathering.
While scrolling through my Facebook feed on the ferry ride home, I came across Brené Brown’s response to Charlottesville. As a social worker, I often turn to her work for guidance. She spoke about the importance of “owning our story”: “The power of owning our story gives us a chance to write the ending. If we don’t own our story, the story owns us.” (2017)
This collaboration is a gathering of years of work—my mother, Lewanda Lim, as an artist, and my own work as an adult and child psychotherapist with a special interest in racial identity development, bicultural identity, and the impact of immigration on families, children, and relationships. Mga Kwento—“many stories”—begins with owning our part of the story, sharing it with a wider community, and embracing it as a way to empower immigrant voices in America.
I look forward to this journey of exploration and growth.
Aimée
When I was a young child, newly arrived in North America, my parents tucked my brother and me into bed each night. My father would kamut (scratch) our backs to lull us to sleep, while my mother told us stories—fairy tales of jungle people and witches, and memories of her imaginative, unstructured childhood in a small city on the island of Mindanao. These were oral stories, passed down from her parents and older siblings.
As newly transplanted tropical people, the novelty of winter—its chill, snowflakes, and blizzards—kept us homebound in Canada. My parents filled our home with the warmth of Filipino cuisine, stories from tropical islands, and a quiet, steadfast love expressed through their care and generosity. Like many immigrant families, our survival was shaped by love, hard work, sacrifice, adaptation, perseverance, mobility, an appreciation of the natural world, and intellectual curiosity. It wasn’t until adulthood that I began to fully understand the complexity of our lives. It is through this evolving lens that I continue to piece together our family story.
In mid-August 2017, during a time of heightened division and overt expressions of hatred, white nationalists marched through the University of Virginia campus chanting, “You will not replace us” and “Jews will not replace us.” Even from afar, I felt frightened. I was on vacation with my husband and children in Martha’s Vineyard, and part of me wanted to remain sheltered, to hold onto that sense of safety a little longer. But the reality of what was happening—what has long been happening—felt inescapable as we traveled back to Boston, where another “Free Speech” rally was gathering.
While scrolling through my Facebook feed on the ferry ride home, I came across Brené Brown’s response to Charlottesville. As a social worker, I often turn to her work for guidance. She spoke about the importance of “owning our story”: “The power of owning our story gives us a chance to write the ending. If we don’t own our story, the story owns us.” (2017)
This collaboration is a gathering of years of work—my mother, Lewanda Lim, as an artist, and my own work as an adult and child psychotherapist with a special interest in racial identity development, bicultural identity, and the impact of immigration on families, children, and relationships. Mga Kwento—“many stories”—begins with owning our part of the story, sharing it with a wider community, and embracing it as a way to empower immigrant voices in America.
I look forward to this journey of exploration and growth.
Aimée
