You're a Sourdough Ube Chocolate Chip Muffin

You know the teenage "joke" of simply calling someone whatever they said last? Yeah, my husband never outgrew that phase of humor. It's a commonly heard thing in our household, yet today, I said, "Yes, I am, thanks!" Because the last thing I'd said was that I'd made sourdough ube chocolate chip muffins. And if that isn't just exactly me, I don't know what is. Because it's Filipino-American History Month, and I am typically left feeling like the ube flavoring I keep in my cupboard when this time rolls around:

A vastly different thing from its original form and an awfully long way from home, mixed in with ingredients that nobody is sure will turn out well.

I've mentioned before how I'm kind of a mutt, culturally speaking. I'm Hawaiian on my mom's side, Filipino on both sides, and something white mixed in there from both sides, too. I've had a pretty white upbringing, though my mom did try to make sure we had an idea of our Hawaiian culture growing up, when she could. But, despite having a grandfather who immigrated from the Philippines when he was an adult, I am very disconnected from that aspect of my heritage. Mostly, that's due to not knowing enough and having access to too few resources or other Filipino influences growing up.

Being such a mix of things, being so removed from the tastes, languages, arts, and stories of my blood was a very disconcerting and disheartening thing as a child. And it's still confusing and saddening as an adult. Being told I don't look how I'm "supposed" to, being asked why I don't speak any of my indigenous languages, being asked if I'm familiar with various dishes, being told I don't have "enough" blood percentage to deserve the same access as others, being excluded from cultural experiences and lacking those tethering memories . . . All of it tends to add up to a person who might not even want to try to learn after a certain point.

But I'm trying, in small ways.

I have struggled and continue to try to learn how my (riot of) cultures speak/think. I'm always down to taste foods when I can find them. I like to try out traditional recipes when I can. I'm searching for old stories that can give such a detailed perspective on a culture's development and history. And some things are easier to find or access. But there's still so much I have no way of connecting with or understanding without a lot of help and proximity.

I'm not the first person to be disillusioned with the diasporic experience, and I'll certainly not be the last. But what I didn't fully realize in childhood is all too apparent now. And if the closest I can get is a bit of flavoring that's never going to be the fully realized thing? I sometimes have to be content with those scraps of culture that I can incorporate when and where I can. Which is why, in the grand scheme of things . . . Yeah, some days I am just a weird amalgamation of sourdough discard, flavored with ube, chock-full of chocolate chips, and baked into muffins.