There are several issues which come with being married to a white man and you are living in the Philippines (or perhaps in my case, Cebu City).
I will write three of them in this entry.
One, there is the immediate judgment from most people that I have hit the jackpot prize because white complexion is equivalent to dollars, which basically means I married a rich guy.
I can only count five people who told me that my husband is lucky to have me as his wife. The rest of the commenters of my marriage, the line “Swerteha nimo sa imong bana uy kay Amerikano!” is a default reaction.
I am so used to hearing it that I know exactly which part in the conversation this line would be uttered.
Not that I am not swerte with Jeff.
I am.
I really am.
But oftentimes, I wish these people would also ask me what I do for a living or what I think about the government’s war against drugs, not just classify me as a white guy’s wife.
The second issue revolves on the children.
People tell me that my children will become movie stars or super models like Anne Curtis and Solenn Heussaff because, like their daddy, they are white, hence beautiful, hence bankable in the entertainment scene.
While there are companies and brands pushing for the morena beauty, there is still a prevailing belief that white is superior and is more beautiful than brown. I invite you, dear readers, to list down the TV commercials and advertisements which, if not bluntly, sends this message in a subliminal way.
Third issue?
The taxi drivers.
Those who told me that they will double the charge because I am with a foreigner. Those who asked probing questions about how I met my husband and how I plan to siphon his wealth. Those who aggressively demanded that I pay them 600 pesos for a one-way trip from SM City Cebu to Liloan because “unlike us, you are blessed with dollars.”
Then, there are taxi drivers like Boy Tabada of Micaella Taxi, a good-mannered man who told me his opinion about the war in Mindanao and the current government’s agenda.
We were inside his cab for over an hour as he drove from Consolacion to Lahug, and he was courteous and kind. He answered my husband’s questions in near-perfect English. He was nice to the man who was selling bottled water on the streets. Most importantly, he followed traffic rules.
I dropped off my husband at the Mormon Temple in Lahug, and he asked if I am a member. I told him I am Catholic. He said he is Christian but does not go to a particular church. We agreed about the importance of accepting and loving people no matter their religion, race, or color.
Noting my wealth of negative experiences on taxi drivers, you cannot blame me for being defensive every time I get inside a cab with Jeff.
But meeting a taxi driver like Boy Tabada, a first in such a long time, had me appreciate what was happening outside of the cab’s window.
For the first time in a long time, I was relaxed and was treated by a taxi driver with respect, the way every woman should be treated.
I was not just a white guy’s girl.
The Department of Tourism and all other concerned agencies need to constantly emphasize to taxi operators and drivers the value of respect, sensitivity and kindness. It is a basic trait. Sadly, basic is hard to make of these days.
Boy Tabada is a shining example of superb customer service.
Boy, perhaps there is a way they can clone you.
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