Second-Generation Filipino Jews
Susan F. Quimpo: Tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up? What is your family like/ Did you grow up in a predominantly Filipino community?
Olivia Kardos: I grew up in New Jersey. When I was 12, we moved to Pennsylvania; then I attended college at UC Santa Cruz, then UCLA. My Dad is Hungarian Jewish. My Mom is Chinese-Filipino from Echague, Manila.
In New Jersey, my older brother and I went to a traditional Jewish school because the public school system was really bad. My Mom was very much against sending us to Catholic school. So we went to this Jewish school that was supposedly a good school. But by the time I left that school in the 7th grade, I hated it.
In my house, we really did not practice Judaism. Like, to this day, I probably know more about Judaism and Hebrew than my Dad. Because the school was very religious, we had to lie a lot. Like, you’re not supposed to be driving around during the Sabbath, but we did — so we had to lie about what we did on weekends.
My Mom would drive us to school, and she’d give us bacon and sausage sandwiches in the car for breakfast. And when we got to school, my brother and I would try to pick the bacon from our teeth before morning prayer. Then I just thought it was part of life, but when I got older, I really resented the school. That’s why to this day, I’m still not into organized religion.
Susan F. Quimpo: When did you first realize you were Filipino?
Olivia Kardos: I guess it was the first day of kindergarten at the Jewish school in New Jersey. And it wasn’t just skin color either. I remember my Mom dropped me off: She got me really excited; she built it (school) up trying to get me ready for it. I didn’t go to a preschool before that so it was my first formal school. I was expecting school to be fun. But when I got there, I was the only one who looked Asian, very Asian — bucked teeth, black hair with bangs. My brother was in the same school but he was older and I think was a little embarrassed by me.
Susan F. Quimpo: Did you experience overt manifestations of racism or discrimination?
Olivia Kardos: There was certainly racism in the Jewish school I went to. In Judaism, if you married a non-Jew, traditionally, he or she would have to convert to Judaism because it was taboo to marry outside the religion. My mom never did that and my Dad never expected her to. So every year the school principal would call our house to ask my Dad, “So did your wife convert yet?” And my Dad would say, “No and I’m not planning on it either.” And the principal would say, in a really nasty way, “So how much are you donating to the (school) fund this year?” I didn’t get financial aid even if I was qualified for it.
I remember that my brother Josef was barred from leading the morning prayers in school. You see, all the boys were looking forward to their bar mitzvah (a ceremony for admitting a Jewish boy as a member of the adult community, usually at the age of 13). After your bar mitzvah, you were given the honor to lead the morning prayers. It was a special chant, and Josef was really good at it; everyone thought he had a nice voice. One day, one of the teachers from the school, a Middle Eastern Jew, came to our house to talk to my parents. He said that all the teachers and students threatened to walk out of the morning prayers the following day if Josef were to lead it. He said it was because Josef and I were just “converted” Jews. We were the only converted Jews in the entire school. (Jewish lineage is passed through one’s mother, therefore Olivia and Josef had to be “converted” because their mother never became Jewish.) The teacher was sincerely apologetic and told my father he would support him if he decided to fight the school. My Dad was very angry and wanted to file a complaint. But my brother Josef didn’t want to attract more attention, so he told my father to let it go. But we all knew it was a big deal.
The kids at the school were mostly cool, it was just the parents and teachers. I remember one time, we were having a birthday party at home and this kid came over. In my house we did not eat kosher food. So my mom prepared paper plates because if you’re Jewish, you’re not supposed to eat off plates that had been served non-kosher food on. One mom sent her kid to our house with her own snacks, lunch and her own utensils. And the mom said, “So we won’t trouble you.” She had attitude about it. Who was she kidding? We’re not stupid!
Susan F. Quimpo: What made you decide to come to the Philippines and stay here for year of study at UP? Why was it time?
Olivia Kardos: I think of the value of context. I remember coming here for my Lolo’s funeral with my Mom and her siblings. And she was “Ate.” Her siblings just handed her their passports and plane tickets so she’d deal with all that at the airport. Some of her siblings are grandparents already — all very responsible adults in their 50s. Mom’s 64, and she’s not even a grandparent. And here they were, relying on her to be “Ate,” asking her to buy things for them in Quiapo. I remember they were picking a stone (lapida) for the grave, and after all the discussion and excitement, she just picked one and said, “Tapos na ang kuwento (End of the story)!” And everyone just gave in, and bowed their heads. And I said, “Yeah Mom!” It was so empowering to see her that way! I think, just living among white people, I saw her as more timid, more submissive. Everyone would say, oh your Mom is so cute. That’s nice, but it also has so many implications — that she’s Asian, submissive, docile. And here, she was so bold!
And everyday things — like walking on the street, I see this (street) kid who is seven years old and is a genius compared to me, simply because he knows how to survive. Maybe he can’t recite theories on race and class, but he could outsmart me in a second. So context, putting it all in context.
