Moving to another country is already difficult enough.
For many Filipino families, the challenge doesn’t end once they land in a new place—it simply changes shape. The struggle shifts from physical relocation to emotional: learning how to build a life in a culture that doesn’t always mirror the one they left behind. However, a quieter struggle unfolds beneath the surface, one that is rarely discussed. It’s the slow, subtle fear of losing culture.
For youth growing up in Canada, far away from the motherland, they often find themselves navigating a cultural in-between. Research describes this as ‘bicultural identity negotiation’ which is the constant shifting between Filipino expectations at home and Western norms outside of it.
There is a Filipino proverb that captures the feeling of home and belonging: “Bisan asa ka pa moadto, ang imong kasingkasing mobalik ra gayud sa panimalay.” which means “No matter where you go, your heart will always return home.”
But for many in the diaspora, “home” is a complicated place.
At home, Filipino youth often follow traditional expectations—showing respect, helping out, and staying reserved around elders. But in school and social settings, they shift toward the more independent and outspoken behaviours encouraged in Canadian culture.
Chantal Ladrazo Corpuz, a Filipino-Canadian photographer born and raised in Ontario (source: chantalladrazo.ca)
Chantal Ladrazo Corpuz, a Toronto-born Filipino-Canadian photographer and nursing student, described this feeling clearly. Growing up, she said she always sensed she didn’t fully fit into either world.
“I feel like I wasn’t purely Filipino because I was born in Canada…you’re not FOB (fresh off the boat) or anything, but you’re just a Canadian Filipino, and you can just feel that,” she said. Even within Filipino spaces, she sometimes felt judged for not speaking the language fluently. She recalled moments at her uncle’s business when older Filipinos would approach her in Tagalog.
“They’ll talk to me in Tagalog, but I’m just like, I can’t understand you fully. They look at me and they’re like, okay, whatever,” said Corpuz. That small dismissal stayed with her, an experience that most second-generation Filipinos understand too well. This disconnect isn’t accidental.
A York University study found that many Filipino parents who immigrated to Canada intentionally prioritized English over Tagalog or their regional languages, hoping strong English skills would protect their children from discrimination and help them succeed in school. Because of this, the language gap so many Filipino‑Canadian youth feel isn’t a personal failure—it’s the result of survival shaped by racism, assimilation pressures, and parents’ hopes for a “better life.”
The tension of navigating these expectations isn’t exclusive to Filipino spaces. For example, Puerto Rican artist Bad Bunny’s NFL Super Bowl halftime performance sparked a wave of commentary about language, belonging, and who gets to be considered ‘American enough’. His use of Spanish on one of the biggest stages in the world was celebrated by many as a bold affirmation of immigrant identity, but it also drew backlash from people who questioned why a typical English-speaking audience should have to engage with another language.
(Bad Bunny holding his three Grammy awards, 2026 (Credit: Bad Bunny’s Instagram @badbunnypr)
During his Grammy win, he used his platform to push back against xenophobia with pride and openness. “The hate gets more powerful with more hate. The only thing that is more powerful than hate is love,” said the singer. Yet the criticism didn’t fully disappear.
This kind of rhetoric mirrors the pressures Filipino-Canadian youth face—the expectation to assimilate. For Chantal, preserving her culture is through the small rituals of her day-to-day life. “At home with my boyfriend, who’s Palestinian, I always try to cook Filipino dishes,” she said, adding that she eats Filipino food most of the week because it’s what she’s familiar with.
“I try to learn Tagalog, it’s been really going well so far, just speaking with my family.”
In conclusion, it’s not about perfect pronunciation or knowing every tradition by heart, but rather the pieces of culture that stay with a person. Like Chantal, making small, deliberate choices like learning a few more words every day, cooking familiar dishes, and holding onto stories, is how culture continues to live and evolve.
At the end of the day, it’s about the ways we carry our culture even when we’re far from where it began—that in itself is an act of preservation.
