Motherland, I am your borders. I am full of borders crossed over and over again. Rigid lines separating my dark brown skin to my American tongue to my too stout with no bridge and my ilong (1) love for vinegar with my longanisa (2) and bangus (3) . I have cracks and fissures...

  Moving from the Philippines to America was an experience for me. I was about nine years old, knew little about the world beyond my culture at the time and the transition from a third world country to a first world was brand new. I remembered receiving benefits that were nonexistent...