Video by Bessie Liu

Story by Amanda Perez Pintado

Blankets of snow covered the desolate sidewalks on Main Street in Nashua, New Hampshire. The sun was out, but the chilly air prickled the skin. Nearby, residents sought refuge from the bitter 20 degree cold in Nashua Public Library. 

In the library’s basement, an area designated for activities, Martha Alvarado spoke to a group of about a dozen Latin American immigrants like herself. On Saturdays, she dictates a citizenship preparation class. 

“I started to get people motivated to become American citizens, teaching them also why voting is important, why it’s important to have the blue United States passport,” said Alvarado, 53, in Spanish. “Because with that one has more commitment with our nation, more commitment with oneself.”

Alvarado migrated from Colombia to the U.S. 20 years ago and moved to Nashua in 2010. She became a U.S. citizen in 2009, and she believes it is important for immigrants to make their vote count during Tuesday’s Democratic presidential primaries. Her vote will go to billionaire activist Tom Steyer. 

“What is more beautiful than becoming an American citizen and voting?” she said. “Voting is very important. If we stay in this country it’s because we like the democratic system, we like politics here, the possibility of working.”

New Hampshire’s primaries are decisive for the Democratic Party’s battle for the presidential nomination. The primaries in the north-eastern state follow the polemic Iowa causes, whose official results were announced late Sunday night. 

The voters in the last midterm elections were the most ethnically and racially diverse ever, according to Pew Research Center. In 2018, the number of naturalized-citizen voters nearly reached 10 million, almost equaling the 10.8 million naturalized citizens that voted in the 2016 presidential elections. 

Among the 11 Democratic presidential hopefuls, Steyer is Alvarado’s first choice because of his policies on education and climate, particularly his promise of declaring state of emergency to tackle climate change if elected. 

She hopes whoever prevails in November will make immigration his or her priority and propell reforms that will protect DACA recipients and provide an easier path for undocumented immigrants to become citizens. 

 Eva Castillo, director of New Hampshire Alliance for Immigrants and Refugees, has dedicated most of her life to advocating for immigrants. She arrived in the U.S. from Venezuela in 1975 and moved to New Hampshire in the early 1980s. 

Sitting at a table in a Mexican restaurant in downtown Manchester, Castillo said there were few Latinos when she first moved to the Granite State, but has noticed that the Latino population has grown in the past years.

Those who identify as Hispanic or Latino makeup 3.9 percent of New Hampshire’s 1,359,711 citizens, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. White residents make up 93 percent of the population, making it the least racially diverse of the early caucuses and primary states. 

Castillo, 63, said the Democratic Party has taken Latino voters for granted. 

“They don’t really put much of an effort to reach out to the Latinos, and they feel like we’re going to vote for them because what is the alternative?” she said. “But I am tired of voting for the lesser of two evils because evil is still evil. And they’re really not doing much for us as it is.”

She said the Democratic candidates have not made immigration a priority during their campaigns. In fact, the issue was absent from the debate stage in New Hampshire last Friday. 

“They have the policies, but nobody has made it a special subject in their campaigns,” said Castillo. “They will answer questions if we ask them, but both in the debates they don’t really make an issue out of immigration, which is really frustrating and pretty sad to leave so many millions of people out of the picture.” 

To get Latin American immigrants involved in the elections, Castillo argued, campaigns should hire bilingual staff and people of color, the campaigns’ literature should be available in Spanish. 

No matter who wins the nomination, Castillo said, the aim for the upcoming presidential elections should be to vote out Trump. 

“I hope everybody supports the winning candidate and that the Democratic Party realizes that the goal is to eventually defeat Trump and that we cannot start bickering about whose candidate is better,” said Castillo. “I don’t want to repeat what happened in the previous election.”

Michael Zhang and Suhu Liu attended last Saturday’s Democratic Party dinner in an arena in downtown Manchester to see which candidate has what it takes to beat Trump. The couple and their children walked through a swarm of potential voters and candidates’ supporters and stopped at a table with tech entrepreneur Andrew Yang’s campaign.

Zhang and Liu migrated from China in 2006, and their two children were born in the U.S. 

For Zhang, 45, policies and personal character are a determining factor in winning the presidential election. The family’s top pick is Yang. 

“We like Andrew Yang very much,” said Liu, 44. “We feel like we will vote for someone who most likely has a chance.” 

Sandra Almonte, owner of the restaurant Don Quijote in Manchester, said Trump has helped improve the economy and her business has flourished since he took office. She does not agree, however, with his stance on issues such as immigration and hopes he gets voted out.  

Sandra Almonte, 48, immigrated to the U.S. from the Dominican Republic. Her top Democratic presidential candidates are Joe Biden and Sen. Elizabeth Warren. Photo by Bessie Liu

Almonte arrived in the U.S. from the Dominican Republic in 1998 and she has owned the restaurant for almost 20 years. She employs 12 people, all of whom are immigrants too. 

Speaking over the sounds of bachata and merengue coming from a jukebox, Almonte, 48, said her favorite candidates are Joe Biden and Sen. Elizabeth Warren.

“I like Joe Biden’s experience when he was with the Obama administration,” she said. “I really don’t follow politics much so I don’t know all the different details that they have, but I like for what Elizabeth Warren stands for, and I’d love to see a combination of them run our country.” 

Deepa Mangalat, 55, is a volunteer and community worker in Nashua, New Hampshire. She will vote to get President Donald Trump out of office. Photo by Amanda Perez Pintado

Deepa Mangalat refused to say Trump’s name. She was terrified when he became the Republican nominee in 2016, and she fears that he will remain in office four more years if Democrats “don’t get their act together.”

“It’s voter apathy that got us to this place,” said Mangalat, 55. “It’s because people did not vote.” 

Mangalat migrated from India and has lived in Nashua for 30 years. She has worked in the city as a volunteer and community worker. 

During the last Democratic primaries, her candidate was Sen. Bernie Sanders, but this time around she is undecided. She said, however, that she would like to see a woman in the White House. 

One thing is for certain: Mangalat will vote for the eventual nominee to get Trump out of office. 

“Nobody can be as bad as the one sitting in the White House, nobody,” she said.

 Bessie Liu and Amanda Perez Pintado are students in the Reporting the Nation/NY in Multimedia concentration

The post Immigrant voters in New Hampshire gear up for the primaries appeared first on Pavement Pieces.

Among the enthusiastic campaign followers braving the cold were immigrants for whom American elections hold special appeal.

Jeffrey Zhang was shouting at the top of his lungs at the far end of a cascade of Yang supporters while carrying his wife’s checkered purse. “In 2016, you know, I was a Trump supporter,’ said the first-generation immigrant from Shanghai, China, who came to the U.S. with his parents in 1987. “But he doesn’t care about the working poor. He doesn’t care about colleges with high tuition. He only helps the super super-rich corporation to become richer and richer.”

Zhang, who works at a nursing home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, drove to Manchester with his wife just to voice his support for Andrew Yang. “Yang is the only person among these candidates who understands 21st century technology,” Zhang argued. “Right now, 60 percent of people have less than $500 in their bank. Seventy percent of American people don’t have $2,000 to repair cars. Donald Trump did not cut the cake fairly.” Zhang added that he voted for Trump four years ago because as a proud Christian, he had hoped that Trump would build a Third Temple in Israel.

Mohammad Mustak has lived in Nashua since 2013. Originally from Burma, Mustak is a Rohingya who lived in Malaysia for 17 years as a refugee before resettling to the U.S. thanks to an arrangement by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

Back in Burma, Mustak was first able to enroll in university because his father worked for the government. Towards his graduation, the administration found out he was Rohingya and refused to give him a certificate. He was then accused of making fake documents to go to college and was sent to jail for three months. To escape the genocide of Rohingya people in Burma, Mustak fled from country to country, including a month living in the jungle of Thailand.

In addition to being a part-time interpreter who speaks Burmese and Malay, Mustak works as a case manager at the non-profit Building Community in New Hampshire, which helps immigrants and refugees get access to healthcare, employment and education. He also founded the Rohingya Society of Greater Nashua and currently serves as the executive director.

Mustak became a citizen two years ago and this year will be the first time he gets to vote in the elections. “I already endorsed Bernie, like publicly,” he said. Mustak met the Vermont Senator in person at three events last year. “Bernie looks like he is my guy because he’s not a rich guy,” Mustak continued. “He has a long history of fighting for everybody.”

Mohammad Mustak and Sen. Bernie Sanders  at Nashua Community College, in September 2019. Photo by Mohammad Mustak.

Mustak said he talked to Senator Sanders about the genocide in Burma as well as international policy at large. “Almost three years we don’t have our community resettling to the U.S.,” he said. “So it looks like nobody is coming.” He added that there’s a lot the U.S. government can do to live up to its reputation as a welcoming place for refugees.

Sandra Pratt, a friend of Mustak and an immigrant from Curitiba, Brazil, who is undecided, says she wouldn’t support a candidate who wants to welcome all refugees and immigrants. “I don’t think that would work because we have a lot to do for the people that are already here,” she said.

Pratt came to the U.S. 20 years ago with the initial goal of learning English before going back to Brazil to finish her master’s degree in gerontology. She then married an American man and decided to stay. She left her husband after five years when he became verbally and physically abusive, and remarried in 2011. Fluent in English, Spanish and Portuguese, she is now a trilingual service coordinator for individuals with developmental disabilities at Gateways Community Services.

Sandra Pratt, an immigrant from Brazil  is an undecided voter. Photo by Hoa P. Nguyen

Pratt made clear that she didn’t dislike immigrants — she is an immigrant herself. “But too much is too much and too much freedom is not good,” she said. Pratt is, however, an advocate for immigrants’ rights to education and employment opportunities. She believes that immigrants should be able to get social security numbers and tax IDs so that they can work and pay taxes. Pratt also cares about access to reliable transportation, which is one of the biggest issues in areas like Nashua, where some aren’t able to drive and without a public transportation system, it’s difficult for them to get to work, to school and wherever they want to go.

Pratt is also concerned about the discrimination facing immigrants, particularly young children at school. “I feel like the kids are discriminated against because they’re not legal in this country, so they don’t get all the support that they need at the school,” Pratt said.

As Democratic candidates convened in New Hampshire to round up their voters ahead of the primary, Pratt is still taking her time to consider. “I see flashes here flashes there, things here and there, but I’m not sure yet,” she said.

Hoa P. Nguyen is a graduate student in the Magazine and Digital Storytelling concentration.

The post Who Has the Immigrant Vote in the New Hampshire Primary? appeared first on Pavement Pieces.

Friends and supporters of Ravi Ragbir gathered on the front steps of the Federal Plaza in Lower Manhattan yesterday morning to stand in solidarity with the Trinidadian immigrant who was being forced to present himself for a second yearly “check-in” with ICE.

Led by Rabbi Joshua Stanton, the group also protested what they called the racist policies affecting immigrants and organizations that support them.

“We are here fighting for justice, fighting for the rights of immigrants across our city,” said Rabbi Staton. “And we are here because we are moved by our faith traditions, by our ethical framework, and by our love for a person who has become a true leader in our city in so many ways.”

Ragbir is the executive director of the New Sanctuary Coalition of New York City who legally immigrated to New York in the early 90s. The Coalition works to protect the rights of immigrants and help them oppose deportation. In 2000, Ragbir was convicted of wire fraud, a charge that warrants deportation in most cases, but until recently, he had been granted temporary stays because of his work and family.

This is the second year the group has gathered to support him. Last year he came face to face with the possibility of being deported after being detained at his check-in, but ultimately was not.

The gathering started in a rally-like fashion, with speaker after speaker showing their support for Ragbir and calling for the crowd to join them. Savitri Durkee, an activist with the Stop Shop Choir, led the crowd in singing the freedom song, “Woke Up This Morning” before other choir members took the lead with “We Got the Beat of Freedom.”

“We will sing Ravi-lujah,” said Durkee.

And sing Ravi-lujah they did.

As the echoes of their songs began to fade, Ragbir left the group to face his check-in and Rabbi Stanton called for the crowd to prepare for a Jericho Walk around the building.

“We are going to begin our Jericho walk, showing with our bodies, with our hearts, with our spirits, that we will stand with Ravi,” said Rabbi Stanton. “That we are here today in support of immigrants and that we care.”

A Jericho Walk is a sort of prayer walk derived from the biblical walk that God instructed the Israelites to make around the walls of Jericho in Joshua 6. Today, those gathered formed a single file line and marched, without saying a word, in front of the United States Customs Court and Federal Building and around the entire building.   

The silent line of protestors stretches around the front of the U.S. Customs building  in a “Jericho Walk.”  Photo by Samantha Springer.

In the crisp morning air, they hoped their silence spoke volumes.

Barbara Young immigrated to the United States from Barbados in 1993. This morning, she came out to show her support for her friend Ravi Ragbir, but had to step out of the Jericho Walk after the first lap, her knee replacements preventing her from continuing her march. For her, being here to show her support is personal.

“I know him personally,” said Young. “I was involved with a local organization of domestic workers here in New York, and he was an organizer in the social justice movement. He came to our organization to speak to the women and give the support they needed at that time. Today, I am very sad at what’s going on.”

She is not sure what the future holds for immigrants and others like Ragbir who she, and many of the others gathered, believe are being targeted for their activism in immigration politics, but moments like this morning restore some of her hope in the solidarity of the movement.

“I’m here with a heavy heart,” said Young. “But it kind of lifted my spirit to know, when I see how many people are standing here with him today, to know that I can come out and support him.”

Protestors from an organization in Arizona called No More Deaths also participated. Holding signs that read “Water not Walls” and cardboard cut-outs of water jugs, these men and women demonstrated their outrage at the decision made by a federal court in Tucson on January 18th to convict volunteers who left water in the desert for migrants.

John Washington from No More Deaths took the microphone and spoke of the charges.

“Four of our volunteers…” said Washington, “just a couple weeks ago were charged and convicted of littering for leaving water out on particularly brutal stretches of western Arizona deserts.”

According to Washington, another one of their volunteers, Scott Warren, was charged for allegedly harboring migrants and faces up to 20 years in prison.

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College March Empowers First Generation Students from Pavement Pieces on Vimeo.

Every year, on the second Friday in December, high school seniors from across the country march their application materials through their communities to a local post office or mail truck. The College March began in 2011 at NYC Outward Bound’s network school, the Washington Heights Expeditionary Learning School (WHEELS). In one year, participation spread throughout the network and continues to grow annually. It is a day that allows students to enthusiastically approach the college application process, rather than feel intimidated.

This year, over 2,700 seniors will march at 35 schools across 12 cities.

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Eighty-one-year-old Liu, or “Grandpa Liu”, as other tenants call him, has been living here for two months. He shares a cubicle with another man and pays $195 per month for rent. For him, moving around is the norm.

“We either don’t speak English, or are undocumented, so we cannot sign leases,” said Liu. “When I first came here, I found a place on Delancey Street, eight of us shared a one-bedroom apartment. I lived there for two years, and then the person who signed the lease was gone. All of us had to move out. It’s like this every time.”

Chinese are the second most undocumented immigrants in the country.

Mae Lee, the executive director of Chinese Progressive Association, said that many of the houses in Chinatown actually don’t have leases because the landlords never offer them one.

Mae Lee, the executive director of Chinese Progressive Association, said that many of the houses in Chinatown actually don’t have leases because the landlords never offer. Photo by Ellie Miao

“There is a language barrier of course, but many of the migrants also don’t know their rights and don’t know about leases. Especially those who are undocumented, they are more vulnerable,” said Lee. “ I’ve heard cases in which the landlords threatened to turn in the undocumented tenants to the government.”
Liu has moved so many times over the years that he couldn’t name every one of them. He remembers living in three places on Broome Street, the longest stay was seven years, and the shortest was two weeks.

“Rent should be one third of your income, that is the national standard of how you can live comfortably. But in Chinatown the rent is roughly the same as the median household income, which is $2700,” said Lee. “For many migrants, Chinatown is the first place where they come to live. They have nothing and they are paid poorly, but there is just not enough affordable housing in here.”

According to the Asian American Federation of New York Census Information Center’s research, almost one third of the Chinese in New York City live below the poverty line, many do not speak English and have never finished high school. This contributes to living conditions like at 81 Bowery.

No private bathroom, no kitchen and no stove make daily life very hard in 81 Bowery. Liu only cooks once a day and saves the food in the tiny fridge for the rest of the day.

Liu has lived in New York City for 17 years. He grew up in Southern China’s Fujian Province, which is where most Chinese migrants in New York are from. His son was the first one in the family who immigrated to America, followed by his two daughters. Liu and his ex wife, whom he divorced 35 years ago, were the last to come.

“Seventeen years ago, I was still strong enough to work,” said Liu. “Now I’m too old.”
He worked in a nail salon owned by a guy he knew back in Fujian, until five years ago. Now he has a green card, the government gives him $500 per month’s subsidy.

“I have no family here in New York. My son and daughters are in Connecticut,” said Liu. But he would rather stay in New York than living with them in Connecticut. “They all have their own families now.”
Liu is proud of his families. “My biggest grandson is a college graduate,” he said. “He is an engineer and he makes decent money; unlike me, I’m illiterate, I never went to school.” However, Liu said he hadn’t talked to him for years, not even over the phone.

Liu’s best friend in 81 Bowery is Jiang, a 37-year-old construction worker. Jiang has been here for seven years, and never got married. “I live here because it’s cheap,” said Jiang, “I’m still paying back my stowaway fee to the ‘snakehead’.”

Snakehead refers to the infamous Chinese gangsters in New York City who help people enter America illegally. Most of the money Jiang made over the years has been paid to his snakehead, so he has no savings. He lives in a cubicle by himself and pays $250 per month.

Liu is moving out again in late February, to temporarily stay with his friend in Flushing, Queens before going back to China for a visit. He has no idea where to live when he comes back to New York.

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By Ilaria Parogni

In the 45th District of the New York State Assembly, Russian votes are a hot commodity.

This is, after all, the heart of Brighton Beach, that little corner of New York that is all borscht and matryoshka dolls, where one is more likely to hear “nyet” than “no” and “privyet” than “hello.” It is here that Steven Cymbrowitz, lower house representative for the district since 2000, will face the Russian American Ben Akselrod in the Nov. 4 elections.

Under these circumstances, transcending language barriers becomes essential – both for the voters and for the politicians. This might explain why Cymbrowitz is simultaneously engaged in what he defines as an “ongoing battle” with the New York State Board of Elections, which has consistently opposed his campaign to translate voting materials into Russian due to the financial cost it would entail.

Ensuring that elections are accessible to Russian speakers, however, is crucial in Cymbrowitz’s district, which comprises some of the neighborhoods with the highest concentration of Russian-speaking immigrants in the country, from Brighton Beach to Sheepshead Bay. “What we want to do is getting as many people to vote as possible. If language makes it easier for them to partake in the American system of voting, then we should do everything we can. We should encourage people to vote,” the assemblyman says.

The American Community Survey (ACS) estimates that 83,249 people born in Russia resided in New York State in 2013. Among them, 62,021 held U.S. citizenship. Russian is the fourth most spoken language in the state, after English, Spanish and Chinese. Yet, more than half of the Russian population cannot be considered fluent in English.

Under federal law, this is not enough for Russian speakers to obtain language support during election time. According to Section 203 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, minority language assistance, from translated ballots to on-site interpreters, is provided in accordance with the determinations of the U.S. Census Bureau. In 2011, the bureau identified Spanish, Korean, Chinese and Bengali as the four groups qualifying for assistance for the state of New York. Yet, naturalized Koreans are fewer than Russians with U.S. citizenship and are more likely to be proficient in English, according to the ACS.

If the integration of the Russian community into the electoral process is truly the aim of Cymbrowitz’s campaign, he seems to be in tune with the most politically and socially active Russian Americans in New York. Having taken to heart the objective of increasing engagement among their highly insulated community, various organizations and people work daily to overcome the language barriers.

Russian-language radio channels, such as Davidzon Radio, keep the Russian American community informed with political analysis programs, while civic engagement seminars and English language classes are offered by organizations such as Shore Front Y, a Jewish community center with a significant Russian component. Their efforts might just be paying off: In talking with numerous Russian speakers in the district, not a single one expressed unease at taking part in the electoral process due to language difficulties.

Nevertheless, Cymbrowitz has turned the language access issue into a significant part of his political agenda. In 2012, he supported a bill that would have required the city of New York to translate into Russian “all information that is provided […] in English about the electoral process,” including ballots and registration documents. Governor Andrew M. Cuomo later vetoed the bill on the recommendation of the general counsel of the Board of Elections in the City of New York, Steven H. Richman, who opposed the measure citing financial difficulties.

“We thought that this would be the beginning of translating all the documents into Russian, but the New York City Board of Elections said that (it) didn’t have money to do the translation,” Cymbrowitz recalls. The bill was an expansion of a 2009 measure, also sponsored by the assemblyman, which was signed into law by Governor David Paterson and which mandated the provision of electoral information online and in print.

Cymbrowitz is not alone in calling for ballots and registration forms to be made available in Russian. In March 2013, Bill de Blasio, now New York’s mayor, urged Frederic M. Umane, president of the New York City Board of Elections executive office, to prioritize the translating of ballots, signs and other materials in Brooklyn into the language. “Failing to provide this growing population with voting materials in Russian has the potential to disenfranchise thousands of voters,” he wrote in a letter to Umane.

Vladimir Epshteyn, president of the Russian-American Voters Educational League, has joined the campaign for passage of the 2012 bill. “Every year we are asking… we are demanding the assembly and the state senate to allocate money to implement the decision,” he says.

Epshteyn has been involved in civic initiatives in New York since 1997. Every year he and a team of volunteers translate electoral materials into Russian.

Similarly, Dmitri Glinski, president of the Russian-Speaking Community Council of Manhattan & the Bronx, testified in August in front of the New York City Campaign Finance Board’s Voter Assistance Advisory Committee. He asked the board to apply the provisions envisioned in the 2012 bill and described the language barrier as “the biggest challenge to Russian speakers’ voter participation.”

Consideration of the elderly often is at the center of this advocacy. For many immigrants from the former Soviet Union, the English-language proficiency requirement for citizenship was waived under medical and age exemptions. Others passed the test, but, having settled in a heavily Russian-speaking district, they rarely had the chance to practice their English.

“Most of these things we are trying to do as per language are for our seniors,” Cymbrowitz says.

Walking around the district, however, one might get a different impression. Ivetta Popechenko, a Russian-speaking senior citizen, says she will absolutely take part in the elections. Does she speak English? “Not at all,” she says. “If I don’t understand something, I have children who speak perfectly, and they will help me.”

Sofia Goroshek, a retiree from Moldova who has lived in New York for the past 22 years, says that the language of the voting materials “basically doesn’t matter.”

Politicians often find alternative ways to reach out to the community. Some hire campaign staff keeping in mind the Russian constituency. Cymbrowitz boasts full-time Russian-speaking staff, while also sending out all of his campaign literature and newsletters in both Russian and English.

Elections may be competitive, but politicians and activists seem to have found common ground in their attempt to accommodate the Russian-speaking voters, ensuring they can vote while remaining comfortably inside their Russian bubble. Occasionally, however, someone will venture outside the bubble.

Moldovan-born Alexander Daich, 88, takes pride in having voted in elections ever since becoming a U.S. citizen more than 20 years ago. To keep informed, he reads the New York Post. “Truth to be told, I am an American retiree.”

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Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan explain what Filipino food is at their restaurant Purple Yam, Brooklyn. from Pavement Pieces on Vimeo.

Adobo. Sinigang. Kinilaw. Pancit. All these classic Filipino dishes have one significant defining feature: most foreigners have never heard of them.

“It’s not a cuisine that is very accessible,” Todd Coleman, former Senior Editor at Saveur Magazine, said. “People don’t know Filipino food because there aren’t many Filipino restaurants. People need restaurants to go to.”

With all the sushi bars, Chinese dim sum joints and Korean BBQ grills in New York City, some Asian cuisines have yet to proclaim themselves beyond the immigrant enclaves. Filipino food—despite the 3.4 million Filipinos living in the U.S. making them the second largest Asian group—is one of them. It is a national cuisine often loosely defined due to the archipelago’s diverse 7,100 islands and long history of foreign trade and colonialism. But historians and food anthropologists argue that there is more to it than that.

“When Filipinos started immigrating to the United States, they weren’t prepared to announce or share their food with Americans,” Alex Orquiza, 32, Professor of American Studies at Wellesley College, MA, said. “If anything, they kept it very hidden.”

Orquiza traces this phenomenon back to the 1898-1946 American colonization of the Philippines. His research explores how American colonialists systematically made the Filipinos feel their food was culturally inferior and nutritionally deficient.

“The entire imperial project tried to get Filipinos not to take pride in their food and to eat like Americans,” Orquiza said. “They would say the food is ‘not clean,’ or ‘not civilized.’”

The public school system took the lead in trying to change Filipino dietary habits: to eat three meals a day; to replace rice with corn and wheat; and to adopt canned foods instead of local proteins and fresh fruit. These were feelings that lingered and transported themselves to the U.S when Filipinos began to immigrate in 1901.

Amy Besa, 63, cookbook author and owner of Purple Yam, a Filipino restaurant in Brooklyn, remembers feeling this way when she immigrated to the U.S. back in the 1970’s.

“American diners would reject Filipino food because they thought it was stinky,” Besa said. “Filipinos didn’t feel their cuisine was good enough to be commercial. That’s why it never got out of the shadows.”

Having been in the restaurant business since 1995, Besa and her husband Romy Dorotan consider themselves outliers of Filipino restaurant owners of their generation. When they opened their first Filipino restaurant in Manhattan, Cendrillon, they sought to reach past the immigrant enclaves. They felt they had a feel for the mainstream because of their western culinary training and weaker ties with the Filipino community. Cendrillon, which was in Soho, closed and reopened as Purple Yam in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn in 2009.

“We were the first ones who tried to do it and survived,” Besa said. “But we got lots of resentment from certain sectors. The Filipino community had a habit of not supporting any restaurant that did not fit its stereotype of what it felt a Filipino restaurant should be.”

Jun Belen, 39, award-winning Filipino food blogger who immigrated to California from Manila 15 years ago, notes a plethora of Filipino restaurants clustered in heavily in cities with large Filipino populations like Daly City, Union City, and Milpitas in the Bay Area.

“Most if not all of these restaurants cater exclusively to Filipinos,” Belen said. “Some are cafeteria-style decked out with a long steam table where stews and soups are laid out. Manny Pacquiao or a Filipino soap is almost always on TV. Prices are kept low to entice Filipinos to return. There are few non-Filipinos here and there. Most of the time, none at all.”

Now, Belen says, this is changing. Though this exclusive, hidden nature may still hold true for the older generation, for the younger generation of Filipino Americans it is no longer the case.

“Lately there has been a renaissance of some sort in Filipino cuisine,” Belen said. “These are young Filipino American [chefs and restaurateurs] who are very proud of their roots, without a trace of the feeling of inferiority possessed by the first wave of Filipino immigrants.”

Today, Filipino restaurants are popping up in neighborhoods outside the enclaves in the United States. Have it be brick and mortar restaurants and food trucks in the California Bay Area, or hip, trendy dives in New York City. These are restaurants with a modern twist mostly run by younger generation Filipino Americans.

“The question is how do you take a tradition and bring it to the forefront of public knowledge and admiration,” Topher Hwan, 28, General Manager of Maharlika, a modern Filipino restaurant in Manhattan’s East Village, said. “Maharlika prides itself on being that ambassador for Filipinos and non-Filipinos alike.”

With a focus on sourcing locally, style of service and by entertaining classic American staples like brunch—something that does not exist in the Philippines—Maharlika strives to draw outsiders in by taking authenticity and tingeing it with modern techniques of the western world.

“The reception of this is often times heartfelt,” Hwan said. “The community is very responsive to the idea that finally they have a place to go that is taking Filipino food and culture to the mainstream. It’s not only a food movement but a cultural one as well.”

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There are 42,000 taxi cab drivers in New York City. Eighty-two percent of them were born in foreign countries. Some of the have higher education degrees in their native countries and professional careers.

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Lavish signs in all hues of orange, blue, and green adorn Main Street in Flushing, Queens, showcasing homeland favorites like flaky, pan-fried scallion pancakes and luscious pearl milk tea to Chinese movies and books galore. Most of these signs catch the eye not for their colors or designs, but because majority of them are in Chinese.

“It really makes me feel like I’m actually there – in China,” said Rouen, France native Agnes Rousseau, 37, who was visiting New York with her husband and two young daughters. “But it’s extremely overwhelming and a bit intimidating how nearly every sign is structured in the same way with barely any English translations.”

Last August, Councilman Peter Koo urged inspectors with the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs to enforce a state law passed in 1993 that would require Flushing businesses to have at least 60 percent of their signs in English or face a fine if they did not comply. The law was originally enacted during the Depression to safeguard shoppers from scams in underground stores.

“Ultimately, these bills will help local businesses expand their customer base, increase revenues and be more consumer friendly,” said Koo in a press release. “Additionally, our police, firemen and emergency responders will be able to easily locate an establishment and ascertain what type of business they will encounter when they arrive.”

Koo’s chief of staff, James McLelland, said the bill is still being discussed in general counsel.

The proposition has divided much of the Asian population. Some dissenters believe English signs would not only “alienate” Chinese customers, especially those who do not speak English and rely on the signs for guidance, but also force immigrants to assimilate to American customs. On the other hand, supporters of the law feel that implementing English is something necessary that would not only generate more revenue by attracting consumers of more diverse backgrounds, but also seems proper to incorporate the dialect that U.S. citizens are required to know.

Flushing resident Yu Zhou, 52, does not want the signs to change. They help her feel connected to her native language and culture.

“My language and culture is all I have here to remind me of what I left behind,” she said . “I feel like I would be giving up a part of me if all the signs were to change.”

Zhou, who came to New York with her daughter and son from Shanghai nearly 20 years ago, said she felt the law “may have good intentions,” but being immersed into “so much English” in a city supposedly renowned for its diversity is upsetting.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, Asian Americans constitute about 12 percent of New York City’s population, with those of Chinese origin making up nearly half that number.

Maylei Zhou, 24, Yu’s daughter, has been frequenting Main Street’s Tai Pan Bakery for her daily morning roast pork bun and hot milk tea before her commute to Hunter College, where she is studying nursing. She said the bakery, which caters to a mostly Chinese community, makes her relive the few memories she has left of her childhood back in Shanghai.

Maylei Zhou (center), a Shanghai native who has been living in Flushing for the past 20 years, shops for fruits outside the Ou Jiang Supermarket on the corner of Main Street and 40th Road in Flushing, Queens on Saturday. Photo by Alexa Mae Asperin

“It’s like my little piece of China,” she said. “It gives me a sense of connection to the things we left back home. But for others, the menu, the language, it may seem a bit overwhelming.”

Zhou referenced the predominantly Chinese-language menu at Tai Pan Bakery, where she pointed out the minute English descriptions under the large Chinese lettering of menu items, adding that for those unfamiliar with the Chinese language, deciphering the menu could very much be a daunting endeavor.

A few blocks down south at the Maxin Bakery, which also has a menu much akin to the one in Tai Pan, Mai Ling Chen, 45, said most of the regular customers were of Chinese descent and that tourists rarely frequented the eatery. She said the law, if enforced, would not welcome new customers, but rather discourage some of their current patrons.

“When most people think of Chinatown, they go to Manhattan, not Flushing,” said Chen, of Bayside, Queens. “Most of the people that come in here are Chinese and other Asian customers buying groceries or baked goods on a daily basis, not as a one-time visit.”

The New York City Department of City Planning’s 2000 Census states there are over 122,000 foreign-born residents in Queens Community District 7, which includes cities such as Flushing, College Point, and Bay Terrace. Of that figure, about 32,000 people are from China. Additionally, nearly 35 percent of that population does not speak English; Chinese is the main language spoken in 27,031 homes.

Gary Luo, 55, owner of a small electronics store nearby, agreed with Chen, noting that most of his customers are fellow Chinese consumers, many from his hometown of Beijing. Luo said most of the people that visit his store come in because “they feel comfortable asking questions about technical things with someone they know will not judge or criticize them if their language is a little off.”

Luo, who came to Flushing 22 years ago with his daughter and son, said he struggled learning English but knew it was necessary for him to start his business. He added that he felt it was important for him to know English so he could teach his children.

“It was scary at first when we first came to America, learning something new, but it’s part of being an American,” Luo said. “I feel as a Chinese-American that you need to embrace the English language but remember your roots also. You don’t need to give it all up.”

However, he added that the law does not take into consideration differences between the Chinese and English languages.

“That up there in Chinese means Red House,” Luo said as he pointed to a fluorescent orange sign surrounded by other multicolored placards. “But that’s actually a real estate office.”

Lin Chun, 31, of Flushing, left Changsha, China for New York five years ago to pursue a law degree. She has come to Maxin Bakery every morning for her usual coffee and egg tart, which she said instantly “teleports me to the corner bakery in Changsha.” She felt it was a “shame” that the battle for English signs in Flushing was garnering opposition because “equality is something that should be present everywhere.”

“I am proud of my heritage, my culture, my language,” Chun said. “You see all of that here, but I’m not only Chinese. I’m Chinese-American. And that means the English language is a part of me now, too. It’s only fitting that everyone should get the best of both worlds.”

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