Butch Dalisay's Fulbright Speech

For foreign students, the decision to leave or stay in the country where they studied is a life changing one. When I first arrived in 1996, my plan was to get my MA, maybe get some work experience and hurry back home to my family. Thirteen years later, I'm still here. And there is still the urge to move back to the Philippines. With graduation coming up, it will be time for students to decide if they should stay or go, to help with your decision making process, I would like to share an excerpt from an eloquent piece by Butch Dalisay. He delivered the speech to departing Fulbright scholars in May 2006 where he revealed his experiences and thoughts as a Fulbright scholar himself. The full text is in his blog: http://homepage.mac.com/jdalisay/blog/PenmanMay06.html. I recommend visiting his blog to read not only the speech but also the feedback he received.



Today, with satellite TV and the Internet, the actual experience of going to America might almost be anticlimactic for many. I’m sure that many of you have been there before and might look at this forthcoming trip as just another one in the course of business. In some ways, it will; America has been so demystified for us by the media and by Hollywood that we think we know it much too well.

On the other hand, the marvel of America is that while it can prove to be very small, it can also be very large—much larger than the media and Hollywood can make it to be, in the realm of the personal encounters and experiences to which you and your imagination will be delivered by that 747. The American people are a fabulously, sometimes perplexingly, diverse lot, blessed with the capability of fitting into neat stereotypes and then just as quickly breaking out of them.

Even the Filipino rich can learn in and from America. A few months ago I spoke in this vein before a group of American educational counselors who had come here to recruit the sons and daughters of affluent Filipinos for their schools. I remember a palpably mutual sense of embarrassment over our awareness of that fact. But then I told them that one of the best things our young patricians could do would be to study in America—where they could learn to tie their own shoelaces, cook their own meals, and learn something about the fundamental equality of people under the law.

Some of you—if not most or even all of you—will learn to love America, warts and all. It’s not a difficult place to love or learn to love, like the rich neighbor you grew up with and sort of had a silent crush on, whom you suddenly find yourself going out to the prom or on a date with.

But to go back to my first message: love America all you please, but never forget where your home is, which is here—not even here in 21st century Makati, but in those parts of our country which languish in the 20th and even the 19th centuries. We go to the great schools of America not just to improve our lives but theirs—those Filipinos who cannot even read, or are too hungry and tired from work to read. We are their emissaries, their agents, their speaking voices in a world so caught up in wealth and newness that it can despise and dismiss the ancient pains and plaints of the inarticulate poor.

You can swear today that your commitment will never waver, but try not to speak too soon. The test and the temptation are part of the experience. You will come across or even be offered attractive jobs and opportunities for postgraduate work. Some of you might even find that ideal—or, well, that acceptable—husband or wife who somehow managed to elude you for so long.

You can make all kinds of arguments, justifications, and rationalizations: my life circumstances have changed; I’m no longer the same person who made that promise; I can find the money to pay back whatever I owe the program or my university; our facilities back home are too primitive for the kind of research I need to do; my department has forgotten all about me; the political situation back home is too volatile for my safety and that of my family. All of these could be true—and in the end, all of them would still be, in your heart of hearts, false.

None of these conditions exist in the fine print of our contracts with our people; we pledge to learn, to return, and to serve unconditionally, as our way of saying “thank you” for all the new knowledge we will be privileged to gain—for all the brilliant autumns and the showery springs ahead of you, for all the lectures that will leave you breathless, for all the bottomless libraries,
for all the summer frolic on the beaches of another ocean, for the skyscrapers of Manhattan and the sunsets of San Diego.

Again, for all these, study well, enjoy America—then come home to say
“thank you.”

Butch Dalisay
Philippine Star
May 22,2006