The following is the text of the essay that won second prize in this year’s My Marianas Writing Contest, sponsored by the Northern Marianas Humanities Council. The contest’s theme was “Threads of Tradition.”
THE smell of freshly made adobo fills the whole house, my Tata grilling meat on the barbeque in our yard, my Nanay setting out the steaming hot rice, blending with the laughter of my family gathered around the house. The sounds of clattering spoons against the plates and the manamko’ playing cards are joined with stories that go across our family’s generations. Praying before eating, thanking the Lord for all he has done. Moments like this, I realize how deeply my Filipino and Chamorro culture is rooted in my identity. Every tradition, every value, and every shared experience forms a connection between me and my ancestors, shaping the person I am today. These small, wholesome moments remind me that I belong to something greater than myself.
I used to think traditions in my culture were just routines or things like blessing our elders or praying before we eat and sleep, or even going to church just because my parents or grandparents told me to. But as I grew up, I began to see them for what they truly are. The invisible strings that connect me to my past tie up my present and guide me toward my future. Every tradition, big or small, Filipino or Chamorro, holds weight for me that shapes my values, my identity, and my understanding of what it means to be a person with mixed cultures and beliefs. Now, I realize these traditions are not just rules; they are my reminders of love and sacrifice.
One of the most explicit traditions of my Filipino and Chamorro identity is the strong belief in God, being there for family, and respect for one another. In my culture, family extends beyond an ocean’s reef; it includes grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, and even close family friends that are considered our “tita” and “tito” or our uncle and auntie too. Church is beyond important in my family. It was always a tradition to go to church every Sunday and every holiday, but on holidays we celebrate with a big fiesta. Lastly, respect is a really big thing in my family. We have to practice ways of showing respect, like blessing our aunties and uncles, or should I call them “tita” and “tito”? Other than that, we practice to love one another. Love is not just shown in words, but in actions too, through the food being put in front of me or the silent sacrifices they make for me, the unwavering support they give me that never fades, no matter the distance, and no matter how deep. Our family goes above and beyond to show our love for each other; no matter how much they do, they never fail.
I remember one particular time when my grandma from my mom’s side passed away from cancer. Our entire family came together. Extended family showed their love with shared meals and hosting the nine days before her funeral. They all came together and showed their support in one of the hardest times in my life. Before she passed, my mom and her siblings helped pay for her treatment. Our family would call her every day after my mom got home, making sure she would be happy. She would ask if her hair was falling out because of the treatment. My mom would always tell her, “Dalai, Mom, you only went to one chemo treatment; your hair’s fine.”
She did anything to make her laugh to distract her from what she was going through. My grandpa stuck by her side the whole time before she left this world, but the thing is that no one asked for help; it was simply given. When I noticed this, I saw the true meaning of family and love, whether it was in silence or said by words, familia or not, we all know we loved one another.
Through this experience, I learned that love in our culture is not just an “I love you.” It is about showing up, about being there even in the hardest moments. It is about the quiet ways we care for each other, the small gestures we do that speak volumes. This taught me how important it is to be there for each other, not just in the joyful times but in the times of struggle too. It shaped my sense of responsibility, reminding me that family is the foundation of strength.
In my Chamorro culture and family, the traditions have also shaped my life in a significant way. Whenever I would travel for soccer tournaments or even when I graduated from eighth grade, my Chamorro family came together to congratulate me. These things to me were just small achievements, but to our Chamorro culture, small achievements are viewed as a victory for my whole family. The party was filled with people who raised me, watched me grow, shared their thoughts, and supported me in infinite ways. It was more just a party; it’s a coming together of people to celebrate life and one another. Not only that, going to church every Sunday helped me become closer to God. I love praying even if it’s just before eating with family or praying for others; I look forward to Sunday masses every week. In these times, I felt loved and celebrated, not for what I did but for who I am. They remind me that I will never be alone.
For the past few years now, practicing these traditions of being there for family, respect, and praying has made me more disciplined and more soft-hearted. It made me value family more than I used to, since I was always a troublemaker, never cared for anyone’s opinion, never wanted to go to church because it was so early in the morning, and always wanted to make my parents mad. But since my grandma passed and I saw how much my family cared for my mom, who was grieving, I began to realize how much family means to people, how much the Lord has touched their hearts, and how much respect they believe in.
As time goes on, these traditions will evolve in the future, but with the world changing so fast, who knows? Maybe church will be attended online, or maybe we will have to call our family for gatherings, and maybe respect will stay the same. Life will get busy in the future, and family members might have their own lives and problems, but no matter the change, how far, or how hard, these traditions will always have the same meaning behind them.
As I continue to grow older, I want to make sure I don’t take my culture for granted. I want to pass these traditions on to the next generation, to be there for my family, to share meals, laughter, and prayers just as my family had done for me. I want to always show love through actions, just like my family has taught me, but most importantly, I want to continue strengthening my faith and staying connected to my roots. They are the things that make me who I am.
I want to be the person who keeps our stories alive, the person who reminds the next generation of my family where we came from, and who we truly are. Even if the world changes every day, I will hold onto the silent powers of our values because my culture is not just about food, celebration, or money; it is about the way we are there for each other, in the way we forgive and show up. I have learned that our culture is not just passed down by blood, but through love.
In conclusion, I know that my Filipino and Chamorro culture will evolve in ways we can’t control, but their values of faith, family, and respect will always remain in my heart, guiding me through all challenges life will throw at me and shaping the person I strive to be. No matter where life will take me, I will always carry my culture proudly with every prayer, every meal I share, and every way I give love. That is how I honor my ancestors, family, and myself.
The author is a Kagman High School student.