WRESTLING WITH MY MAKER by Norma Austin

Author's Profile
NORMA AUSTIN

Norma R. Austin, was born in the Philippines, the oldest of three children.  She witnessed her parents doing community work. Her father was lawyer who represented the least fortunate. Her mother was a nurse.

She left the Philippines and went to Europe before arriving in New York City. She eventually moved to Washington, DC where she was put behind bars for breaking immigration laws. Norma refused her court appointed legal counsel and advocated on her own behalf and was successful in getting a reprieve. That led to her move to the west coast. She was the first gentile to join Bet Tzedek Legal Services, a Jewish non-profit organization that won the landmark case of Felicia Grunfeder vs. the US Government, regarding Social Security pension and Holocaust victims. She successfully managed the legal departments of several prominent law firms.

One of her advocacies was against human trafficking. Norma owned a cultural exchange program that enabled students from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East to study in Los Angeles. She co-founded the Festival of Philippine Arts and Culture, the longest running festival in Southern California.

In her life’s journey, Norma never doubted God. Even with her struggles in Europe (hitchhiking as a young adult), incarcerations in America for immigration violations, she knew her guardian angel never left her side. Truly, God did not abandon her.

WRESTLING WITH MY MAKER

by Norma Austin

The idea of encouraging our fellow Filipino-Americans to tell our stories came to me when I met Steven Spielberg at the Synagogue. He mentioned the SHOAH FOUNDATION he established at USC. He videotaped testimonies from more than 50,000 holocaust victims in their native languages.

I was inspired. I said to myself, “We Filipinos have contributed so much to the tapestry of wealth and greatness of this country. Our stories must be told. We have lived here for hundreds of years. This is a golden opportunity for us to tell the world who we are as a people. If we do not tell our stories, who will tell them for us?” Our stories are our legacy to our children and grandchildren to perpetuate the greatness of the Filipino culture.

This is my story.

I was born in Manila, the oldest of three children to hardworking, educated parents who instilled in us the value of community service. My sheltered, idyllic world collapsed when my father died when I was a teenager. My mother struggled to adjust to the demands of raising us as a single mother.

I was sent to Europe in my early 20’s. I knew nothing about Europe. In France, I first went to Nice then to Paris. After three months, my money ran out. I called home. My mother ordered me to go to the United States. But I was enjoying my newfound freedom. I made friends, went to museums and ate delicious food. So, I decided to go to Munich, Germany instead. There I easily made new friends. My decision angered my mother. She insisted I go to the US or she would cut financial support. I ignored her request even though I knew not where my next meal would come. I was reduced to waiting for the stale bread about to be thrown into the trash. I had no job. In another week I would be out in the street.

Why did I defy my mother? I didn’t even speak German. Instinctively, I went to church and there I prayed. I asked God for guidance, but I was firm with my decision not to go home. Miraculously, I discovered an American military base in Munich, the USAG SCHWEINFURT. Their weekly church bulletin advertised an ad for a babysitter 3 times a week with free lodging and meals for 20 DM a week. That kept me afloat until I found a job as an English-speaking secretary for a Spanish businessman. It gave me the opportunity to travel all over Germany and save money at the same time. I worked two other jobs.

Before I left Europe for New York, I learned the history of the Holocaust from a Jewish gentleman. He tutored me like he would his own daughter about the events that befell the Jewish people. I visited DACHAU, the oldest concentration camp in Germany. The horrors left an indelible mark on my psyche. That gave me the courage to face challenges in my new American life.

Meanwhile, my mother was distraught. I had not spoken to her since our last conversation when she demanded I leave Europe for the States. I would soon find out how desperate she was. When I booked my flight to Spain, I gave the air carrier my address and home phone number out of habit. Two days later, a Philippine consular officer showed up at my doorstep and demanded I surrender my passport. I refused. He called Ambassador Ramirez who spoke gently to me like a father would. Apparently, my mother asked the President of the Philippines for help. He became concerned for my mother who had lost 20lbs because of my actions. The ambassador hoped to give the President a positive report.

I felt guilty. What if my mother died on my account? So, I called her from the Philippine Embassy and told her not to worry. I was fine. I expressed my irritation with her since she went so far as to involve the President.

Upon entering the United States, I brought with me a burning desire to succeed, to be an asset to this country and contribute to the betterment of society. But I only had a student visa, my college degree, and my ambition. I was picked up by Immigration for working illegally and was put behind bars in Washington, D.C. I was to be sent back home. The court offered me legal representation, but I politely declined. I wanted the court to hear THE VOICE OF A YOUNG FILIPINA who believed NOBODY WAS A BETTER ADVOCATE THAN HERSELF.

I was aware that silence was a golden rule in our culture. My Filipino DNA kicked in but I somehow convinced the judge to GIVE ME A CHANCE TO STAY IN THE COUNTRY for a few days. I appealed to his SENSE OF NATIONALISM. I told him HOW MUCH I ADMIRED THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES and I wished to see the beauty of the fall season. I had hoped to visit Vermont. I showed him the plane tickets I had for places in the U.S. and my return ticket home. The judge granted me the extension.

Jesus said, “Ask and you shall receive.” That was my mantra during this crisis and sure enough, once again, He did not let me down. I also carried with me my constant companion, my Rosary. I was certain I would not return home defeated and a loser. I was a young woman. And that experience built my self-confidence. The success of that episode validated my belief that I was a perfect seed for the United States soil.

Within 48 hours, I landed in Los Angeles. After a year and a half, I met and married a Filipino-American engineer. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a very traumatic marriage. I didn’t realize I was emotionally abused so I wallowed in misery. I decided to work even harder, take classes, and build a foundation for a better life. One of the establishments I managed was a non-profit organization that provided free legal services. I was the first gentile in that organization.

Throughout my professional life, I strove to work harder than everyone else and always be steps ahead. Reinventing myself became second nature and I learned to think fast on my feet. However, I was careful with my demeanor. But I made sure people knew I was assertive and was not willing to kowtow to anybody. My FILIPINO ORGULLO, my pride, drove me to push myself and endured unnecessary pressure.

I was apprehended a second time and went behind bars, this time in Los Angeles. I became despondent, I knew I had an uphill battle. I had dismissed INS notices I received. So, when the INS Commissioner called for me, I was prepared. I unabashedly told him about the life I endured. I could have used my marital status to legally apply for naturalization. But I was so unhappy in the relationship, I didn’t want my ex-husband to wield this as a carrot to exploit my vulnerability. I wanted to obtain my green card on my own.

The Commissioner listened to me, surprised I didn’t choose the easy road. I impressed upon him my desire to be a great asset to this country through my hard work and determination. I told him if my request to stay in this country was denied, I would like to pay for my fare back to the Philippines.

Something in my explanation must have touched him since he approved my temporary card and instructed me to stay out of trouble and to appear for my final interview. That was how I obtained my green card.

After my immigration difficulties, and after living in Europe, an idea began to take hold in my head. I started my own Cultural Exchange Business, offered my expertise to students and professionals from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East who wanted to visit and study in the U.S. However, I kept my full-time job as manager. I worked day and night for years. My fax machine was on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

In the spring of 1992, the Rodney King riots broke out. Our neighborhood in mid-Wilshire, near affluent Hancock Park, was not spared. I was afraid. I was crying while I helped clean our neighborhood grocery store. While I was there, several TV crews interviewed me. My interview aired on the evening news. It was later picked up by the Oprah Winfrey Show.

The LA Riots offered an opportunity to improve relations between different ethnic groups in the city. City Hall wanted cultural activities and they called upon the Filipino community to create a festival. They offered financial support. For years, I tried to find ways for my Filipino culture to be celebrated in the city of Los Angeles and this was a golden opportunity. That was when I co-founded the Festival of Filipino Arts and Culture.

We appealed to the Filipino community to support a fundraising campaign and provide volunteers in celebrating the richness of the Filipino heritage. To be recognized, we had to be seen and heard. We wanted the younger generation to get involved, to be proud of their culture. Amazingly, the Festival has been going on for the past 25 years.

One woman who inspired me was Mrs. Remedios Geaga. She was president of the large Filipino American Community of Los Angeles, established a multi-services center for the elderly, and was honored by the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors in 1996 for her community service. I was touched by her speeches, felt her passion, and was inspired to get politically involved.

I marched with Tita Meding on many occasions. The most memorable was when President Ferdinand Marcos was forced to leave the Philippines. It was Tita Meding who fought vigorously to oust him from office. Our marches on the streets of Los Angeles landed me on the front page of the Los Angeles Times, proudly waving American and Philippine flags while celebrating in front of the Philippine Embassy.

I was interviewed by local TV and radio stations. I felt unprepared to speak about Philippine politics, but I didn’t want to look stupid before the national media. My mother’s words echoed in my brain.  “Remember, you are always an unofficial representative of our country. Carry that Filipino flag con orgullo.” I had terrible stage fright. I prayed to the Holy Spirit and the Blessed Mother to help me pull this off. Even though it was one of the most daunting experiences of my life, it proved to be one of the most rewarding and empowering.

This newfound courage propelled me on to a new venture. In 1992, we had the first Filipino woman

run for the U.S. Congress. Gloria M. Ochoa from Santa Barbara decided to run against multi-millionaire Michael Huffington. It was a David and Goliath campaign. She knew very few people in Los Angeles. She approached me for help. I offered her my house as headquarters. If I wanted Filipinos to be recognized as a strong, viable force in the state and in this country, we had to start somewhere. I put my life on hold, organized fundraisers and speaking engagements all over the state despite no prior experience. I worked tirelessly, inspired by the desire to be of service to my kababayan. That 1992 election fortified my courage to work on behalf of women who were victims of human trafficking. It was gratifying to witness their transition into becoming U.S. citizens.

However, life caught up with me. I felt some physical uneasiness during the campaign, and soon discovered a growth in my throat. I woke up one morning with palpitations and an irregular heartbeat. My hair started to fall out. Sleeping became difficult and body aches were my new nemesis. I had no appetite and no energy. I became disoriented, even lost my memory. My brain refused to function. I was diagnosed with depression and adrenal exhaustion. An unrelenting work schedule and an intolerable home life were the recipe for the disaster. For the first time in my life, I was unsure of myself, questioned the decisions I made. In short, my self-esteem was eroded.

I had to fight for everything my whole life. I was fighting the biggest fight then. I was fighting for my very existence.

I was raised a staunch Catholic, so I stayed in a miserable, toxic marriage for nearly 20 years. I began to question my Catholic faith. I could no longer follow BLINDLY the dictates of the Church. I was terribly conflicted. For many years I wanted a divorce, but my husband wouldn’t hear of it. After all, I was the breadwinner in that wretched marriage.

I was disabled after the hospital diagnoses. I had the time to fight, but no energy. I looked for better strategy. Time was of the essence and I was sure that if I did not get out of the marriage, death would have the better of me. The only way out of the marriage was to acquiesce to all my husband's demands. It was financial suicide. I got my divorce but paid the steep price for my freedom and my life.

My new status made me feel uncomfortable as a Catholic. Out of desperation, in the absence of anyone to turn to, I sought refuge in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I entered the church one evening like a mad woman with only a pillow and blanket. ANGER and FRUSTRATION swept over me. I asked my God, “Are YOU truly PRESENT in that altar? How do I know? I can’t feel hear, smell, touch you. How do I know that You can hear me?” I challenged Him. “Didn’t You say, come to me and I’ll unburden you? Didn’t You say, I am just here waiting for you? So here I am, burdened with guilt. I am sick and tired. My marriage was an honest mistake. I need my God. I need You RIGHT HERE AND NOW!”

I screamed at God like a mad woman, before the Blessed Sacrament. It was two in the morning. I cared not if anyone heard me. I was desperate. Who could I turn to? I didn’t trust my doctors anymore. I went to several psychologists and psychiatrists. They told me the same thing. “Walk out of your marriage while you are still ahead.” But I did not want to break my marital vows. Not because I still loved my husband. No. But I made a promise to my maker. TILL DEATH DO US PART. That was my struggle. I endured my marriage because I took my vows seriously. I WRESTLED WITH MY MAKER for many years.

I went to my God and sought immediate relief. After all, I said my vows before Him! Yes, I

needed Him that very moment. “ANSWER ME,” I screamed. “If hell is the price I must pay to get divorced,

then I’ll meet you in hell when I get there.”  I could no longer bear my emotional and mental anguish. I screamed and cried for hours. I stopped sobbing from exhaustion. Finally, I said, “I beg of you dear God, I am at the end of my road. I AM SURRENDERING TO YOU MY TATTERED LIFE. DO AS YOU PLEASE WITH ME. But please grant me the strength to carry my cross the way you carried yours. I need to feel Your love. EMBRACE ME, HOLD ME. I need You right now. Not tomorrow. Now. WHERE ARE YOU?”

Slowly I felt this warm fog-like sensation that started from my head. My face felt so warm. Was this another symptom of my illness? This warm sensation went down to my chest, waist, and continued slowly down to my legs, feet and toes. I felt cradled like a child. I lost sense of time. Then slowly, the sensation left my body the way it came. I felt my burden was lifted with it. I said, “MY LORD AND MY GOD!” He did hear me. I was afraid to open my eyes. I felt so humble before HIM. I smelled a very sweet fragrance unfamiliar to me. I felt at peace with myself. Relieved. Secure. He had kept HIS PROMISE. My hunger for HIM never left me. HE NEVER ABANDONED ME. I prayed for freedom from bondage for 20 years. My persistence and stubbornness paid off.

All those years I wrestled with my Maker, He was PRUNING ME all along to become a better me and savor this time of my life. I found a better relationship with my God by rejecting some of what I was taught to do by my culture, religion, and my parents, especially my mother.

I never thought I’d remarry but I met the love of my life. I met him through my business, and we became friends. I believed he was another gift from above. (Of course, he’s not perfect because I am the only perfect one).

I am thankful I have someone to share my life with. The irony of ironies? He is a Jew who is a better Christian than I am. He sure is BRAVE to take me on. I am sharing a life with him I never thought I’ll have. When all is said and done, I feel like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. I intend to continue soaring as high and fly as long as I can.

I feel I am a citizen of the world. I love to dance to the beat of my own drum. Every moment, every breath I take is a gift from above and I am truly grateful.

Wherever we are in life, let not embers of ambition and faith fizzle from our heart, but fortify the ramparts of our many tomorrows.

STORY PHOTOS

At the Academy Award, LA

Christmas with husband, Steve Austin

Campaign for Filam Gloria Ochoa for U.S. Congress

Left:  With Mayor Riordan of LA

Right:  With Robert Wagner, Fundraising for St. John's Hospital, Santa Monica

Bottom:  Mr. Blackwell

My Cultural Exchange Program Clients

With Lea Salonga, Flower Drum Song

LA Times Front Page:  Marcos Downfall

ASEAN Ladies Circle of Los Angeles

"Wrestling With My Maker"