#7grand

Geena Rocero, born and raised in Manila, Philippines, is a Model, Producer, Trans Rights Advocate and co-host of the 2017 Webby Awards honoree TV Show ASPIREist, broadcasted on HLN/CNN. On March 31, 2014, in honor of International Transgender Day of Visibility, Rocero came out as transgender at the annual TED Conference, her viral talk has since been viewed more than 3 million times and translated in 32 languages. Geena is the founder of Gender Proud, an advocacy and media production company that tells stories to elevate justice and equality for the transgender community.

She, with Gender Proud Productions produced and presented  "Beautiful As I Want to Be" on LogoTV highlighting trans youth, and received the 2016 GLAAD media Award. Gender Proud also produced "Willing and Able", a 2017 GLAAD Media nominated web series about transgender employment with Fusion TV and worked with Fusion/Univision to produce a TV documentary about transgender athletes, "No League of Their Own" and won 2017 Association of LGBTQ Journalists Best in Health and Fitness Coverage. Most recently, she co-executive produced the 2018 GLAAD Media awards nominated "Made To Model" a documentary on 9 Pioneers and Emerging trans model in collaboration with LogoTV, MTV and VH1. 

Geena has spoken at the White House, World Economic Forum, United Nations, and been featured on E's I am Cait, Magazine Cover of Candy Magazine, Vanity Fair: Trans America, Marriott's #LoveTravels Campaign and CoverGirl Cosmetics #GirlsCan Campaign. She was on the cover of Harper's Bazaar India.  She has been featured in media publications such as CNN, VOGUE, Al Jazeera America, MSNBC, Today Show, NHK World Channel, HuffPost Live, New York Magazine, Mashable, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair, Elle, Entertainment Weekly, People, Variety, Take Part, The Advocate, MTV and others. 

#BrownCrown by Geena Rocero

I was searching for meanings of brown

I was told lies over and over that it made me down

But, truly, in my skin

are stories rich enough to reclaim

What’s In A Name

“What’s in a name?” Through Juliet’s tongue, The Bard provokes his audience knowing full well the collective understanding: a name can make AND break a life.

My name, like yours, is a story. Human. We are beings that attribute meaning everywhere. At the beginning... we take our breath, and with the profundity of that first success (or struggle, rather) we earn and assume our name. To encounter a connection to my heritage; to grasp what being Filipino is, I need look no further than my name. Each of us given this gift. Each of us challenged to wrestle with the context of the story that it is. My story: Adam-Jorge Masculino Hyndman.

A name is not simply a moniker to differentiate you from your kuya… ate… bunso. It alludes to belonging. It, in itself, contains an intersectional narrative. It can preserve the pain and triumph of ancestors. And for the pinoy, if you listen hard enough, it can tell tale of an imposed identity. I could share about my experience with our culture through its many joyful aspects... its food, its soul, its generosity. However, I desire to explore the complexities from the other side of the island; where shadows and light are entwined.

With a Filipino name, lineage is passed down. As a combination, the name can be an epithet in its own right that edifies the story of brown bodies; struggling, surviving, striving, succeeding. Through a name you pay homage. You honor. You give your child all the names of your people. Ethnic folk seem to hold-on to that idea. We give names to harken to those that came before. A call and response. A breadcrumb trail. More names give birth to a lifeline so that both sides of the family can claim the legacy. Child; mother, father… future. It can allow the child to find his way back to their roots. It can haunt with crippling expectation. It can burden with past tragedy or disgrace. It can provide a testimony of perseverance. All contained in a name. A written space where our ancestors can live on. A history. Identity inscribed with filial responsibility. Allegiance assumed. Allegiance imposed.

Me: bi-racial; mama.... filipina, dad... black. “Pinoy Noir.” A multiplicity within itself. On a journey navigating through the margins of two complex worlds. The Black experience in America; a diaspora of massive (generalized) proportions. Conversely, to have pride in our Filipino roots is to embrace a legacy of cooperation, colonization, occupation, and assimilation. To be brown in America is to struggle with two truths: that you contain beauty, and that you are expected to accommodate.

Jorge Masculino, my lolo, was a man who grabbed hold of a poor man's dream. Ain’t it funny how that “American” Dream exists with its most potent realities in foreign lands....like on a Bicolano rice paddy in the foothills of Mt. Mayon. Jorge was one of those village boys that hit a jackpot in being able join the US Navy. There is a monument in his hometown with his name on it, along with all the other local boys who were selected among the masses and “made good” with Uncle Sam. However, if you read it, how would you pronounce it? Would you know that he spent everyday on American soil as “George”? Looking at this immigrant’s choice… are you surprised?

Great Grandpa Hyndman was the first allowed in a school house. One day he came home with an assignment that was, in turn, completed by the entire family. His teacher gave the admonishment that he was spelling his surname incorrectly as “Hindman” and that “it ought to be spelled H-Y-N-D-M-A-N.” At that time in St. Louis, Missouri if a white person with authority told you (as a Black person) to do something... you had to consider that there might be implications for you (or your family) if you chose not to do it. The family decided to adopt Hyndman as their own. Because Blackfolk are diligent, they even changed gravestones to be consistent. In their compliance, they closed a chapter of experience. In a way, the trail of breadcrumbs was erased.

Adam-Jorge Masculino Hyndman. Halo-Halo. Mulatto. Navigating the margin of belonging and rejection. Simultaneously occupying the duplicity of two multifarious heritages. Both with a narrative of imposed identity in their own right. One side, desperate to gain the rights and privileges assumed with an earned citizenship; the legacy making wave of Filipinos coming to this nation after the war had a propensity to not only swear allegiance to the nation, but also all things Americana in the lifestyle. Yet, on the other side, a collective experience desperate to release the ramifications of a seized belonging; we witness the erasure of discrete Black identity over time like sand in an hourglass.