On a warm Saturday in May, chiming bells pierced through the quiet morning in the National City neighborhood surrounding St. Mary’s Catholic Church on East 8th Street.
Men donning traditional barongs and women glittering in Filipiniana dresses sparkled in the morning light, sometimes stopping traffic. They walked the block, praying Hail Marys and shuffling stoically in a procession.
At the heart of the crowd, a replica of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag rose above, holding a rosary and baby Jesus.
Though they were traversing San Diego streets, this moment for folks in the crowd, like Salvacion Peralta, brought up memories of home.
“That's how we connect,” Peralta said.
Along with the memories, fiestas like this one create meaningful connections for San Diego’s Filipino diaspora, which is among the largest in the U.S.
“The church always brings people closer together. Going to the church because that's how we grow up,” Peralta said.
More than 7,000 miles away, the original Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag statue draws thousands to the municipality of Manaoag, Philippines, for the same procession. The statue is an image of the Virgin Mary that's considered sacred in the Pangasinan region of the Philippines.
It’s one of two times each year that the figure is taken down from its pedestal in the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag and carried through the streets for the people to touch and offer prayers.
In the U.S., folks in the Filipino diaspora formed community groups, like the Devotees of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag, to maintain both Catholic roots and a connection to the communities where they moved from.
And it’s not just folks from Manaoag who have continued these traditions in San Diego. People from the Bicol and Cavite regions also have a rich history of observing not only the Catholic calendar in the Philippines, but also reconnecting to their roots, creating resources for their community, and setting up their children for success in San Diego while maintaining cultural identity.
Catholic roots
Peralta grew up in a barrio in Pangasinan, far away from the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag.
“At that time, it's very, very hard. I live in a remote barrio where there was no electricity and running water,” Peralta said.
Her father and mother passed on their religious devotion to Peralta. When they had enough money, her dad would rent a jeepney for her and her neighbors to pile into for the ride to Manaoag. They'd prepare an adobo lunch in advance, preserved in vinegar so the heat would not spoil the meat.
“Whenever they have money, they'll bring us to the church,” Peralta said. “That's always our gift from them is to go to church in Manaoag or in the city.”
And that devotion remained with Peralta into her teen and adult years. When she was in college, she continued attending church and would sit in the back where she had the clearest view of the statue.
“That was the best place you can see her looking at you,” Peralta said.
Among other things, she prayed to pass her board exam to be a registered medical technician. She said her prayer was heard.
“Actually, in our barrio, I was the first female who passed the board exam,” Peralta said.
In the 1980s, Peralta and her husband, Julio, moved to San Diego through his military service. Both their religious beliefs and connection to the Manaoag Minor Basilica stayed with them. They got involved with St. Mary’s Church in National City.
Peralta was also part of the Pangasinan Association and attended other regional associations’ fiestas whose history and roots run deep in San Diego.
In 2017, she coordinated an official devotional affiliation in San Diego, the Devotees of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag, to organize and plan prayer gatherings and the fiestas. They even received the replica image from the Philippines, now part of the processions.
The role of regionality
The prevalence of the Catholic faith among Filipinos is due to Spanish colonization of the Philippines for more than 300 years from the mid 1500s until the turn of the 20th century. For Peralta, that history of colonialism and Catholicism brings mixed emotions.
“It is very hard because all I know is they were the one that brought Christianity in the Philippines, but I also heard about (them) killing people,” Peralta said. “There's a good side. There's a bad side.”
Charlotte Guarnes Fajardo, child of one of the Bicol Club founding members and now leader, said it’s important to recognize the history but also acknowledge how Filipinos have made their faith their own.
“Colonization brought many injustices: the suppression of indigenous cultures and spiritual practices, abuses of power, exploitation and the inequalities that often accompany conquest. Viewed through the lens of today's values and understanding of human dignity, we rightly acknowledge those painful aspects of our history,” Fajardo said. “At the same time, many Filipino Catholics would say that the faith itself cannot simply be reduced to the circumstances through which it arrived. Over five centuries, Filipinos embraced, shaped and made the faith their own.”
The Filipino fiestas (feast day celebrations of the region’s saint or patron) organized by the San Diego diaspora follow the Spanish Catholic tradition. But Fajardo said those here and in the Philippines have some distinctions.
“Fiestas take on a very colorful and grand dimension in the towns and regions of the Philippines,” Fajardo explained. “The celebration in the town versus the cities are also grander because they also take on a ‘thanksgiving’ element for their rural products, their cultural roots and talents.”
Salvador Flor was born and raised in San Diego, and his father was involved in the Bicol Club. He said the Catholic faith played a significant role for Filipino communities when they came to San Diego.
“You had the regional club. You had the church and you had the family,” Flor said. “To me, the church is a safety net for our Filipino community.”
The regional clubs grew in San Diego as more and more Filipinos found U.S. military service as a path to a better life. There was a desire among the newcomers to not only continue Catholic traditions but also reconnect with fellow Filipinos in their new home. Flor’s dad was a Navy veteran.
“The regional clubs really set the basis of camaraderie for the new Navy guys,” Flor said. “Because the Navy guys would come here, be stationed locally, they'd have some relatives in San Diego … they would basically try to find the region they're from.”
Felix Tuyay also grew up in San Diego, and his dad was a veteran and involved in the Bicol Club.
“Whenever there's a new person who just came from the Philippines, they invite them to their homes, even stay at their homes just to get adjusted,” Tuyay said. “My dad would take and bring in a lot of these Filipino Navy guys who just came from the Philippines to the United States and he would bring (them) to our house and feed them, help them get around. We help each other.”
The mothers, aunties and grandmothers also played a pivotal role in these associations. Fajardo said she was 12 years old when her aunt and other women started San Diego’s Bicol Club in 1962.
“She was quite a leader,” Fajardo said. “She told the men to stay in the kitchen, take care of the children, while the women went into the bedroom to talk about how they could support each other. And that was the birth of the Bicol Club.”
She said the club was formed out of support for women and by women. One main focus was ensuring that their children kept a connection to their homeland as they grew up in the U.S.
“Making sure that they understood their culture, making sure that we had events around our faith, and making sure we had plenty of parties and times to entertain each other,” Fajardo said.
Cindy Villamora Henderson grew up in the Bicol Club and said being at the club’s gatherings, including the fiesta for Our Lady of Peñafrancia, was one way she connected with her dad. It was a space where families, including Henderson’s, could deal with the challenges of assimilation, language barriers and generational differences.
“Some of us were struggling with being second generation and not connecting with our parents traditionally, but being really Americanized,” Henderson said. “A lot of kids were butting heads with their parents. And so the Bicol Youth Group actually brought a lot of that up to the surface. We had retreats. We had talks.”
Chelsea Largoza’s formative years in the 1990s were spent in the Bicol Club.
“The kids that I grew up with, at the time they called us the Bicol Club kids, all those people are still my best friends today,” Largoza said. “It's not really like I'm hanging out with Bicol Club friends. I'm just hanging out with my cousins.”
The decades of support found in regional associations left an impact on San Diego. Fajardo said that at its height, the Bicol Club may have had almost 500 individual members, including about 250-300 families.
Folks from the Cavite region of the Philippines also formed the Salinas Association, which had strong familial ties.
Former association president Freci Portugal attended her first fiesta put on by the Salinas Association in 1977.
“Having that brought here in the form of a fiesta kind of gave me back that taste that I had when I was little in the Philippines,” Portugal said.
Continuing the traditions and a sense of belonging
At the St. Mary’s Church fiesta, folks from the procession gathered for mass, the smell of incense strong in the air. Important leaders in the Catholic Filipino faith even flew into town for the mass and feast, including the former Prior Rector of the Minor Basilica in Manaoag.
This year’s gathering felt especially powerful for Peralata, given that devotees of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag recently honored the 100th anniversary of her canonical coronation. Only a handful of the folks at the fiesta technically come from the Pangasinan region. But over the years, the regional associations have formed connections and attended each other’s fiestas.
“Even though you're not in the same region, you always gather just because of a patron or a saint that you adore,” said Celia Macaspac, in attendance at the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary of Manaoag.
After Mass, the attendees formed a winding line through the church’s community auditorium, the smell of lechon and pancit setting the table for continued fellowship.
“There's a fiesta, there's a mass, there's food right after,” Peralta said. “And it's also a fellowship. You get to mingle with your fellow devotees, fellow Filipinos.”
The challenge is getting the younger generations who don’t have memories of celebrating these traditions and holidays in the Philippines, to see the value.
Peralta said there is a solid foundation to build upon.
“We set a good example, and so the youth follow what we do, like praying the Rosary, bringing the statue house to house, celebrate the fiesta,” Peralta said. “So the next generation will do the same thing.”
For the Bicol Club, that initial goal of supporting their children continues to be a throughline. Henderson and Largoza stepped up as leaders in the club because of their positive experiences growing up involved. Henderson, who is now the vice president, hopes that her daughters feel connected to their culture and community.
“It's beautiful for them to be able to see how strong this community,” Henderson said.
Largoza feels a sense of duty to continue what her parents and elders in the Bicol Club taught her.
“They gave me so much, and so it's really important for me to give that to the next generation,” Largoza said. “I really hold that responsibility of passing down our culture to the next generation very seriously … We all hold that responsibility together.”
