We all need money to live and continue to make our art. And sometimes these prizes and awards can be a sort of validation. But money and prizes don’t… - Jessica Hagedorn

Filipino writers who write in English should be at an advantage in terms of connecting with international readers, but the irony is that their work isn't really known to the rest of the world. As for me, writing in Tagalog has never been a real option. It's too complex. Just because I can speak the language (somewhat) doesn't mean that I can write in Tagalog with any eloquence or authority.

(KASJ: Could you have written this book in any other place? The whole thing is about the Philippines.) JH: Maybe the question is really: Why does a certain place have a pull on a writer? People probably do wonder that about me. I've lived in the US for over 30 years. Why do I keep writing stories that are largely set in the Philippines? C'mon! The culture is just so rich and has so much happening in it. To me it's a treasure trove. Lush, stark, abundant, untainted, polluted. The whole world has gone through there: Arabs, Chinese, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, Brits, Americans. The Philippines has everything. The supernatural, the superreal, and the surreal. It's about grim reality, too. It's about faith in a larger being, a deep, ingrained spiritual faith. It's about strength and courage, but also about corruption, humor and generosity. I mean, God! You almost don't have to make anything up...Everything there is rife with, you know, dramatic conflict, tension, and romance. It's an extravagant culture bursting with extravagant emotions. It also is the place where I grew up, so it will always have real and lasting meaning for me. (The Women's Review of Books, March 2004)

My leaving was not of my doing; that was because of my parents’ breakup. But I was fortunate to be living in San Francisco. There was so much activity, so many activists, so many Filipinos fleeing, coming over. It was the perfect time for me to grow as an artist. I mean, we came in the ’60s—can you imagine? We hit the Summer of Love. There were all these political movements that opened my eyes. I met all these amazing young Filipino American poets who became my teachers. They were going to demonstrations, and I got involved. I was reading up on it, making connections. My God, my brain was vibrating! There was a coup d’état in Chile. There was war in El Salvador. People were making alliances, making connections, and I came to understand: It wasn’t just about us. It was about all these colonies—former colonies—that had the same people running shit, who were probably engineering all these coups. It was a harsh awakening for me and a lot of people like me. (2020)