fingerprinting the most exact way to tell someone's ID, aside from the hollywood-immortalized eye scan, is the fingerprint. outgoing homeland security secretary tom ridge wants passports to have not only the holder's eye and hair color, but also his or her fingerprint.

upon landing at LAX airport over a decade ago, my family and i were immediately brought to the international immigration offices for fingerprinting and photographing. we had just pulled up stakes in the homeland and were in line for green card and VISA processing. the immigration officer gently took my right index finger and lead it to a stamp pad. "do not press hard, do not try to help," he said, an earnest and harmless, but firm look on his face.

i didn't say a thing, but i'm sure he saw the insulted look on my face. i didn't even want to be there. i remember wondering what it would be like to fly away from the philippines for the first time, and when the plane's tires separated from the runway, i felt my own roots irrevocably severed from me. hello, i told myself, be rational. you are strapped to a plane seat, rapidly climbing thousands of feet into the stratosphere. there isn't an escape route in sight now, you should find one when you land. and aren't you curious about korea? i calmed myself thinking this was for my mother. i shouldn't be gone from school too long. i won't be missing out on much. besides, it should be fun - while packing my things, i had little guilty feelings of when we move to the u.s., i'll have every material thing i've ever wanted right at my fingertips. it won't be so different from my life here in quezon city. i tried not to think of how my mother looked at my box and wanted to throw everything out. she thought i didn't need any of that junk, hell, everything in the u.s. is better, and why should you bring memories of your dad with you? she was a little crazy then, but because she was my mother, i obeyed. but this strange african-american officer? the first american i met on u.s. shores? i'm glad to finally meet a specimen of the real america. but why should i impart my plans to return home to someone who won't care?

the print of my index finger ended up in the back of my green card. for someone who grew up in a society whose one form of ID for minors is issued by the perennial school, it was a mere necessary step to assure my mother that i wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. it was my freedom card. pre-sept. 11, 2001, it was my magic carpet to the homeland. (right now i'm sure quezon city laws have changed. my parents have their work IDs, driver's licenses, and other forms as well. most kids of middle income parents in circa 1990s quezon city have their birth certificates and school IDs. recently i just helped out an indian national get a spanish visa so she can vacation for two weeks in spain. and she's a green card holder. pre-2001, you can fly back and forth between the u.s. and your birthland with just your green card and birthland passport.)

then, of course, the plot thickens. the drive to earn my own passage home was sidetracked by former classmates graduating to second semesters and sophomore years. i wanted to play catch up. and then in 1998 i actually did return home, but that's another xanga entry. ;-P

you decide whether mr. ridge's latest proposal will be another hotspot for invasion of privacy advocates. [ more ]   ¶ 1/12/2005 04:45:00 PM