Early fall is when I always make my trek to Virginia Beach, when the peak travel season is over and the crowds are gone. The seven-mile boardwalk falls eerily silent, with only a few tourists and surfers braving the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean. It is when the locals take back their city from the millions of tourists who fill the beachfront every summer. The beach umbrellas, thousands of them, have been folded and stored, and the lifeguards have nothing to do but watch the waves hit the shoreline.

I have been coming to this city every year since I moved back to the east coast in 1995, but I am not particularly fond of the rough surf of the Atlantic, and I consider sand a granular nuisance that gets in the way of everything. To me, a relaxing vacation closest to the water is a swimming pool and a margarita, several glasses, to be exact.

So why do I even bother coming to Virginia Beach? To put it plainly, I come here to eat, to indulge in good and authentic Filipino food, something lacking in the Washington, DC area where I live. Don’t get me wrong, there are a few Filipino restaurants in the DC area, but none compare with the genuine goodness and home-style Filipino cooking of the many turo-turo restaurants of Virginia Beach.

There is also a Jollibee here that still serves pancit palabok and halo-halo, while the two Jollibee locations in my area have become a more costly alternative to Popeyes. And then there’s a Red Ribbon that sells yema ensaymada, and a Max’s which opened just this year and serves a mean crispy pata. This is the closest thing to Woodside, Queens without the long drive, or Cerritos, California without the plane ride.

But there is more to Virginia Beach than great Filipino food — there are countless stories interwoven into the Fil-Am diaspora here that makes this city unique.

Virginia Beach is the largest city in Virginia in terms of population, with roughly 450,000 residents, and is part of the Tidewater Region which includes Norfolk, Chesapeake, Portsmouth, Newport News and Suffolk. As of 2025, this region had an estimated population of 1.8 million.

Filipinos have been flocking to this area since the early 1950s, when Filipino recruits first arrived to work at the US naval station in Norfolk, the largest naval base in the continental United States.

These recruits were primarily restricted to non-combat and service oriented roles as stewards and mess attendants. In 1971, the US Navy lifted the restrictions which allowed Filipinos to serve in all enlisted ratings and qualify for officer commissions.

One success story is that of Victorino R. Mercado who enlisted in the Navy in 1953 as a steward, performing mainly food service and hospitality duties. He advanced through the ranks and retired as a Master Chief Storekeeper in 1977. His son, also named Victorino, was born in a naval hospital in Portsmouth in 1961. He studied at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis and rose to become Rear Admiral and later Assistant Secretary of Defense upon his retirement from the Navy in 2018.

Another name worth mentioning is Rafael D. Medina’s, a fraternity brother in the Upsilon Sigma Phi, who joined the US Navy as an enlisted sailor in 1986 and advanced to the rank of Commander. He retired in 2023 after 37 years of service. His son Rafael Jr. also joined the Navy and held the rank of Lieutenant and is now pursuing studies at Yale University in Connecticut.

Beyond these cross-generational narratives lies the broader arc of diaspora empowerment through US military service which helped transform cities like Virginia Beach into thriving immigrant communities, not just of Fil-Ams, but of other nationalities.

Although significantly smaller than the Fil-Am diaspora communities in San Diego, Honolulu, and Guam that have also been shaped by US military service, Virginia Beach’s 30,000 Filipinos is still one of the largest concentrations of Fil-Ams on the East Coast.

They own a wide range of businesses — from restaurants, grocery stores, nail salons to home health agencies. GI Bill benefits also enabled many to buy homes and send their children to college. There is a large Fil-Am enrollment in colleges and universities within the Tidewater area, at Old Dominion, Norfolk State, and Christopher Newport, and at William and Mary in Williamsburg, and Virginia Commonwealth in Richmond. Fil-Am nurses, physical therapists and a growing number of doctors work across a wide spectrum of healthcare networks.

When you leave Virginia Beach, you carry more than a full stomach — you carry a sense of pride. This city reminds me that the Filipino-American journey is not just about arrival or assimilation — it’s about building, belonging, and becoming.

In Virginia’s largest city, the tide doesn’t just bring in waves — it brings in stories. And the Fil-Am story is one that continues to unfold.