Reflections of a Filipino Expat Child

Living all over the world and spending a majority of my life without one of my parents was quite complicated. I’ve often found that I don’t quite fit in anywhere just because of the situation I grew up in. When someone asks me where I’m from or where I grew up, I always have a hard time answering. I find myself feeling slightly envious when I hear my friends talking about their childhood homes or their memories of the town they grew up in because when I think about my childhood, there isn’t one place that I identify as my home. I find that because my parents and I lived in so many places, home is a word that means something very different to me than it does to everyone else. My name is Katy and I am a child in a Filipino expat family. And I know first hand how difficult a situation this can be.

I was born in Manila a little bit over 25 years ago. At the time, my parents were stationed in Sri Lanka. The beginning of my life should have foreshadowed what the subsequent 8 years of my life would be like. My father wasn’t present at my birth (because, as my mother told me later, I was too impatient to wait for my actual due date) so my Lolo stepped in instead. Soon after my birth, I got very sick and had to be airlifted to the United States for treatment. After that scare, my mother decided that she didn’t want me or my brother exposed to that kind of danger again so when my father was transferred to a company in India, my mom decided to take the rest of our family back to Canada instead.

I look back at that time quite fondly. It was there that I lost my first tooth, learned how to ride a bike, had my first day of school, learned how to read…you get the idea. It was the place where I spent most of the first milestones of my young life. My father was not a regular presence in my life at this time. Instead, my mom, along with my loving Lolo and Lola and 2 Titas, whom I referred to as moms number 2 AND 3, were the ones who experienced these important events with me.

I was not unhappy. In fact, I honestly didn’t really notice the difference. I think the fact that I was so young had something to do with it. When my dad came to visit it was like a fun treat but I never really expected him to stick around. When I think about it now, not having him around for all of that makes me kind of sad. My friends tell me about how their dads taught them how to ride a bike or swim or fish and I feel a little bit envious because my dad and I never really did that kind of stuff. Whenever he visited us we spent most of our time doing Christmas themed activities and whenever my mom, my brother, and I visited him in India, he was always too busy working to do things with me. I don’t hold any grudges towards him about this time though. Now that I’m older, I understand why things were the way they were and I know it wasn’t easy for him to be away from us. I know he did it all for the good of our family. I just sometimes wonder how things would have been different if he had been around for all those years. One thing’s for sure, I would definitely have been a better fisherman than I am today.

After a few years, my dad moved back to the Philippines when he got offered a job there. You would think that this would have been a harmonious time in my life but it was just the opposite. It was difficult getting used to having two parents around instead of one. Even though my father, in title, had as much authority over my brother and me as my mom did, it never really felt that way. As I put it when I was a kid, “Pa is the head of the family but mom is the boss.” I’m sure my dad felt it too. My mom’s wrath inspired fear in both my brother and me while we both thought of my dad as more of the cuddly teddy bear type. We loved him very much but we never really listened to him the way we did with my mom. That wasn’t his fault, nor was it ours. We were kids and for the last 8 years, the only person we had to answer to was our mother. Changing that was definitely going to take some time.

When I entered high school, my dad was transferred to South Africa. After discussing the situation with my mom and I, my dad decided that it would be best for me to stay in Manila with my mom and finish my schooling. This was probably the beginning of the most turbulent time of my life. My brother had left for college by this time so my mom and I moved in with my Lola. On top of all the hormonal and physical changes I was going through as a teenager, the transition between living with my parents in our own home and moving into my Lola’s house was definitely not a smooth one. My Lola was much more traditional than my parents and I found that there were a lot of areas for disagreement. She was of the “old school” and I, I was independent and rebellious. She had her ways of bringing up kids, where kids “were supposed to be seen but not heard”, and I definitely did not conform to this mold. My poor mom was caught between my very old fashioned lola and me, a rebellious, moody teenager with a lot of attitude. I was very different from my brother who would have been classified as a very docile adolescent. On top of that, she missed my dad and my brother which made things even harder on her.

Before i continue, let me just be clear and say that most of my memories of my high school days are good ones. In many ways, they were the best years of my life. I had the best friends anyone could ask for which made dealing with the sometimes volatile atmosphere at home much easier to deal with. I was also involved in various extracurricular activities and did relatively well in school. I think these successes helped me deal with the feeling that no one at home got me or was even on my side. Without those outlets, I probably would have made a lot of stupid decisions that I'm sure I would regret today. Now that I'm older, I understand that my family truly did care about me and it wasn't a lack of love that caused these issues. As a teenager though, sometimes it definitely felt that way. I figure that any teenager who reads this will have definitely felt the way I did, at one point or another, which is why I think it's better to be honest about what it felt like, instead of pretending that everything was totally fine. It just took time and a different perspective to help me understand where my family was coming from.

Now, I’m an adult. I live on my own and work as a teacher. I find myself in a new place, dealing with new people and new situations. Boston is very different from the Philippines. While I have many friends here and I love my job and am generally very happy with the path I’ve chosen, sometimes I think about what it would have been like if I had chosen to stay in the Philippines instead. In the winter, when I’m sliding on the ice and trudging through snow, I miss the warm tropical nights and the one season that allowed me to wear shorts whenever I felt like it. But in the end, I realize that this is where I’m supposed to be for now. I may decide to go back to the Philippines one day, when I’m older or have grown tired of the New England winters but for now, there are so many more places to see and adventures to have.

By the way, my Lola and I get along great now. She thinks I’ve grown into a lovely young lady and I, I treasure the time I get to spend with her. That’s definitely something I would never have predicted 10 years ago.

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