“Mama are you going to make pineapple tarts this year as well?” My daughters’ eyes were filled with excitement. “Anything for you, my dear princess, you want to help Mama?” I knew that as long as I had her, I could take anything, even their scorn. It is a tradition to make pineapple tarts at Chinese New Year, and when the time came, the closer I was to that day of the year which I dreaded. My husband’s sisters appeared kind, but if that were actually true, why would I not look forward to this day?
The moment arrived. It was like watching my husband in slow motion, as he walked out from the car, into the lift, towards the door, and the most excruciating part — as he rang the doorbell. And the door to my personal hell opened. The gatekeeper was smiling at me, welcoming me with open arms. I gave her a big hug in return, followed by a handshake, wishing her a Happy New Year. It was only nine in the morning and I thought to myself, twelve more hours and it’ll be over. Please. No matter what, hang in there.
After 12 years, they still despise me for having two other children… for being a Filipino… Something that I didn’t get to choose. Still, they refuse to accept me as one of them, not to mention my two other kids — or “nephews” — according to them. I cannot even imagine how cruel I must have seemed to my children from a previous relationship, having to pretend that I had adopted them.
I felt the mother’s instinct within me growing as my daughter grew older. And… Boom! Suddenly, it surged to the surface within a second. They were stating outright that my daughter should not pursue her passion. That letting her go to a polytechnic was them compromising already. And that was more than enough. “Women should stay at home and raise the kids, do household chores and serve her husband.” But this seemed to apply only to Filipinos, specifically me — and my daughter, despite the fact that she is of their blood. And yet they continue to put up barriers. Barriers which only make my determination stronger. I didn’t have a chance to go to school, being the oldest one who had to support all my siblings. So, all I want for my daughter is for her to do what she likes. To pursue higher education. To satisfy that need for learning of hers. To be successful.
And here we are now, my daughter will be applying to university in less than a month’s time. I am filled with pride. The facade that I have kept up for so long has finally paid off. I have won the mental battle, after years of struggling.
I was too young back then, blissfully ignorant. But not anymore, I am a grown young woman, and it is my turn now to protect her. I have persevered all these years, working hard, just so that I can go to a good university, where I would aim to be an architect. The best thing I can do to repay my mother is to become successful. To show her that every second of anguish she has suffered has been worthwhile.