It’s complicated
THOSE WORDS are usually used to describe relationships between lovers, but they best describe my family. Imagine a venn diagram, with the left circle titled “mother’s side” and consisting of my two half-brothers and my mother, the right circle titled “father’s side” and consisting of my half-sister and my father, and the intersection of the two circles consisting of my three younger sisters and me.
My sisters and I grew up with our mother (Mama) and grandmother (Nanay) as parents, and our two uncles as the occasional male figures in our lives. I thought it was no big deal. On Family Day at our school, it was just my mother, along with a younger sister, present, but I never complained or felt incomplete. Through the years I accepted the way things were, going with the flow of the river currents called Life.
I was at the tender age of four when my father packed up and left. The last thing I remember of him was when he fetched me from school, but still I learned about him whenever Nanay and Mama talked about him and told stories of what he usually did. My sisters and I were “reintroduced” to him when I was in the third grade, and the dominant feeling that I felt was weirdness—weird in the sense that I knew he’s our father (only our father, and not a husband to our mother), but I didn’t know who he is.
At 11, I learned that we were going to be elder sisters to a
baby boy from my mother. We were so excited; we even joked that we would dress him up in pink and frilly dresses and make him a girl. At that time I was oblivious of what other people may have thought of my mother and her “illegitimate child”; all I was thinking about was how I would love this new addition to our family and how I so looked forward to taking care of him.
At 18, I welcomed a new member of our family—a baby girl from my father. Months later came our youngest member, another baby boy from my mother, fathered by the same man who gave us our first brother seven years ago.
Other people who know about my family would agree that it’s complicated. But when you live in this kind of life, it’s simple to understand: I have three other siblings apart from my three younger sisters, and I accept them with an open heart.
I know other people who don’t accept their half-siblings and often feel hatred toward them. Others think that their half-siblings should not be acknowledged by society and should be considered products of a sin. It’s the harsh reality, and certain people feel this way because of certain reasons. One thing I can say is that one’s position on this matter depends on one’s upbringing and one’s environment while growing up.
Ever since we were young, Mama and Nanay have been instilling in us the trait of acceptance, of taking things as a blessing rather than a problem or a curse—and if a problem arises, we should be level-headed and not think that we are alone. That is the reason for my outlook regarding my family. It is in ourselves to accept the situation, and the children tagged as “illegitimate” should not be punished for they are innocent and have been so since the day they were born.
Maria Thea U. Lavega, 20, studies at the University of the Philippines-Visayas.
