Daily writing prompt.

What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?

Cultural heritage is an interesting topic now because I’m not biologically related to my elderly Dad, who moved in with us recently. My American parents adopted me in the Philippines while they were there for my Dad’s job as the general manager of a rattan furniture factory. I was an infant when I joined this family as their one and only beloved child.

After I was adopted, we moved to Thailand, where we were fortunate enough to have household staff who taught me how to count to ten in Thai once I started to speak. I was three or four when my parents finally returned to the United States and settled in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I grew up.

Being an adopted Filipino has been a unique experience. I don’t look like my parents, and my Dad used to say that’s for the best because I’d probably have his ears. But I always knew I wasn’t their biological child, and even worse, I grew up feeling like I had to explain that to people. When we went on family vacations to Mexico, people would think I was Mexican, and I’d speak up and be like, “Actually, I’m from the Philippines.”

Back in California, I once got lost at an event. I found my way to the Lost and Found booth and tried to describe my parents. The people in that booth gave me a weird look as if they didn’t believe I could have a tall, Caucasian, bearded Dad. “I’m adopted!” I tried to explain. My Dad found me standing there before I grew more upset.

The only time in my life when my cultural identification was generally ambiguous was when I lived overseas in Stockholm, Sweden, in my mid-twenties. Nobody made any assumptions that I spoke Tagalog, Spanish, or even English. Everyone would talk to me in Swedish, and then they’d realize I had no idea what they said, nor could I respond appropriately. I tried to speak Swedish, but everyone would change over to English.

So, to answer the question about what aspects of my cultural heritage I’m most proud of or interested in, I’m pleased to be such a cultural mix that people have difficulty recognizing my culture at first impression. It’s kind of difficult to label me, and I’ve realized with time that it’s a good thing. I’m interested in all the parts that make up my cultural heritage. With the blessing of my adoptive parents, I even traveled back to the Philippines in 2014 to meet my biological Mom and younger siblings there.

While I’ll always be a proud American, I also feel indebted to a sweet, impoverished woman in the Philippines who knew that she couldn’t take care of me. My future was rooted in her culture and her love for me. She helped stir together a recipe, even though she could never see the final creation. I now know how important family is to Filipinos, and that really gives me something to consider today as I try to help my Dad.