Meeting My Biological Mother for the First Time
After 30 years, I’ve finally found my biological mother via Facebook and I’m humbly asking for support so I can meet her in person. This is my journey…
According to the social worker’s report, I was born James S. Tuyan on February 26th, 1991 in Sampaloc, Manila, Philippines at the Lying-In Clinic. My birth mother’s name is Lea Tuyan and she was 18 years old when she gave birth to me. My status was ‘surrendered’ because my mother was too young and not financially stable.
For the next 8 months I remained in an orphanage while the adoption process was pending for my new family- the Winders. In November of 1991 I arrived at JFK after a flight from the Philippines in the hands of a stranger. I was hand delivered to the Winder couple who were anxious to meet their third adopted child. My parents had already adopted a boy from the Philippines in ’85 and a girl from South Korea in ’87. From here, my life really began with the people I call my family. In ’96 I gained a new brother because my parents were finally able to conceive after countless years of trying. The Winder family was complete.
I grew up in the small town of Montgomery in central Pennsylvania. This town has little to no racial diversity. I always joked that over 50% of Montgomery’s Asian population lived in my household- which wasn’t entirely false. Growing up brown in a predominately white community had a complicated impact on my identity. I’ve always known that I was Filipino and, for the most part, I was accepted and seamlessly integrated into my town, however, I never truly embraced my birth heritage because I had no opportunities to learn about it or live it. I have a Filipino aunt and cousins, but that hardly counts when you see them once every 10 years.
My perception of family has been entirely shaped by the way my parents raised us kids. They loved each of us equally in their own ways. By their example I was able to embrace the diversity within my own Winder family. Our family photos didn’t look like everyone else’s, but those individual snapshots were only moments of a life that was lived out fully integrated. I had a white mom and dad and a white brother and 2 brown siblings- that’s all I had ever known and I cherished it.
As I got older and my world view grew, I became more and more curious about my Filipino heritage and biological history. I had always known I was born in the Philippines and I knew bits and pieces of my identity from my parents’ stories. I knew nothing more, though. I would check out books from the library about the Philippines always secretly searching for my parents and find quiet comfort in seeing pictures of people who looked like me. I had learned to blend into my surroundings through social interactions from a very young age. Perhaps it’s because I just really like getting to know peoples’ stories or perhaps it’s because I didn’t want to feel different than everyone else. I presented as a brown Asian male, which I still do and always will. It’s impossible to change. Yet, as a kid, I tried my best to blend in. I would keep up with all the trends. I kept up with all the music and TV shows. I even tried to have the same dialect as them to sound more like them. And I admit, I got really good at it. So good that I was “ok” with my nickname being “Rice” all through high school.
No matter how hard I tried to assimilate into my central PA community, the mirror never let me forget that I was different. And small-minded people always felt it necessary to remind me.
At 18, my parents felt I was mature enough to see the documents regarding my adoption that I never knew existed until then. I agree that I would not have been ready to receive all this information any earlier than at 18. Up until this point I knew virtually nothing about my biological history. I would only imagine what my mother and father would have looked like- some would call it a Ghost Kingdom. And at that moment I had more truths and facts at my fingertips than I had ever imagined. I learned the name of my mother and her birthdate, I learned where I was born, I saw pictures from the orphanage, and so many more bits of golden information. I remember standing in the mirror after mulling over the social worker’s report in complete disbelief. Tears ran down my face and into the sink as I just stared at my reflection. Whose eyes do I have? Whose nose do I have? Is Lea Tuyan even alive anymore? What would my life be if I had never been adopted? Countless questions and countless emotions flooded over me like never before in my 18 years.
From here I did the only reasonable thing to do at this stage of my life. I got tattoos. ‘Lea’ on my chest and ‘Tuyan’ on my back. Only small ones because bigger ones were too expensive.
My searching grew more fervent. For years to come I searched for Lea Tuyan. I searched for the social worker. I searched for the name of the orphanage. I followed any potential lead to its fateful end, which was always just that. A dead end. Myspace, Google, Facebook, email correspondence to the adoption agency in PI. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I had to accept the ‘fact’ that I would never know anything about my biological history. And I reluctantly conceded to that realization…
Until August 10th, 2021. A few days earlier I had sent the same message I had always sent to Facebook users named Lea Tuyan: “Hi Lea. My name is Seth, but I was born James Tuyan. I’m on a search for my biological mother named Lea.” This message was always met with a, “Sorry, I can’t help you,” or “Sorry, I’m not her,” yet on this day it wasn’t.
She replied, “Where were you born? I also had a child born and the name is also James Tuyan.”
Back and forth we went, and she asked to see my birth certificate which unfortunately I don’t have. What I do have, though, is a photo album from my time in the orphanage and all the documents from the social worker. I was then added to a group Facebook chat a with bunch of people I’ve never heard of before. We communicated in broken English and in Tagalog (thanks to Google Translate) and shared documents to provide proof of legitimacy. Birth certificates from my siblings, names on official documents from the social worker and adoption agency, dates and addresses all kept lining up. I maintained a healthy level of skepticism, but the deeper and deeper we got into conversations about my roots, the more certain I became.
In the first 48 hours of my discovery I learned more about my origins than I had ever dreamed: my mother is alive, but is “no read, no write” (uneducated); I was actually born in Cubao; I have 6 biological siblings (Carlito, Angieline, Cherry, Carolina, Teresita, and Christian); my father’s name is Ricardo Abejar Castro and saw his picture; the names and images of my nieces and nephews; and, personally, the most meaningful thing to me, my full birth name. I am James Santiago Tuyan- I have my mother’s family name. At 30 years old, I had finally learned my full birth name.
The only way of legitimizing this further is through a DNA test which is currently pending, but in my siblings’ words, “Mama is 100% sure you are her son, but she is willing to do a DNA test to have no doubt.”
I share my story with you because I am humbly asking for your assistance to help me travel to the Philippines to meet my biological mother and my siblings for the very first time. Thanks to my parents and my siblings, I have a greater appreciation for the family unit. A family is a group of people who love you. It doesn’t have to be blood for it to count. This discovery doesn’t change anything about who I have become and the family I have, but it has now grown my family to the lengths that I never could have imagined. I am finally embracing my Filipino heritage.
This fund will allow my wife and I to travel to and from the Philippines in 2 years and to stay for a short time. My sincerest gratitude to all who have taken the time to read my life story. Your consideration means so much.
