An Open Letter From An Illegitimate Child: 'It's Not Our Fault'

The following open letter was written by Tiffany*, a freelancing mom of one, who was born out of wedlock. Below she writes a message about what it was like to grow up as an illegitimate child.

When I first read the trending news of a seasoned celebrity allegedly having a child outside his legal family, I was unsure how to feel. 

It is easy to judge others and give opinions based on what has been said online, but to be in the shoes of those being judged is different. I am an illegitimate child. It is marked on my birth certificate, in all caps, “ILLEGITIMATE.”

When I was young, writing my parents’ names with different surnames was confusing. It’s exhausting to explain to others why I carry my mother’s surname—not my father’s—and why I don’t have a middle name. I have nothing to put in the forms that ask for my parent’s wedding date. 

RELATED: An Open Letter To The Wife Of My Child's Father, 'Sana Hindi Tayo Nagkakilala Sa Ganitong Paraan'

Honestly, I almost forgot about those things because I already moved on. But seeing these things now triggered something in the deepest parts of my heart. 

To anyone reading this, please know it is not an illegitimate child’s fault. Whatever happened to my parents, it was not my fault. Nobody told me that when I was young, so I think it will be helpful for anyone to hear this: It is not our fault.

I can’t remember exactly how I knew that my father had an original, legal family. We weren’t a family who explained things to a child; I guess I just put things together. 

My Mama was the third party, and I was the fruit of their “illicit” relationship. My father didn’t leave his legal family but supported me financially. He ended his relationship with my Mama and lived abroad with his wife and three children. It is easy to write and even look at it at face value, but it wasn’t an easy journey as a child.

'"Homewrecker", "anak sa labas", "naghahabol ka lang ng pera"—we already know all those hurtful words. We’ve already said that to ourselves and felt terrible for just existing. We don’t need everyone saying it to our faces.'

I was in elementary when I first saw my father in person. I was nervous and awkward. I went alone to his sister's house, where he was staying. Immediately upon arriving, I said “mano po” to my tita, but she refused. I remember asking in my mind, why would she do that? Then I thought, maybe she doesn’t consider me as family because I’m his 'anak sa labas'. 

Another painful memory was the monthly allowance from my father. He would give it to me through his relatives because he’s an OFW and maybe because he doesn’t want his wife to know. When I was in grade school, it was just P1,000 per month. I remember going to that relative’s office, asking for my allowance. She said to me in a condescending tone once, “Wala pang padala eh,” in front of everyone. I ran out of that office and almost hurt my hands, closing the door. 

What I’m saying is that those people would blame me for what my parents did and made sure that I knew that. And I think that was wrong. 

RELATED: A Single Mom's Letter To Her Fatherless Son: 'I Did Not Raise You Alone'

To anyone reading this, it doesn’t hurt to give even just an ounce of kindness to others. In situations when we can choose to be judgmental or kind, please choose kindness. 

You may not know what an illegitimate child is going through, so saying things as if you know everything is not helpful. 

“You’re a homewrecker”, “Anak ka lang sa labas”, “Naghahabol ka lang ng pera”—we already know all those hurtful words. We’ve already said that to ourselves and felt terrible for just existing. We don’t need everyone saying it to our faces.

I would ask God as a young girl, “Lord, why did you even allow my existence when I was born out of sin?” “Am I just a mistake?”

It’s painful for a child to ask and think about that; hearing negative words doesn’t help. For me, it was a life of struggling with being an illegitimate child, growing up without a father and a complete family. It was not easy. 

You don’t know how it feels to long for just one meal with a complete family.

You don’t know how it feels to long for acceptance, unconditional acceptance for just existing. 

You don’t know how it feels to prove yourself so you can prove everyone wrong constantly. 

To anyone reading this from an illegitimate child, please know it’s not our fault. Please extend an ounce of kindness. It’s free.

*Names have been changed at the author’s request.