Motherhood is a role steeped in sacrifice, love, and often, unspoken challenges. For Filipino moms, the weight of cultural expectations, generational trauma, and self-imposed standards can lead to a cycle of self-doubt and unfulfilled dreams. But what happens when a mother decides to heal her inner wounds while raising her own children?

For many undocumented Filipino immigrants in the United States, the promise of a better life comes with relentless challenges. Striving for security, stability, and dignity, they live in the shadows, often referred to as "TNT" or "tago ng tago," meaning "always hiding." While the common refrain, "They should just do it the right way," oversimplifies the issue, the reality is far more complex. With barriers such as visa backlogs, sponsorship limitations, and stringent refugee policies, the road to legal status is fraught with obstacles. More than 300,000 Filipinos face the constant threat of deportation, yet their contributions to the American economy and society remain undeniable.

The Filipino immigrant community in the U.S. has long faced challenges—from restrictive immigration policies to xenophobia and systemic barriers. With over 300,000 undocumented Filipinos contributing to the economy yet living in fear of deportation, it’s more important than ever to ensure their safety and amplify their voices.  The question is simple yet urgent: what can we do to protect our immigrant community?

In Filipino households, the eldest daughter, or Ate, is often viewed as the pillar of the family. She’s the one who helps raise younger siblings, supports her parents, and often makes sacrifices for the greater good of her loved ones. But what happens when all that giving comes at the expense of her own well-being? For many eldest daughters, the idea of prioritizing themselves feels impossible—something almost selfish. This article explores the cultural expectations placed on Ates and the journey toward self-care and self-love.

Grieving the death of a parent is one of the most profound challenges anyone can face. For Filipinos, this experience often comes with layers of cultural expectations, unspoken rules, and a deep sense of responsibility to family. While grief is universal, the way it is processed can vary significantly across cultural contexts.

For many gay Filipinos, the journey to self-acceptance is not just personal—it’s deeply intertwined with family expectations. Growing up in a culture that places immense value on family unity, respect, and tradition, LGBTQ+ Filipinos often find themselves navigating a complex web of guilt and grief when their true selves are met with rejection or conditional love. But what does this grief look like, and how can healing begin?

Generations of Filipinas have grown up internalizing a single narrative: family always comes first. While this value fosters deep connections and a strong sense of community, it often comes at a personal cost.

For many Filipinos, childhood was marked by an unrelenting pressure to be perfect. Whether it was excelling in academics, winning competitions, or simply “making your family proud,” the expectations were sky-high. This drive for perfection, while often rooted in love and cultural pride, left countless Filipinos with feelings of inadequacy that persist into adulthood.