Philippine Amerasians: The forgotten children

There are thousands of older American GIs, who were stationed in either Clark Air Base or Subic Naval Base in the Philippines, out there somewhere with or without knowledge they have fathered children during their stint in the archipelago.

For those who are aware of their now adult children and did nothing to support or acknowledge them, shame on you.

These half-Americans, or Amerasians, were also often abandoned by their mothers. In a conservative Catholic country, some mothers gave up their children to avoid the social stigma of being a single parent and to retain hope of marriage.

According to a 2010 study by the Philippine Amerasian Research Institute, many of these children lived in “abject poverty”, and were likely to be out of work, homeless, have alcohol, drug or familial abuse problems, as well as “identity confusion, unresolved grief issues over the loss of their fathers, social isolation and low self-esteem.”

Children fathered by African-Americans suffered the most prejudice. According to one estimate, a quarter of Amerasians in the Philippines are of African-American descent. Many have been denied jobs purely because of their skin color.

Some data estimates Amerasians in the Philippines number 250,000 – a largely forgotten community.

Clark Air Base in Angeles City and the Subic Naval Base in Olongapo — about two hours’ drive north of Manila —were vital part of the U.S. military’s arsenal in the Pacific. The facilities were located in the most strategic part of the region.

Both shut down in 1992 after nearly half a century presence.

The bases, the largest facilities outside American soil, played crucial logistical roles – they were main repair hubs during the Vietnam War; Clark Air Base served as a launch pad for aerial attacks.

Hundreds of thousands of American troops and civilian contractors rotated through the bases, giving rise to infamous red-light districts along the major strip of both Angeles City and Olongapo – and pockets of small communities nearby.

There also were private homes converted into brothels – pimps roamed city streets in search of sex-starved customers, preferably foreigners.

Thus, unwanted pregnancies proliferated in the mostly poor towns near the bases. Most of the women operated under the hope of the GIs taking them back to America – a way to escape the hardship of their native land, the poverty they were born into and could never get out of.

Sadly, hundreds of thousands of promises were broken, children were abandoned in trash bins, church steps, alongside roads, or trusted to the care of distant relatives who made money off the children, selling them to the highest bidder, masquerading the transaction simply as “adoption.”

I was in Angeles City months before Mount Pinatubo erupted in 1991. My guide was an Amerasian, the son of a white Air Force officer. He introduced himself as Richard, but emphasized that his friends know him by his street name, “Albino.”

Albino was about 19 years old at that time. He told me he lived alone – his mother was a Go-Go dancer, commonly known in the U.S. as a stripper – who fled shortly after giving birth to him. He was raised by a relative who trained him to be a city guide to GIs.

He never knew his father, but kept a crumpled old and unrecognizable photo of him. He told me he wanted to go to L.A. to look for his father. He said he just want to meet him and let him know he existed. He wanted to tell his father he understood why he left.

I asked him what he would want out of the meeting.

A photo, he said. A photo with his father.

Shortly after the volcano erupted in June of that year, I lost contact with Albino. I stayed in the region to cover the aftermath and never heard from him again.

I often wonder how many others are like him – Amerasians who just wanted to see their fathers and let them know they exist.

In 1982, U.S. Congress passed a law giving preferential immigration status to Amerasian children born in Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos but not the Philippines.

The only way Philippine Amerasians can become citizens is if their fathers (emphasis on the “if”) file paternity claims before they turn 18. Since Clark and Subic closed over 20 years ago, most of the children are already too old to claim citizenship.

So I guess there will be no Father’s Day reunions happening anytime soon.

Many of these so-called Filipino Amerasians now have children of their own, and I’m pretty certain that most have conquered the steepest of the challenges they faced as children.

They are keeping close to their children, giving them the love and attention they never received from their American fathers.

Come to think of it, that may be the meaning of Father’s Day for these forgotten children – it’s not a day to tell your dad you love him.

It’s a day to tell your sons and daughters that you do.

John Mangalonzo is the content strategist for The Spectrum & Daily News. You can contact him at 435-674-6274, via email at jmangalonzo@thespectrum.com or on Twitter: @JMangalonzo.

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