Capsule writer Vivien Beduya had an immigrant parent. Growing up, she (sadly) saw her mum as this villain who left her family for a better life in Aotearoa. Vivien’s dad didn’t want to move and stayed behind, but her mum knew they would have more opportunities in New Zealand than the Philippines. But teenage Vivien did not understand that, and as harsh as it might sound now, she hated her mama for leaving. But as she’s thinking about becoming a parent in the near future, it’s only now that she truly understands what her mama gave up.
Welcome to our column, A Letter To… Some of our most well-known Kiwis and everyday heroes pen letters about a topic close to their hearts. Some of their names you will know very well, while others are kept anonymous to protect the privacy of the subjects. Whether it is a letter to a specific someone, or a group of people, or simply an open letter to broach a difficult subject, each letter is very different, but all will share one common thread; they will all be written from the heart. You can read our other letters here.
To my badass mama (who will 100% scold me for saying the word ass),
I was 13 when you moved to New Zealand, with plans for me and kuya (older brother in Filipino) to eventually move over.
You left a career you built for at least a decade. I mean you had a great job as head of a regional accounting department in a reputable AND LARGE corporation. It made no sense.
But you became the sole breadwinner of the family, and not only financially supported us, but our extended family too. So you did what you had to do.
I was 21 when you finally convinced me to build a life in Aotearoa. I kept pushing the moving date because I didn’t want to leave the Philippines. And quite frankly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be with you.
I had spent the last eight years of my life being physically away from you, apart from yearly visits for graduations or Christmas and weekly Skype video calls I avoided because it felt forced.
Granted I was young and didn’t fully understand why you decided to leave, but I grew this resentment towards you. I thought you were so selfish for “abandoning” us and dad taking on the role as a full-time caretaker. (As he’d like to say, he was a houseband.)
I spent nearly a decade feeling lost and alone, navigating a world that could be so cruel to a young girl, with no mum or any other mother figure to guide me.
Our big family parties stopped happening, because you were no longer there to plan it.
You missed all my birthdays and kuya’s, and any event of significance never really felt significant anymore. I started to hate my birthdays, the idea of a prom or any event that required me to get dolled up.
“What was the point?”, I’d keep telling myself.
When I first arrived in New Zealand nine years ago, you expected us to be instant best friends when you felt like a stranger to me. You also treated me like I was that same 13-year-old daughter you left behind.
But as the years went by, I realised I was the one who didn’t understand you.
While I felt alone when I was younger, you were actually alone for nearly a decade.
But you had to hold on, and put that loneliness to one side, because you really wanted us to get a good education and put us through private schools and universities.
“I don’t have riches to pass down to you, but what I know I can give you is good education” was something you always loved telling me.
I could never imagine the pressure of having to financially support a whole family while being separated from them. That kind of loneliness and sacrifice is a pain I’ll never know.
AHH pause! I need to walk away because I keep crying as I’m writing this letter!
Okay, I’m back…
After attending my citizenship ceremony at 27, I curled up in bed and felt a deep and crippling sadness. It was meant to be a celebratory event because that night, I officially became a New Zealand citizen.
Everyone said this was a significant milestone in my life worth celebrating. You were so happy sitting in the audience, too. You had one the biggest smiles I’ve seen plastered on your face.
So I kept beating myself up for being so… depressed.
Why the hell am I so sad? Shouldn’t I be happy? Ugh, what an idiotic thing to feel about a happy moment! I feel so ungrateful right now especially after all of my mum’s sacrifices to get me here.
Several days (and one therapy session) later, I processed what I felt: Grief. My grief over the eight years of my childhood we spent apart and growing up in a “broken” family.
But your sacrifice meant that I now have the freedom of choice — something I would’ve never had in the Philippines. (Unless I married rich, but crazy rich Asians aren’t my type and I don’t think I’m theirs, so here we are.)
I would have never been able to pursue a creative career. I would’ve been an accountant to be financially stable, can you imagine?!?! (I actually have a bachelor’s degree in accounting technology I don’t use lol.)
I would have never been able to travel and see the world as much as I have, or enjoy a laidback and balanced lifestyle.
I would never have met the loml (love of my life!!), who is literally one of the best humans on this entire planet and I’m so blessed to have him by my side.
And now that we’re thinking about becoming parents, I can’t help but bawl (again) about the fact that my future children will have a much better life because of you.
They will grow up safe, free and full of choice because you endured the heartache of being away from yours.
Thank you so much, ma. I’m so sorry it took me so long to fully understand you, but I get it now.


