Who is the one person you will always save, no matter what?

This letter is for the Filipino American woman who has spent her whole life showing up for everyone around her, and only recently started to wonder what that has cost her.

In this letter, Ren grows up as her mother’s emotional confidant, her younger brother’s stand-in parent, and the steadiest friend and partner anyone around her has ever had. She has always been the one holding everyone else together. And for a long time, she believed that was love.

But after one relationship too many ends the same way, what begins to surface in Ren is something painful and wordless that she has been carrying for a very long time.

If you have spent your whole life showing up for others and somehow (maybe shamefully) still feel unloved, this letter was written for you.

Letter 187 is part of The Filipino American Woman Project’s letters series, inspired by real conversations. This is our AAPI Heritage Month edition.

May is also Mental Health Awareness Month 💛

It’s okay to say that you’re not okay. If you think you may need help, check out the Asian Mental Health Collective:

AMHC was founded in 2020 by community members who have lived with mental illness, therapists, and advocates. It began with a viral Facebook group and in-person meetups for Asians to talk openly about their feelings. We broke barriers by creating the first and largest Asian therapist directory. We also hosted the first online Asian Mental Health Conference. Over the years, we’ve inspired tens of thousands of people to join the conversation.

While the organization has evolved, AMHC is still all about community. We build online spaces for folks looking to connect, share, and learn about the intersections of mental health and Asian identity.

We also know that, for most of us, Asian identity is complex. Though we’re all Asian in the diaspora, we have varied cultures, languages, backgrounds, and traditions. Our differences interweave to create a strong and diverse community.

We want mental health care that acknowledges and understands these identities, rather than erases them. We offer free therapy, support groups, and learning communities that do just that.

Whether you’re just beginning your mental health journey, or are well on your way, this space (and community) is for you.

— Source, About AMHC

How do you find belonging when you’ve never felt fully Filipino or American?

This letter is for the Filipino American woman who has spent years being asked that second question: “But where are you really from?” She learned to answer it smoothly and playfully, without letting anyone notice that being asked the question felt like a wound that kept reopening.

In this letter, Hana grows up caught between two worlds. Her American friends see her as foreign. Her Filipino family wishes she could speak their dialect and understand the cultural nuances. But on a college stage, performing mid-song, she discovers how the space created by the pause within a song can change everything.

If you’ve ever felt like you were too much of one thing and not enough of another — this letter was written for you.

Letter 186 is part of The Filipino American Woman Project’s letters series, inspired by real conversations. This is our AAPI Heritage Month edition.

Welcome to TFAW Letters — the Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month (AAPI) Heritage Month edition — by the Filipino American Woman Project!

I’m your host, Jen Amos, here to read aloud letters inspired by real conversations with you!

It all begins with one line:

If I could say one thing...

Because sometimes one thing is all we need to take up a little more space. 💛

First letter releases next Friday! Stay tuned! 🎧

If you could reflect on one thing, it’s this:

How do you process loss and grief?

This letter is for anyone who’s lost their greatest ally and has been grieving ever since.

The writer speaks to Monica Macansantos, author of Returning to My Father’s Kitchen: Essays. She expresses how her former teacher’s book gave her permission to feel what her family wouldn’t talk about: the pain of losing a loved one who was more than a parent.

Her father was her greatest ally, her champion, and the inspiration behind her curiosity and creativity. The writer paints a portrait of healing that doesn’t erase the pain but, instead, carries it with her.

If you’ve ever felt pressure to suppress your grief, yet longed to honor a loved one in a way that feels true to you, then this one’s for you.

This concludes TFAW Project’s Letters — Holiday Edition! 🎁

Thank you for listening, and we’ll see you again for Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month in May 2026! 👋🏽🎉

What can I do in the meantime?

Subscribe for off-season content!

🗓 Find out when our next Family Potluck event will be! (Tentative date: March 27, 2026)

✍🏽 When you subscribe, you can also submit a letter or respond to a published one, anonymously!

If you could reflect on one thing, it’s this:

Which memories define you, or don’t define you anymore?

This letter is for anyone who simply wants to feel safe, secure, and stable in her friendships.

Through a flashback sparked by a new friend around a bonfire, the writer recalls a time when she was bullied, labeled “lesser than,” and ambushed by a group of girls who she thought were her people.

If you ever struggled to defend yourself for something you didn’t do, this one’s for you.

Join us for our FINAL Family Potluck: Vision Board Workshop this Monday, December 22nd!

If you could reflect on one thing, it’s this:

How do you communicate with your family versus in the workplace?

This letter is for anyone who grew up in a home where tsismis (a.k.a. gossip) was connection, love, and entertainment, only to discover how it lands differently in the workplace.

The writer examines the differences between indirect communication at home and direct communication at work, and how a well-meaning effort to bond with colleagues nearly cost her her job.

If you ever felt torn between how you communicate at home versus at work, this one’s for you.

If you could reflect on one thing, it’s this:

Are you going home for the holidays—or are you already home?

This letter is for anyone tired of being asked if they’re going home to their blood family and relatives for the holidays.

Through faith, conviction, and clarity, the writer shares why she’s choosing not to return to her family this year. She reflects on how familial and cultural expectations justified years of abuse, how she made an idol out of family, and what ‘going home’ means to her today.

If you’ve ever said, “But they’re family…” just to survive the holidays—this letter is for you.

Welcome to TFAW Letters — The Holiday Edition by the Filipino American Woman Project 🎁

I’m your host, Jen Amos.

Just like the FAHM edition, I will read fictionalized letters — my creative interpretation of real conversations with you!

These letters have been woven with heart, reflection, and truth to honor your stories while protecting your privacy.

It all begins with one line, “If I could say one thing.”

RSVP for the Upcoming Family Potluck — NOV 21st! Click HERE.