CALIFORNIA DREAMING

A black Filipino-American’s story of hardship and hope
Benito ‘Jong’ Molintas Jr.

HEMET CITY, USA -- Poised and chin-up, he had a warm greeting with an innate smile as he came out from the Asian Market of Hemet City. We exchanged phone numbers and a friendship started when he visited me and told me the story of his life.

Maxi Oliveros-Hamilton’s life was captivating -- a colorful life full of tears and challenges which he called a “golden experience that must be treasured.” His story:

“I am a son of a prostitute and a black American. I am proud of that. My dad who was a navy man registered me in Clark, Pampanga. He left us when I was a baby and my mom, a Chinese refugee who was adopted by a Filipino passed away after marrying a Baguio boy named Conrado, who raped me when he brought me to Baguio when I was young.

“I was alone. I sold fish balls and vegetables in our neighborhood. I planted rice away from my home town, became a janitor and worked in different low income jobs. Name it I tried it. In every sweat I made, in every tiring moment I felt, every pain I carried, and every oppressing laugh I heard, I was thinking it was because I was a poor Amerasian.

“As a result all of these hardships, I tried to take my life one time by cutting my veins. Luckily, I survived. With that, I realized that one day I will be greater that those who ridiculed me. That challenged me to move on and timely -- I received a check worth $500.

“I later learned the money was given to me by my father from his pension. I was a beneficiary. I used it to pay my tuition, food and everything. I later became like a butterfly that roamed around the houses of my classmates and friends. Even when I had money, my youthful mind was not set in making my future stable. It was only when I got a tip from a big drug lord in prison that I became scared they would take my life away.

“Later, a postman told me that folks receiving checks from the US government were automatically citizens. That was the main reason why I went to the embassy and showed my birth certificate. I didn’t expect to get a blue colored passport -- a US passport. I moved to the US.

“Yes, I was married to a mayor’s daughter so she could come to the US until she was stable. The mayor set up the scenario because he knew nothing will happen to us because he knew that I was gay. That was my life in the Philippines.”

“I kept a very small piece of paper in my old ugly poor purse -- the address of my black grandmother. I tried to call her and let her know that I am Maxi Lee Hamilton, III. But, she said, “No! My son is dead. Maxi Hamilton Jr. died. You should be Maxi Hamilton the third.

“With joy, she took my address at Palm Springs where I worked and came over with my family: four black stepsisters, aunties, uncles and wow, a lot of vans parked just to see me. I never knew that aside from the blessings that my father made making me as a beneficiary, knowing I am the only son, my grandmother too was so generous to give me a house at Orange County (a county of rich people).

“As an irony of those tears that drenched my shirt when they visited me, my sisters became so jealous and started claiming the house. But in my grandmother’s will, the house was for me and it was known right after her death.

“I thought the house, like other things, were just things. Someday I can have my own. So, I left and let them have it. It just showed that their skin spoke of what they were. I am more beautiful than they were in character, I thought. Later, for 25 years, I survived. I didn’t ask for a single dime or cent from them. I let them fade out from my sight. Maybe in the future, they would come back.

“I had everything when I started working; anyway money here is something as compared to the Philippines. I started my life all over again. Just few years ago, when a journalist was having a talk with me, I didn’t notice that they would make a story of my life. I noticed when a friend called from Philippines and said the author was the same person who interviewed me.

“As a greenhorn in this country, pieces of advice earlier came out from the journalist’s mouth. A remarkable statement he made: “Try to get rid of building a circle of Filipino friends because they are back stabbers. Most of them are, but not all. Their smiles and goofy acts are brazenly shams. Just keep on going and search for a better destiny. I am sure someday you will soon find your luck in this country. “
***
His parting words to me: “I leave a question, which you may not answer, but implant in your mind: With all those tears and happiness I’ve been through, must I be ridiculed or be an example to my fellow folks who are being oppressed?”