I’m raising a daughter who dreams of becoming a K-pop star. “Is that possible?” she asked me one day. “Anything is possible,” I assured her. Truth be told, maybe I don’t fully believe that. But my daughter is growing up in a world where she will be judged by her looks, her gender, her being atypical. I don’t think it helps to burst her bubble this early. For now, it is important that she feels unstoppable. Exactly how to break into the K-pop scene is a problem for another time.
Tala came into our lives eight years ago. At two years old, she couldn’t converse, but her words flowed effortlessly to the tune of songs from Disney movies. She played alone but she never seemed lonely. There was something delightful about the way she tucked her light-up stuffed toy between her face and the floor. With singular focus, she would push its buttons with the lightness and fondness of someone who’s hiding a happy little secret.
At two and a half years old, our Tala was diagnosed with autism. It was like going to the dentist to have your teeth cleaned, but ending up with a root canal and all your teeth pulled, said my husband Ronald. I took a few days to mourn the future that we imagined for our first-born. But shortly after, I realized the future has not changed: it was still unwritten and could be anybody’s game. It was up to us to help Tala win.
LESSON NO. 1: SHOW UP.
We knew early on that the odds were stacked against my daughter. For her to have a fighting chance at a future that she wants, she had to put in the hours. We live in a society where women work harder than men to prove themselves worthy of recognition, opportunities, a podium, a seat at the table. So I thought, the first thing that Tala needed to learn was to show up, as much as possible, whatever the circumstances.
Right after her diagnosis, we booked Tala for all the intervention that she needed, and more. Time was of the essence. We knew we had to pack her young life full of sessions while her mind was malleable.
I’m raising a daughter who dreams of becoming a K-pop star. “Is that possible?” she asked me one day. “Anything is possible,” I assured her.She began with occupational therapy sessions two times a week to improve her sitting time and focus, motor skills, eye-hand coordination, and positive behavior. When she was ready, we added speech therapy two times a week. Despite the slow progress, we made her show up, taking her on silent rides to flit from session to session. One day, about a year after her diagnosis, I remember we were walking her to the door of her speech therapy room. Right before she entered, she looked at us and, for the first time, said: “I love you.”
I looked at my husband in shock! For the rest of the waiting time, we held our tears back and squeezed each other’s hands. After all the hard work, she was finally winning, we thought. Later on, we would add a daily three-hour early intervention group class to the list of things she needed to show up for. It was meant to prepare her for school and all the fears that came with stepping out of her comfort zone: bullies, stringent standards, responsibilities, other people.
At the height of these interventions, our four-year-old was showing up for 20 hours’ worth of therapy every week. At one point, while driving to a session, Tala suddenly said: “Daddy, I’m tired.” At the time, she had begun to carry on short conversations, so we thought it was safe to slow down. Most people who see Tala now cannot believe she used to be non-verbal. Some even said, maybe she was misdiagnosed. They don’t know how much work went into that first “I love you,” and the many verbal milestones that followed.
LESSON NO. 2: EXERCISE YOUR AGENCY.
Being a girl and having autism at the same time make our daughter much more vulnerable to influence and pressure from others. To ensure that she will have the life that she wants, I thought we should teach her about agency very early on. Like waiting for the crack of dawn, I watched for the first signs of self-motivation and direction to encourage her to make her own decisions. From what to wear to the mall, to what to order in a restaurant, we gave her opportunities to decide. It made us proud to see her embrace this power and, little by little, test its boundaries.
I gave birth to our youngest, Alon, when Tala was almost three years old. He is neurotypical and unlike her sister, Alon was a chatterbox before he was two years old. In our house, both of them have the space to say what they want, express disagreement, and articulate their thoughts and feelings. They choose what toys to buy, where to go on weekends, what snacks to eat. Nobody touches them without their permission – a rule that we set up to teach both of them to say “no” to actions or attention that make them uncomfortable. Every day, we make them understand–especially Tala–that the power to make decisions about their lives is exclusively theirs.
Mama Allen with her children Tala and Alon. LESSON NO. 3: HAVE COMPASSION.
Hard work pays off. Embracing power gets you the life you want. But at the end of the day, I teach my daughter that compassion defines character. I often still get scared thinking about her future. Are we doing enough to prepare her for the challenges of life as an atypical young girl trying to find her place in this world? But then I remember that as a woman, I have had to draw strength from other women, especially in the lowest points of my life. These experiences have taught me that there is no shame in asking for help. In turn, I teach Tala to not be embarrassed to seek help, and to not hesitate to give it when help is asked of her. After all, no woman is truly empowered unless she is able to empower others.
Last December, Tala made a mind-blowing discovery. She asked me, “Mommy, what is Tala ng Pasko?” I explained to her that it was a Christmas gift drive that her daddy and I started several years ago to share our families’ and friends’ blessings to kids who aren’t as lucky as she is. “You used my name!” she exclaimed. I said, “Yes, we named it after you because you’re one of our biggest blessings.” For weeks, she watched as gifts “for the sick kids” came and got shipped to pediatric cancer patients. I could see her mind blown.
We intend to continue teaching her the meaning of privilege, and the need to use this to be a blessing to others.
THEN CANCER HAPPENED
Exactly two years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My world fell apart that day in February. My thoughts went fast forward to a future where I saw my Tala and Alon lost and alone. After the diagnosis, I took a few days to process the information. Then one night, as I watched my 5- and 4-year-old sleeping soundly, I realized losing was not an option.
My cancer journey would turn out to be an opportunity to demonstrate to my children–especially to Tala–the grit that I previously only talked about. I showed up for every step in my treatment protocol–surgery, six cycles of chemotherapy, 30 radiation sessions. In between doctors’ appointments, I felt it was important to live my life on my own terms. I was still a mother, wife, sister, daughter, career woman, friend. It is just that I happened to be inconvenienced by cancer.
The day after my first chemotherapy session, I had my husband shave my hair while the kids watched. “My own terms,” I thought. I was not going to lose my hair to chemotherapy. This was me, exercising my agency.
I won the battle on October 5, 2020, Tala’s 6th birthday. That day, I came home from my last radiation session to celebrate life–mine and my daughter’s–and to move on from this dark chapter in our lives. I have since been cancer-free, and hope to remain so for as long as my family needs me.
In the meantime, Tala has been going to regular school, supplemented with occupational and speech therapies, and social skills group classes. It feels like Tala is in a perpetual race to be at par with kids her age. Nonetheless, I am happy that we are winning. These days, I devote much of my work to helping achieve gender equality and empowering women to become what they want to be. I do it for Tala so she can actually have a future where anything is believably possible–including K-pop stardom.
