In June 2024, six years after my mother, Mely Tagasa a.k.a. Miss Tapia, passed away from a stroke, Anak ni Tapia: Leaving Mother premiered to diverse enthusiastic audiences at Links Hall, a small white box theatre in Chicago, Illinois. It was my first time writing and performing in a solo show.
Since then, it has been featured as a winning play at the 2024 #WeWomen Festival, excerpted at the first ever Filipino American Theatre Festival in Chicago hosted by CIRCA Pintig, remounted in March 2025, and now set to tour five cities in two separate continents between June to December this year. What in the world was I thinking?!
Anak ni Tapia: Leaving Mother is a play that highlights the experiences of a queer immigrant woman who lived in the shadow of a celebrity mother.
“Anak ni Tapia” directly translates to “child of Tapia.” Miss Tapia is the iconic character my mother played on Philippine television for 15 years from the ‘70s to the ‘80s.
It was based off a character in a comic strip that Manila Bulletin artist Roni Santiago created called “Baltic & Co.” It preceded the British show that was adapted by US television The Office, but it is exactly like that, with its own set of quirky characters.
My mom played the part of the payroll clerk, a feisty and enterprising spinster who sold longganisa (Filipino sausage) and tocino (cured pork) on the side. When the show ended, another sitcom, Iskul Bukol, resurrected Miss Tapia as a teacher in 1978. And what a glorious resurrection indeed. People kept calling her Miss Tapia long after the show shut down in 1988.

The idea for the solo performance came to me after a friend texted a YouTube video clip of my mom in a movie starring Fernando Poe Jr. It starts with my mother frantically flagging a bus, which stops a few feet from where she stands.
She enters, nagging at the bus driver for almost missing her, and then demands a male passenger sitting by the window to give up his seat to her because, “Yan ang puwesto ko! (That is my spot!)”
Three of the passengers turn out to be gun-toting “bus-jackers,” and her handsome seatmate is the cop who later saves the day (Fernando Poe). The men order people at gunpoint to hand out their purses, wallets, and watches, as the action hero surveys the terrifying scene.
Suddenly, Honorata (her character’s name, I learned later from Wikipedia) stands up with righteous indignation and berates the evildoers. “Oy, ikaw! (Hey, you!)” she yells, wagging her lethal folding fan at the one wielding a machine gun. “I demand an explanation!”
I realized at that moment how lucky I am, how wonderful that I could just click on a link and there she is. My mother. Young, alive, and beautiful, and yes, as fearsome as the days I got caught doing something crazy that every teenager has likely done before.

When I commenced my artist fellowship with Links Hall, a 50-year-old incubator lab for theatre and dance practitioners, I thought maybe I could do 20 to 30 minutes at most. By the end of the six-month residency and with some help from a trauma therapist and my director Daisy Castro, I had whittled down a massive manuscript to a 90-minute solo show.
The project is “my attempt at processing grief and gaining closure through performance,” part of my press release states.
When I emailed it to the kind and brilliant Philippine Daily Inquirer contributor Walter Ang (RIP), I was questioned — or maybe reprimanded — one can never tell from an email convo.
Walter clarified, “I say this from a place of love and because I want your intent to come through (and as a former PR copywriter) and with all my kabaklaan (gayness), I want you to know that the current release makes the play sound very sad.”
Very sad? I was aghast. One of my music collaborators had said how pleasantly surprised he was that the script was not depressing at all. “Some of it is actually quite funny.”
Thanks to wise Walter’s “loving critique,” I revised the press release, and did the show. How I memorized the lines and movements when I have trouble remembering what I eat for breakfast escapes me to this day.

I have the guts of a 20-year-old in a sexagenarian body. (Sexygenarian?) Mostly, I think I inherited my mother’s one-take performer gene. That, or she was whispering the lines in my ear, urging me to take “my spot” but making sure I did not make a fool of myself.
In fact, I had never felt as close to her as when I was hammering the piece relentlessly on my laptop, like I had seen her do in front of her Olivetti typewriter countless times.
Unbeknownst to many, my mother began in showbiz as a radio talent and then an award-winning scriptwriter for soaps. She was a singer, too, which is why the show has all of the creative elements she introduced me to as a child — songs, sounds, and stories.
Anak ni Tapia: Leaving Mother will be in Milan, Italy, June 1 at the Anfiteatro Martesan; at the Actor’s Company Theatre in Los Angeles, California, June 13-15, as part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival; in Toronto, Canada, July 5, to raise funds for a 40-year Filipino-Canadian organization called Adhika; in San Francisco, California in August as part of the Free-Play Festival, date to be confirmed, and quite possibly in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico in December.
Who knows, maybe someday, Anak ni Tapia will come home. – Rappler.com
CIRCA Pintig is a Filipino-American community theater arts organization based in Chicago.
Lani T. Montreal writes to create her home in the diaspora. She is a queer feminist Filipina writer, performer, educator, and community activist based in Chicago, whose works have been published/produced in North America, the Philippines, and in cyberspace.
She has worked as a playwright and resident artist with CIRCA-Pintig, Chicago Danztheatre, and Free Street Theatre. Her play about gun violence, “Panther in the Sky,” which premiered May 2024 at Chicago Danztheatre, was described by Buzz Stage critic Wesley David as “a testament to the power of empathy, compassion, and solidarity in the face of unspeakable tragedy.”
Lani is a two-time 3Arts Residency Awardee (2009 and 2016), 2017 alumna of the VONA Writers of Color Workshop, and 2024 Links Hall Co-MISSION Artist Fellow. She was a semifinalist for the Dramatist Guild 2024 Fellowship, and voted first runner-up for Best Playwright in Chicago Reader’s 2024 Best of Chicago for Panther in the Sky. She teaches writing at Malcolm X College, one of the City Colleges of Chicago.
For ticket information: www.filinthegap.com