Filipino-American Scholarship

‘Daly City is basically Manilatown’- words that my white classmates said in the school hallways. I looked down in shame, but as I stared out the window and saw Carl the fog rolling in, I remembered the anecdote my parents shared with me that ‘the fog is all the Filipinos cooking rice’. I no longer felt shame in being surrounded by a community that looked like me. As a first generation Filipina American born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, I am incredibly lucky to have been exposed to Ethnic Studies and social justice work that is rooted in the community. Through volunteering as a translator for elderly manongs and manangs as they share their stories in Tagalog at Bayanihan Equity Center in San Francisco, and showing younger Filipino American students that higher education is attainable by being a mentor at the Galing Bata after school program, the stories these younger and elderly Filipinos shared the same sentiments and dreams that my parents had, to give back to our family, back to our kapwa, and back to our community; all upon the driving purpose of love. Filipinos are resilient, and I choose to be resilient by leading with love. Being able to pay homage to the servant leaders who came before me in my work, such as Larry Itliong, has allowed me to be part of something greater than myself. Itliong, a Filipino American labor movement leader in the Delano grape strikes, proved that making noise and centering leadership around the people ensures that community remains in the hands of the community. Inspired by the movements towards intergenerational healing and solidarity work, my non profit work and working in public service spaces have inspired me to bring change through the law. The government structure was not made for individuals who look like me, and have even worked to try and remove our existence from history books and from taking space; however, I find that it is my responsibility to take space in the law and be able to use the law for good, especially for my community. In any capacity, I lead with love; because of my love for my family, my love for Ethnic Studies, my love for my community, and my love for my Filipino identity.

If you were to ask me what the most important skill is to become successful, I would say is to be financially literate. Financial literacy to me is one of the most fundamental skills to succeed in society and many individuals of undermined communities lack these necessary skills. Now this isn’t because they choose not to be financially literate, it is more because these communities lack the resources to obtain such skills. Research shows that many of your minority communities, specifically African Americans, demonstrate a low financial literacy rate. As a proud African American and Filipino woman who was raised in a household that valued the importance of financial literacy, and to see my peers lack such necessary skills drives me to take matters into my own hands and decrease the financial literacy gap not only the African American community but every undermined community as well. It is my long-term goal to start a non-profit that targets the youth in undermined communities and to teach them financial literacy. I believe obtaining such knowledge at a young age, will provide these individuals the proper foundation to build on top of. One of the people I look up to the most is my mother, as a Filipino immigrant, she has always instilled the mindset of financial literacy into me from a very young age, especially being a financial advisor herself. I too, want to follow in her footsteps and share the word of financial literacy, but with my spin on it. I’ve witnessed my peers not even know what a “share” is, let alone know the importance of investing or the different types of ways to save money other than a savings account. It’s been a virtue to be raised by financially literate parents who can help guide me in my career, but what about those who aren’t receiving the same advantages as me? Do they not deserve to receive the same benefits as me? To me, to be Filipina means to be proud of my heritage and to always be the best version of myself. One of the biggest lessons my mom has taught me, outside of finance, is to "leave something better than it was before". With that said, I hope to leave an everlasting impact on my community to help future generations.

A hyphen, by definition, is used to join words that indicate they have a combined meaning. I was Filipino-American by title. Yet internally, I didn’t know what I was supposed to call myself. The hyphen between “Filipino” and “American” felt more like a reminder that I would never truly be one or the other. Why must a singular line inhibit my entire understanding of my own identity? In hopes of connecting with others who shared similar experiences, I joined the Filipino American Student Organization (FASO) during my freshman year at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. FASO provided me with a safe and inclusive space where I could explore my heritage while navigating my diaspora identity. Inspired by my newfound sense of community, I wondered how I could extend my heritage to my other passions and interests. Being part of a diaspora community has exposed me to diverse perspectives and cultural practices. Unlike the individualistic nature of Western culture, Filipinos emphasize family and community support. This value translates into my approach as an aspiring epidemiologist, recognizing the significance of collaboration, interdisciplinary teamwork, and community-based research. By involving communities in the research process, I can better understand their needs and develop culturally sensitive interventions. Finally, my Filipino-American identity fuels my passion for equity and social justice. It serves as a driving force in advocating for underserved populations, dismantling systemic barriers, and promoting health equity. The Philippines has made significant investments and advances in health in recent years, yet much of its population cannot access this high quality of care. I hope to conduct research in the Philippines regarding the medical barriers their healthcare system experiences. By harnessing my cultural background, I can bring attention to unique challenges faced by Filipino communities, ensuring that epidemiological research and public health interventions are inclusive of their specific needs. I will continue to carry the memories, experiences, and lessons of my Filipino-American upbringing throughout all stages of life. The hyphen no longer serves as a barrier between two opposing identities, but rather a bridge between my two worlds. This singular line is a source of strength that continues to shape my identity and guide my personal, academic, and professional journey.

The Filipino Channel didn't just reach my eyes and ears; it reached deep into my heart. Connecting with many lives, I was struck by the unwavering happiness of residents despite challenging living conditions, igniting a fire within—a desire to connect with my Filipino heritage and contribute to those in need. I struggled to define my identity and find Filipino Americans in my community. With my mother suffering from harsh health conditions, it was hard to discover this, working extra hours at a drive-thru to support her. I performed the Tinikling dance at community events to cheer myself, igniting my fiery passion to share the boundless joy the Filipino community radiates. I embarked on a journey, founding the North Gwinnett High School Filipino American Student Association. Within the association, I worked tirelessly to introduce my peers to Filipino cultural richness. I aimed to make it enticing and relevant through events like the Boodle Fight and history discussion socials. As my mother’s condition worsened, I embodied the Philippines in her name, inspired to help others. A crowning achievement was organizing donation drives to support orphans in Cebu through Balikbayan boxes, profoundly impacting our community. Transitioning to college, I became the freshman representative of the Georgia Tech Filipino Student Association. Crafting welcoming events that fostered joy and giving to the community helped me realize Filipino pride. Being part of the Filipino community provided solace during challenging times and illuminated our immense potential for good as Filipino Americans. It became clear that our identity goes beyond mere ethnicity—it's a conduit for spreading positivity and fostering family that unites people in the face of adversity. Now, I dedicate to being a voice for the Philippines, preserving our history, and transforming my aspirations into reality by harnessing my skills to amplify the unity and progress my Fil-Am identity embodies. As a computer engineer, I work on a cancer detection system to aid in medical imaging analysis and research computer systems with dreams of creating affordable low-cost devices granting greater access to education and healthcare globally. I meet with Filipino Atlanta organizations to expose Fil-Am pride and representation. With every endeavor, I aim to honor my mother's resilience and contribute to the betterment of my community, both at home and abroad. Just as I once watched life unfold through a screen, I am determined to step beyond that screen and actively shape the Fil-Am future I envision.

Growing up Filipino-American in a largely White community, I never quite felt that there was enough space for me. It felt necessary to camouflage, to shrink, or to isolate completely. Even if certain aspects of who I was were accepted, when it came to all of my Filipino-ness, suddenly there was no space for it. My mother’s Kapampangan accent fell funny on the ears of my American peers. Homemade sinigang, offered lovingly to friends, yielded nothing but scrunched noses and bowls that remained full. In 2022, the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once was released. As the queer daughter of a Filipino immigrant mother, I marveled over how many things the movie got exactly right about my Asian-American familial dynamic. Much to my surprise, many of my friends who did not share those particular aspects of my identity still cried, laughed, and felt the profundity of the film alongside me. The ability for literature to connect whole societies had occurred to me before, but seeing my white friends before my eyes being profoundly impacted by an inherently Asian-American narrative abolished my shame. It created a sense of safety and pride surrounding my Asian identity. My life purpose, teaching literature, would allow me to offer that kind of experience–that feeling of communal understanding and belonging–to any student. For a long time, I have been imagining myself, now in the not-so-distant future, as an English teacher. In the broadest sense, I want to inspire others to be curious about everything. But as my understanding of the world expands and focuses, I’m discovering that the value I place on curiosity is largely related to its role in generating empathy. When you are curious about something, you are creating space to learn. When I pursue a career in teaching, I will have ample chances to create space for all kinds of people. Students who do not have access to thriving, diverse communities may still be able to connect with and relate to so many different lives through literature. It is my sincerest hope that my future students will make space for all kinds of people, including Filipinos, by instinct.

I’m a minority who never truly understood what it meant to be a minority. I was lucky to have a lot of Filipino-American friends growing up, but I also remember still wishing my skin was lighter or my eyes rounder — everyone had these thoughts though, right? I also thought that Filipinos were well-represented in pop culture because Bruno Mars is Filipino, but that's a little bit of a gray area. This is definitely treated like fun fact material, rather than as a celebration of the feats that Filipinos are able to achieve. My personal cultural turning point was when I saw Disney’s 2020 Holiday commercial featuring a Filipina-American and her Lola, and it brought me to tears. I wasn't able to appreciate the necessity of representation until I saw myself in her. Before this, I had never seen a Filipino who was "important;" I didn't know it was possible for a Filipino to be in a position where everyone could see them, if that makes sense. The lack of Filipino representation was so severe that I didn’t realize we were supposed to be represented. My heart is driven by learning, even if only for the sake of it. That's why I decided that I want to become a physician-scientist. I want to go between laboratory and clinical research and help physicians understand what all of this new information means for their medical approaches. One of the key emerging research needs is an understanding of causes of mental illness as well as neurodegenerative diseases, and I've experienced firsthand through my community service as a Crisis Counselor how more and more people are living difficult lives because they have a mental illness or neurological disease. I recently conducted a literature review about the impact of ethnoracial disparities on Alzheimer's Disease and related demetias, and during my search I discovered that mental illness is the third most common disability in the Philippines. Filipinos also have increased prevalence of diabetes, hypertension, and cardiovascular disease, all of which correlate with a higher risk of developing Alzheimer's. However, in research, ethnic categories are rarely ever more specific than "Asian," so many of these Filipino-specific problems are missed. I want to be a researcher to make sure that Filipinos are heard, and I want to occupy an important space to show other Filipinos that we can achieve anything our hearts desire.

My interest in Asian studies has stemmed from my own culture which I have limited knowledge of. My mother immigrated to the United States with the knowledge of her pregnancy with me. After her stories of the Philippines, I wanted to create the unknown comfort that my mother knew. For this reason, I am currently working to achieve my Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology. When building my degree plan, I chose courses that will support my dream for the history of Filipino-Americans in America to be displayed in a museum and showcase how much of an impact we have not only in America but in the Philippines. My mother initially did not understand why I chose a random degree that few have heard of, but I was inspired because of my mother not wanting to share her stories of the Philippines because of the struggles she experienced both in her country and when she immigrated. She always worked and spent little time with family, continuing to do so to ensure my sisters and I had the opportunities she did not. However, what she shared were a few stories, and I wanted to hear more and continue to be inspired to learn more. Creating a museum exhibit showcasing the Filipino Culture would consist of the Philippines before colonization, the language, beliefs, and showcase how native Filipinos interacted with other ethnicities besides their own (trading, storytelling, and governments). This will eventually turn into modernization and exhibit how much the Philippine culture evolved, their experiences and influences, while unveiling the life of Filipinos moving to the Americas and including the struggles: assimilating into a new environment, difficulty fitting in and finding a niche group to be with based on ethnicity, and the expectations of being an American- Filipino. The role to fill is great and some may not see it as realistic, but I am determined to continue my studies at The University of Texas at El Paso. I know I can showcase my culture and make an impact not only for myself but for my culture and those that want to know more.

I was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri to two full-Filipino Parents. My mother's family in the Philippines is impoverished by US standards, but an average family in Manila. Because of this, I have been taught from a young age the privilege I have been born in the US; to have enough food to eat every day, new clothes, air conditioning, and WiFi. These are luxuries my cousins in the Philippines do not have, therefore my focus was to be on succeeding in school to give back to my parents and family. Since graduating high school, I have been searching for this way to return thanks to my mother. My mother came to the US in her twenties for better opportunities. My father passed away from a heart attack in 2011 when I was 12 years old. He was an airplane mechanic for many years and did a great amount of traveling in his lifetime. They moved from New York to St. Louis for a safer and more affordable life as they brought me into the world. I often saw my father stressed about finances as my mom quit her job to take care of me and he worked out of town. I do not want their struggles to go to waste. Today, I am in the process of finishing my undergraduate degree in political science at the University of Missouri-St. Louis and I am looking toward JD programs. I chose political science because after my father's death, my mother was unemployed and we experienced significant financial hardship. We both continue to suffer from depression to this day due to this loss; my father was the light of our lives. We relied on food stamps and social security for several years as she searched for a new job. I started working when I turned 15 and helped my mom pay bills. In our experience, there were not sufficient mental health and financial resources available, and this depression carried on to larger health problems in both of us. I believe the financial and emotional stresses my family experienced could have been avoided with more efficient social programs. Public policies regarding housing, food, and mental health should enrich our society and help raise healthier and more productive citizens. I am going to be a political voice for the Filipino community and improve social conditions for low-income families like my own.

Growing up, my dad and my siblings were the only Filipinos I had in my daily life. There was little Filipino representation in the pop culture I grew up with, but that has changed. The Disney movie Raya had me in tears by the time the credits rolled. Bruno Mars has always held a special place in my heart, and H.E.R. and Olivia Rodrigo have been added to my list of new favorite Filipino music artists. Most recently, Hailee Steinfeld in “Hawkeye” and Jacob Batalon as Ned in “Spider-Man: No Way Home” represent Filipinos in the huge cinematic world of Marvel. Hearing Ned’s lola speak Tagalog in the movie was an unforgettable experience. Pop culture representation is so important, but I yearn for Filipino representation in educational and STEM environments where it is lacking. At my tutoring job at Mathnasium during high school, I was proud to represent Filipinos as an educator. When a new-hire was added to the team, we laughed at the kids who insisted we resembled sisters… because we were both Filipino. As a young student, I wished I had a Filipino role model, and a few years ago, I finally met my cousin who is now that role model. Kami was trained as a molecular biologist and is now a science communicator and edits for the Asian Scientist Magazine. Furthermore, she manages @pinoyscientists on Instagram where the experiences of Filipino scientists are shared with the world. Kami is the representation I needed as a child. As I continue my studies at Tulane University, I hope to amplify Filipino pride, especially in the sciences. I am currently a freshman co-representative of Tulane’s Women in Science organization. With leadership experience in this group and my membership in the Asian-American Student Union, I will help found a Filipino club. In this group, I know I will meet other Filipino scientists who can support each other in their educational journey. Doing so feels full-circle given that the first Filipinos in North America settled in Southern Louisiana, not far from Tulane.

“Tiis lang nang konti anak. Dasal ka lang. May bukas pa naman.” (Just be patient with your suffering, my daughter. Pray to God. Tomorrow is a new day). This is a phrase I’ve heard most of my life from my lola (grandmother). My mom brought me to America in 2010 right before I turned eighteen. She is a teacher who got a sponsorship in Maryland. I initially did not want to leave the Philippines. I had my lola, my friends, and my family. My dream was to do medical missions as a nurse with 10-15 medical personnel in rural areas. Administer routine check-ups and spend time with tribes teaching for two weeks. My mom was adamant that life in America would be better. When we arrived, we rented a room in another Filipino’s house. I slept on an air mattress while my mother slept on a twin bed for 3 years. I told myself, “tiis lang nang konti.” In 2013, my aunt in Florida gave me the opportunity to live with her rent-free while I applied for Physical Therapy Assistant school. It was a 16-month accelerated program that I took while working multiple jobs. I wanted to be independent and, on my feet, sooner than nursing school. I graduated top of my class in 2015 and started working. I finally had enough money to save. However, amidst all the new expenses I found out my grandmother back home was very sick and needed to have dialysis. I wanted to go back to the Philippines very badly, but my finances were not enough. My family here were all strapped for cash. I heard my lola over the phone saying, “tiis lang nang konti. Dasal lang tayo. May bukas pa naman.” I vowed to work more and send money back. Filipino grit and resilience at its finest. My lola passed away shortly after. It was heartbreaking. This fueled my fire to work hard and pursue my dream of being a nurse. I think about my dream and my lola’s words ever so often. I told myself I will go back to school for accelerated nursing and get one step closer to sharing my dream to the betterment of the Filipino American community. This scholarship money will go towards my nursing school and the eventual medical mission. “Tiis lang nang konti. Dasal lang. May bukas pa naman.”