I watched a recording of Miss Saigon when I was eight. As soon as she sang her first note, Lea Salonga’s Kim became my role model. She was the embodiment of hope and love in a time of war and greed. She was everything I aspired to be. Then I turned fifteen. Of course, being a teenager, I had started venturing into the thought of dating someone. But because those ventures often failed, I became a bit of a cynic when it came to matters of the heart, and I realized that Kim was not someone to worship. Instead, I saw her as naive, foolish, and dependent on Chris. I started to denounce the character I once loved and even almost passed on watching Miss Saigon live when it came to my city. However, I went anyway. And truth be told, I was excited to watch it. This was one of the first shows I had been exposed to when I was younger, so to see it live was a childhood dream coming true. It was like my younger self took over me and my opinions, because my previous qualms of the musical disappeared, and my love for it returned. Then I saw tweets. And posts. And articles, all denouncing Miss Saigon, just as I had, but for different reasons. The headlines and pictures and hashtags called the show “sexist”, “racist”, and “stereotypical”. At first, I ignored them and disagreed -- “Why does everything have to be political?”, I would say -- but then I looked deeper into their arguments and realized they were right. Everyone in that musical were stereotypes Asians had worked so hard to erase. My childhood hero wasn’t even the hero of her own story. That didn’t keep me away from the show. I learned to love it privately. But it made me feel guilty that I still wanted to play her despite her flaws and ignoring all of the other, much more positive roles portrayed by Asians on Broadway. However, while Hamilton’s Eliza, Hadestown’s Eurydice and Aladdin’s Jasmine were all originated by Asian actresses, they weren’t written as Asian, and could be played by actresses of other ethnicities; Asian actors and actresses simply didn’t have many roles that only represented us. That’s why I still want to play Kim -- her exclusivity makes the role special to me. Miss Saigon made me realize that people who looked like me had a place on the stage. But I shouldn’t have to settle for a caricature to represent my heritage. My goal as an actress is not to win a Tony or gain fame and notoriety, but to originate a character that accurately represents who I am and where I come from. I hope that when it is my time to perform -- whether it be on Broadway or some other stage --, I can play a character young Asian girls can both look up to and play one day too.

You know how Filipinos are. We take pride in any public figure with a trace of Pinoy blood in them and brag about their ethnicity any chance we get, and I think one of our favorite Filipinos to cheer about is Lea Salonga, Asia’s Songbird. She is my personal hero, and I have idolized her artistry ever since my mother showed me her audition tape for Miss Saigon when I was eight. Ever since then, my life has revolved around the stage, and Kim from Miss Saigon was my dream role, and seeing it live only amplified my dream. Then I saw tweets. And posts. And articles, all denouncing Miss Saigon, just as I had, but for different reasons. The headlines and pictures and hashtags called the show “sexist”, “racist”, and “stereotypical”. At first, I ignored them and disagreed, but then I looked deeper into their arguments and realized they were right. Everyone in that musical were stereotypes Asians had worked so hard to erase. My childhood hero wasn’t even the hero of her own story. That didn’t keep me away from the show. I learned to love it privately. But it made me feel guilty that I still wanted to play her despite her flaws and ignoring all of the other, much more positive roles portrayed by Asians on Broadway. However, while Hamilton’s Eliza, Hadestown’s Eurydice and Six’s Anne Boleyn were all originated by Asian actresses — with the latter two being originated by two Filipino actresses, Eva Noblezada, and Andrea Macasaet —, they weren’t written as explicitly Asian, and could be played by actresses of other ethnicities; Asian actors and actresses simply didn’t have many roles that only represented us. That’s why I still want to play Kim — her exclusivity makes the role special to me. Miss Saigon made me realize that people who looked like me had a place on the stage. But I shouldn’t have to settle for a caricature to represent my heritage. My goal as an actress is not to win a Tony or gain fame and notoriety, but to originate a character that accurately represents who I am and where I come from. I hope that when it is my time to perform — whether it be on Broadway or some other stage —, I can play a character young Asian girls can both look up to and play one day too.

I watched a recording of Miss Saigon when I was eight. As soon as she sang her first note, Lea Salonga’s Kim became my role model. She was the embodiment of hope and love in a time of war and greed. She was everything I aspired to be. Then I turned fifteen. Of course, being a teenager, I had started venturing into the thought of dating someone. But because those ventures often failed, I became a bit of a cynic when it came to matters of the heart, and I realized that Kim was not someone to worship. Instead, I saw her as naive, foolish, and dependent on Chris. I started to denounce the character I once loved and even almost passed on watching Miss Saigon live when it came to my city. However, I went anyway. And truth be told, I was excited to watch it. This was one of the first shows I had been exposed to when I was younger, so to see it live was a childhood dream coming true. It was like my younger self took over me and my opinions, because my previous qualms of the musical disappeared, and my love for it returned. Then I saw tweets. And posts. And articles, all denouncing Miss Saigon, just as I had, but for different reasons. The headlines and pictures and hashtags called the show “sexist”, “racist”, and “stereotypical”. At first, I ignored them and disagreed -- “Why does everything have to be political?”, I would ask -- but then I looked deeper into their arguments and realized they were right. Everyone in that musical were stereotypes Asians had worked so hard to erase. My childhood hero wasn’t even the hero of her own story. That didn’t keep me away from the show. I learned to love it privately. But it made me feel guilty that I still wanted to play her despite her flaws and ignoring all of the other, much more positive roles portrayed by Asians on Broadway. However, while Hamilton’s Eliza, Hadestown’s Eurydice and Aladdin’s Jasmine were all originated by Asian actresses, they weren’t written as Asian, and could be played by actresses of other ethnicities; Asian actors and actresses simply didn’t have many roles that only represented us. That’s why I still want to play Kim -- her exclusivity makes the role special to me. Miss Saigon made me realize that people who looked like me had a place on the stage. But I shouldn’t have to settle for a caricature to represent my heritage. My goal as an actress is not to win a Tony or gain fame and notoriety, but to originate a character that accurately represents who I am and where I come from. I hope that when it is my time to perform -- whether it be on Broadway or some other stage --, I can play a character young Asian girls can both look up to and play one day too.