“But those are my shoes,” I whined. “I know anak, but your cousins need them more,” Mama said softly. She took my favorite shoes and placed them inside the large balikbayan box. The balikbayan, meaning ‘to return back home’ in Tagalog, was a box filled with American goods my family sent every few years to the Philippines, and it was my worst enemy. At two years old, my parents and I fled Manila to look for brighter futures in America. Confined by the values of utang na loob — the Filipino concept of an eternal debt to those who have provided for you — my parents sacrificed everything to ensure our relatives had all they needed. Sending balikbayan boxes abroad was their way of repaying this “debt”. Growing up, I’ve always felt the weight of utang na loob. I felt frustrated, powerless, and at times, resentful — resentful of a tradition that took more than it gave, and powerless to change the generational curse that had been set long before I was born. However, it was this very frustration that pushed me to excel in school. I knew that a college degree would pave the path to a future where I can redefine utang na loob. Higher education will allow me to study human health and healthcare systems, furthering my understanding of how cultural and socioeconomic systemic barriers affect marginalized communities — ones much like my own. My parents have consistently emphasized that “education is the most powerful weapon.” This led me to take advantage of every academic resource that came my way and allowed me to leverage the educational opportunities that my parents did not have growing up. Inspired by their support to help our family abroad, I am determined to give back to my communities through healthcare and by challenging the toxicity within my culture. As a leader at Asian Health Collective (AHC), a non-profit organization, I spearheaded medical supply drives, raising over 1,750 essential care items — including blood pressure monitors, toothbrushes, and face masks — for underserved Asian communities in Chicago. By raising awareness and educating communities, I am redefining what the generational curse means to me. As the first in my family to grow up in America and graduate from school, I will be the first to break the cycle that utang na loob has bound my family to for generations. The Alexander de Guia Memorial Scholarship embodies an opportunity that will aid me in my college education, where I aim to learn more about global public health and policy to assist underserved communities worldwide. Through this Scholarship, I will gain access to Asian American community leaders, mentors who will provide guidance and help me pursue my academic and career goals. With their mentorship and network, I can explore innovative ways to expand AHC’s mission, whether through partnerships with Asian-owned businesses to fund future healthcare drives or collaborating with the scholarship partners who have experience in public health policy. Additionally, with the Alexander de Guia Memorial Scholarship platform, I hope to increase awareness about health disparities in Asian American communities, and advocate for accessible and equitable care to underserved communities. Today, I placed a pair of my favorite shoes into the balikbayan. As I pack, the fear of loss fades away. The box, once a symbol for my parents’ one-sided sacrifices, now assumes a new meaning: a promise to honor sacrifice and embrace resilience; to pursue higher education and transform the curse so that my generosity becomes a simple act of kindness unburdened by the debt of reciprocity. This new cycle begins with me.

I am a first-generation Asian American dreamer. At two years old, my parents and I fled Manila in search of better lives in America. Confined by the values of utang na loob, the Filipino concept of an inner eternal debt to those who have provided for you, my parents sacrificed their well-being to ensure our relatives had everything. Sending weekly checks and balikbayan boxes to families abroad was their means of repaying their ‘debt’. As I grew older, I began to understand the reasons behind these sacrifices and how they influenced my own life. Utang na loob chained them, puppeting their every action and thought, binding them to a cycle of giving and indebtedness. I felt frustrated, powerless, and at times, resentful — resentful of a tradition that took more than it gave, and powerless to change the generational curse that had been set long before I was born. Yet, it was this very frustration that pushed me to excel in school. I knew that higher education was my way of breaking the generational cycle of utang na loob. Determined, I seized every opportunity that came my way and worked harder than ever. Watching my parents relentlessly support our families inspired me to give back to my own communities — both in healthcare and at home. My mom constantly reminds me that my hard work and commitment are for my future, not hers. Although I must do it for myself, I also do it to honor her and pave the path for those who come after me. As the first in my family to grow up in America and graduate from high school, I will be the first to break free from the cycle of obligation utang na loob has bound my family to for generations. Now, I place a pair of my favorite shoes into the balikbayan. With each item I place, I no longer feel the sting of jealousy and loss. The balikbayan, once a symbol for my parent’s one-sided sacrifices, assumes a new meaning: a promise to honor my parents’ sacrifices, embrace my resilience, and pursue my own dreams. A promise driven not by continuing the cycle of utang ng loob, but by reconstructing the generational practice so that generosity is not a burden, but a simple act of kindness without reciprocity. A promise to pursue higher education and forge my own path to transform my culture into one where a gift is freely given by compassion that spreads far and wide, unburdened by debt. This new cycle starts with me. In college, I plan to study public health, learning more about the factors — from economic stability, social contexts, and neighborhood environments — that hinder healthcare accessibility and explore possible solutions to mitigate the barriers of inequity. After graduating, I also plan to pursue a master’s degree in nursing and become a nurse practitioner, treating patients with a culturally inclusive perspective and advocating for policies that democratize universal healthcare access. As a dreamer, I carry the dreams of my parents who fled Manila for better lives, and my own dreams, of to one day treat patients at a world-renowned hospital; and as an Asian American immigrant, I dream of a future where all narratives are heard, and that every dream is made achievable. While my parents’ sacrifices have fueled my ambition, higher education will provide me with the expertise to enact real change to my communities. To be an Asian American immigrant is to be a dreamer, and I know that with higher education, all my dreams, aspirations, and goals will be made achievable.