Being Filipino in a multicultural country like America means carrying the weight and warmth of generations before me. It’s pride in our resilience, our hospitality, and the deep sense of community that lives in every kamayan, every mano po, and every story told over a shared meal.

In a place as diverse as America, being Filipino means both honoring my roots and bridging cultures. Showing up with pakikisama (togetherness), bayanihan (communal unity), and joy, even in struggle. It’s recognizing that our food, our language, our faith, and our family values don’t just make us different—they make us valuable in the bigger American story.

It’s not always easy to be seen. But I’ve learned that being Filipino is not about shrinking to fit in. It’s about standing tall in who we are and making space at the table for others to know and celebrate us too.

I don’t think the Filipino voice is heard enough in American media, politics, or education, at least not in proportion to the size, contributions, and history of the community here. Filipinos are one of the largest Asian American populations, yet we’re often underrepresented or misrepresented. Our stories tend to be overlooked, and when we do show up, it’s usually in the background as nurses, caregivers, side characters, but rarely as leads, authors, or decision makers.

In education, the rich history of the Philippines and the deep impact of Filipino Americans, especially in labor movements, the military, and healthcare, is rarely taught. In politics, we still have so few visible leaders advocating at the national level. And in media, while there’s been progress, there’s still a long way to go when it comes to nuanced, authentic Filipino representation that is not flattened into stereotypes.

That said, I see the tide slowly turning. More Filipino creatives, activists, educators, and public servants are stepping into the spotlight. And with every voice that rises, we make it easier for the next generation to be seen and heard.