Not knowing how to speak my native tongue is something I thought I would never be able to come to terms with. Every person within my family, including my younger brother, speaks Tagalog with ease-- except for me. My cheeks never fail to go red as I stumble over simple sentences and blank on elementary-level words. The jealousy I’ve experienced has left me angry at my parents as I had felt embarrassed about this missing part of my life. Though regardless of the conversations I’ve missed out on, I’ve realized that this lack of language was their form of protection. My inability to speak Tagalog had stemmed from scared immigrant parents that wanted their first born child to thrive in a country where accents and different languages were not as accepted. My parents had come to the U.S. knowing no other Filipinos except themselves. While my dad was sleeping during the day to prepare for his 12-hour overnight shifts, my mom would be teaching at our local elementary school. She had known what it was like to live as the only person of color in a white community and she strived to protect me from that very struggle. Instead of teaching me “aso” and “pusa”, it was rather “dog” and “cat”. Knowing this now, I’ve learned to appreciate my fluency in English as it provided me with an easier life in America. However, that didn’t take away the fact that there was still something missing from my life. With time passing and the Filipino community in my town becoming larger, I began to feel more disconnected from my culture. My parents had prepared me for a life of American culture but had in turn deprived me of a culture of my own. During my sophomore year, the rapidly growing population of Filipinos within my community was something I couldn’t ignore. Although the older generation of Filipinos had seemed to find each other, it seemed as though the Filipino students within my school didn’t even bat an eye at one another. With this in mind, I had created my school’s very first Filipino culture club: the Pinoys of Today. Our initiative to raise money for charities within the Philippines was wildly successful as our unique events and bake sales had other students hooked. Jollibee and ube crinkles just had their way of reeling others in. Although, what I held closest to my heart about this club was the community that had blossomed from its foundation. Witnessing Filipino-American culture thrive within the Pinoys of Today had filled that missing piece within me. Whether it be through our karaoke nights or even just planning a simple bake sale, I had felt at home. After leading my club, I’ve realized that my culture is much more than just the language we speak. It’s the connection built between shared experiences. Without the Pinoys of Today, I would still be lost in a realm of confusion and isolation. Even though my lack of language had always been something I viewed as a flaw, I understand that it was just my parents’ way of preparing me for the struggles I may face. However, I don’t think that one should have to sacrifice one part of their life in order to fit the standards of others. I take pride in saying that being a successful American student is completely possible regardless of the language we speak or the background we come from. As a first generation student, I strive to make this known to other students like myself and leave college with a success story like no other.

When my mother immigrated to the United States, she thrived on the Filipino communities she had found within her area. She connected with them on things only Filipino immigrants could understand and because of that, she found the stepping stones towards the successful life she has today. Seeing how the Filipinos in her community had welcomed my mom and guided her through rough times has inspired me greatly. I yearned for that same type of belonging, especially as I began to feel more disconnected from my roots. I failed to learn Tagalog as I wanted nothing more than to be like my white American peers in school. Though, as I grew older, I wanted nothing more than the absolute opposite. I wanted to be surrounded by Filipino pride and love and speak in Tagalog without giving it any thought. Having to face reality and constantly feel that missing piece of my life made me determined to find it. During my sophomore year, my family friend and I had noticed that there was a huge Filipino community within our high school. Though what was strange was that none of them seemed to be connected in the way our parents were. After our moms had become best friends through their shared experiences as working-class Filipinos, we knew that we needed to create a space that would allow our fellow Filipino students to come together. The creation of the Pinoys of Today would end up being my proudest achievement as the charities and meetings we hosted deepened our school’s Filipino pride. The embarrassment I felt for not knowing my own language had washed away as I came to learn that Filipino culture is all about hospitality and being compassionate towards others. I was able to find Filipino pride and love through every passing event we held. Even though I was the one leading the club, my members still managed to leave a huge impact on my own life as well. They’ve helped me realize that our culture is much more than the language we speak: It’s the connection and community built between experience. After creating the Pinoys of Today, the path towards my future became clear. The passion I felt towards leading a group of strangers-turned-family was immense and I knew immediately that this was my calling. With this, I have decided to major in Communications as I move onto the next chapter of my life. I recognized the importance of community through the stories my mother would tell me but the foundation of my club is what gave me the experience to understand that on a first-hand basis. Being supported by my people and finding that missing piece of myself allowed me to feel even closer to my mother and has motivated me to impact people in the same way. I hope that with my time in college, I’ll be able to spread this idea and have people understand the importance of connection within their communities. I want those who feel isolated to know that they will always have people that will support them no matter what. The innate closeness that seems to be in every Filipino community has shined a light on what my path in life is. I want to help others find their missing piece as I did mine. Whether it be within their culture, personal life, or anything else they seem to struggle with, I strive to help others find their people and gain that same support system that had helped my mother and myself.

Looking back, GUTS was released on the worst yet best time possible: the first day of my junior year. I was terrified about what the school year had to offer as I would constantly hear from my older friends the struggles they were faced with. Listening to Olivia’s new album was definitely not the best way to kick off my junior year as I was sobbing from the gut-wrenching songs depicting the ailments of growing up. It was only 6:45 in the morning yet the tears would not stop as the lyric “will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?” from “Teenage Dream” stabbed me right in the heart. When I was little, I couldn’t wait to become a teenager. I would wear my mom’s lipstick and carry around a purse everywhere I went, hoping that these accessories would make me grow up quicker. I was excited to finally be taken seriously and have the freedom to do what I want without any parents bothering me. However, now that I’ve been a teen for the past five years, I realize that my mind constantly reels back to those carefree years. When the pressure would crash down on me, I wanted nothing less than to go back and live the life I had at five, eight, and even twelve years old. Looking around at my peers, I know they feel the same. I’ve picked up on how my friends spend their weekends rewatching classic Barbie movies and how my classmates have Lego themed backpacks. Our yearning for childhood persists as the intimidation of the future grows larger and we try to bury ourselves in the memories of what it was like to be carefree; what it was like without the pressure of needing to go beyond our own expectations. With each passing school year, I would get nauseous of the thought of graduation coming closer and wished I could revert back to a time where it seemed so far away. However, now that senior year has finally begun and junior year has been washed over with relief, the yearning has morphed into something new. It’s grown stronger as being a senior was something that always seemed so far ahead in the future for me. At the same time, the feeling has been overshadowed by thoughts about where I’ll be a year from now. Though these thoughts seem to resemble the ones I had all those years ago. High school had been filled with anxiety of what was up ahead; Senior year used to feel so close yet so far. Now that I am at the point in my life that I had always feared, I feel confident in beginning a new chapter of my life in college. I’m excited for what is up ahead and feel like that wish to become a kid again has come true. I will always look back on my childhood, it’s inevitable. However, the way we look at it is what determines how we live our lives. Instead of hoping to wake up and be a kid again, I use my childhood as inspiration to keep on going. I work hard to make my younger self proud and to turn into the person that lipstick-wearing, purse-carrying me had so badly wished to become