Gemma was one of the most brilliant nurses on her unit—quick-thinking, compassionate, the kind of person who remembered your birthday and your patient’s potassium level without even checking the chart.

Something rarely discussed in nursing school, breakroom conversations, or even family gatherings: how Filipino nurses can build wealth—not just security, not just stability, but wealth rooted in purpose and possibility.

As Filipino immigrant women nurses, many of us were raised in households where silence was survival. Where being respectful often meant being quiet. Where our mothers and grandmothers held so much wisdom and strength, yet were rarely given the space to express what they needed.

Let’s talk about something many of us were never taught but deeply feel: why it’s important to know what we need—so we can actually get those needs met, especially as women navigating workplaces that weren’t built with our wholeness in mind.

She’s Filipino, immigrant, and brilliant—we were on Zoom during a session, and she said something I’d heard too many times to count:

“I feel like I should be more confident by now… but I still doubt myself. Even when I know I’m qualified.”

Growing up in a Filipino household, those words echoed through my childhood like a daily prayer. My Lola believed kindness meant never saying "no." Generosity meant giving until you had nothing left to give. Family meant setting aside your own needs to ensure everyone else was comfortable.

I have a confession to make: I spent a good chunk of my life being perfectly comfortable in the background. Quiet. Safe. Invisible.

Not because I loved it there, mind you, but because stepping forward meant risking rejection, judgment, and—worst of all—attention.

If you're anything like me, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about.

Filipino nurses aren't just tireless workers; they’re skilled listeners, diplomatic negotiators, and thoughtful problem-solvers. They don’t need to change who they are. Rather, hospitals need to start noticing leadership that doesn't rely on being loudest in the room.

The Legacy You’re Actually Leaving

Sacrifice is deeply woven into the Filipino immigrant story. It’s a beautiful thread—but it’s not the whole fabric.

The legacy you leave your children isn’t just about how much you worked or gave. It’s also about what you modeled.

The Filipino Yes Reflex was born out of love, tradition, and survival.

But you?
You’re allowed to evolve.
You’re allowed to choose.
You’re allowed to rest.

And the world will keep turning—even if you say no.

You Don’t Need to Perform to Be Worthy

You were never meant to be a filtered version of yourself.

You are not “too much.” You are not “unprofessional.” You are not “other.”

You are powerful, layered, and real. And real is enough.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: your self-doubt isn’t just coming from your brain’s fear center—it’s reinforced by generations of subtle lessons that taught you excellence should always be quiet.

Let me tell you about my father—a man whose stories are not just tales of the past but guiding lights for my present. His life was a testament to resilience, to making the most of every single day, even when the days were tough. He carried his wooden sandals in his hands on his way to school to save them from wearing out too quickly—a simple act that showed his deep understanding of preserving for the future. This image of him has always inspired me, especially in my mission to empower immigrant women to carve out a space for themselves in this world.

Have you ever caught yourself scrolling through your own social media feed and thinking, "Who even is this person?" I know I have. There's something surreal about curating these digital versions of ourselves—polished, positive, perpetually having a good hair day. And yet, most of us feel an increasing hunger for something real, something true, something that reflects the beautiful mess of our actual lives.

Have you ever watched someone work a room with effortless charm and thought, "I could never do that"? Or perhaps you've dragged yourself home from a networking event feeling completely drained, wondering why something that energizes others feels like running an emotional marathon for you?

You know that feeling when you're about to share an idea in a meeting and suddenly your throat tightens? Or when you spend 20 minutes choosing an outfit, not because you're trying to impress anyone in particular, but because you're worried about the silent judgments that might follow you throughout the day? I've been there—we all have. There's a name for this invisible backpack we're lugging around: FOWOT. The Fear Of What Others Think.

Finding Strength in Legacy Let me tell you about my father—a man whose stories are not just tales of the past but guiding lights for my present. His life was a testament to resilience, to making the most of every single day, even when the days were tough. He carried his wooden sandals in his hands on his way to school to save them from wearing out too quickly—a simple act that showed his deep understanding of preserving for the future. This image of him has always inspired me, especially in my mission to empower immigrant women to carve out a space for themselves in this world.

In the rhythmic dance of our daily lives, where demands and deadlines often set the beat, many of us carry a quiet symphony of dreams unplayed—passion projects and creative pursuits waiting in the wings of our packed schedules. How do we tune into these dreams amid the cacophony of career responsibilities? This article explores practical strategies for harmonizing professional obligations with your passion projects, ensuring that your dreams get the stage time they deserve.

You are enough. Though often shadowed by doubts, this simple truth is the cornerstone of your journey to the table. In every field, in every room, you have the right to be present—not just as an observer but as an active, valued participant. This article explores why embracing your worth is not just a nicety but a necessity and how you can start to believe in your rightful place.

In spaces historically not designed with diversity in mind, LGBTQ+ and AAPI individuals often find themselves on the margins, striving to be heard and understood. This article is a heartfelt call to ensure these vibrant voices break through the barriers of rooms that weren’t built for them but are nonetheless theirs to claim.