"If you were a kid in 2006, you probably remember the phenomenon that was High School Musical. I’m not exaggerating when I say that, for me, it wasn’t just another Disney Channel Original Movie—it was life-changing.
Picture this: me, 10 years old. Dorky as can be, starry-eyed behind glasses that wouldn’t stop slipping down my nose. Wearing a vaguely High School Musical-inspired red-and-white outfit my mom probably bought off the clearance rack because the official merch was too expensive. Absolutely nailing every beat of the We’re All In This Together choreography with all the might and coordination a tiny girl could muster.
If you ask anyone who loved that movie what made the unassuming DCOM-turned-global-sensation so special, you’ll probably get a mix of answers. Maybe it was the songs, the dance moves, or experiencing love at first sight when Troy Bolton appeared. (It’s a canon event!) And all of that definitely worked its magic on me, too—but it was seeing Vanessa Hudgens as Gabriella Montez that really struck me.
Growing up in the awkward in-between as a Filipina-American
As a kid, I grappled with a lot of the same experiences many mixed kids face. I spent the first half of elementary school in the East Bay, California, where many of my friends were full Filipino, and the second half in Reno, Nevada, where most of my friends were white—leaving me to search for my place somewhere in between, always feeling like I never quite fit anywhere, or looked like anyone else, or was “enough” of this or that.
And when I looked at my favorite TV shows or movies, the girls at the forefront—the ones typically portrayed as pretty, smart, or talented—never seemed to look like me.
But then I found out that the actress who played my favorite character in my new favorite movie—who was all of those things I wanted to be—also happened to be part Filipina. And I beamed.
Somewhere in the depths of a storage unit—probably wedged between my red portable CD player (still loaded with one of the High School Musical soundtracks) and home videos of me singing karaoke—there’s a tattered HSM wall calendar from my childhood bedroom (which I also begged my mom to paint Wildcat red, of course). On the page with Vanessa’s headshot, I had drawn an arrow pointing to her and, in my messy little handwriting, wrote: That’s my idol! She’s beautiful! She’s Filipino! Like me!
“On the page with Vanessa’s headshot, I had drawn an arrow pointing to her and, in my messy little handwriting, wrote: That’s my idol! She’s beautiful! She’s Filipino! Like me!”
What Filipino representation meant to me then
For the record, I didn’t think I actually looked much like her—I mean, she was gorgeous, obviously, and I was… well—for starters, 10 years old and just entering my ugly duckling phase: in all my snaggletoothed, four-eyed, and poorly straightened, frizzy-haired glory. But there were little things. She had long brown hair like me (which she later cut and wore naturally curly in the second movie, inspiring me to finally do the same). She had dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. There was a familiar essence about her that made me feel seen.
For picture day that year, I picked out a floral top I thought Gabriella would wear and begged my mom to style my hair like hers. I still remember a classmate turning to me and saying, “Omg, you look like Gabriella today!” That made my whole life, even if it was maybe only, like, 30 percent true—if we’re being generous.
But for the first time, I realized that it was someone more like me that other girls were idolizing. And it wasn’t just about how Vanessa looked. It was the idea that someone with roots like mine could be seen as the main character.
“It wasn’t just about how Vanessa looked. It was the idea that someone with roots like mine could be seen as the main character.”
It made me believe that I could be pretty, too—but also smart, talented, liked. That I could get onstage and overcome my own stage fright. I could have multiple passions, hobbies, and interests and follow all of my dreams. I could stand up for myself. And that, ultimately, I didn’t have to change any part of who I was to be or do any of those things. And that really stuck with me, all the way until I was in high school myself and found the courage to perform in music and theater.
Looking for other Filipino representation
If I look a little further back into Disney history, I can pinpoint a few other glimpses of representation that scratched the surface of those feelings. The first time I saw someone who kinda looked like me was Lalaine, who played Miranda Sanchez in Lizzie McGuire. I also thought she was so cool, pretty, stylish, and funny—but she wasn’t the main character. I still ended up being more obsessed with Hilary Duff, partly because she was everywhere and billed as the “it” girl at the time—and I still wished I looked more like her instead.
Notably, while the actresses who played Miranda and Gabriella are Filipina in real life, both characters were portrayed as Latina. And in the animated world, my favorite Disney princess was Mulan—again, the one who looked the closest to me in my head. While she’s Chinese, I was thrilled to learn that Filipina singer and Broadway legend Lea Salonga was the singing voice behind Mulan.
And while it makes me happy for all little girls of color to see parts of themselves in a character, sometimes it felt like the world wasn’t seeing any aspect of Filipinas in American media—because their background stayed in the background.
Missing Filipinos as the main characters
Representation isn’t just about seeing people who look like us on screen—it’s also about telling stories that accurately reflect our culture and lived experiences.
Watching these characters back then certainly made me prouder of my identity—at least now, my friends knew what “Filipino” even was or how to pronounce it properly—but there were still parts of my life I didn’t see depicted or normalized in pop culture.
For example, I still felt embarrassed by how different my Filipino family felt from my white friends’ families—how they spoke or acted, or how “weird” Filipino food seemed to my classmates. One time, I had a High School Musical-themed birthday party (if you can’t tell by now, I kinda liked that movie). My mom got me an awesome Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake decorated in East High-inspired red and white icing. For lunch, my family made pancit and lumpia—delicious Filipino staples often served at special occasions. My friend scrunched her nose and said: “Is this really your favorite food? On my birthday, I get to have whatever I want, like spaghetti!”
So, there was still a long way to go—but I was happy to see that a generation later, we kept trying to get there.
Finding Filipino main characters for a new generation
When I first saw a clip of Olivia Rodrigo singing The Start of Something New in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, I teared up. I knew some other young girl was probably having the same moment I had watching Vanessa Hudgens sing that same song over a decade ago.
But this time, it came with even sweeter realizations: not only is Olivia Rodrigo part Filipina—her character, Nini Salazar-Roberts, is, too. We get to hear her call her grandmother Lola (Tagalog for grandma) and even hear the story of her family’s immigration to America.
As a lighter-skinned, mixed Filipina-American, I recognize it’s one of my many privileges to see myself reflected in characters like this. So while I’m grateful, I also think of all the little Filipina girls with darker skin or less Western features who have yet to see themselves as the main character—on screen or in any other aspirational space.
Why representation still matters for kids today
Every little girl—regardless of her skin tone, hair texture, eye shape, nose shape, or anything else that still defies traditional Western beauty standards—deserves to see herself in the spotlight. She deserves to picture herself as the protagonist, the genius, the rockstar, the hero, the winner. The one celebrated, happy, loved, and fully accepted—and anything else she wants to be—without needing to water down or hide any part of who she is. She deserves to hear her stories told. And to be inspired to tell her own, too—her way.
And I’d like to think that we’re still getting a little closer every day.
I recently got chills again re-watching H.E.R.—who is half Filipina and half Black—perform as Belle in the Beauty and the Beast 30th anniversary special, giving the character a fresh spin, iconic guitar solo and all. I imagined all the little girls who look more like her—who might now pick up a guitar, step onto a stage, or slip into a princess gown and fully believe they are magical, powerful, and enough. Because they are. Just as they are. Just as they should be.
So, I celebrate how far we’ve come—this AAPI Heritage Month and always—but I also say: We need to keep going.
A recent Nielsen study found that two-thirds of Asian Americans feel there is not enough representation of their identity group on TV—and when they are seen on screen, more than half feel the portrayal is inaccurate.
So, let’s keep giving more kids that chance to truly see themselves. Let’s show them more people who look like them in books, TV shows, and movies. Encourage them to share more of our own stories and teach them to be proud of their heritage. Raise them to be inclusive and accepting of kids from other cultures, too—so they can see the beauty in diversity, themselves, and each other.
It mattered to me. It still matters to me. And it will matter to them.
Lex Rule, Social Media Editor
With experience in creating and managing engaging content to bolster brands of all sizes across various industries—and a passion for using her creativity to solve problems and connect people—Lex brings a diverse skill set, keen eye for social media trends, and fresh perspective to The Everymom as Social Media Editor.