Stars Like Vanessa Hudgens And Olivia Rodrigo Helped Little Girls Embrace Their Own Stories

If you grew up in 2006, the magic of *High School Musical* is probably etched in your memory. I’m not exaggerating when I say it wasn’t just a Disney Channel Original Movie for me—it was a real turning point in my life, shaping so much of my childhood.

Imagine me at 10, a bundle of nerves and excitement, relentlessly adjusting the glasses that seemed perpetually glued to the tip of my nose. Clad in a mismatched red-and-white getup—probably a clearance rack special since the official merch felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford—I would give it my all, dancing to We’re All In This Together like there was no tomorrow. I broke into those moves with all the awkwardness and enthusiasm of a little girl trying to find her place in the world.

When you talk to anyone who was captivated by that film, you’ll get a mix of reasons why it became such a phenomenon. Perhaps they’ll mention the catchy songs, the infectious dance routines, or even the thrill of watching Troy Bolton—with his heartthrob smile—sweep Gabriella off her feet. And while those elements enchanted me, it was seeing Vanessa Hudgens as Gabriella Montez that struck a deeper chord.

Navigating the In-Between as a Filipina-American

Like many mixed-race kids, I spent my childhood swinging between worlds. My early years in the East Bay, California, where my friends were predominantly Filipino, contrasted sharply with my later years in Reno, Nevada, surrounded mostly by white kids. I felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, always searching for where I belonged—never fully “enough” of either side.

When I turned to TV shows or movies, the girls who shone bright—smart, beautiful, talented—were seldom reflections of me. But then came the day I discovered that my favorite actress, the one who embodied everything I aspired to be, also had Filipino roots. Just like that, I felt a spark of hope, and I beamed with pride.

Somewhere tucked away in storage—a time capsule of my youth—exists a worn-out *High School Musical* wall calendar that’s probably crammed between my nostalgic red CD player and relentless home videos. On the page featuring Vanessa, I’d drawn a big arrow alongside my messy handwriting declaring: *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!”

The Impact of Representation

Now, let’s be real: I didn’t honestly think I resembled her much. I mean, she was gorgeous, while I was navigating that awkward phase—think snaggletooth smiles and frizzy hair. But when I looked closely, I noticed the subtle similarities. Long brown hair, dark almond-shaped eyes—there was something familiar about her that made me feel recognized.

For picture day that year, I slipped into a floral blouse that I imagined Gabriella would love, begging my mom to style my hair like hers. I still vividly remember a classmate exclaiming, “OMG, you look like Gabriella today!” It felt monumental, even if it was maybe just 30 percent accurate—if we’re generous.

For the first time, I realized that someone who looked like me could be an idol, a main character. This revelation flipped everything on its head. If other girls were looking up to someone like Vanessa, then maybe I could be a pretty, talented, liked girl too. Forget stage fright—I could dream big, embrace multiple passions, and be unapologetically myself. And what a revelation that was!

“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.”

Searching for More Filipino Representation

Reflecting on Disney’s landscape, I can trace back other moments that resonated with me. The first time I spotted someone who kinda looked like me was Lalaine as Miranda Sanchez in *Lizzie McGuire*. She was fabulous—stylish and funny—but still not the lead. I ended up more smitten with Hilary Duff, the quintessential “it” girl, longing to look more like her.

While both Vanessa and Lalaine are of Filipino descent, their characters were portrayed as Latina, highlighting the broader issues of representation. And let’s not forget Mulan, my ultimate Disney princess crush, who, while Chinese, was brought to life with the musical magic of Filipina star Lea Salonga.

Though it warms my heart that little girls of color can see pieces of themselves reflected on screen, I often found it disheartening that the world didn’t fully capture the diverse beauty that kids like me carried in our souls. The hunger for accurate representation—true, multifaceted portrayals—was real, and it’s a journey I continue to navigate as I celebrate the vibrant tapestry of all identities.

I want every girl, no matter their background, to feel the same spark of recognition I felt. To believe in themselves. Just as Vanessa allowed me to see the beauty in difference, I aim to carry that rippling effect forward.Any aspect of Filipinas in American media—because their background often stayed in the background, we’ve seen it time and again.

Representation isn’t just about seeing faces that resemble ours on screen. It’s about telling authentic stories that genuinely reflect our culture and lived experiences.

Looking back, I felt a sense of pride seeing characters who slightly resembled my heritage. At least my friends had learned what “Filipino” was and how to pronounce it correctly. Yet, there were still so many parts of my life that felt absent from pop culture. I often felt caught off-guard when my Filipino family traditions seemed “different” compared to those of my white friends. The way we spoke, our customs, or even the unique foods we love sometimes drew puzzled looks.

I remember hosting a *High School Musical*-themed birthday party (yes, I was a big fan), and my mom surprised me with an amazing Baskin-Robbins cake, decked out in vibrant East High colors. For lunch, my family prepared pancit and lumpia—staples of any Filipino celebration. But when one of my friends wrinkled her nose and asked, “Is this *really* your favorite food? On my birthday, I get to eat spaghetti!” my heart sank a little.

While I was delighted to see more representation on screen, my journey reminded me we still had a long way to go.

When I caught a glimpse of Olivia Rodrigo singing “The Start of Something New” in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, I couldn’t help but tear up. I imagined some young girl, perhaps feeling a similar wave of excitement that I felt all those years ago watching Vanessa Hudgens. But this moment carried even deeper significance: Olivia Rodrigo is part Filipina, and her character, Nini Salazar-Roberts, shares that identity. Hearing her affectionately call her grandmother Lola (the Tagalog term for grandma) and narrating her family’s immigration story made me realize how much representation matters.

As a lighter-skinned, mixed Filipina-American, I am acutely aware of the privilege I hold in seeing myself reflected in characters like this. It stirs thoughts of all the young Filipina girls with darker skin or less Western features who are still waiting for their moment in the spotlight—whether on screen or in other aspirational spaces.

When we talk about representation, it transcends mere visibility. Every little girl—no matter her skin tone, hair texture, or facial features—deserves to envision herself as the protagonist of her story. She should picture herself as the brilliant inventor, the rockstar, or the heroine of her own fairy tale. She deserves the chance to be celebrated for who she is, without needing to shrink or alter her identity.

I can still feel the emotion welling inside me as I revisit those special moments. Watching H.E.R.—who beautifully embodies both Black and Filipina heritage—take on the role of Belle in the *Beauty and the Beast* 30th anniversary special gave me chills. Her unique interpretation, complete with an iconic guitar solo, reminded me of the power of seeing someone who looks like you step into a celebrated role. I can only imagine the little girls who look like her—who might now feel inspired to strum a guitar, take center stage, or slip into a princess gown, believing they too are magical, powerful, and more than enough—just as they are.

As we celebrate how far we’ve come—especially during AAPI Heritage Month—it’s crucial to acknowledge that there’s still more work ahead of us. A recent Nielsen study revealed that two-thirds of Asian Americans feel their identity is underrepresented on television, and more than half believe those portrayals often miss the mark.

Let’s keep pushing for our kids to see themselves in the entertainment they consume. Let’s make sure they encounter people who look like them in books, shows, and movies. We should encourage them to share their stories and feel proud of their heritage. And let’s teach them to embrace diversity, appreciating the beauty in all cultures—so they can celebrate not only themselves but also each other.

This journey mattered to me, and it continues to matter. It will undoubtedly matter to future generations—if we can keep the momentum going.