I’m a Twinkie: How Admitting it Helped Me Find My Voice

Photographer: Rachael Humphries

I am an Asian American woman of Filipino descent. I was brought up to be quiet and passive, set on a career path to be in medicine, law, finance or any well-to-do-job that my immigrant parents would dream for their kid growing up in America to have.

I always had this feeling in my gut that a structured, safe, corporate American future wasn’t the path for me. And it wasn’t until I found my voice that  I was able to start carving out my personal path. Mind you, it didn’t happen overnight, but it was layers of experiences and events built over time.

The Garden State

I was born in Los Angeles, but  grew up in a small New Jersey town. My parents had separated when I was 4, so I moved to New Jersey with my mom. I remember a lot of land, coated in emerald green grass, surrounded by towering trees. I loved how the seasons changed. I rode bikes in the spring, played baseball until sundown in the summer, climbed the tallest oak trees in the fall, and went sledding in the creeks during the winter. What I loved the most was waking up to the sun, casting gold on my small townhouse courtyard in the early mornings before school.

Also, it was very White. I could count the Asian kids at my school on one hand. There were many times I had to explain to other people what Filipino was. I definitely got bullied, and being a nerdy little kid on top of being an ethnicity people couldn’t spell didn't make things any easier.

My identity crisis took form in the blonde, blue-eyed Barbies I owned. I wanted to look like her, be her, and look like most of the kids at my school. I didn’t want to be the brown-haired, almond-shaped eyed girl that looked back at me when I looked in the mirror. 

The photos below are from my 5th grade class pictures. I’m in the first photo, sitting in the first row, 2nd from the left in the black sweater .

Homecoming

I moved back to LA in 2001 because my parents wanted to be a family again. We packed our life in boxes and I left my beloved little New Jersey town in tears. LA wasn’t unfamiliar to me as I’ve always spent long summers here with my dad. Except this time, it was a one-way ticket. 

Suddenly, I was surrounded by all different types of people: Filipinos, Mexicans, Armenians, African-Americans, and more. But, I ended up going to school in Pasadena with the group of people I felt the most comfortable with--White people. 

Ironically, it was with my Filipino counterparts where I felt like I didn’t belong. It was great to suddenly be around people that looked like me, but I heard the never-ending taunts: “white-washed,” “coconut,” and the classic “twinkie”--yellow on the outside, white on the inside.  

I couldn’t tell which was worse. Being made fun of by my classmates who pulled the corners of their eyes back with their fingers, or having your own people make fun of you for not being Asian enough.

I AM a Twinkie!!

I was tired of being judged, so I spoke up. Yes, I AM a twinkie!! So what?! 

Once I admitted it, I began to embrace me. Finding my voice to speak up about my truth gave me the same courage I’ve used everyday since. It helped me become my most authentic self. I actually began to like the brown-haired, almond-shaped eye girl who looked back at me from the mirror.

It pushed me to be bold and confident because I didn’t allow myself to be defined by other people’s standards. And because I wasn’t always looking for approval, I had the brain space to think for myself and figure out what I wanted. Not what my parents wanted. Not what my teachers wanted. Not what the kids at school wanted me to be. Just me. 

When you find your voice, you gain clarity. And with that clarity, it opens up a world of possibilities and you can conquer anything.