That was how I became part of Bindlestiff Studio, located in the South of Market neighborhood in San Francisco. The Bindlestiff community is a community I deeply treasure, first as a Filipino, and second as an immigrant to this country. Bindlestiff Studio is a nonprofit, black box theater funded by the San Francisco Arts Commission. It is home to Filipino and Filipino American artists – actors, musicians, dancers, playwrights, directors, and other creatives. Many of its veteran artists are also activists who organize their communities in San Francisco and other parts of the Bay Area to support and advocate for social justice issues like health care, housing, and LGBTQ+ rights. 

Since that fateful day in 2017 when I was asked if I could act, I have acted in numerous Bindlestiff productions. Two of my favorite shows are The Geek Show and Tagalog. The Geek Show was the 2017 show that had me performing onstage for the first time, pretending I was fainting in a comedy sketch about villains in superhero movies and yelling my lines as a nagging Tita (Tagalog for “aunt”) in another sketch. 

Contrary to what my producer had promised me, I did not have just a couple of lines. That turned out to be auspicious, however, because I discovered that I was actually pretty good at memorizing lines. It was fun and exhilarating to perform onstage, and the creativity and acting skills of my fellow performers were inspiring. After the production ended, I knew I wanted to do more. I was hooked. 

That was when I was asked if I wanted to be in Bindlestiff Studio’s main production in the fall of that year, Tagalog. The show was named after the national language of the Philippines, Tagalog, and was comprised of three full plays. I was cast in one of the plays, “Kung Paano Ako Naging Leading Lady” (How I Came to be the Leading Lady), as the leading lady, opposite a veteran male actor I had grown up watching in the Philippines. Was I in way over my head? Yes. Was I unprepared? Also, yes. But I could speak fluent Tagalog, I could memorize several pages of script very quickly, and somehow, the show’s producers and the play’s director believed in me enough to cast me. I was determined to show them they did not make a mistake in casting me. 

It ended up being one of the best experiences of my life. I say that not just because it was a thrill to be onstage, watching the audience connect with me and react to my lines. I also say that because being part of that production felt like I was back home in the Philippines

I rarely get a chance to speak Tagalog here in the US. Most of my Filipino American friends and acquaintances do not speak the language because they grew up here. The Tagalog production brought together Filipino American artists who either grew up or spent their childhood in the Philippines, so they could still speak the language fluently. I felt happiness, nostalgia, and more importantly, a sense of belonging, whenever we were onstage or in the theater’s green room. 

We would talk about Filipino actors and actresses we grew up watching or joke about Filipino pop culture references that you would not get unless you grew up there. We often ended our rehearsals with karaoke, engaging in nostalgia by singing Tagalog songs from the 90s and early 2000s. The experience made me feel connected to my roots and to my homeland. 

I had to step away from performing when I started grad school while continuing to work full time here at Stanford. I did not have the bandwidth to work, study, and then go to 3- to 4- hour rehearsals that would end at 10pm or 11pm. Now that my studies are done, I am planning to step right back into theater, even though there have not been as many Bindlestiff shows post-lockdown as there were pre-pandemic. This is true for other small- and mid-sized theaters in San Francisco, some of which unfortunately had to close. 

That said, I am lucky that the San Francisco Filipino American artist community is not the only supportive community I have in my life. As part of the Department of Medicine Chair’s Office, I also have a workplace community here at Stanford where both the faculty and staff not only show each other respect and support, but where I also find inspiration and camaraderie. I work with a team who is always on top of everything and willing to help each other out to ensure our team’s success, whether we are planning and executing events or supporting our faculty. This is a community where I thrive because I feel that people believe in me while also encouraging me to give my best. 

I want to conclude this story by stressing how important it is to find your own community, whether that is at Stanford or outside of Stanford, that will make you feel seen, heard, and encouraged to thrive. If you are an immigrant like me, I hope you will also find a community that brings you a sense of belonging and a feeling of home, like what my Filipino American artist community has done for me.