When I landed in the United States in 2001, fresh from the Philippines, I could never have imagined this moment. Not just writing this reflection but leading in spaces that once felt out of reach—spaces where my accent, my skin, my story marked me as different before I ever spoke.
The 2025 Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month theme, “A Legacy of Leadership and Resilience,” resonates deeply with me—not as a slogan, but as a lived experience. Because resilience is not a personality trait. It’s a muscle we’ve had to exercise for generations. And leadership, for many of us in the AAPI community, is not just about titles. It’s about navigating spaces that weren’t designed with us in mind and doing it anyway.
Like many, I wrestled with imposter syndrome. I questioned whether I belonged in rooms filled with polished voices and pedigrees that didn’t sound or look like mine. Even now, I still catch myself measuring my words, softening my tone, wondering if I said too much or not enough. That’s the weight of representation. But I’ve learned this: the very things I once downplayed—my accent, my heritage, my unorthodox path—are exactly what give me strength.
And with that strength comes responsibility.
Recently, I heard a line from Brig. Gen. Alfred Flowers that has stayed with me: “Keep the fire lit so others can see.” It struck a chord because it speaks to how I strive to lead—not for recognition, but to illuminate the path for others. That fire was once lit for me by those who believed in my potential before I did. Now it’s my responsibility to keep it burning to inspire, challenge and ensure no one feels they’re walking alone.
Mentorship, at its core, is not just guidance. It’s belief in action. It’s telling someone: You’re not just welcome here—you’re needed.
I think of people like Robert Fry, PhD, FACHE, who challenged me early on to think beyond myself—to see leadership not just as personal achievement, but as collective responsibility. That moment shifted something in me, and the rest is history.
And then there’s Kelly O. Elmore, MD, who didn’t just pull up a seat for me. She kept replenishing so I could show up, pour into others and give back. That’s the kind of leadership that sustains, the kind of legacy we need more of.
Through advocacy, storytelling and community-building, I’ve had the chance to positively impact people across the professional spectrum—those above me, beside me and still finding their way. That’s the power of collective leadership. We don’t lead just for ourselves. We lead to widen the path, break down the barriers and ensure that our stories aren’t the exception—they’re the standard.
The push for equity doesn’t stop because policy shifts. Our communities can’t afford for us to sit this out. This is when we show up even more unified.
So, to the rising leaders reading this: Your voice matters. Your journey, no matter how nonlinear, is valid. And if you’ve ever felt invisible, underestimated or unsure, you are not alone. Your story adds dimension to the fabric of healthcare leadership. Don’t let anyone shrink that.
To the established leaders: Make space. Share power. Open doors wider than they were for you. Legacy isn’t built through status—it’s built through stewardship. If you’ve already made it, ask yourself: Who am I lifting as I climb? Real leadership isn’t about holding power tightly. It’s about using it to build longer tables and stronger bridges.
And to my fellow AAPI leaders: Keep showing up. Keep challenging norms. Keep the fire lit—not just for visibility, but for meaningful, lasting change. Whether you’re the only one in the room or part of a rising wave of voices, your presence matters. Representation isn’t the finish line—it’s where the real work begins.
So how do we move from intention to impact? We move beyond inspiration and into infrastructure. We build formal and informal pathways for mentorship and succession. We challenge who’s at the table and who’s missing. We advocate for transparency, accountable leadership and equity embedded in the systems that guide our institutions. And when the door doesn’t open, we ask why and keep knocking until it does. Change doesn’t happen by accident. It happens because we choose to show up, again and again.
We are not guests in this house—we are part of its foundation. And it’s time to help rebuild it stronger, braver and better than we found it.
Raben Talvo, FACHE, PMP, CPH, is a healthcare executive, an immigrant, an advocate and a servant leader. He is passionate about creating space, equity and opportunities for all voices to be heard in healthcare leadership.