Long before she stood at the frontlines of Asian American advocacy in Texas, Nicolette Ardiente was just a young girl from the New York–New Jersey area, caught in the complex in-between of being Filipino and American. Like many children of immigrants, her upbringing was rooted in tradition, yet constantly navigating identity within two worlds.
“I was always in between—am I Filipino enough? Or am I too American?” she says with honesty that resonates with so many of us straddling hyphens and heritage.
Nicolette is a first-generation Filipino American. Her parents arrived in the U.S. in the mid-1980s—her mother as part of a wave of Filipino nurses, her father petitioned soon after. They met on American soil, and eventually raised Nicolette and her brother in a home filled with tradition—church on Sundays, tinikling and pandanggo sa ilaw, and a quiet but ever-present pride in where they came from.
Still, that pride wasn’t always easy to hold.
Struggling with Language and Belonging
“I remember the first time we went to the Philippines—no one would talk to me. I only spoke English.” For a child eager to belong, the silence was heartbreaking. But instead of retreating, Nicolette turned the experience into fuel. “When we came back, I was determined more than ever to learn Tagalog.”
But language wasn’t the only barrier. On her return to the Philippines years later, she found that speaking Tagalog didn’t magically bridge the gap. “Now I was an American who spoke Tagalog, but I was still different.” It’s a story all too familiar: even when we stretch ourselves to connect, the lines of identity still feel blurry.
Yet Nicolette refused to let that difference define her. She embraced it. “I know I’m Filipino. I know I’m Filipino American. And I do really cherish that.”
Finding Community in Texas
Her story took a transformative turn when she moved to Texas—a leap of faith, away from the family she’d always known, with only her own roots to guide her. Her first move? Finding the nearest Filipino restaurant and making best friends with the owners. “Because we were eating together. Halo-halo, leche flan… that’s where I found my people.”
It’s these small but powerful acts—reaching out, building community from scratch—that mark Nicolette’s unique brand of leadership. A classically trained pianist, she started teaching music, quietly planting seeds of creativity and connection. But her impact didn’t stop there.
Becoming a Community Advocate
In the face of her mother’s dream of her becoming a nurse, Nicolette found her own calling: caring for the community in a different way.
She began organizing. Advocating. Showing up.
From spearheading San Antonio’s first official Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month to having Filipino American Heritage Month recognized by the city, Nicolette has carved out space—not just for herself, but for generations to come. “We just want to be treated like everybody else,” she says. “And as much as you love Filipino food, make sure you love Filipino people too.”
Her work has bridged the gap between community and leadership. Today, San Antonio’s mayor proudly wears the Barong Tagalog to cultural events, and elected officials show up where their presence matters most—not just in office, but in the community.
Through all of it, Nicolette remains grounded in her roots and driven by her purpose. “Making sure our community is well-represented everywhere we go,” she says. “That’s how we build a future.”
Nicolette’s story is more than a tale of cultural belonging—it’s a living testament to how heritage shapes purpose. While she honors tradition through community work and representation, at the core of her passion is a deeply Filipino value: family.
Building Community Through Connection and Care
“I think I learned more about the unspoken rule of family because of being Filipino,” Nicolette shares. With a mother who is one of eight and a father one of seven, her childhood was filled with loud, joyful, chaotic gatherings, where laughter echoed and Mano po was more than just a gesture, but a way to show respect, love, and connection.
“Even though we’re not blood related, we still take care of each other,” she says. “That idea of community—of taking care of one another—is deep within my Filipino roots.”
It’s a belief that’s shaped not only how she lives, but how she leads. Today, as a community organizer and advocate, she sees her role as an extension of that Filipino value of kapwa—shared identity, shared humanity. “When I start my own family, I want my kids to know that family comes first. But also that taking care of your community is how you take care of others.”
A Tattoo of Activism and Heritage
She laughs as she recalls her mom’s reaction to her tattoo sleeve—covered in baybayin and indigenous Filipino symbols. “My mom almost had a heart attack,” she laughs. “‘I never even learned about this,’ she said. And I was like—exactly. That’s part of the problem.”
For Nicolette, this ink is more than art—it’s activism.
“All of that to say: my Filipino upbringing is part and parcel of who I am. I’m unapologetically Filipino, always, out loud, everywhere I go.”
At a recent conference, a stranger noticed the three dots on her hand—a symbol of the three generations of mambabatoks (traditional tattoo artists): Apo Whang-Od, Grace Palicas, and Elyang Wigan. “Two other Filipinos came out of nowhere and said, ‘Hey! I got it too!’” she beams. “We’d never met, but that’s the beauty of being Filipino American. There’s an unspoken bond.”
The Road to Leadership
But for Nicolette, identity is more than belonging. It’s leadership.
“Moving to Texas, I didn’t see people in leadership who had the same lived experiences as me,” she explains. “That really shaped the way I saw the world—and how I wanted to show up in it.”
She imagined what her younger self would’ve needed. “I wanted to be the Filipino version of Alicia Keys,” she laughs. “But now, I think—how do I show up for that 10-year-old girl? So she knows she could run for office, start a business, be a leader.”
Overcoming Criticism and Staying Authentic
It hasn’t been easy.
“I still get looked at like I’m too young or too inexperienced,” she says. “People question why I should be stepping up.” Even something as simple as wearing pigtails at her campaign launch sparked criticism. “They said I looked like a child. But it was 90 degrees in Texas—I just wanted my hair off my neck!” she laughs.
Through it all, Nicolette stays grounded in authenticity. “The best leaders are the most authentic. If I show up as myself, others feel they can too.”
Leadership Through Service
When asked what makes a good leader, she doesn’t hesitate: “Listening first. Talking second. It’s not about being the loudest in the room. It’s about serving—not yourself, but your community.”
That lesson was solidified during one pivotal moment. While organizing to support the first Asian American Studies course in Texas, Nicolette brought dozens of students to testify at the State Board of Education. The room was full. But when a board member stood and asked, “Do we have to listen to them?”—everything stopped.
“We were stunned,” she recalls. “But also fired up. They had to listen. Because if we didn’t show up, they’d keep writing us out of history.”
Looking Ahead: Building Filipino Excellence
Nicolette is also looking ahead to a nonprofit project she’s launching with fellow Filipino Americans in San Antonio. “It’ll focus on Filipino culture through food, sports, and civic action,” she says. “I want people to see Filipino excellence—and know they can be part of it too.”
Her advice for those wanting to create change? “Start where people gather,” she says. “A church, a restaurant, a school. Meet people where they’re at.”
Inspiring the Next Generation
And to fellow Filipino Americans?
“We need to think outside the box of what we were prescribed to do,” she urges. “Our parents told us what was safe. But we’re here now. We’re in the moment. And we need to believe: I can do this too.”
“We need more Filipinos in leadership,” Nicolette says. “So we can name more names. So we can dream even bigger.”
Because in every room she enters, every voter she meets, and every young girl watching—Nicolette isn’t just organizing.
She’s building something bigger than herself.
Not just for her community today—but for every young Filipino American still trying to find where they belong.
