Conversations with Chloe Jane Reyes

Today we’d like to introduce you to Chloe Jane Reyes.

Hi Chloe Jane, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
I’m Chloe Jane Reyes — a singer, storyteller, and the current Miss Philippines USA. I was raised in Diamond Bar, California, and I’m a proud second-generation Filipina.
Growing up, I often felt like I had to choose between being “American enough” or “Filipina enough.” I didn’t grow up fluent in Tagalog, but I quickly discovered that my voice could be a bridge — one that connected cultures, communities, and generations. Music became my first language.
Some of my earliest memories are filled with the sound of live music. My parents were close friends with members of the legendary Filipino band South Border, who became like family. I grew up tagging along to their gigs in places like Bamboo Bistro and Banana Bay — mesmerized by the magic of Filipino musicianship and occasionally invited on stage myself. Those nights sparked a lifelong passion for storytelling through song.
As I matured, I refused to be boxed into one genre. Though I was classically trained in opera and honored as the 2021 National Association of Teachers of Singing Classical Voice Prize Winner, I found myself drawn to the freedom of jazz, the soul of R&B, and the raw vulnerability of songwriting. Post-pandemic, I treated that time as a personal renaissance — immersing myself in LA’s vibrant jam sessions, fronting a pop band on tour in Europe, and performing worldwide with a 20-piece jazz orchestra. My sound became a reflection of who I am: multifaceted, fluid, and unafraid to evolve.
But behind every polished performance was a quiet battle. For years, I struggled with depression and imposter syndrome — constantly questioning whether I was enough. I spent so long trying to be everything for everyone that I lost sight of my own worth. A year before I was crowned Miss Philippines USA, I survived a suicide attempt.
That experience cracked me open — and from that place of pain, I began to rebuild.
I realized my voice wasn’t just meant to entertain — it was meant to tell the truth. To advocate. To heal. I stopped performing to impress and started showing up to make an impact.
In college, I served as Student Trustee, representing and serving over 26,000 students across our district. I led initiatives that directly addressed student wellbeing — from providing free menstrual products in campus restrooms to passing a district-wide measure that granted free public transportation for all students. These efforts taught me that advocacy doesn’t require a stage — just conviction, empathy, and follow-through.
I also began working closely with children through organizations like Right Start and as a private vocal coach. I wasn’t just teaching technique; I was helping them find confidence, resilience, and emotional release through music. Many of them weren’t just learning to sing — they were learning to believe in themselves.
That work laid the foundation for the kind of leader I am today. As Miss Philippines USA, I’ve transformed my story into service. I advocate for children’s mental health, suicide prevention, and cultural pride — using my platform to remind young women, especially those caught between identities, that they don’t need to shrink to be seen.
Today, I mentor the next generation of titleholders — not just in stage presence, but in leading with purpose and authenticity. I remind them that pageantry isn’t about perfection — it’s about impact.
The road here hasn’t been easy. It’s been filled with pivots, doubt, reinvention, and grace. But I’ve learned that strength doesn’t always roar — sometimes, it sings. And if my voice can help someone else find theirs, then every note, every detour, and every scar has been worth it.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. While I’ve been fortunate to experience some incredible highs — from performing internationally to holding titles and scholarships — much of my journey has been shaped by internal battles that most people never saw.

Imposter syndrome followed me everywhere. I constantly questioned whether I was really talented, or just good at making people believe I was. In competitive spaces — especially those tied to performance and pageantry — there can be this unspoken culture of comparison, jealousy, and perfectionism. I often felt like I had to earn my place in every room I walked into, and that the more I achieved, the less I felt like I belonged. It was exhausting.

The pressure to be “on” all the time — to impress, perform, and prove myself — slowly chipped away at my self-worth. I was surrounded by expectations, both external and internal, and for a long time, I didn’t know how to say, “I’m not okay.” In 2023, that pressure hit a breaking point. I survived a suicide attempt — something I never imagined would become a part of my story. But it did. And while it was the darkest moment of my life, it also became a turning point.

That experience forced me to confront the environments I was in, the beliefs I carried, and the emotional weight I had been silently holding for years. I realized I couldn’t keep trying to be perfect for everyone else at the cost of my own peace. I started rebuilding — gently, intentionally — with more honesty, healthier boundaries, and a deeper purpose.

Now, I share my story not for sympathy, but for solidarity. Because I know I’m not alone. So many young people — especially women in high-achieving or competitive spaces — quietly struggle under the weight of not feeling “enough.” If my voice can be a reminder that healing is possible, and that being human is not a flaw but a strength, then every obstacle has served a greater purpose.

Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I’m a professional vocalist, advocate, and mentor — but at my core, I’m a storyteller. Whether I’m performing on stage, mentoring young women, or using my platform to speak about mental health, everything I do comes back to helping people feel seen, heard, and empowered.

Vocally, I specialize in classical, jazz, R&B, and pop — a range that reflects both my training and my curiosity as an artist. I was trained in opera, toured internationally with a 20-piece jazz orchestra, fronted a pop band across Europe, and now write music that blends all of those genres into something uniquely my own. I’ve always been drawn to emotional truth over musical category, and I think that’s what sets me apart: I don’t try to fit a mold — I create my own.

Beyond music, I’m most proud of how I’ve turned my pain into purpose. As Miss Philippines USA, I advocate for children’s mental health, suicide prevention, and the power of self-expression. I work one-on-one with students as a vocal and pageant coach, helping them not just sing or perform, but believe in their own voice — something I had to learn to do for myself.

What sets me apart is that I lead with both skill and vulnerability. I’ve walked through self-doubt, perfectionism, and the silent battles that many people never talk about. I don’t hide those parts of me — I use them. I believe that real power comes from authenticity, and that our stories — even the hardest ones — can be our greatest source of connection.

At the end of the day, I hope I’m known not just for how I sing, but for how I make people feel. Because that’s the kind of legacy I want to leave — one rooted in heart, honesty, and healing.

Do you any memories from childhood that you can share with us?
One of my favorite childhood memories is of my dad burning personalized CDs for me. He would curate playlists filled with my favorite songs — mostly Disney princess ballads — and hand them to me like little treasure chests of magic. I memorized every tracklist and would spend hours in my room, doing my best to imitate each singer’s voice.

At the time, I thought I was just playing dress-up with my voice. But looking back, I realize that’s where my ear training really began. I didn’t know it then, but those moments — rewinding the same song over and over to match the pitch, the tone, the vibrato — were shaping the way I hear and approach music today. It wasn’t formal training, but it was foundational. And the fact that my dad took the time to make those CDs just for me makes those memories even more special. It was one of the first ways someone said, “I see your love for music,” without needing to say a word.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chloejanereyes/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chloe.janecreyes
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@chloejanereyes6208

Image Credits
Robert Ryan, Romelle Gavin, The Lounge Booth