Stay Current PSA Newsroom
May 14, 2026
PSA had never had a pilot from her tiny Pacific island. She changed that.
In honor of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage (AAPI) Month
A girl from a 32-mile island
First Officer Brenna Myers doesn’t make a big deal of firsts. But she thinks about them.
Every time she walks into an airport in her uniform, the same thought finds her: This tiny little island girl is doing it. Not as a boast. More like a quiet conversation with the version of herself who grew up on a 32-mile island in the Pacific, where Chamorro pilots existed but were so few and so far from view that the flight deck never felt like a place that could belong to her.
She is Chamorro — indigenous to Guam — and she is the first pilot from Guam in the PSA’s history. She holds that distinction the way her culture taught her to hold everything that matters — not for herself, but as a reflection of the people and the place that made her.
The planes were always there. The pilots weren’t
Growing up in Guam, aviation was simply in the fabric of life. You flew to reach family on neighboring islands. You flew to reach the mainland for college. The planes were always there. The pilots who flew them almost never were — not anyone from the island, anyway.
Brenna studied biochemistry in college, figuring medicine was a visible enough path. She knew dentists back home. She didn’t know pilots. It wasn’t until she moved back to Guam after graduation, took an operations job at a small charter company, and started talking with the pilots coming through that the dream she’d quietly carried finally had a shape. She took a discovery flight. That was it.
Getting her private pilot certificate in Guam was as far as the island’s aviation infrastructure could take her at the time. The next step meant leaving — something that’s changing as the community has grown significantly since Brenna started her journey. She landed in South Carolina, finished her ratings, built her hours, instructed more than 50 students with a 100% first-attempt check ride pass rate, and waited for the right door.
She knew PSA was that door before she ever set foot in the building.
The message that found her anyway
That certainty had a name: Destiny Siguenza.
Destiny is an MSS recruiter at PSA, a role she believed in enough to follow when the company relocated its headquarters from Dayton, Ohio to Charlotte. She is also Chamorro, also from Guam, and she carries the same quiet disbelief-turned-gratitude every day she walks into the office. Someone from this 32-mile island, she thinks, in a corporate role, part of one of the biggest airlines in the world.
In 2023, a year before Brenna joined PSA, Destiny traveled back to Guam to represent PSA at Wings in Paradise, the first aviation event held on the island. A typhoon had other plans. The event was canceled. Destiny continued anyway, and the island’s small aviation community wasn’t about to let Destiny’s trip go to waste. They pulled together an impromptu session at a local hanger, giving her a room and a microphone. She went on the island’s radio and broadcast to whoever would listen about the different careers aviation had to offer. She was hoping to reach one person.
The message found Brenna. Yet beyond the words, Brenna heard a Chamorro woman who loved where she worked, and that was all she needed.
“I knew that if another Chamorro girl loved where she worked, I knew that I would feel like it was home too,” Brenna said.
She reached out to Destiny, who connected her with PSA’s cadet recruiter. She applied, spent nearly a year building hours as a cadet, and earned her class date. Not long after, the recruiter looped back to Destiny with news: Brenna had been assigned to a class. She was on her way.
We are a product of our people
They were strangers who had quietly shaped each other’s path long before they ever stood in the same room. This story brought them together. That’s not unusual for people from Guam, where community isn’t a concept so much as a practice. Where hospitality is known as the Hafa Adai spirit, a way of making things good for one another, and where your successes are understood as a reflection of the people who raised you, fed you and sent you off with their full support.
Getting home isn’t simple when you’re from Guam. The island sits four hours from Japan, eight from Honolulu and is served by a single U.S.-based airline. Brenna has landed a plane there before, during early training, but never as a professional pilot with passengers and crew and everything that uniform means.
That’s the dream. Not just to fly, but to one day touch down in Guam on a route that serves her island and let some kid see a Chamorro woman walk off that flight deck. The same kid she once was, who rarely saw this path represented and grew up not knowing it could be hers too.
It says everything about why she flies.
Not for the credential. For the island. For the ones coming next.
