On Filipino Culture, in the Wake of Barkadagate

Barkada Wine Bar (Photo by Kat Velayo Greenberg)

Barkada Wine Bar (Photo by Kat Velayo Greenberg)

Four white Americans decided to name their wine bar Barkada. Some in the Washington, DC-based Filipino community protested heavily on social media, and the bar owners announced that they would change the name. Why am I still thinking about this really inconsequential story days later? Because in a chocolate-fueled tizzy I foolishly left a bunch of comments on different pages about this matter the other night, and some people are still talking to me about the whole fiasco. So yes, it’s still bouncing around in my head.

My thoughts turn to the topic of Filipino identity often ever since I left home, and this incident triggered a deeper reflection on certain aspects of it. Join me while I gather all my thoughts and observations about this in one place to help me reorganize my worldview. 

Native Filipinos vs. Fil-Ams

One thing this whole mess has brought to the fore is the wide chasm between Filipinos from the Philippines and Filipino Americans. Ask a Filipino their opinion on this issue, and you can probably tell where they’re from based on their answer. And people from the two camps are currently duking it out all over social media.

My husband, Jon, has always thought it was weird that I say that Fil-Ams are just different from me – to his outsider eyes, we’re a lot more similar than different. But the ways that we’re different are pretty fundamental, and since moving here it’s become clear to me why.

Growing up as an ethnic and cultural minority, and growing up as part of the majority culture lead to vastly different perspectives in life. I first realized this when I was reading a mom blog where a white American woman had posted a photo of her daughter in a kimono. Apparently, they would do weekly discussions about different countries and have activities centered around that country’s culture, including dressing up in its national costume.

This woman got destroyed in the comments with people accusing her of racism for dressing her child up as a Japanese person. As an observer, I was really confused by this; we dressed up as other cultures all the time growing up. There were world culture weeks at school along with our own national culture weeks where we dressed up as the different ethnic groups from around the Philippines. A Japanese mom commenter was also confused and basically said, “I’m from Japan and I don’t find this offensive. She’s learning about our culture and we think that’s really nice.” But then another mom, who was Japanese but grew up in America, said, “I do find this offensive. You don’t get to speak for me when you haven’t grown up being made fun of and having people call you weird for displaying your culture, but when a white kid does it, it’s cute.”

That was my first taste of the diaspora-native divide. I’ve come across it in various forums since then, and my takeaway is this: the wounds inflicted by the majority on you when you’re growing up as a minority scar, and this causes you to build defensive structures around your culture, which is often a target of ridicule by the majority. (You’d think white people being proactive and trying to teach their kids about other cultures would mean less of the making-fun-of so they shouldn’t be attacked, but I digress…)

Then, of course, there are the wounds that native Filipinos and Fil-Ams inflict on each other. Whenever the two groups clash, these are the weapons of choice I’ve seen brandished on social media: 

Native Filipinos: 

  • I’m from the Philippines and you’re not, therefore my opinion holds more weight than yours.

  • Your opinions are so Westernized they’re not even the opinions of a Filipino anymore.

  • You’re just a spoiled American who thinks they can bulldoze over the opinions of “real” Filipinos.

  • In short: You’re not a real Filipino. We are. 

Fil-Ams:

  • You’re just not educated/worldly/sophisticated enough to understand this position and why it’s right.

  • You’re a slave to colonial mentality and don’t even know it. None of your opinions are valid because they’re the opinions of your colonial masters that you’ve absorbed.

  • You just don’t understand our struggles out here.

  • In short: Growing up in the Philippines you can’t possibly have formed your own valid opinions about these issues.

Seeing these listed out, both sides can be pretty insufferable. I will admit that I have been guilty of framing some of my statements this way. It’s almost a reflex. What can we do about this divide? I don’t know, but it’s helpful to be aware of these hurtful behaviors. I suppose we could start with listening to each other more.

On Culture

One idea I keep coming back to is how having your culture be an enviable thing that other people want to participate in is a kind of soft power in the world. Cultural cachet means power. And it’s not just the power of, “Yay! We’re cool!” Look at what South Korea has been able to do with the spread of K-pop and K-dramas. This isn’t an abstract thing; cachet brings with it investment in that culture and real benefit to the people in that culture. It would benefit Filipinos in real ways for Filipino culture to become more mainstreamed.

But this is what the whole fight was about, right? Money was going to go to those white Barkada guys, not the Filipino community. Isn’t this all kind of a chicken-and-egg thing, though? Filipino culture’s star is rising, but it’s not that popular yet.

It’s not like those bar owners were riding some huge wave of Filipino popularity and cashing in on it without properly crediting Filipino culture. They weren’t even trying to participate in Filipino culture. They don’t serve anything Filipino or try to pretend to be anything Filipino. While using a Filipino name (and crediting the origins of that name), they actually made it pretty clear in the media that they are not a Filipino joint. If they had made a ton of money without ever changing their name, only a miniscule part of that success would have had anything to do with Filipino culture. Bars live and die on their drinks, food and service, none of which is Filipino in their case.

Barkada owners (L-R) Sebastian Zutant, Nick Guglietta, Nate Fisher, and Anthony Aligo (Photo by Rey Lopez/Source: D.C. Eater)

Barkada owners (L-R) Sebastian Zutant, Nick Guglietta, Nate Fisher, and Anthony Aligo (Photo by Rey Lopez/Source: D.C. Eater)

They literally used just one of our words, but in a way that could build more curiosity about the culture because their target was not people in our culture or fans of our culture. Would the non-direspectful, curiosity-piqueing use of the Filipino word have increased exposure to Filipino culture in a way that would have later benefitted Filipinos? I can’t know for sure, but it certainly wasn’t bringing any negative attention to Filipino culture, aside from the uproar that ensued. 

One of the comments I left on someone else’s page was, if Filipinos want to gate-keep like this, then we will never grow out of the niche. If we reserve the use of Filipino culture to marginalized people (us), then Filipino culture will never have power or value beyond the margins. We’re not at this point yet, but someday we’re going to have to relinquish control of the culture a little if we want it to grow out there in the wild. Also, friends, I just really want everyone in the world to know what kilig (thrill) means and to use it freely. 

On Cultural Appropriation

I read this article (here for a version that works on mobile) years ago, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever read about cultural appropriation to this day. My thinking has evolved slightly beyond the headline (Cultural appropriation is a toxic concept) since then. I acknowledge that it does exist and is worthy of consideration. But the basic premise of the article is that cultural appropriation doesn’t exist without the context of big R racism.

What really helped me to understand this is when the author boiled her thoughts down in this way: When South Asian fashion became a thing in America with white girls suddenly wearing it, what she actually wanted was not to keep these white girls from wearing a kurti. What she wished is that she hadn’t been made fun of in high school by white girls for wearing one.

This is why people from their home, majority cultures don’t understand why cultural appropriation is a big deal: It’s not a problem without racism. Native Filipinos are happy to share our culture with the world, because we’re never made fun of at home for that culture. Fil-Ams feel hyper-protective about their culture because loving it can get them treated like outsiders, or, even worse, subject them to abuse.

OK, a breakthrough! But then, could we please just attack structural racism and all the root issues that make ethnic minorities like Filipinos feel bad about their culture when they live in places like America? Could we all agree to spend our energy on that instead of a bunch of white dudes with a wine bar?

Maybe I have this all completely wrong and you vehemently disagree with me. But I do think this was a helpful exercise in reflecting on exactly what it is we are all fighting for, and in getting me to understand the other side even just a little better. Thank you for listening. 

Originally posted on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/notes/kat-velayo-greenberg/thoughts-on-filipino-culture-in-the-wake-of-barkada-gate/10159112278240260/


Kat Velayo Greenberg is a writer living in the Bay Area by way of Shanghai and Manila. She now spends her time writing about fine furniture and pondering what it means to be a Filipina outside of the context of her native land.