Struggles are not costumes

Go to Manila and ride a jeepney. They’re always there, bearing their newborn child with a linen wrapped around their body. They’ll wipe your shoes, hoping they’ll get a coin or they’ll give out worn-out envelopes. As accurately depicted in the trend, truly, they appear like so. But what it fails to capture is their struggles and silent battles of age discrimination, worsened by our apathy and prejudice.

Dubbed as “Sea Gypsies” or “Sea Nomads”, the Badjaos belong to the Sama-Bajau ethnic groups of Maritime Southeast Asia. They are dependent on the seafaring lifestyle. Legally, they are undocumented; they have no papers to assert their land, not even themselves. This led to their displacement from their ancestral homeland. They are dispersed on the streets, with nothing but a cry for dignity and justice. One thing is clear: a community that was shaped by the sea is now entangled in a community where they are not recognized and heard. 

Ironically, the Philippines boasts internationally with more than 7,000 islands, but we fail to recognize the diversity of our indigenous people. We treat them like they are invisible. The stitches of the flag we wave and scream for inclusivity are nothing but lip-service when the indigenous people are snatched of opportunities and chances. 

In fact, social stereotypes and bullying plagued our perception towards indigenous people. In a 2024 study in Cebu, an informant told the researchers, “I’m often bullied at school because I’m a Badjao. They always tease me, saying I smell bad, even though I always take a bath. My classmates took pictures of me and sent them to the group chat just to make fun of me.” Additionally, they also face disparities in employment, housing, water, sanitation, food security, and access to healthcare. All because they lack proper documents, a birth certificate.

In the age of technology, we should’ve taken the advantage of the platform to raise awareness about their lived experiences, but it is quite the opposite. In recent social media contents, the video starts where creators initially wear casual attire, then music cues to transition to “Sama-Bajau outfit”. This is depicted by ragged clothes, charcoal-stained faces, with some holding props like cups for alms. We dare costume ourselves into their struggle, but it doesn’t give them the avenue to be seen; it allows them to be vulnerable and laughed at. 

“Fit check!” they say, but have we checked our own privileges? How can we be brutal to our fellowmen and sneer at them for simply existing, surviving, and ensuring the ends and met? If poverty is the new comedy, then living becomes futile, and mere endurance is valued down to entertainment. TikTok and social media platforms have seen trends come and go, but this so-called “Badjao outfit trend” must not be slept on. While we ridicule those who poke fun at them, this is another opportunity to call for government action, and we shouldn’t miss it. 

Let us not be hypocritical. We speak about colorism and racism in a foreign land, but we forget to look back on our own. We cannot proclaim ourselves to be against discrimination if we cannot walk the talk. Everything must come down to application. Awareness campaigns may alleviate existing discrimination, but the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples and the national government must work on proposing tangible and inclusive reparative choices to the indigenous people. 

Until we are able to recognize our indigenous brothers and sisters, we cannot call the Philippines diverse. We are being indifferent to our differences. If we really want them to be recognized, it starts with rejecting spectacle. There should be programs such as community-wide registration in their communities, leniency and moratorium on demolitions, increased public campaign against discrimination, livelihood, and legal support.

Most importantly, there should be community consultations, especially on laws that affect them; otherwise, they’ll just be outliers in their own communities. For example, before the Expanded NIPAS Act of 2018 (Republic Act No. 11038) was passed, Republic Act No. 7586, or the NIPAS Act of 1992, failed to define overlaps with ancestral and indigenous domains. This ultimately caused problems in land ownership. This is also a call that government policies must keep the understanding and empathy for those it shall serve, because without it, they fuel exclusion and it burns the lives of the affected.

Furthermore, while the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act (IPRA) exists as a law, its implementation is greatly hindered by insufficient funding and even tallied corruption. In Cordillera, the manipulation of Free and Prior Informed Consent (FPIC) in favor of mining companies was reported. Additionally, from 1998 to 2000, there were several corporations that bypassed the acquisition of FPIC. Even with the issuance of  Certificate of Ancestral Domain Titles (CADTs), IPRA failed to do its due diligence.

However, it must be noted that these tasks are not impossible. Since 2016, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has collaborated with local government units and the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples. In 2019, it was projected that the initiative registered 1,500 people in the community. UNHCR field associate for protection says: “When they get their identification documents, it gives them better opportunities, particularly when it comes to getting an education and learning to read and write.” 

In a sigh of relief, Wanita Arajani’s granddaughter was able to acquire a birth certificate, and she expressed with a big smile, “The future is clearer and brighter. It’s like you are giving us a kerosene light to brighten our path and give us hope. We feel more respected and be able to live life with dignity.”

Social media may have connected us to new ideas and foreign concepts, but may we not forget the grassroots community. We must always look back at our indigenous people. They are more than just mirrors of culture; they, too, are people who deserve to be treated equally like we are. A little sensitivity won’t hurt. It is the least thing we can do. Because no matter how we dress ourselves like them, they’ll always come stripped of their dignity, stripped by humanity. Let us free them from the chains of bigotry, because they have long served as hostages of our own ignorance.