The Philippines celebrates Independence Day every June 12, but are we truly independent or just colonized differently?

Jude Aldrich Allaga

It has been 128 years since Spanish colonization. Almost 80 years have passed since the American occupation. It is now beyond 40 years since the EDSA People Power Revolution thwarted an authoritarian regime. 

Generation after generation, Filipinos have shed blood and tears to secure a sovereignty that feels set in stone. Yet, in the digital age, history feels incredibly fragile; it takes just a single click to erase the freedom that was once fiercely fought for.

June 12, Philippine Independence Day, commemorates the country’s emancipation from colonial shackles. Still, one look at my “for you” page makes me think my location settings are decades behind: ads for discounted porcelain-esque skin whitening, reels of Korean idols on local daytime shows, and the enticing hook of an American fast-food chain. On paper, we are independent but in reality, colonialism just traded its Liliw tsinelas for Nike sandals, and we let it walk right back in.

This is the subtle grip of neocolonialism. While a natural byproduct of globalization, it routinely overemphasizes foreign culture at the expense of our own. Many everyday realities force an uncomfortable question: is the Philippines truly independent, or have we been in dependence for too long to even know the difference?

White beautification over tanned skin

As you step into any Philippine drugstore, a certain message hits you almost immediately — aggressive in its clarity as the beauty standards point to you that lighter, paler skin is better. Entire shelves are crowded with whitening lotions, soaps, and a bunch of skincare products promising a fairer, flawless, and porcelain-like complexion. 

Many advertisements, celebrity endorsers, and social media influencers reinforce the idea that beauty is limited to the aforementioned qualities only, together with having a pointed nose. Being morena or moreno, along with a ‘pango nose,’ are features that are naturally Filipino, often treated as flaws rather than traits to be celebrated. 

Moreover, the controversy regarding the comments of Mister Global 2025 Top 11 Finalist Jether Palomo and Mister Supranational 2024 2nd-Runner-Up, where only “halfies” can be recognized on the global pageant scene, when in fact, they are the ones who should be promoting the unique beauty of their fellow Filipinos — a beauty so diverse that goes beyond colonial preferences. 

This is a subtle reminder of the history that taught Filipinos to view foreign features as superior and indigenous ones as inferior. 

The language we were told to follow

The country is home to more than a hundred indigenous languages, with 135 identified living languages in the archipelago, according to the Commission on the Filipino Language. However, despite this linguistic abundance, English is treated as the language of intelligence, where speaking and sounding Filipino can, for some, be associated with inadequacy.

In various schools, the “English Only” policy often portrays Filipino as the “less important” language, giving more prestige to a foreign tongue. As a result, regional dialects are frequently pushed to the margins, particularly in urban spaces where English proficiency is more visible and more rewarded.

This makes code-switching, the natural shifting between English, Filipino, and regional languages such as Cebuano, Ilocano, Kapampangan, and others, into something often judged rather than understood. Instead of being seen as a normal expression of multilingual fluency, it is sometimes framed as a sign of struggle, as though the use of one’s mother tongue reflects linguistic failure.

This threatens the lifespans of native languages, sustaining the linguistic colonial grip in our tongues, foreboding a potential future where learning Filipino simply becomes “optional.”

Imported products are said to be better 

Even the things we consume are not spared from neocolonialism: what we drink, wear, and watch are often influenced by the misconception that foreign products equate to quality, and local ones are just “pang-masa,” a convenient, inferior alternative when its import counterpart becomes unavailable.

Cafes are a perfect example: from a simple and usual 3-in-1 necessity, the rising patronization of foreign coffee shops has turned caffeine into a symbolic luxury, pricing out the ordinary Filipino from quality coffee and “third spaces” that aren’t malls. Ironically, many local kapihans that do gain success mimic Western aesthetics— often in abbreviated brand names, marketing gimmicks, and cup designs.

The West, however, is not the only major wave in the Philippines. Hallyu, which literally means Korean Wave, in the form of K-dramas, street fashion, and even relationship dynamics has ensnared Filipinos by storm, subtly pushing Korean standards as the yardstick of beauty and lifestyle. 

At this point, the algorithmic “For You Page” is no longer a stream of feed but a seductive medium that sells us the shiny “foreign aspiration” in place of inferior local content. If it doesn’t have that global blue check of approval, then you must not be worthy of relevance.

Foreigners first, kababayan second

What’s worse is that sometimes, neocolonialism isn’t even injected by foreigners themselves, but by fellow Filipinos who have also been given the same dose.

While food comprises a large part of Filipino culture, even the typical restaurant experience is jeopardized by disparities in service, treatment, and reception, founded on the false perception that the “white foreigner” has greater spending power and thus merits better service. This is further masked by the excuse of “Filipino hospitality,” when in reality, it’s another double standard cloaked in “kindness.”

Simultaneously, Filipinos can only receive this same VIP treatment as long as they return as an OFW, earning that “international status,” though OFWs themselves are likewise ironically used as structural dependency: cheap exported labor as remittances to a broken system.

On a bigger scale, this discriminatory treatment is often translated into public service: foreign investors are easily given priority over indigenous communities on ancestral land, often stemming from personal interest. Foreign contractors and developers building on indigenous land for profit, enabled by officials who have internalized that foreign capital is inherently more valuable than local land and people.

This Independence Day, there is no “independence” if we remain in the shadow of our former colonial selves — still enslaved, perhaps not by shackles and blindfolds, but in each catchy jingle that tells us that the West is Best. 

Decolonization, then, is no longer just an option but a must, in the fight for true independence, lest we lose it… again and again.