by Helicopter l Published on April 14, 2026

All my life, I have been caged to communal values that seemed to fit into the identity of being a Filipino—to be kind is to be socially desirable even when the intention is not aligned with what is showed, to be good is to be labeled as an individual with dignity even when being and doing ‘good’ is against your willingness, to respect the elderlies is to be respected as a give back, even if it’s solely limited to age.

Oftentimes putting yourself at the forefront of a battle between your moral and will is degrading. It is a sacrifice of oneself, and what’s shocking is it’s never an ordinary feat in every Filipino household, it became a part of a culture of both exhaustion and virtuosity, even if the soul is not perfectly coordinated with the body.

I’ve been a breadwinner to my family ever since I have brought the bacon to our home, I exert double effort compared to anyone (and yes, comparison is needed in this value). I made sandwiches consisting of both bacon and bread to feed the family that breathes the same air as me, the people that share the same DNA in my blood.

This ‘give back’, almost the same as a propaganda, is rooted to the same values that have been instilled to me the day I was born—‘utang na loob’ as they utter. Where my parents whispered the amount of bills they paid during the laboring of mother. A seed where it grows perpetually in my mind, watered by unsolicited advice, and cradled by the hands of those who projected that belief system.

As I got home and wanted to have a downtime after a long day working tirelessly, I approached the television—that barely functioning yet glitching screen, I came across a news wherein that almost perfect belief system had been stained just because of a singular act of dishonesty that sparked countless reactions—a taxi driver overcharged a Korean tourist with a disobliging additional fee. We were labeled as the opposite of what we were trying to attain, how unfortunate.

The words I said earlier fumbled the very idea of the news. I realized how excruciatingly painful it is to be categorized as people without any respect towards other individuals when I have been doing it the day I was kept with white cloth and possibly to the day I will meet the white cloth again.

I have been a victim of this system of being a sacrificial lamb, to put yourself at the crossroads of being respectful to others while having no respect to myself or being respectful to myself but having no respect to other people, it is self-obliterating if you ask me to the extent where “respect” is the cause of my nausea. These prompts are scattered everywhere, but is it for authenticity or for recognition?

Yet as the news devours me as a whole leaving me breathless, I can not let the thoughts out of my body because who will listen to my internal dialogues? Afterall, I’ve been caged by values all my life.

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